Concerning Sleight of Hand and Blogging Goals for 2012

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Sleight of hand is the name most often used to describe the methods of stage magic.  Sleight of hand is composed of seven basic skills according to Penn and Teller (quoted on Wikipedia):

      1. Palm – To hold an object in an apparently empty hand.
      2. Ditch – To secretly dispose of an unneeded object.
      3. Steal – To secretly obtain a needed object.
      4. Load – To secretly move an object to where it is needed.
      5. Simulation – To give the impression that something has happened that has not.
      6. Misdirection – To lead attention away from a secret move.
      7. Switch – To secretly exchange one object for another.

Of all the illusionist’s tricks, “misdirection” may be the most important:   “The magician choreographs his actions so that all spectators are likely to look where he or she wants them to. More importantly, they do not look where the performer does not wish them to look.”  (Wikipedia)

I started thinking of stage magic after seeing Hugo, (http://wp.me/pYql4-1xT).   Research confirmed the movie’s account of pioneer filmmaker, George Melies, who was as stage magician before he turned to cinema.

But this post is not about good magic, since misdirection is such an apt metaphor for the way our institutions play us these days.  In this sense,  misdirection often means getting us to ask the wrong questions.

Over the last few days, I’ve found myself humming the title song of Bruce Springsteen’s album, Magic (2007), which he says concerns “the Orwellian times we live in,” and is “not about magic, but tricks – and their consequences:”

Trust none of what you hear,
Less of what you see,
This is what will be.
This is what will be.

***

I don’t think we can resist misdirection unless we are engaged in finding our own truths.  It is also very hard to go it alone.  In a famous psychology experiment, test subjects would disown their own perceptions and agree to a lie if everyone else in the room did, but if even one other person stood up for the truth, so would most of the volunteers.

In addition to the kindred spirits we find where we live, we have our online communities.  We also have the searchers of past generations who travelled this road and left their discoveries in books.

I hope I did my part on this blog to write of things and people that matter.  To try to discern and point to the truth.  I’m still too close to 2011 to say.  I did the best I could at the time, and I hope to do better in 2012 because we are really going to need it.  On the eve of an election year, I sometimes think the end of the world on 12/21/12 would be the easy way out!

***

Still, to end the year on an upbeat note, here is a neat clip of Penn and Teller demonstrating the core elements of sleight of hand.  Not only does it evoke the fun of a magic set I had as a kid, but it’s filled with metaphorical possibilities!

Happy New Year to all of you!

The Year in Rearview and Words of Hope From Gary Snyder

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Now is when writers compose their summaries of the outgoing year, and I wanted to weigh in too.  Problem was, I kept discarding drafts as my inner parental voices chimed in with, “Quit whining.”  Eliminate whining, and it’s hard to come up with things to say about 2011.

Fortunately, I found a spot-on analysis by another blogger, badlandsbradley, who wrote:  “2011 sucked. It was a big stupid year full of big stupid things. All around, it was just stupid.”  http://badlandsbadley.wordpress.com/2011/12/27/2012-a-look-ahead/

Now that we have that out of the way, what’s left?  I sometimes compose gratitude lists at turning points in the year, and I find it a worthwhile practice, but I think people have to do this for themselves.  I started one list by writing, “We survived,”  which brought to mind several good people who didn’t.  Sometimes the things we are grateful for are weighty, things to “ponder in our hearts,” as the Christmas story puts it.

In the middle of these reflections, a phrase I hadn’t thought of for years came to mind:  “Drown their butts, crush their butts.”  This stanza comes from Gary Snyder’s marvelous, Smokey the Bear Sutra. When found it online, I stopped to appreciate these words at the end of the poem:

(may be reproduced free forever).

Those five simple words of generosity opened a real wellspring of gratitude for me, so now I want to share this poem, one of my favorite by this Pulitzer Prize winning poet.  May reproducing it here benefit beings everywhere.

*****

Gary Snyder

Smokey the Bear Sutra

Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago,
the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite
Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements
and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings,
the flying beings, and the sitting beings — even grasses,
to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a
seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning
Enlightenment on the planet Earth.

“In some future time, there will be a continent called
America. It will have great centers of power called
such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur,
Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels
such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon
The human race in that era will get into troubles all over
its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of
its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature.”

“The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings
of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth.
My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and
granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that
future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure
the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger:
and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it.”

And he showed himself in his true form of

SMOKEY THE BEAR

  • A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing that he is aroused and
    watchful.

  • Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath appearances; cuts the roots of useless
    attachments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;

  • His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display — indicating that all creatures have the full right to live to their limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow in the realm of the Dharma;

  • Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the countless men oppressed by a
    civilization that claims to save but often destroys;

  • Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West, symbolic of the forces that guard the Wilderness, which is the Natural State of the Dharma and the True Path of man on earth: all true paths lead through mountains —

  • With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of
    those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and free in the Blue Sky and Green Earth of One Mind;

  • Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food enough for everyone who loves her and trusts her;

  • Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs; smashing the worms of capitalism and
    totalitarianism;

  • Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses, canned foods, universities, and shoes;
    master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down the rotten
    trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover trash.

Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will
Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or
slander him,

HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.

Thus his great Mantra:

Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana
Sphataya hum traka ham nam

“I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND
BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED”

And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,
Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick
people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:

And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television,
or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:

DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS
DROWN THEIR BUTTS
CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out
with his vajra-shovel.

  • Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice will accumulate merit as countless as the sands of Arizona and Nevada.

  • Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.

  • Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.

  • Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.

  • Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine tree to sit at.

  • AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT.

    thus have we heard.

    (may be reproduced free forever)

Wikipedia Fund Raiser

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If you’ve visited Wikipedia recently, you’ve seen the header asking for small donations from users to keep the service free.  As an earlier donor, I received a notice today and request to pass it on.  They are close to their Dec. 31 goal but not there yet.

Disclaimer:  I am a donor and I have no connection to Wikipedia other than as a frequent user.  Please have a look at their fundraising site:

https://wikimediafoundation.org/wiki/L11_1227_EMR_JW/en/US?uselang=en&utm_campaign=20111228EM2.en.US&utm_medium=email&utm_source=email2.USD.10

Hugo: A Movie Review

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I had wanted to see Hugo ever since it came out in November, but things kept coming up, as they will during the holidays.  Now the movie is at the end of its run, disappearing from theaters, but if you haven’t yet seen it, I urge you to look in the discount cinemas or catch it on DVD. Let me put it like this:  I have been working on a year end, “Best of / worst of” blog post and having trouble coming up with “best” things in 2011.  Hugo is one of them.  This movie is a first on several counts for Martin Scorcsese:  his first family film, his first fantasy, and his first venture into 3D.  It is his love song to movies as a theater of dreams.

In 1931 Paris, Hugo lives with his father, a master clockmaker.  The two are working to restore a broken automaton, a mechanical figure who writes with a pen.  Hugo’s father also takes him to see movies, and speaks of his love for pioneer filmmaker, Georges Melies.  When Hugo’s father dies in a fire, his drunken uncle takes him to live inside the walls of a railway station where he learns to maintain the clocks.  The uncle disappears, but Hugo keeps the clocks running, steals food in the station to live, and does his best to restore the automaton, which he believes hides a message from his father.

When a toymaker in the station catches Hugo trying to steal a mechanical mouse for its parts, he takes the notebook Hugo’s father left him, filled with drawings depicting the workings of the automaton.  Hugo follows the toymaker home, begging for the notebook, and meets the man’s goddaughter, Isabelle.  They become friends, and the mystery deepens when they discover that Isabelle has the heart-shaped key that can bring the automaton to life.  When they turn it on, the mechanical figure draws a famous scene from one of Melies’ movies – the one Hugo’s father always talked about.

Ben Kingsley (the toymaker) and Asa Butterfield (Hugo)

By then, we have plenty of story questions, several engaging subplots, and adversaries in the form of the toymaker and a station guard with a doberman, determined to  capture Hugo the thief.  But the magic in this movie is far greater than the sum of these parts.

Recently one of the bloggers I follow talked about one of his “all time favorite” books, and I started thinking of what makes a book or movie truly memorable.  It’s more than simply the elements of craft – structure, plot, character, tension, and so on.  These are necessary supports and can create a page turner, or a movie that has you gripping your seat without really touching your heart.  When I read The DaVinci Code, for example, I couldn’t put it down, but now I have to google to remember the professor’s name.  I don’t have to google to remember the name of the hobbit who carried the ring. What special elements make a book or movie unforgettable? It’s one of those things you can’t quite define but you know when you see it.

Chloe Grace Moretz (Isabelle), Asa Butterfied (Hugo), and director, Martin Scorcese

The books and movies I really love seem to have a few things in common:

Characters I want to hang out with are first on the list.   Regardless of what they are doing, they become more close and real than many people I interact with in the daylight world.  I didn’t read all the Harry Potter books to see what Voldemort was going do to next.  I wanted to spend time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  And Snape, Dumbledore, Luna, and all the rest.  Imaginary friends in the best sense of the word.

Compelling worlds are next on my list, worlds you want to visit even if dangers lurk in the shadows.  Since reading the Narnia books, I’ve never been able to open a wardrobe without a secret thrill.  An actual pilgrimage to 221B Baker Street caused only a slight adjustment to the 19th century inner London where I travel with Sherlock Holmes.

And finally, it almost goes without saying that these are books and movies I can and want to enjoy more than once.  If I bought them in paperback, my favorite books have scotch tape on their covers.  I have several old VHS tapes I need to replace with DVD’s.

Will Hugo find its place among my all time favorite movies?  I can’t really say with the experience this fresh.  The characters are compelling, their mysterious world shines with a golden light, and the movie is a celebration of the imagination in all of us – all in all, a pretty good bet to become a film I will remember, value, and probably enjoy again.

Peace

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It almost seems like the world pauses around the time of the solstice, the way an out-breath stops for a moment before the next in-breath begins.  To catch the stillness, we may have to make an effort to step outside the noise of the season, but it can be done.

People finally get to slow down on Christmas Eve.  Maybe they go to church and look at the stars afterwards,or just step out for a breath of air when the family gathering gets too loud.  Or take the dogs for a walk in the late afternoon, hands in pockets, and notice how quiet the park is, almost as if it is waiting for something.  The soccer players and kids on the swings will be back soon, but now they’re gone.

This can be a hard season.  Individually and collectively, many are wondering when the next blow is going to fall.  And by this time of year, everyone is weary of trying to be as happy as people in Hallmark movies.  Yet I believe that by some mystery, stillness surrounds and pervades our busy-ness, and silence permeates the noise.  There is a well of renewal we can touch at this time of year.  By whatever name you call it, may it be yours.

Of Greensleeves and Christmas Carol Karma

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Regular readers will recall that at the start of the  season, I posted a wee diatribe on how much I hate what passes for Christmas music in most of the stores. http://wp.me/pYql4-1tv

Here’s where karma part comes in:  Mary is organizing a Christmas dinner for a large number of people at a local church.  I already volunteered to help with food prep, but the other day she gave me a further assignment.   “I need you to make a three hour playlist of Christmas music, and it has to be respectful.”

That actually is not a problem.  I love Christmas music – if I didn’t, the stuff in the stores wouldn’t bother me.  As I started to rummage through what I have on iTunes, I got caught up in listening to various versions of “Greensleeves,” and wondering – even though I love the song – what it has to do with Christmas.  Tracking its origins was not unlike researching a folktale.  I also found that everyone from Homer Simpson to John Coltrane has covered it, so I invite you to have a listen as I share a bit of what I learned about this haunting song.  Let’s begin with Homer (relax – his clip is only 14 seconds long).

Greensleeves is a traditional English folksong, of the sort known as a “romanesca.”  A broadside ballad of this name was registered at the London Stationer’s Company in Sept., 1580, as “A New Northern Dittye of the Lady Greene Sleeves”.  A broadside was a ballad or poem, printed on one side of a cheap sheet of paper and common between the 15th and 19th centuries.  Here is a traditional version, sung by Méav Ní Mhaolchatha’s on the Celtic Woman tour:

There’s a persistant rumor that Henry VIII wrote the song while courting Anne Boleyn, since at first she apparently “cast [him] off discourteously,” but music experts dismiss the legend.  Greensleeves is an Elizabethan song, composed in an Italianate style that did not reach England until after Henry’s death.

Another common interpretation is that the song refers to a promiscuous woman or a prostitute.  At the time, the color green had sexual connotations.  One translator of Chaucer notes that in the Canterbury Tales, green “was the colour of lightness in love.”  I tend to agree with this interpretation based on what I know of pre-Christian nature religion in the British isles, and the Pan-like “Green Man,” whose face still peeks out at worshipers in many British churches and cathedrals:

Green Man at Dore Abbey, Herefordshire

A reference to Greensleeves in The Merry Wives of Windsor, 1602, suggests both the popularity of the song, and coming from Falstaff, a bawdy interpretation.  The popularity of the song has continued unbroken to the present day.  Here my favorite modern interpretation, by Jethro Tull:

In 1865, William Chatterton Dix wrote “What Child is This,” to the tune of Greensleeves, which made both songs popular during the Christmas season.  Here is the version I’m going to use for the Christmas dinner project.  Josh Groban knows how to stir the soul, and that is something we really need this year.  Elizabethan renditions of Greensleeves have historical interest but tend to be slow and even lugubrious.  Much as I love ballads of trials and woe, this year we need all the hope we can get and the kind of music that can awaken it.

***

I wish each and every one of you a joyous holiday in whatever way you celebrate it.  I’m going to take a blogging break for a week or so, to walk, to read, to meditate, to catch some of the great year end movies, and in general, to simply kick back for R&R.  I will be back right around the new year.

Peace to all of you!

The Muppets Get Politicized

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That's, Comrade Kermit, according to Fox

This began as a simple post over the weekend, after I spotted a story on Facebook about Fox News’ recent attack on the Muppets.  On Dec 2, Fox business anchor, Eric Bolling was shocked – shocked, he said, that the villain of  The Muppets Movie was an oil baron named Tex Richman.  Bolling asked his guest, Dan Gainor, if Hollywood was trying to brainwash children.  “Absolutely,” said Gainor. “And they’ve been doing it for decades.”  Bolling “wondered aloud why the Muppets couldn’t, for once, “have the evil person be the Obama administration”  http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/shortcuts/2011/dec/06/muppet-movies-communist-plots-revealed.

Silly me!  I thought the Muppets were all about friendship and kindness.  Now we learn that Fozzie and Gonzo are really Occupy operatives!  I guess the 1% need hugs too!

The Guardian article, referenced above said, “The discussion…didn’t just typify the Fox News mission to recast the outside world as leftwing propaganda; it threatened to usher in a whole new paradigm of stupid.”  My initial post  ended by questioning the phrase, “usher in,” since the new era of stupid has been here for a while.

But I held up my posting because Sunday night, I witnessed an escalation:  the Administration struck back, via the National Christmas Tree lighting ceremony.  It was broadcast at 11:00pm – sensible, since it wouldn’t have drawn many prime-time viewers.  In essence, it was a boring political add, thinly disguised as a heartfelt “event.”

“Reality TV,” I said.
“You mean surreality,” my wife replied.

In a word, it was yucky.  Nothing spontaneous or from the heart – the whole thing was as carefully choreographed as an episode of Glee, but without the humor, (good) music, or fun.  I took the dogs out and was ready to call it a night when I heard Kermit’s voice.  There he was, part of the festivities, ushering in a new era of political celebrity wars.

Kermit and Michelle Obama read The Night Before Christmas (courtesy, Disney Corp.)

Celebs always appear in political dog and pony shows, and the Democrats usually win the game.  They have the likes of Springsteen and Joni Mitchell.  Hank Jr. is no match for them by any measure.  And now the Dems are poised to win a war of non-human stars as well.  Sure, the GOP can draft Buzz Lightyear, but Kermit and Piggy will always be fuzzier.  And yet…

The whole thing strikes me as sad. I’m really sorry to see Jim Henson’s creations dragged into political nonsense.  We’re used to a popular culture of false fronts and illusion, but I always hope our politics will be a little more real than commercials of happy shoppers dancing through K-mart.

Ain’t gonna happen.  The parties learned their lesson from Jimmy Carter – only smiley faces get elected.  [**for those too young to remember, during the 1980 presidential campaign, after a decade of stagflation, Carter said the country was “in the grip of malaise.” He lost the election by a landslide.]

My hope is that our collective attention-span for news has grown so short that the Muppet foray into politics will soon be forgotten.  Let’s hope the PR machinery will roll on and focus on human folly, leaving the Muppets alone to be what they always have been – ambassadors of joy and goodwill, regardless of anyone’s politics.

The King and the Corpse by Heinrich Zimmer: A Book Review, Part Two

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If you haven’t already read it, please begin with Part 1 of this review:  http://wp.me/pYql4-1vt

We left the young king in a most unusual and disconcerting situation – carrying the corpse of a hanged man across a charnel ground.  The corpse was possessed by a spirit who asked the king a riddle and said that if he knew the answer but didn’t speak, his head would explode.

"The King and the Corpse," from a presentation at the Red Arrow Gallery, Joshua Tree, CA, Sept. 2011

The king answered the question and immediately, the body flew back to the tree and the king had to return and cut it down again.  Another walk, another story, another answer and the corpse again disappeared. The king, whose name meant, “Rich in Patience,” needed all he could muster, for the gruesome routine went on and on and on. If the ruler had been thoughtless as a youth, the corpse now gave him riddles worthy of Solomon.  He solved all of them except the 24th, which went like this:

“A chief and his son were hunting in the hills.  The king was a widower and the son unmarried, so they were intrigued to find the footsteps of two women, one older, one younger.  The feet were shapely and the gait suggested refinement.  “A queen and her daughter, I think,” said the father.  They set out in pursuit and agreed that if the women were willing, the father would marry the one with the larger feet – presumably the mother, and the son would marry the other.  The women were indeed a queen and her daughter, fleeing danger, but, the daughter’s feet were larger.  Holding to their vows, the king married the daughter, and the son married her mother.  When both women gave birth to sons, how were the babies related?”

When the king kept silent, the corpse said how pleased he was with the monarch’s courage and wisdom.  He warned him that the sorcerer was a necromancer who planned to use the corpse and the king’s blood – after killing him – in a black magic rite that would give him power over the spirits of the dead.  He told the king how to slay the sorcerer, and when he did, the ghost in the corpse revealed himself as the great god, Shiva, who honored the king, and asked him to name his reward.

The king asked that the 24 riddles should always be remembered and should be told all over the earth.  Shiva assented, and indeed, the story has travelled the world since 50 BC, the time of the Hindu king, Vikramaditya (“The Sun of Valor”), the hero of this and many other legends.  The great god promised that ghosts and demons would never have power wherever the tales were told, and “whoever recites, with sincere devotion, even one of the stories shall be free from sin.”  Shiva also promised the the king dominion during his life and gave him an invincible sword.  Far more important, he opened the monarch’s eyes of spiritual illumination, and so his earthly reign was a model of “virtue and glory.”

When the story opens, the king is young, handsome, rich, and rather heedless since he accepts the beggar’s fruits as if they are his due, without thinking very much about them.  According to the wisdom of the east, he is like a sleeping man whose house is on fire, since nothing – not fruit, nor youth, nor jewels, nor life itself will last.  Also, naiveté doesn’t work too well in this world,  It draws betrayal the way a magnet draws iron.  The “holy man” has been weaving the king’s undoing for ten long years.  Where is the king going to come up with that kind of cunning, and in a hurry?

He finds it as all the heroes and heroines of folklore do, in an unlikely place, from the voice of a being the “wise” would despise.  Stories tell us that is where our guiding spirits often hide at first, as if to test our ability to see beyond appearances.  In fairytales from around the world, it’s the ugly crone, the dwarf, the wild animal, or in this case, in the body of an executed criminal who serve as our spiritual guides  Stories remind us that when we are truly stuck, doing what we have always done will not help.

When life and happiness depend on spinning straw into gold, on finding the water of life, on “going I know not whither and bringing back I know not what,” we need the guidance of our better angels, our guardian spirits, our daemons, as the Greeks called them.  Or in the case of our king, in our tutelary deity, who hides in a corpse to test his student’s faith, courage, and willingness to trust his own experience.

The saving spirit is one of the key themes that Heinrich Zimmer ponders in the stories of  The King and the Corpse, for as Zimmer tells us, “the hidden magician who projects both the ego and its mirror world can do more than any exterior force to unravel by night the web that has been spun by day.”

I consider this an essential book in the library of anyone who wants to hear the voices of wisdom that hide in the old tales that people cannot stop telling.