lessons.

ah the patterns the patterns.

and yeah so there are actions and there are reactions and there are the things we do the things we say and there are things that say and do us, don't you know.

and there are so many patterns that repeat if you don?t get the lesson the first time it's going to come around again and bite you in the butt or maybe you'll just trip over it or maybe you'll just slide and slide on that ever present banana peel.

sometimes everything connects to the point that i go completely nuts and frighten myself into a bout of paranoia and do things like, oh, suddenly delete my blog, symbolically attempting to wipe my image right out of the mirror. and sometimes things connect in great cosmic lessons of significant import. and sometimes things connect in such as way as to be absurdly humorous and wonderful. this is all part of the joy of the crazy me. just read on and you too can watch these synapses playing accelerated ping-pong in a vacuum.

yesterday?s daily dharma:

"You exist as an idea in your mind."

~Shunryu Suzuki

which fits in perfectly with gongli's brilliant featured post regarding his life as a fictional creation created by the author himself.

then late last night, i turned on the tube as i was getting into bed, and there it was, my fave beautiful bittersweet woody allen flick, "the purple rose of cairo" in which a fictional character comes down from the screen, falls in love and runs loose in the "real" world. of course the actual actor turns out to be more false in reality than the true-blue fictional character from the film. probably one of the best pieces of writing in film existence, full of brilliant one-liners, philosophical humor, a twist on the nature of reality, a poke at our ideals of human relationships, expectations and the fallibility of human nature. and of course, Mia Farrow gives a most tender and heart-breaking performance as an unhappy woman who seeks refuge from her brutal marriage in the movie theatre, and whose love brings the character in the film to life.

well of course i love Mia Farrow. and i identify with her character in occasionally a too close for comfort way. and gongli's post made me laugh and cry. imagination is a powerful thing. some would say it is the driving force behind reality. even in the most scientific of investigations, the focus seems to be predetermined in advance by whatever it is that is sought, from the cure to cancer to the nature of the universe.

despite the food chain eat or be eaten struggling survival of the fittest brutality of the world in which we live, there is also a world of compassion and understanding, cooperation and teamwork and love and hope and heroes overcoming tremendous odds that is equally real.

and my imagination tends to drive me toward the ideal world because well . . because it?s also an equally important survival mechanism to pull your hand away from the fire, to wish for peace, to pursue happiness and to be free of suffering. don't we all want these things?

consciousness of ephemeral organic mortality and inevitable demise, combined with the knowledge of the nature of the reality of the suffering of existence, why not strive to be free of it? isn't this sort of imagination of the ideal the truly natural survival mechanism that makes life and love possible in a violent world?

and if i think therefore i am and i exist as an idea in my mind, then why not accept and acknowledge that i am my own fictional creation of my self? doesn't that make the ego so much less serious and threatening, and maybe, potentially, even a fiction itself, one to rewrite into a co-collaborator who assists in creating something of beauty out of suffering?

and if i am my own author of this identity, i am symbolic in nature and thus essentially free to create the meaning of my own existence. can't control the stuff that happens, the nature of an existence of suffering, but do get to decide how to adapt, what to make of it.

hmmm. lots of responsibility inherent in that notion. bit scarey. what ideas should i choose to exist as today?

well, first thing i'm going to have to do is get rid of that blasted banana peel.

been down there. long dark night of the soul. could only see cruelty and meaninglessness. deep endless black hole. pulling everything into it.

maybe pushed in, maybe jumped in, maybe fell, maybe a demon pulled me down there but it doesn't matter. been down there. know it well. stayed too long. did not buy a t-shirt. did not send postcards. did not enjoy my stay. did not wish you were there. sometimes it tries to pull me back in. sometimes, in moments of ignorance and delusion, i even visit. succumbing to that giant sucking sound, that dark world of hurt.

not the only one who's been there. some people live there and don?t even know it. i have.

and you know Gandalf my man, he found his sword on his way down into that black hole and he caught up with that demon and he fell and he fell and he fought as he fell and he came back twice as strong and all clean and white, cleansed and fresh, new duds and a new do and he returned for the turning of the tide. he returned because he had a job to do and he knew it was not the end.

despair is not the end. it is only a test. a test of the emergency broadcasting system. it is just a warning. it is a message to remember. remember compassion. remember who you are. remember this is only a movie. only a show. artifice. lights and sounds and emotion and it too shall pass.

it is not the essence. it is only accidental. a detour. a distraction.

and it is nothing.

and it is a mystery. and it is a miracle. and it is beautiful.

for shiva dances the dance of creation and destruction and he smiles and he tells us to fear not.

and the buddha touches the ground and Mara is defeated.

and gondor will call and rohan will answer. and the great ring the will to power will dissolve into itself and destroy the eye in the pit of fire. and there is honor and fealty and loyalty and truth. and gandalf will swoop down on giant eagles and scoop up the wounded survivors. and reluctant heroes will come to terms with their ancestors and free their ghosts and everyone will cross to the far shore. and the journey will be beautiful. so beautiful.

and there will always be love.

and everything will pass. but it will never end.

and the big bang will explode and the explosion will reach out upward and onward in entropy until it contracts back in upon itself and becomes a great ball of energy and the big bang will explode.

like a bud to a flower to a fruit to a seed to a sprout to a tree to a bud.

like a realization. like an illusion. like a circle. like a wheel.

step right up. it's your turn to spin the wheel. you pays your money and you makes your choice.

and remember.

remember doubt is the losing bet.

remember.

didn't get the job. didn't want the job. need the job. but didn't get the job.

was it something i said? maybe i shouldn't have made that comment. maybe i shouldn't have said that thing. maybe i was too nervous. maybe i was too confident. maybe i was too desperate. maybe they could tell i'm crazy. maybe i shouldn't have worn the blue sweater. maybe it was the shoes.

always always if i get to the interview, i get the job. lots of resumes go out and no word, or thanks but no thanks, but if i get the interview, if i get in there, i get the job.

and i didn't get the job.

and i didn't want the job.

i mean i need to make money, pay my own way. need to be gainfully employed. worked since i was 13 at my dad's newspaper and then in restaurants bussing tables, waiting tables, in an art gallery, in a bookstore, in restaurants, in accounting, doing typesetting, back to waiting tables, and then oh dear i became the pseudo semi-professional. a flippin paralegal.

be a lawyer or just work for one.

ten years of being on the inside of law offices, the stress the press the push the pull the deadlines the deadlines and the egos oh the egos and the pace. litigation is so manic, so manic.

but got to pay my way. got to make my way. got to be gainfully employed you know.

the papers and the files and the deadlines and the court room and the liability the liability and the over the top got so be so darn careful somebody's life, future, disability, business, intellectual property is on the line, somebody is losing sleep over this, spitting up stomach acid burning up in anxiety over this and the judges cut the attorneys down to size and you know it all rolls downhill. and we are the paralegals. and we fill in the cracks, we hold their hands, we help them carry that ring, we are the sams to their frodos, we take 'em all the way up and tell 'em to dump it in and we finish their sentences and remind them to take their vitamins and draft their pleadings and correspondence and keep their calendars and hold their hands, we hold their hands and we make their exhibits and we organize their notebooks and we find their briefcases and we hand them their coffee and we run their errands and finish their sentences and they do the show, they face the music, they play the game, they argue and they prance and they strut and they shine and they dazzle and they strategize and they work it and they think so fast on their feet and they talk it and present it and they know it all and they carry it through and they do all that they do and we hold down the fort . . .

and i didn't get the job. and i didn't want the job. but i feel so rejected.

tax litigation. for oil and gas companies. sounded drier than stale rye crisp and just about as appealing. maybe they don't want no freaking hippy punk beatnik pagan hindu buddhist philosopher flake mucking about in their oily business.

but i was rejected.

and i must be loved and wanted by all, don't you see? i must be needed. i am the one. i am the multi-armed paralegal goddess of functional co-dependence who can tie your shoes and wipe the drool off your face and send you out into the courtroom with three colors of sticky notes, four kinds of pens and fully indexed jury notebooks with a trial plan and subpoenas served with extra copies of all the case law in alphabetical order. i can sit there at the table and smile and tell you what i know in the jurors' faces and i can hand you exhibits and calm down the client and run down the hall and plug in a laptop and return your calls and coordinate the witnesses and order your sandwich because you don't like the seeds in the rye bread and you don't like mayo and i can share a belt with you out of your desk drawer and tell you you were brilliant and even mean it and

and i didn't get the job. didn't want the job. didn't get the job.

made it through the first two levels of interviews but not the third. made it through the human resource office manager, to the attorneys to be working with, but did not get to the all important three times a charm managing partner. did not get past the young little baby associates out of law school for 4 or 5 years telling me what they expect in support staff speech and the yes sir yes sir three bags full sir was just not enough this time it was not enough and i didn't get the job.

could it be some bad reference in there, some cheesed off previous attorney talking within the secret off the record closed club just between us how's your wife network saying yeah she's ok but she's got some weird tendencies meditates in her office and she wants to be paid and she's emotional, you know, and she's got to do her volunteer work and she's probably unstable or could it be they didn't like me could it be the attorneys are getting younger and the staff the underlings should be younger could it be this uppity streak starting to burble up a bit could it be my appearance did i look too groovy did i say cool too many times did i burp onions did i dribble coffee down my sweater were my earrings too big did i sound too expert did i have too much experience did i want too much money did i seem too round the block or round the bend was there a run in my tights was i too nervous or too confident too desperate have i been on sabbatical too long and what you give is what you get

and i didn't want the job.

and maybe it showed.