Acceptance

I didn't mean to take this photo; it was one of
those, "oops I took a photo of the floor" ones.

The Abstract

To not accept something is to want to change it. A view of acceptance is realizing that we have done all that we can towards what we want. But why stop at all you can do? Could you stop much earlier too, and would it still be OK... or even preferable?

The Story

Have you ever been told to just accept a situation, but being told this left you feeling frustrated? It can seem like being told to relax, to love, to be happier, or to just not be hungry: the act of being told to feel differently than we do does not feel helpful in itself; it tends to result in feeling misunderstood.

For example, imagine being told to accept the end of a relationship. It's easy to imagine feeling angry and frustrated by the loss, and to feel that the people telling you to just accept it are not respecting the pain and longing you feel for that relationship. We don't want to suffer, but being told to not feel the pain, and to instead accept the way things are is incongruous. And there is a deeper problem in being told to accept what we feel are bad things: it can double as telling us to want something different than we want, and implicitly cast a shadow of shame on who we are.

So what can be said that is better than 'accept it'? After all, when we tell people to accept something, it is usually because we feel that nothing can be done to make the situation better than it is. Here perhaps is the clue... can we interpret acceptance in way that we are not left with a feeling of disrespecting our pain and loss?

An analogy with drawing: when drawing there is a point at which any other line added to the picture makes the picture worse; a point when nothing can be added to make the picture better. When the artist realizes nothing more can be added, this is a kind of acceptance of the artwork. It's not always a perfect picture; but short of throwing it away, it's what it is.

To me, this was an unusual but liberating image. Instead of fighting to accept what I actually don't want to - which feels like a disrespect of myself - the image moves me to be curious about what I have done so far, where I am, and to ask if there is an action I can take that is truly helpful? Or maybe there isn't? Have I done what I want already, have I done less or more? Sometimes we need to stop adding actions, drawing lines, pushing, and trying harder to do more stuff because it is counter productive to do so. We can ask have I drawn the last line that I truly wish to? This question makes me feel I have choice; and perhaps provides a path to accepting if indeed I have. Maybe it would be easier to accept a situation if people had told me that they thought all that had been possible to do had already been done. Then acceptance would be my choice again. So maybe the question to ask is: do you think there is more to be done that will help you? This separates the current state of pain, which is whatever it is, form the question of should one act further.

This concept of acceptance, with the wrong squint, may have a ghost of perfectionism lurking in it. And this brings me to a another concept. It is tempting to say the picture is as perfect as it can be. But why stop there? Why not retreat all the way back to a concept 'good enough'? We could stop drawing much earlier, when the picture is good enough; when it is sufficient for what we want it for. And now I feel the landscape is truly laid bare and its freedoms presented: at this point it seems we can walk as far as we like on the field from the best possible to the minimally sufficient; and perhaps this philosophy just comes down to just asking oneself where do we want to go now?

And that's good enough for now, so I will stop writing. Happy weekend.

Costumes; a cornerstone of benevolant democracy

I like costumes. They are a cornerstone of democracy. The capacity to express oneself pseudonymous enables free-expression; it is a way to protect free-expression and allow people to speak out against corruption for example. As such, I see it as a foundation for benevolent democracy.

So, time to dress up and support benevolent democracy!

projectsecretidentity.org

feelings towards, and the object of attention

One of the less inspiring window displays in Chelsea. But it makes me smile to see it!

I've become enamored with a couple of concepts recently... here's the first: "We have feelings towards the object of our attention"

Feelings don't happen to us. They are not a direct result of us, or our environmental: they are the result of the application of attention to something. It's kind of obvious at the extremes: you can't feel much about things that you don't know anything about and never experience. 

The phrasing itself entices one to ask what is the object of my attention that produces this feeling?

Claim: we don't control the way we feel much, but we can control much more easily our attention. But not completely - a loud noise can capture our attention for example. But in many ways we do get to choose the focus of our attention. And what's more, focusing attention is a learnable skill. 

But here's the real punchline: there are 'fixed points' of emotion: there are some feelings that when we make them the object of our attention result in the same feeling! If we make our grumpyness the object of our attention (we think "damn, I feel so grumpy"), it often results in exactly the same feeling of grumpiness ("crap, I'm so grumpy feeling, I hate it!"). It's an attention-feeling fixed point! How cool is that? I noticed this while feeling grumpy one day :)  

Attention itself is a fluid, partially malleable thing. So it begs us to think about what is attention? What flexibility do we have in its focus? 

This also provides a neat model for the impact of breathing meditation. Making breathing the focus of our attention takes our mind and emotions off of other things.  And breathing seems to inspire common feeling among pretty much all people: paying attention to our breathing... feels good. 

Happy breathing. 

Dragon of Seville

Nostalgic symbol and creature of freedom and power from my childhood, found in perpetual watch of the eater on this plate from 1500 Seville. 

stealing the courage to shop for shoes

In a cafe, stealing the courage to shop for shoes. Writing on my phone, all thumbs, slow like. So many thoughts the last few days I reflect on in this 10 minute window on dreamlike thinking from yesterday's tiredness.

We have a capacity to a sense of having choices. In stark contrast, an overwhelming feeling of choicelessness can also descend. I recall being in a bar, and wondering about going over and talking to some young women drinking nearby. And I notice 4 things: a fear, insecurity at the imagination of some kind of rejection; an intellectual impasse at in searching for a social reason to start the interaction; an indifference as they don't actually seem that interesting to me; and a desire to be part of their company, to engage with them. All are there at once. And, from the observation, I notice a curious part of myself that observes the others without judgment. Sometimes there is also a judgey part of myself that doesn't accept the fearful feelings I have. But lately curiosity has been taking over and I am flooded with an internal gratitude. 

I put up 2 hooks to hold my wooden aikido sward yesterday, and looking at it I feel the sward is a little too far to the left. But I still like it.

Dixon's Bike Shop

I'm always strangely happy to find a shop that shares a name with me. 

Flaming cocktails

Flaming cocktails… Last night I dreamt that I was in the garden of a british mansion house where people were having tea and croissants. I was there to fight in a mixed martial arts tournament against a fat lady with an axe. 

Pride and the greasy yummy snack

On the corner of 145th street, by the ACBD line, is a Caribbean food shop that sells, for $1, three of these snacks which I’ve only ever had in Madagascar before - an oily, sour and slightly sweet treat… a nostalgic taste. 

Today, from the other side of the US, I ponder pride, which has two such distinct meanings! It can be an rooted in admiration, or it can be rooted in insecurity and the need to protect one's ego. I find it a bit strange how the word has adopted these two, so different, meanings… except I see that the psychology blends smoothly and looks very similar from the outside as at times... I’m wondering, there must be a question that we can ask that divides the two meanings naturally… but I haven't found it yet. 

New York skyline.

Spending time looking at this beautiful new york skyline this evening.

Former member of the alien water heater gang

Former member of the alien water heater gang, chilling by the bins. Ripped from his engine-buddy aboard the Serene, he now has only the x-dilgepump for company.

a bicycle wheel and an armchair

There is something I find special about a bicycle wheel and an armchair in a pile of rubbish, just hanging out. I smile at it on my way downtown to pick up my bicycle and work some.

Hong Kong chic

Hong Kong makes New York feel kind of rural. There's an amazing amount of messy concrete chic.

monday evening

It's the evening and it has returned: a an uncertainty with writing about my life, my thoughts, or lack of them. And where to write things? I'd like something like Google-plus; letting people subscribe to channels of my writing, but instead, I have to select what circles to put people in, then they either get all of me, or nothing at all... so I'm blogging...blogging has acquired a kind of romance too.

I day-dreamt of futures, as I walk home from work; imagining how life could be. It turns out that it's hard (for me) to imagine a future I really want... or rather it's easy, but a little too fictional when it happens.

Eli eats some pizza.

I got given a phone today, a fancy thing, but I don't have a phone contract, so I can't use it without setting up a contract and paying... I dream of a future without admin...

I also saw this...

car? ...

And, not related, but also something I was thinking about, I'll get married on Friday it looks like... life trundles on!

dropping time

So I'll not be methodical, I declare. I'll skip and jump about as I please. It's a night I don't care to sleep. I decided today, tonight, to map out what I care for doing. It seems to divide into 4 parts... political/saving the world (kenyersel.org), science/mathematics (mostly graphical languages and learning basic university maths I missed, or just forgot), physical things/movement (aikido, tango, tai chi), and creative/artistic (learning to play music, drawing, poetry).... and... oops... I missed out fun! (for me that's reading, also dancing and socialising and cooking and going to see films). Then I thought about how I'm spending my time, frantically trying to float on the sea of stuff not happening...

But nonetheless, it makes me feel more optimistic. Knowing what I like, and thinking that maybe I could change my life to do it... I daydream of working 2 or 3 days a week so I can spend the rest of the time doing my hobbies...

I then did some catching up on what's going on in my email box, piles of ancient things I've told myself I'll reply to. I 'star' things I want to come back to... the star looks now like a symbol of gilt... but along the way found my favorite thing that happens this time of year, a new song every day from the atheist advent... now I'm smiling and thinking to read a book in bed.

return to words

I stopped writing for a while; I lost sense of purpose in writing. I felt I was restricting myself in my writing. I wanted to say a lot more, and also less. That wordless cloud has passed. My fear was that it pointless in the onslaught of social media; the fear subsided. Pointfullness is a hopeless struggle.

Anyway, I spent some time recently in Shanghai, where I discovered the building in these photos. 1933 is it's name. A former slaughter house of concrete that makes my mind run wild with sci-fi imaginings. Now full of boutique shops, cafes and random spaces in progress.

I found China (Beijing and Shanghai) made New York feel like a pale shadow of capitalism in comparison. There's a lot of money in China, a lot of action, a lot happening. A strong sense of the country growing, blossoming. Coming back to New York, I found a new affection for this city. It's darkness and brokenness. 

Saturday in sunday's clothes, more tea

I'm starting to question blogs; why blog in the new age of G+ and Facebook? It's saturday, the sun shines after last nights storm, like nothing happened. I just spoke to Scott on the phone - he is stranded in Newark for the last 12 hours. Elizabeth is making a bag. We ate a brunch of Vietnamese Sandwiches and salad. The dog has recovered from his gastric excesses; the last of his lost poos, we think, have been cleaned up (the mysterious stench from under the bed is no more!). I do a little Quantomatic programming; and plan to have an amazing coffee and prepare the Soho hideout for the arrival of Aleks and Clare next week. Like have transitioned me; and while I still feel oft and on like a frustrated artist reduced to factory work; I'm also finally getting the hang of writing software with the conceptual sludge that is c++. And here's a picture I rather like, from a while ago, when I walked over the Manhattan bridge with Taina... And here's some cushions I saw in a shop of colourful french cloth-things... they made me think of Vincent, and Elham, and Edinburgh, but this time not melancholy. The kettle boils, and I consider the ways a handle can be attached to a bag. More tea...

missing Edinburgh

I'm missing Edinburgh this Sunday... so I tore into washing dishes, they are all done now. I still feel a bit melancholy; did some chores, wrote emails, fighting the eternal war against admin.

I dreamed of my father a few days ago, he was thin and unwell, desperate to get another hit of morphine. He cared for me, but was also twisted out of society by addiction and desperation.We were in the south of spain, he was on the run; I remember the dry dust and smell of herbs and heat and ruins. When he was fed, he was ok, but when hungry he was agitated, wild, and risk-taking.

I have a Ramadan dinner plan tonight - should be fun and friendly. I think I have a sense of needing projects, and of needing those projects to progress; maybe I should try and be more satisfied with living, and care less about projects... perhaps I'm just falling into my familiar "finally catching up on sleep blues"... this city is a lot more work to live in, and I miss my dear friends from Edinburgh...

But then there are some wonderful things here too... And Simone has just arrived from her boat trip, looking well and adventurous, as well as a little tired from the long train ride from North Carolina. 

A sunday walk through town

It was Sunday today, I ceased it with unusual indulgence. After a slow waking up, an excursion to eat - the place was good, but brutally noisy - I retreated to Grumpies, where we partook in reading newspapers, and I settled into myself happily again. Then a walk, via various shops. A shop selling colourful pillows; jewelry shops; sex-toy shops, and finally arriving at the cafe where Harry met Sally. Chowing a pastrami sandwich, and discussing the strange little fears that one lives through: mostly I cower under the fear of saying what I want... sometimes so much, that I don't know what I want! Luckily I was advised to eat the pastrami sandwich, some soup, and something resembling hash browns. Past an exciting bookshop on the way home, and it's already tomorrow. Now I'm sitting, doing nothing much, noticing little drops of sweat run down and tickle my tummy... time to sit by a fan or turn on air conditioning, else I'll be a raisin by the morning...

hot, cold, and chicken soup

New York is hot now, dense, and I have a cold. I'm confused as to how to care for a cold in this crazy heat - drinking hot lemon and ginger tea seems kind of perverse. I drink cold barley water and lament all the things I'm not doing, read up on housing law, and try to catch up on the escalating pile of email, and all the things I've promised to do but not had time to...  but it's not really so bad; Jazz plays in the background and sounds of Elizabeth making chicken soup drift through from her kitchen.

The sum of their parts

I bumped into the phrase "the whole is more than the sum of it's parts", and I was reminded of how thirsty this sometimes leaves my mind...

Briefly, I think the key observation is that "the sum of their parts" is usually rather undefined. The question is often really about the notion of "sum"...

For instance, consider how 2 * 3 = 6, and 2 + 4 = 6. Addition (2 + 4) and multiplication (2 * 3) are both functions that result in 6, but with different constituents (2 and 4, vs 2 and 3). So the question is then, "what are the parts of 6?". The number 6 can be made by from 2 and 3, but it is certainly more than the sum of 2 and 3 (2 + 3 = 5), so 6 is more than the sum of it's parts!? On the other hand if 2 and 4 are the parts of 6, then it is exactly the sum of it's parts. If 2, 4, 2 and 3 are all parts of 6 then 6 is way less than the sum of it's parts...

The general point being that there is a special relationship between "parts" and "sums". If you use the wrong kind of sum, then you don't get the whole from it's parts. Sometimes you get more, sometimes less. So, if ever someone tells you that something is more than the sum of its parts, it's interesting to ask, what kind of sum? and what kind of parts?

In other news, I went to a Google picnic today, lots of sun, games, free drinks, and super-soakers...