Resisting The "Black Friday" Frenzy

Not A Juke Box

Garrison Keillor has this:

It was on this day in 1889 the jukebox made its debut at the Palais Royale Saloon in San Francisco. It was called a "nickel-in-the-slot player" and was built by the Pacific Phonograph Co. and installed by entrepreneur Louis Glass and his business associate William S. Arnold.

The jukebox consisted of an Edison Class M Electric Phonograph inside a free-standing oak cabinet to which were attached four stethoscope-like tubes. Each tube could be activated by depositing a coin so that four people could listen to a single recording at one time — the sound equivalent of the peep-show nickelodeon. Towels were supplied so that Palais Royale patrons could wipe off the listening tubes between uses. Despite competition from player pianos, this primitive jukebox was a big hit across the country. In its first six months of service, the nickel-in-the-slot earned more than $1,000.

Significantly, no explanation of what a jukebox is, is now required, but soon, all too soon, there will have to be a definition. Will the definition have the words "record player" or "78's" or "45's" in it? In fact, a jukebox is just another of those things that we thought we needed to have at some point, but now see that we no longer need it. It's obsolete, along with several generations of improvements on it. Just ask Spotify.com. Or Pandora. Or cassettes. Or 8-tracks.

Today is also the crazy shopping day. No, I am not shopping. It's not because I have no confidence as a consumer. Or because I'm concerned about the financial abyss. Not at all. It's just amazing how quickly the nation is expected to shift from piously giving thanks for all manner of things to glee at its voracious, uncontrolled consumption. And I'm not ready to change the channel just yet. I'm staying on gratitude for today, too. There's plenty of time to acquire more things later on, no matter what panic, no matter what frenzy those Christmas songs provoke.

Join me. And Chuck D. And fight the power. You won't have to drive to the mall. You don't need to find a parking place. You don't have to be pushed or shoved. Instead, keep your internal gratitude generator running for another beautiful day. Just abstain, just say "no" to today's expected shopping frenzy. As they say, "You'll be happy you did."

On Gratitude

An annual re-post and by now a Dream Antilles Thanksgiving tradition:

At our house, when we have Thanksgiving dinner, we like to stop eating and talking to go around the table clockwise so that each person present can say what s/he is thankful for. When we first decided to do this, some of our guests felt this was awkward, perhaps embarrassing. But we don't start with the guests, so they can get an impression of what expressing gratitude and hearing others express it feels like. Those in our immediate family understood this and were comfortable enough with it. After all, at birthdays, we like to go around the table to tell the person celebrating the birthday our many appreciations of him/her. So on Thanksgiving, it's a natural enough question, "What are you thankful for this year?" The answers aren't always surprising. We're thankful for being here another year, for our health however it might then be, for family and friends, for the lives of those now departed, for whatever abundance we may have received, for creativity, for our pets, for our relationships, for our businesses, for our politics, for our dreams and aspirations and hopes, and so on. We're thankful for all kinds of things. You get it, you can probably feel it even reading about doing this. It's a Thanksgiving ritual we love. Feel free to try it out.

I always loved Thanksgiving because, however it was intended or begun, it seemed to be about gratitude. For years I've had a practice I've done. Sometimes I do it every day. Sometimes I do it once a month. Sometimes I don't do it for a very long time. It depends. What do I do? I make a list of the things I am thankful for. I number them as I write them down, and I feel my gratitude for each item as I write it before going on to the next. So, I write, "1. my good health, 2. the life of Dr. King, 3. compassion for my seeming enemies, 4. the novels of Cesar Aira." And so on. Until I reach 50. I do this, writing and feeling, until I have a list of 50 items or more that I have enjoyed and felt my thanks for. When I am feeling pinched, stressed, exhausted, depressed, or any other "negative" emotion, it seems to take me a very long time to find items, to write them down and really to feel them. When I am feeling expansive, relaxed, rested, optimistic, or any other "positive" emotion, it takes me virtually no time to write and enjoy the list. Why do this exercise? Because it's almost magical. And it lights me up. Feel free to try it out.

Was it Meister Eckhart who wrote, "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'thank you,' that would suffice?" I agree.

May all of you have a happy Thanksgiving.

Thanks, Rev. Al!

I'm delighted that George Zimmerman is in jail and facing murder 2 charges. And when I think about how that happened, it's clear to me that Rev. Al Sharpton brought this campaign together and carried it and pressed it and made major contributions to the public stir that brought about action. He deserves our thanks for that. He deserves our appreciation for going to Florida, marching, campaigning, and devoting substantial parts of his TV show to this case.

Join me is saying, "Thank you, Rev. Al." He deserves it.

In passing, let me also say that when we on the left have victories, we don't really in my opinion celebrate them. No. We just go on without stopping to give thanks, to praise others' important work, to reflect on what we've done. We just hurry off to the next issue. to the next fight. To the next injustice. For what it's worth, I think this is a terrible mistake. When we get what we've been complaining about, writing about, marching about, blogging about, fulminating about, we need to stop. If only for a second. And give the appropriate gratitude to those who brought about what we wanted so passionately.

So, thanks, Rev. Al. I appreciate what you did in the Trayvon Martin case. And I know you'll watch over it, as we all will, to be sure that ultimately justice is done.

On Gratitude

An annual re-post and by now a Dream Antilles Thanksgiving tradition:


At our house, when we have Thanksgiving dinner, we like to stop eating and talking to go around the table clockwise so that each person present can say what s/he is thankful for. When we first decided to do this, some of our guests felt this was awkward, perhaps embarrassing. But we don't start with the guests, so they can get an impression of what expressing gratitude and hearing others express it feels like. Those in our immediate family understood this and were comfortable enough with it. After all, at birthdays, we like to go around the table to tell the person celebrating the birthday our many appreciations of him/her. So on Thanksgiving, it's a natural enough question, "What are you thankful for this year?" The answers aren't always surprising. We're thankful for being here another year, for our health however it might then be, for family and friends, for the lives of those now departed, for whatever abundance we may have received, for creativity, for our pets, for our relationships, for our businesses, for our politics, for our dreams and aspirations and hopes, and so on. We're thankful for all kinds of things. You get it, you can probably feel it even reading about doing this. It's a Thanksgiving ritual we love. Feel free to try it out.

I always loved Thanksgiving because, however it was intended or begun, it seemed to be about gratitude. For years I've had a practice I've done. Sometimes I do it every day. Sometimes I do it once a month. Sometimes I don't do it for a very long time. It depends. What do I do? I make a list of the things I am thankful for. I number them as I write them down, and I feel my gratitude for each item as I write it before going on to the next. So, I write, "1. my good health, 2. the life of Dr. King, 3. compassion for my seeming enemies, 4. the novels of Cesar Aira." And so on. Until I reach 50. I do this, writing and feeling, until I have a list of 50 items or more that I have enjoyed and felt my thanks for. When I am feeling pinched, stressed, exhausted, depressed, or any other "negative" emotion, it seems to take me a very long time to find items, to write them down and really to feel them. When I am feeling expansive, relaxed, rested, optimistic, or any other "positive" emotion, it takes me virtually no time to write and enjoy the list. Why do this exercise? Because it's almost magical. And it lights me up. Feel free to try it out.

Was it Meister Eckhart who wrote, "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'thank you,' that would suffice?" I agree.

May all of you have a happy Thanksgiving.

Completion

The journey began in earnest in Ireland at Sliabh na Caillí, or Loughcrew in Co. Meath, Ireland. Yes, before I went there I was "working" on the book. But it was a sporadic effort: sometimes writing, sometimes letting the manuscript sit in a drawer gathering dust. Truth be told, much more of the latter. But in April, 2009, the situation changed. As I wrote at the time:

Sliabh na Caillí... is a sacred site with cairns dedicated to or occupied by the Crone, or the Hag, or Garavogue. It is far more than 4000 years old. There are, of course, many details. But the important part is the personal, the intuitive, the spiritual.

When I visited Sliabh na Caillí with an international band of Shamanic friends... I made an offering to the Crone in her cairn, and I asked her whether she had anything to tell me. And she did. I am to finish the draft of my novel in process before the end of the coming September. No excuses. No extensions of time. No dogs eating my homework. I take this seriously. I do not wish to run afoul of the Crone's wishes. I do not wish to incite her to anger. I do not wish to taste her wrath.

To make sure I wouldn't let the time slip by, to make sure that my vow to follow this message and to complete the task would be kept, I told my friends what the Crone had to say. They are my witnesses. And today, a couple weeks later, I am writing it down. Forgetfulness, unconsciousness, being busy, lack of mindfulness, other seeming necessities, all forms of practiced sloth, are not to deter me. Nor rain, nor gloom, nor dread of night, stops this courier from the prompt completion of his appointed rounds. And you, dear readers, are witnesses also.

The working title of my book is "Tulum," which is a Mayan town in Quintana Roo, Mexico. I won't tell you about the book, except to say that it is about the friendship of a US expat with a shady background and a Mayan curandero. There are 30,000 +/- words on my key drive as I write this.

And so, I have a task, a quest, an imramma, a journey to perform. I am honored to carry this out.

That was 2009. That was more than a year and 50,000 words ago.

I finished a very rough draft in that September. And after many revisions and changes and editing and rewriting and far too much staring at the ceiling and making excuses and worrying about it, on February 13, 2011, I uploaded the manuscript to the publisher. And today I uploaded the other required materials. And now I am finished. The rest of the task is merely mechanical. Or proofreading.

Well, not really. It's not that simple. There remains something else. Something else that's extremely important. Something that I don't want to leave out. It's the real conclusion of the imramma.

Even when the book is in your hands or on your Kindle, even then, even when you've read it, even when you've passed it on to others, or maybe even forgotten it, my task won't be completed. I realize that. There is something else that has to be done. My journey won't really be completed until I have taken this book in digital form, placed it on a key drive, and personally delivered the drive to the Crone by placing it discreetly in the rocks in her cairn. Only then will all of the assigned tasks have been completed. Only when one returns after the quest to the very beginning is the journey completed.

When one accepts a challenge or inspiration or advice and chooses to embark on a quest, and then carries out one's assigned tasks, there remains one more, final step. It remains important afterwards to return to the very beginning, to the very person who inspired or commissioned the effort and to stand before him or her. And upon returning, it's important to say aloud to that person, "I have done it, I have completed it, and I have returned to tell you this." It is then important to offer one's gratitude for a journey so remarkable it qualifies to be called a quest. It seems to me that it's this mythic return and the expression of gratitude that really completes the journey.

I will now look for airfare for April, 2011. It's been two years, and I am at last ready to return.

What A Surprise! Oh My Goodness.

Back in December, I wrote about my favorite Argentinian cookie Frutigran:

I'm doomed. I brought only one package of Frutigran home from Buenos Aires. These are wonderful cookies. I love to eat them. The yellow package is best. In fact, I may be working on a major addiction to craving for them. And now, to my complete dread and horror, there is only one cookie left in the bottom of the package. Just one. And I have no idea where to find another of these wonderful galletas in the US. This to my now crazed mind is a huge disaster.

Of course, I asked for help. Of course I cross-posted. Everywhere. Of course, I emailed the manufacturer. I even logged on to sites that are for mules to carry things from BA to the US or the other way around. And then, this is the greatest, part in a thread of comments on dailyKos, someone who was living in BA responded to my urgent request for Frutigran. When the family was settled in, I could receive the cookies. Good news.

But the news faded. And time passed. No cookies. More obsessing, more emailing, most posting. No responses. A Porteno was headed to Miami in July, would that help? Yes, but that's a long way away. And then early this month there was an essay on dailyKos about El Galpin, the organic food market in Chacarita, a neighborhood in, you guessed it, BA, where I too had enjoyed shopping. The comments are evidence of my addiction and they are germane to this tale:

OT: but a good place to ask for this. (0+ / 0-)
I am still trying to get Frutigran (yellow package) cookies to the US. I will pay for shipping and the cookies and for the service of shipping to NY from BA. Takers? email me.

I've tried the mule web site, and called friends. So far, no good. Maybe from dKos?

by davidseth on Tue May 10, 2011 at 05:42:03 PM EDT

I have your Frutigrans! (0+ / 0-)
I've been waiting for my printer to be usable (ink arrives this week). The Embassy does have a post office but no easy way to buy postage... I have to use USPS.gov. You should have Frutigrans in the mail by next week!

I didn't forget you, really :) It just took forever for our stuff to arrive.

Join me at Military Community Members of DK

by angelajean on Tue May 10, 2011 at 08:36:10 PM EDT


Wow!!! Thanks!!!! n/t (0+ / 0-)
by davidseth on Wed May 11, 2011 at 08:03:57 AM EDT

This was indeed promising. In fact, it was perfect. It was incredible. It was exactly what I needed. But, this strikes me now as extremely strange, and I am hard pressed to explain it in a rational way, I then forgot about the fact that the Frutigran was coming. I forgot about it completely. Poof. Gone. Erased from my brain.

Today, covered in dirt from pulling weeds and excavating the garden, which is filled with rocks, I went to the post office. In the box nothing but bills. And an ad. What a waste of time to drive over there. I started the car to leave. The Postmistress raced into the parking lot with a box. Said she, "This came yesterday." "What is it?" I ask, as if she knows what it is. It's a Priority Mail Box. It has a customs declaration on it. It says one word, "Cookies." I think, that's really odd. I think, "Who could be sending me cookies?" Evidently, my brain does not have the circuit that allows the equation "Frutigran = cookies." I have "Frutigran = ecstacy" and "cookies = Oreos". Then, as I'm pulling out of the parking lot my brain finally performs the appropriate computation. I realize what it is.

OMG OMG OMG! Time for the happy dance. I open the box. And there, to my utter delight and joy, six (6), count them, six (6) yellow packages of Frutigran. Perfect. Wonderful. I am suffused with gratitude. I immediately sent a message with my thanks.

The timing is, of course, perfect. In about an hour I will watch Lionel Messi and Barcelona playing Manchester United in the UEFA Champions Cup Final. What better way to celebrate Argentina's gifts to the world.

Where Do Stories Come From?

A Social Flycatcher

One possibility is that I make up stories. I dream them up, I fantasize them up, I just make them up. They come from me, from my brain or my mind or my heart. If that's where the come from, that's ok with me. I'm convinced that dreams, fantasies, stories are really important, often more important than physical objects and things you can see, so if they spontaneously arise from somewhere inside me, and I write them down, that's fine with me.

But there's another possibility. One that's more exciting. I like this other possibility a lot better.

I spent two weeks in Mexico, north of Tulum, Quintana Roo, writing every day. I was trying to finish the first draft of my second novel, working title "Tulum." Where did the ideas in that draft come from? Did they come from me? Or did they come from somewhere else?

When I first arrived at Bahia Soliman, where I was going to write, I noticed a particular kind of bird that was very pretty, very unusual for me. It's unusual for me because it only lives in Mexico, Central America, and northern South America. It's called a "social flycatcher." I don't know why it's called that. Its Wiki explains all kinds of things but not its name.

I think it's called "social" because it doesn't immediately fly away when it's near people. Or other birds and animals. That's just what I think. Anyway, I was wondering about this beautiful bird, and whether it might be near me because it was carrying stories for me and wanted to give some of them to me.

Whenever I got to the point in writing when I couldn't sit at the computer any longer, whenever I got stuck, whenever I had to figure something out about what I was writing, whenever I needed new ideas, whenever I needed inspiration or endurance, I'd go out for a walk. And maybe I'd see one of the social flycatchers.

I liked looking at this very pretty bird. Maybe, I thought, it was carrying the information, the story I needed to write down. And sure enough, after I went for my walk, I would find that I was able to continue to write, that I was able to go on with my writing, that I knew what to type.

This process went on for about two weeks. For about 15,000 words (I had a lot of words before I got to Mexico). And then one day, I thought, "Ah hah. That is the finish line, that is the end of this book, that is how it ends. I will finish this up tomorrow or the next day or the day after. I can see the conclusion, the last paragraph. Finally it has appeared. That's where and how this book ends."

After that I didn't see any of these birds again. No more social flycatchers. Not a one.

There are a lot of possibilities here. Maybe it was time for them to move on to another place to feed. Maybe it was time for them to move west or north on their migration. Maybe they ate all of the bugs where I was. Maybe having passed on whatever information they had for me, they decided to go and help somebody else, somebody else who was dreaming something up. Maybe somebody who was writing, or painting, or writing songs, or making something.

I prefer that they went on to help somebody else.

Wherever they might now be, I want to thank them for all of their help. But, I'm sorry to say, I don't know how to thank them except to write about what a wonderful assistance they were to me and to acknowledge their help.

On Gratitude

A ritual and a practice.

At our house, when we have Thanksgiving dinner, we like to stop eating and talking to go around the table clockwise so that each person present can say what s/he is thankful for. When we first decided to do this, some of our guests felt this was awkward, perhaps embarrassing. But we don't start with the guests, so they can get an impression of what expressing gratitude and hearing others express it feels like. Those in our immediate family understood this and were comfortable enough with it. After all, at birthdays, we like to go around the table to tell the person celebrating the birthday our many appreciations of him/her. So on Thanksgiving, it's a natural enough question, "What are you thankful for this year?" The answers aren't always surprising. We're thankful for being here another year, for our health however it might then be, for family and friends, for the lives of those now departed, for whatever abundance we may have received, for creativity, for our pets, for our relationships, for our businesses, for our politics, for our dreams and aspirations and hopes, and so on. We're thankful for all kinds of things. You get it, you can probably feel it even reading about doing this. It's a Thanksgiving ritual we love. Feel free to try it out.

I always loved Thanksgiving because, however it was intended or begun, it seemed to be about gratitude. For years I've had a practice I've done. Sometimes I do it every day. Sometimes I do it once a month. Sometimes I don't do it for a long time. It depends. What do I do? I make a list of the things I am thankful for. I number them as I write them down, and I feel my gratitude for each item as I write it before going on to the next. So, I write, "1. my good health, 2. the life of Dr. King, 3. compassion for my seeming enemies, 4. the novels of Cesar Aira." And so on. Until I reach 50. I do this, writing and feeling, until I have a list of 50 items or more that I have enjoyed and felt my thanks for. When I am feeling pinched, stressed, exhausted, depressed, or any other "negative" emotion, it seems to take me a very long time to find items, to write them down and really to feel them. When I am feeling expansive, relaxed, rested, optimistic, or any other "positive" emotion, it takes me virtually no time to write and enjoy the list. Why do this exercise? Because it's almost magical. And it lights me up. Feel free to try it out.

Was it Meister Eckhart who wrote, "If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, 'thank you,' that would suffice?" I agree.

May all of you have a happy Thanksgiving.