Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll, But Mostly Drugs

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Dada and Zen are Unlikely Twins

So, ladies and gents, I had a little thought yesterday that was pleasant enough to want to share, but complicated enough that I'm required to do a bit of 'splanin' if I want to actually share it.

The Thought:

That Zen Buddhism and the Dada art movement have a LOT of philosophical overlap, and what they share makes me immensely happy.

The 'Splanin':

1. The Easy Part

Without much thought or research, I think that we can all agree that Zen parables are pretty Dada.

For example, here's an oldie & goodie:

A man walking across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger chasing after him. Coming to a cliff, he caught hold of a wild vine and swung himself over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Terrified, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger had come, waiting to eat him. Two mice, one white, one black, little by little began to gnaw away at the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

Or here's a Zen anecdote that I found online, that I liked OK:

Roshi Kapleau agreed to educate a group of psychoanalysts about Zen. After being introduced to the group by the director of the analytic institute, the Roshi quietly sat down upon a cushion placed on the floor. A student entered, prostrated before the master, and then seated himself on another cushion a few feet away, facing his teacher.

"What is Zen?" the student asked. The Roshi produced a banana, peeled it, and started eating. "Is that all? Can't you show me anything else?" the student said. "Come closer, please," the master replied. The student moved in and the Roshi waved the remaining portion of the banana before the student's face. The student prostrated, and left.

A second student rose to address the audience. "Do you all understand?" When there was no response, the student added, "You have just witnessed a first-rate demonstration of Zen. Are there any questions?"

After a long silence, someone spoke up. "Roshi, I am not satisfied with your demonstration. You have shown us something that I am not sure I understand. It must be possible to TELL us what Zen is."

"If you must insist on words," the Roshi replied, "then Zen is an elephant copulating with a flea."

Now, that's pretty Dada, right? I think so. I was pleased.

Oh. If you don't know what Dada is, here is the Wikipedia page and a link to the most famous work of Dada art. What is that work of art? It is a urinal that's been turned sideways, signed like it was a painting, and submitted to an art show. Edgy stuff for 1917.

2. The Tough Part

Oy. So what do I think that Zen and Dada are simultaneously trying to teach us, and how am I going to relate this to gushing about my favorite movies and rock bands?

I'm going to need some operational definitions that are specific to this conversation, just to make things go a bit more easily.

Here my operational definition of Zen Buddhism:
(I think I've actually nailed it pretty dern close to how Zen Buddhism defines itself, too.)

An ancient technique used to try to keep the mind sincerely free of personal bias and unnecessary emotional structures so that it can be as intellectually sharp, emotionally durable, and compassionate toward all things as is humanly possible.

Now, maintaining an emotional state of genuine loving kindness towards everything is a top priority for every Zen teaching that I've read, but this isn't to say that Zen teaching is free of snark or feather-ruffling. The small acts of silly rudeness are designed to shake the audience up and help demolish unnecessary reverence to make room for better critical thinking.

Much like Dada art, actually. EXACTLY like Dada art, actually.

And the rock band Devo, who I'm listening to right now and loving it. And... The movie "Harold and Maude." Whew! Almost didn't mention a movie. But that movie is actually perfect for combining one's Dada and Zen practices into a single whimsical activity, and I'm proud of myself for citing it on the spot just now. Go me.

Well? Bollocks, I think I've nailed the thought on the head a bit earlier than I'd planned to.

So instead of operationally defining Dada and then writing another paragraph or two about how many elements of its philosophy parallel Zen philosophy, I'm just going to post this as-is. I might write a part two later. (I probably will.)

Stay classy!

Nitpicking Behavior Patterns Behind Fury Against Another Culture, Plus a Bonus Essay About Evolution

Here are some Unoriginal Thoughts in Original Language, on the subject of Fury Against Another Culture.

I originally started writing about this in response to a friend's Facebook discussion about the ongoing evolution controversies. (WHY is this still a hot-button issue in 2009?!?)

But I can't help it, I like to get really broad and think about the basic patterns underlying behavior, thought and feeling instead of just nitpicking the details of a single, specific cultural sore spot. With that in mind...

Foaming anger is (maybe always?) a symptom of severe unmet psychological or medical need. I'm willing to risk my reputation (what reputation?) to stand behind this statement. It's not a huge gamble, and I'm certainly not the first person to assert it. But still.

The thing, lifestyle, group, whatever that this kind of foaming, anti-them anger is directed at isn't necessarily related to the unmet need, although jealousy can certainly be a powerful force in going violently nuts.

The anger is USUALLY directed in a polarizing way at an "other" or opposing group's philosophy, as a quick and TOTALLY CHEATING way to get high off of a delusionally intense sense of intense group belonging and moral righteousness. It's a drug. It's escapism, and it's kind of sympathetic and heartbreaking (the way crack problems are) even though I'm talking about the absolute worst part of human nature.

If we could fully heal these loonies, they might just become rational. (At least in a few generations. Some people might lose their fire once comfortable, but still never gain a rational worldview. Capacity for personal growth can sometimes be just about nil.)

Also, I could be talking about ANY rabidly angry cultural movement, not just the angriest people on either side of the evolution debate. You name a scary group, I'm talking about them.

For that matter, I know that I've caught this emotional pattern in myself countless times! Just because I try to be nonviolent and compassionate, it doesn't make me holy or superior. I'm just another human being. Another crazy, talking thing made out of meat.

But because I've been trained to overthink these things, I try to remember that a different cultural background would put me squarely into the shoes of the people I rabidly disagree with, and this helps me keep my potentially very irrational and very active anger pretty damn well in check. Thank you psychology, and thank you Thich Nhat Hanh. (My #1 favorite Zen Buddhist author of all time.)

Now to digress into a bit of team-reinforcement ranting on my part, which I'll try to keep from getting TOO angry with:

How is evolution still controversial?! Children differ genetically from their parents, yet many traits are also passed from parent to child. It's a mechanism that allows the most successful mutations to be passed along, and evidence that genes do not stay static over time. Because they don't stay static over time. It's really cut-and-dry folks.

And seeing as how this is something that does happen, that's already BEEN measured, why not just say that God did it? If God exists, then God DID do this. Because according to most major monotheistic religions, God masterminded and designed everything. Therefore, that should include this system for slow genetic change over time. Where's the controversy? Wouldn't denying the existence of something that God did be disrespectful to God?

I swear, the evolution controversy in the United States just stems from team-allegiance trouble these days. (And maybe an ineffective science-education system?) Too bad that's such an effective way to totally overwhelm a human being.

I wonder what unmet psychological and medical needs are secretly fueling it? Oh, speculating about that could produce a very long list.

To change the subject AGAIN:

One of my quirky and idiosyncratic passions is the widespread dissemination of high-quality science information, using pop culture as a vehicle. We haven't perfected this art form, but it could be the highest intellectual achievement of our era. It's certainly a severely needed balm for most modern problems, and would help reduce poverty, despair and disease.

Not big news, but...

My cat Leonard was "talking" with me just now. He said meow and left his mouth open afterward, which I assume he does for emphasis. He can't really raise his eyebrows.

But leaving his mouth open caused him to yawn! Oh kittens!

It was very cute.

And you just took the time to read about it.

See you next time!!!

SO CREEPED OUT BY PCBs!!!!!

Look at the research article that I found this evening:

Persistent Organic Pollutant Residues in Human Fetal Liver and Placenta from Greater Montreal, Quebec: A Longitudinal Study from 1998 through 2006

by Josée Doucet, Brett Tague, Douglas L. Arnold, Gerard M. Cooke, Stephen Hayward, and Cynthia G. Goodyer

I was doing a little recreational literature search to try to track down some horror stories about the bioaccumulation of the fire-retardant chemicals known as PCBs when I happened upon this little jewel.

Not only is this article free to everyone, but it's like five kinds of creepy all at once.

The short of it: human fetuses have been reliably found to have fire-retardant chemicals in them, now.

Yeah. I don't know exactly what this means for the future of humankind. I don't think that Science (with a capital S!) has figured it out, either. But it's SO CREEPY!!!!!!!

That is all for tonight.

I heart Reggie Watts

http://reggiewatts.com/index.php

I saw this guy open for Devo in Seattle the last two nights. I want to see every Seattle-area show he does, from now on.

The Materials:
One man, the noises he can make with his voice, and a machine that grants him the power to loop his spontaneously recorded sounds into whatever background music or beats he has opted to work with.

The Effect:
So much joy. I can't even tell you. I realize that because I'm blogging about this, I've put myself into the position of a reviewer. An informal, unpaid reviewer who could be anybody from anywhere, but still.

Why I Say This:
I also realize that a hip reviewer--a respectable reviewer--must be hard to please. Fault in a performance review is as essential as acidity in food. To leave out the criticism is to leave the review fatty, bland and uninteresting. But I'm so totally bonkers over Reggie Watts's two performances that I just want to gush like the absolute dork I really and truly, most sincerely am.

When I'm smitten with a musical performance, I usually wonder if the artist responsible is a synesthete with ADHD.

This is because I am a synesthete with ADHD, and this state of being has shaped my appetite for art. When someone’s artwork perfectly sates this appetite, I can’t help but wonder if their aesthetics and sensibilities come from a perspective that’s similar to mine.

I like most of all when fresh, novel sensory information is used to communicate huge amounts of clever information as rapidly as my greedy little ADHD brain can handle. The faster the information, the stranger the information, the more insightful the information, the better.

I like beauty. But beauty—even nonverbal, wordless beauty—must be a vehicle for fresh thought, or I will start to chatter about something, build something with my hands or wander away.

Both Reggie Watts and Mike Patton (another favorite) seem to take a lovely, innocent joy in making funny noises with their mouths. This might make more sense from a synesthetic perspective, because making funny noises with one’s mouth can be a beautiful, even potentially overwhelming sensory experience. There’s less of a leap from “Pbbbth” to “Ommm” when both bring sweeping, pacifying, lovely colors that can temporarily take the pain of ADHD away. (Which is, I suppose, key to understanding my taste in art.)

So. Where does that leave us with regard to my overall impression of Watts’s performance last night and the night before?

Mr. Watts's impressive vocal act does not use any flashing lights. Nor does he use any giant plaster or robotic sharks, nor is there any stop-motion animation. And yet, I was sated. I was on the edge of my seat, and I was utterly sated.

His jokes were fast. Sometimes too fast to catch until he was midway through the next joke. His non sequiturs come from a place of marvelous expertise, showing intimate knowledge of whatever subject he has decided to deftly and almost-imperceptivity riff upon. He also switched between accents and character voices quickly and skillfully enough that I wasn’t entirely sure of which character was the real him. The overall effect on me was something like a blissful information coma.

Yes, he spoke fast. Yes, he changed subjects quickly. Yes, he used every word mindfully. But this was also a musical act.

Please take this next comparison with a grain of salt in case my lack of knowledge of underground hip hop has caused me to miss a better person to refer to. But of what I know, the beats that Reggie Watts made with his mouth and with his magical looping machine had the multi-layered, catchy, aggressive, crunchy(?), highly satisfying feel of beats by Dan the Automator. His beats are good like a perfect sandwich is good. Every layer of sound, as with sandwich filling, has meaning.

But, and I must stress this point, I liked his one-man act even better than I’ve liked the existing Mike Patton/Automator collaborations. Even smarmy, smarmy Lovage. He has surpassed the two beloved icons who immediately come to mind when I think of his act. This is huge.

We have now covered his spoken word, my personal biases when assessing music, and the beats.

On to the vocal performances that he places on top of those sublimely satisfying beats!

There is singing, there is rapping, there are noises. Both nights closed with a rap song that starts like a George Carlin album and ends like…

Well? Like good rap. Yes, it's funny, he's always a little funny. But it still held up as totally good rap. Good rhythm, good delivery of the words, interesting selection of words.

To continue with the earlier sandwich metaphor:
I would say that the rap is as essential to the beats as a good beverage is essential to the perfect sandwich. I will get bored without words, unless I have an activity (like yoga) to keep me busy. I will get thirsty without a beverage, unless I have a sorbet to keep my throat dry. Luckily, there is rap to keep us going.

I am grateful to have had the chance to see him perform twice, I intend to see his act again, and I will buy his CD soon.

In addition, the women who sat in front of us for the first Devo show claimed to know him socially, and said that he’s “very good about doing laundry in public spaces.” Whatever that means.

If someone Googled my name...

Hello all... Anyone. This is my first blog entry for the Beatific Gonzette.

I had intended to open this publication with a long essay about the name that I'd selected. However, I have just been seized with a sense of terrible urgency, and must publish SOMETHING quickly.

I had the terrible realization earlier today that I may actually have too much privacy.

If someone Googles my name, what comes up? My Facebook profile--with details unavailable to people who don't already know me--and links to a few things that I've commented on. An ancient MySpace profile, too.

But that's it. No significant works of writing, no artwork, no research papers. Even the webpages I'd built in the 1990s which featured some of my better Dada short stories have expired. (This breaks my heart, by the way. I'm not sure of where else to find copies of some of them!)

No information has just been thrown into the great void of truly public space. Only people who actually know me have access to who I am, what makes me tick, how I understand the world and our species. It's hardly an appropriate lifestyle given that we're living in the era of excessive sharing and Too Much Information.

This blog is an attempt to fix that.

For the record, Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Lindsay Meagher-Swanson. Thank you for reading.