only story

Reading is fun to teach. It's all about story. Setting, characters, plot, conflict; all central aspects of story. Story is everywhere. We see it on television, in books, in newspapers, in movies. We see it on our cereal box in the morning. The production of dehydrated food, the plastic and cardboard packaging; these tell the story of our cereal. Story is staring at us in the face everywhere we go. Our lives are stories. The process that led you to this passage is part of your story. Your presence here makes me part of your story. And you are part of mine.

Music also tells a story. There doesn't even need to be lyrics. We make music part of our story and the music becomes a reflection of ourselves. This is why we relate to music so well.

We are addicted to story. Drama, action, romance, theater. There is something about story that is good, something that is pure and true. We feel it deep inside. Stories of hope give us a sense of security. Stories of love give us a sense of hope. Narrative is always pulling us toward itself, clinging to something deep within us. We are touched by story because it is good, and it is everything that is us.


"No story sits by itself. Sometimes stories meet at corners and sometimes they cover one another completely, like stones beneath a river." -- Mitch Albom

set apart

So I started my student teaching clinicals this week and I'm working with a class of 3rd graders. It's been a pretty positive experience so far and I'm liking it more than I thought I would. For awhile now, I've been set on teaching in the middle grades, probably 7th or 8th grade English and literature. But the young kids are so fun to work with and I'm glad to have such an opportunity. So far, I've only taught one reading lesson, but I'm slowly being integrated into the classroom and am looking forward to teaching the rest of the disciplines. It's one thing to be a student in a classroom; it's another thing entirely to be teaching a class.

Since today was Halloween, the schedule was a little different. But I'm glad it was. See, the teachers organized a collaborative reading activity for some of the 7th and 3rd graders. We all met in the library and the students broke up into small groups so the 7th graders could read Halloween stories to the younger kids. I can't even describe how fulfilling it was to watch all of this happen. The students were so involved with the stories and also with each other. It was apparent that every teacher monitoring the activity was completely filled with....joy. There was something so profound about watching these students work together that every adult in that room recognized. It was incredible.

Every once in a while, we get a brief glimpse of how good life actually is.

simple

Dreams are not out of reach. That you are alive is proof that anything is possible.

in rainbows

Trying a new look. I am completely immersed in the new Radiohead album.

what day is this

So I might as well take the time to write a post that you might know what the hell I'm talking about. Usually I don't sit down at the computer and write but tonight I will make an exception. Today (well, yesterday I guess) was fairly interesting. See, I didn't get back to my apartment until about 3am and I had to wake up for a meeting at 8:30. So I got about 4 1/2 hours of sleep before I woke up to shower and attempted to erase any evidence that I'm a piece of shit who stays up drinking until 3 in the morning. I think it worked out alright, and it's damn good that it did. Had I not taken the effort to do this, I would have been quite embarrassed. This was a fairly professional meeting that dealt with the student teaching clinicals I have coming up (that's right! 3rd grade by the way). There were so many people in this lecture hall and I can't imagine being surrounded by all of them with the scent of cigarettes and liquor streaming from my body. And to top it off, one of my professors sat right next to me! So the moral of the story is that I am blessed to have woken up early enough to clean up. Or maybe that I'm just blessed in general. I passed out right after the meeting.

Wow. I hope your night was classier than mine.

the stark contrast

What are you anxious for? It is in this moment that you have no obligations, no worries. It is this moment that you reflect on later with enjoyment. Yet your presence here is anything but acknowledged. Satisfaction is this distant ideal that you are headed for on a treadmill. Yet writing has its rewards. It is only through writing that passion is realized. Or perhaps creating would be a more appropriate term. Creation induces passion; passion does not go unchecked. So the reason for existence in total is undying passion. Passion is embedded in that distant satisfaction, where love and excitement radiate from its core. The other spectrum of the world is obviously pain. Pain is the unconscious addiction that is pulling us backward on the treadmill. Its reality is so depriving that we tend to just give up on treading altogether. And it is at this time when we fall further from satisfaction, further from passion and love. So it is our responsibility to keep ourselves in check, away from chaos and destruction.

taking hits off the surface

Blogging tends to focus way too much on the author. So I'd like to hear about you.

What is it you love most? What is it you desire most? What is it you value most?

you won't remember anyway

You have no idea, but you fill up a good portion of my life. And by my life, I mean that voice in my head dictating the way I look at the world. You influence the way that I interpret my experience and play a central role in the ambiguity of hope floating around in my mind. I can't even begin to search elsewhere. You are the reason for every excuse and every mishap in my life. Yet the corollary here is not one wrought with anger. In fact, it is just the opposite.

I need to get out. I need to detach. I need theoretical salvation. I cannot continue in this physical growth. I desire the spirit. I desire serenity. I desire a place away from this chaotic construction of my mind. I am thoroughly exhausted. I need awakening. I need understanding. I am completely lost. I am completely helpless.

So those are some thoughts.

out of the mayhem

While sitting in the Degarmo courtyard...

It's quiet days like these that allow me to reflect on the good nature of life. People seemingly walk around depressed while I walk around with a peaceful glow. I wonder whether or not that glow is apparent to the strangers around me. There's something so beautiful about the calm that's permeating through the atmosphere. It's a subtle reminder that order yields from a world of chaos. No matter the cost, order always prevails. It is the epitome of everything humans were intended for. There is nothing uncertain about order. It allows us to exist in a world that's erasing our very being.

Happiness and love seem to be woven together. Some are blessed by its fruits; others are hidden from its sight. Perhaps those in the dark simply need to open their eyes. Or perhaps they are bound to their misfortune for life.

Funny how technology and its material foundations outlast the fundamental source of its existence. If consciousness dies, it is the only ephemeral existent in the history of time.

on dreams

As you become weary, the reality around you completely shifts. The surrounding environment becomes fluid to the point where a single thought will alter the perception. There is not one theory to explain this phenomenon. Is it a sequence of random and meaningless hallucinations? Or is it a deeper part of reality that is making sacred attempts to communicate with humanity? Speculation is the only option when it comes to matters such as these. And whose opinion is to be valued more? There is not one person who is not convinced they are absolutely correct. Yet, that objective truth always seems to be shifting. It's obvious that in actuality it can't be objective at all. As some say, the truth cannot be uttered, for once it is spoken it is no longer the truth. Our descriptions and explanations can only distort the truth. The truth just is, and none of us can make any further assumption than that. Excess speculation is just that: excess, and perhaps unnecessary. Why then do we hold our knowledge so highly?

minor schizophrenia

A preamble to this post is probably necessary. It's simply about the changing moods we all experience. Think about a time in your life when you were incredibly satisfied with everything. Now think of a time when you completely forgot that feeling.

I need to be saved. I have several different persons in me who all want a say about the nature of humans, reality, etc. Are the ones I'm most familiar with simply an illusion? Is it all a product of Maya? It certainly seems that way sometimes. But the positivist self is so uncommon. That is the one I wish would stay. All the others are simply harmful to whatever it is that's writing this excerpt. I need to be saved. There is nothing I can do alone. The power of doubt, or perhaps the devil, will have hold on me. It's such a tempting facet that needs to be suppressed until the appropriate time. There will be nothing better than eliminating that aspect that bruises and tears apart the fabric of life.

unnecessary baggage

It's not really the best feeling when I think of things I've done while under the influence of alcohol. It's just such a typical scene in college and I hardly think I would drink this much had I never come here (obviously this is a necessary step in my schooling, though). I simply feel that the things I do and say while drinking aren't really aligned with who I am as a person. I become so mindless and do things I end up regretting. Picture this: a college scene where everyone gets together to hang out and doesn't drink. Certainly if this was the case I would have made many less mistakes and random acts of stupidity. I might even have better friendships with the people I know. Less cuts and bruises, also.

Again, more worthless speculation. I always talk about living in the present (and firmly believe it) but continue to fall back on thoughts like these. I guess it's not so terrible. It's good to highlight those things in life done wrong in such a way that will help alter future actions.

First day of last semester tomorrow...

is that so?

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life. There was a beautiful, young Japanese girl who lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child. This made her parents very angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin. In great anger the parents went to the master.

"Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbors and everything else the little one needed. A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fish market. The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again. Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

-- Zen Proverb

Why do we worry so much?

an' another one

Don't let your mind grab hold of your performance. These are your words; this is your story. The rest is useless information that isn't the least bit relevant to your life. The phenomenon that you are experiencing right now is the sole reason you are here. Don't let some outward, or perhaps inward, part of reality creep its way into your heart. Just let go of everything you identify with so you can identify yourself. You're not getting anywhere by trying to be clever or smug. The only thing that's going to help you is sticking with the things you know and not the things that take time to figure out. Your pride is consuming you to the point where you are completely terrified of its removal. One day you will see how the fleeting reality actually is a reality.

Apparently I'm stuck on this identity thing.

you're not alone

I felt compelled to let my thoughts rampage. I forced myself to write as much and as fast as I could without letting up. Here's what happened.

I haven't the slightest clue what happened. As far as I know, my surroundings have been present for at least 15 billion years. Prior to the setting, I can't even speculate about the nature of reality. But lo and behold, here I am, forcing this pencil against an old notebook from a landmark year in college. College? How did I get here? I'd be fooling myself if I thought these perceptions were normal. I am fooling myself. I shouldn't be here. What is happening to me? Why have I been subjected to this body, this corporeal substance? I'm so tied up in thought that I can't even express the anxiety that consumes me. If only I could stop thinking and simply write all the things that are bottled up inside me, I might be able to unveil some of the deepest emotions within me. Perhaps those emotions don't even want to be revealed, which is thus why I fail at releasing them. Who is holding them back? Me? Will these emotions identify me? Is it my own self that is preventing me from knowing my true nature? If this is the case then it is obvious I don't even know who I am. Just some outward performance of worthless sketching.

I should do this free-write stuff more often.

the times they are a-changin'

Classes start in exactly 11 days. It's a strange feeling knowing this is my last semester at school. Starting January, I'll be in San Antonio to carry out my student teaching process. Though, I'm a little thrown by how the scheduling is supposed to work. I talked to a Texas realtor the other day and apparently the out-of-state students are put on a three-month lease. That throws me out of SA around mid-April, after which I'm not sure where I'll be. I know ISU will have me doing plenty of projects between that time and graduation, but I don't know if they want me back around campus or not. I should probably look into this...

So there you have it. Over 17 years of schooling and I'm finally entering my last year. What an incredibly lengthy process! It's great to look back and think about former teachers, classmates, friends, etc. And how different we have become! Sometimes I wish my actions in the past were more in line with my present conduct, but I suppose it's useless to speculate on such things. All I can do now is live in the present and enjoy what is.

all is flux

Yesterday was the last day of summer camp, thus concluding another full-time job for a while. Working there was an experience at least and an opportunity for growth at most. Like any job, it had its moments of difficulty, but was unique such that the benefits of working there outweighed the drama. Every child (even the whiners!) was hilarious and precious in their own way. There is a reason why their parents love them dearly. Over the summer, I noticed an aspect to children that's paramount in the dichotomy between child and adult. It's actually quite simple. Children love to interact. They can talk to you for hours about complete non-sense. To them, the content of the conversation is not so much as important as the conversation itself. They only want to share their thoughts with anyone who is listening. We adults, however, are a little different. In the case of a new acquaintance (though there are some exceptions), we tend to keep to ourselves. Conversations are short-lived and remain on the surface. This is not necessarily a bad thing and may be part of the adult nature. It just makes talking to kids all the more worthwhile. They bring something to the table that adults no longer can: an innocent naivety of blessed youth.

So today marks the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

the cynic put to shame

This morning I was approached by a six-year-old girl who was in desperate search for the chapstick she'd misplaced. Apparently her father gave it to her for the day and she didn't want to return home without it. She asked me if I'd help her look for it and I scoffed at the idea in my head. She doesn't know any better, I thought. How on earth did she expect to find something so small when it could be virtually anywhere on the camp ground? I tried to comfort her, emphasizing that it was simply chapstick and her father would not be upset. Though she was perhaps disappointed, she gave up her search and continued in her play.

Several hours later, I was sitting at a picnic table with a couple of the older boys in the camp. In the midst of conversation, I heard a small voice asking, can you help me find my chapstick now? I almost laughed. There we were, six hours after the girl's chapstick had disappeared, and she was still looking for it. But before the pessimistic in me could explain to her the loss of the cause, another boy at the table quickly spoke up. Chapstick? Was it pink? He ran off towards the swing set and returned shortly thereafter with a tube of chapstick in his hand. She took it with thanks and walked away.

Coincidence? Maybe. Meaningless? Maybe. Purposeful? Maybe.

a recommendation

So I bought a book a couple of days ago which is quite easily one of the most profound works I've ever read. Written by Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth seeks to aid humans in finding that joy of Being that we all long for. He stresses the importance of living in the Now and explains how we can accomplish such a task. I was simply amazed by his teachings and how sensible they are.

There is no way I could do justice in conveying the message that Tolle brings to the table. I can only emphasize the incredible impact this book will have on your life if you choose to take my advice. Buy it! It is an investment you will not regret. In fact, the book itself will teach you how to overcome regret entirely. Don't brush these words off your shoulders. Ignore that unwillingness in your head and take action!

conscious limits

It was about 9:30 am when I found myself propelled into another happening of déjà vu. We were on a bus headed to Peoria for the 'Freaky Friday' field trip and I was talking to a 4th grader from another camp. Not to my surprise, it wasn't long before a few boys interrupted our conversation. As they struggled to get my attention, I grew confused and had difficulty deciding which persons to listen to. I could either continue my conversation with the girl I was talking to or shift my attention to the boys behind me (they were talking simultaneously). At first, I tried listening to all of the banter, but quickly lost track of what they were saying. It's my contention that I could not focus on all of them due to that eerie feeling déjà vu harbors. The only thing on my mind was something like, wait a minute--I've experienced this before. It was then that I quickly dealt with the boys behind me and continued my conversation as before.

So what the heck is the point? I've had déjà vu several times before and most of these instances seem completely random and meaningless. I usually draw the conclusion that I've dreamed the incident prior to its occurrence, probably years in advance. But I'm not sure how or why any of this happens. Regardless, it leaves my jaw dropped every time. If anything, it's further testimony to the fact that the mind and consciousness are full of mysteries. The conscious mind yields everything that we are, yet it is the very product of consciousness that cannot understand its source. What exactly is the entity that is seeing, feeling, etc.? What is controlling my actions and thoughts? What am I?

Some philosophers contend that this question cannot be answered. According to the anti-reflexivity principle, an entity cannot operate on itself. That is, a finger cannot point at itself, a knife cannot cut itself, etc. This suggests that the conscious mind, the understander, cannot understand itself. Therefore, we will never understand the essence of consciousness, nor will we understand what selves are. This is a view I've had no problem adopting. It would explain why scientists don't even have a framework for the subject of consciousness. Though, one might object to the above principle, citing the fire that burns itself or the light that illuminates itself. Either way, it's good food for thought.

I'll refrain from boring you further. Enjoy the weekend.

the active spirit

Aaahhh...just finished up a nice little jam session with my buddy. It's always a thrill to find a musician who knows what they are doing. Just pick up a couple guitars and play from the heart. That's one thing I love about composing/playing music. Though it's not always like this, sometimes I just get lost in the music and can play for hours. There's something so beautiful about the process of creating. The mind ultimately plans and predicts the sound, while the fingers and vocal chords carry out the process. For me, it's spirituality at its best. I'm allowed to exhibit the senses in a way that's meaningful and entertaining. I'm amazed that humans are capable of producing something so incredible. Music has a way of speaking to us all.

What a great way to wrap up the evening.

today i felt like a person

Plain and simple. Woke up bright and early to a misty, cool morning. Drove to work listening to Wilco's latest compositions. No major problems at the camp, save a few cuts and bruises here and there. As usual, I had some good conversations with my co-worker, Sean. It's amazing how much we humans can learn from each other when we break out of our social-disabling shell. It would really be something if we could frequently practice openness and compassion towards everyone around. But who could possibly do that? After all, establishing some initial foundation of trust is probably necessary for most individuals. People don't tend to open up to others without getting to know them first. And this is perfectly reasonable. I doubt that a stranger is interested in my personal beliefs or experiences. As the reader, you may not even be interested in my rantings. So it's clear that an interest in one's life is preceded by the developing acquaintance between two persons. Unless, of course, the reader is a complete stranger. In that case, I am flattered.

Anyways, I drove home satisfied with the day's endeavors. I hope you folks can look back on the day and share my serenity.

beneath the surface

If someone were to remove everything from your life, leaving only those things that matter most, what would be left? Family? Friends? Lovers? What if you were to find that the significant remains weren't at all what you expected? What if, after this incredible act, everything remained?

It may be the case that those things we deem unnecessary are actually meaningful beyond comprehension. I only hope that I will soon understand the fleeting emotions running through this thick piece of meat lodged in my head.

One day the ups and downs will blend together in a brilliant encore of enlightenment.

live and learn

I really wish that I hadn't picked a major when I was 18. The only thing on my mind was getting out of high school and living somewhat independently. When it came to my field of study, I just thought, hey, education seems easy, let's go with that! Not only was I wrong about the apparent ease of the discipline, but I was also completely unaware of what I actually wanted to study. I look back on the three years of school I've finished and can only pinpoint a few classes that impacted me. The rest of my days were filled with ridiculous gen eds and poorly structured education courses. Why was it not until the second semester of my 3rd year that I was finally teaching in a classroom? As an education major, I thought this might come much sooner.

This is not to suggest that I am unhappy with the profession I am entering. My discontent lies mainly with the courses I've taken. They have taught me absolutely nothing about myself or the world around me. I'm pretty sure that all I've done is made hundreds of lesson plans that I'll never use. Don't get me wrong, I have learned some useful information about teaching. But I haven't been given a chance to apply that information. I'm going to be tossed in front of a classroom in a year and I don't know the first thing about how the curriculum works. It's ridiculous.

I do look forward to working with the kids. I'm really hoping for a job teaching 7th or 8th grade language arts. And I'm sure that I'll find it to be an excellent and rewarding experience. I simply regret that I did not pursue my best interests while I was here. If I were wealthy, I'd stay in school for a while longer and study literature or philosophy. It's frightening that a little bit of money is holding me back from studying those things I have passion for. What a strange life this is.

delightful, yet harmful

The best way to describe me is simply human. I have good intentions, yet easily fail to embrace the objective goodness in life. I am a hypocrite because at the core of my optimistic heart lies a cynical being. There is a person inside me who wants to rejoice in love, yet I ignore that person and sulk in the pain of remorse. I want nothing more than to enjoy every moment of every day, but it is by my own actions that enjoyment ceases to prosper.

While this all seems very somber, it couldn't be any closer to the truth. I am imperfect. Every human being is. You may be asking yourself, what about the whole lecture on embracing goodness and suppressing the bad? This is certainly an honorable question. But perhaps this isn't as contradictory as it seems.

What exactly do I mean? Well, the premise of my former post is namely the negativity of others. Dwelling on somebody else's harmful demeanor will get you nowhere. It is in such cases that said negativity should be suppressed. On the other hand, the premise of this post is the negativity in you and me. See, we can't do anything about the shortcomings of others, but we can accept our own flaws and seek to change them. Once we can highlight our imperfections, we can take it upon ourselves to remedy the situation. So while these words sound real 'gloom and doom', there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is up to us to take the first step.

Inspired by a co-worker, this last question follows well from the analysis above. What could a human being ever do to deserve perfect love?

anger / compassion

A little bit of spiritual healing is all you need when times are frustrating. Forget about chasing problems away with booze and cigarettes. The self doesn't need mind-altering substances to deal with day-to-day drama. What it really needs is a careful examination of corporeal reality. Personally, I tend to zero in on the negative things even when I'm surrounded by a plethora of goodness. I forget that I have food in my stomach, money in the bank, a degree in progress, family and friends, etc. Instead, my mind will be fogged with the frustrating fear of non-acceptance, or something of that accord. Nobody wants to feel targeted or disliked. But sometimes we may need to accept the fact that some persons won't accept us. That sounds a bit confusing, but with our consent it can become enlightening. The drama and tension that we hold so highly in our day-in-day-out lives means absolutely nothing in the big picture. These things only create anguish and discontent. It is the good things alone that will make us happier individuals with healthy minds.

Funny, today I asked a 4th grader what the absolute worst part of life was. Her response: lack of goodness. What an incredible answer from such a young person. She is absolutely right.

My recommendation for the evening is to head to the nearest library or bookstore and check out Ethics for the New Millennium by the incumbent Dalai Lama. His words speak louder than mine.

i am a paradox

My friend Jack wrote a passage recently that reminded me of how trapped I feel inside my own head. To reconcile with the difficulty I am having writing tonight, I figured I'd post something relevant to his thoughts. I wrote this passage a little over a month ago...

There is something inside of me that wants out. There is a part of me that wants to break free from this prison and celebrate in freedom. I have a part to play in this ensemble of chaos, yet it is lost on me. I do not know what I am supposed to do. I only know that my being is exceptional in every way, shape and form. It is a brief opportunity to revel in this ambiance any way I see fit. It exists for reasons greater than I know. If this were not the case, it should not exist at all. There must be purpose to this flesh, this blood, this ego. For if this coalition were purposeless there would be no significance for its existence. And what are these things if not significant? The division of taste, touch, smell, vision, hearing. Our perceptions, tied with our experiences, exhaust everything that constitutes our lives. Thus, every instant, nay, every existent is significant in this marvelous dream of ineffability. All things, holding significance, must have purpose. For what is significant holds purpose, and what lacks purpose has significance none.

I am a paradox because these are the things that matter most to me, yet I fail to communicate and live by my own values. My life is a poem with a blank slate.

let the sun beat down upon my face

There is only one word I can think of to describe today's endeavors: WARM. Weather.com says it's 83 degrees but I believe it is feeding me lies. See, I work as a camp counselor and most of my days are spent out in the sun. It actually hasn't been too bad up until this week. The sun just seemed to permeate right through me today. But no matter how hot it was, I kept reminding myself that I wasn't hauling around a 30-pound backpack like I did last summer. My position as a counselor is certainly a step up from the old days of factory work and mosquito abatement. And I am most grateful to have such a position. Though, I've found that no matter what job I have, the work is accompanied by subtle feelings of gratification. Even when things are rough, I find more fulfillment in labor than in its antithesis. Unemployment tends to make us feel useless on a number of levels. I think this partially comes from our drive to succeed, though we often mistake this drive with our love of money. Of course, the paycheck at the end of the week or month is inspiration unto itself, but perhaps there's something further we should be taking away from our jobs. I suppose this would differ in accordance with every individual, but I encourage readers to go into work with anticipation rather than apathy. There's always something to learn, whether it be from the labor or the surrounding people.

the inspiration

It's only after years of reading a friend's blog that I finally decided to create my own. I believe my former roommate set one of these up for me in the past, though I never actually did anything with it. Amazing how the mind is constantly engaged in thought, yet it can draw a monotonous blank at any attempt to forego the mental into the physical. That is, recording thoughts onto paper can be extremely difficult. I once discussed this with a co-worker and he suggested that I simply write more often. This seems like an easy solution, yet I am still lacking that necessary drive. Perhaps this blog will give me the boost I am looking for.

Right about now you are probably thinking, what the hell is with the blog title? It's a slight modification of the novel by Milan Kundera, entitled The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I've never read it, nor do I plan on it any time soon. Regardless, the title seems to be notorious and I thought it fit to change the word lightness to heaviness. I hardly think that one can classify their existence as "light." Rather, it is a complete mystery to the human race, an enigma that no person has ever been able to grasp. It is the phenomenon that reminds us how weak our minds actually are no matter how intellectually strong we appear to be. As such, I deemed heavy to be a more suitable adjective in this particular phrase.

Til' next time,
Matt