Rebellion, Transgression and Poetry

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." -e.e. cummings

I have always been attracted to e.e. cummings' poetry; his subtle painting with typeface and free syncopation that flows like blues music. His name, itself void of distinguishable capitalization in most its expression, denotes equipoise. Linguistic equality. The weight of his poetry balancing, beautifully, without the emphasis of a new thought, a new sentence. Break. Critics believe he preferred lowercase out of humility, but I think he just gravitated on some divine plane, swimming in disjointed syntax. Using erratic punctuation and the capitalized word, salient and calculated, for voice inflection and defiance of conventional thought.

i mean that the blond absence of any program 
except last and always and first to live
makes unimportant what i and you believe; 
not for philosophy does this rose give a damn...

But I'm no big critic. I'm a poetic nobody, no acclaim in my name. But when I channel beauty, it manifests itself as poetry--in its simplicity, its complexity, its minimalistic decadence. Its paring down of our dense language, so only truth can resurface. Just as cummings' unique flavor came from his writings, emphasizing the beauty of nature over his paintings resonate with the same disjointed serenade. Color with purpose, texture with meaning, strokes with intent. His language and its expression are transgressive, a word I ironically realized I never understood until last night. Relevant application of rebellion against norms in all forms:

Oxford English Dictionary: transgressive, adj.
That violates or challenges social, moral, or artistic conventions; subversive, experimental.

For the past few months, when I would wake up and weigh myself, the digital face of the scale was a reminder that I was carrying the weight of the world, cliche upon cliche, square between my sunburned shoulders.

But when I stepped on the scale this morning, I didn't see a three-digit affirmation of myself. Whatever mirror that I stood on shattered. That past life of counting stretch marks, the hours spend with tweezers and lipstick, reapply and repeat: This is another reason to let the digital scale face speak, knowing that voice penetrates the insecurities locked up on one's marrow and gut. My self worth tells him to shut up. That past life. That void.

(While you and i have lips and voices which 
are for kissing and to sing with 
who cares if some oneyed son of a bitch 
invents an instrument to measure Spring with?  

each dream nascitur, is not made...)
why then to Hell with that: the other; this, 
since the thing perhaps is 
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.

(e.e. cummings--voices to voices, lip to lip)

Our baggage shouldn't be a mandatory claim. Embrace this life, this phantasmagoria. Starting with that Walmart-purchased plastic apparition of worth, rebellion is beautiful.

To Tweet or not to Tweet

I thought I'd never change my mind about this. But I have, and I'm ready to own up.

I wrote a column for LEGACY Magazine hatin' on Twitter last fall. I argued that the benefit of Twitter, enacting social change or spreading short and valuable messages via social networking, was far outweighed by the commercialization of narcissism--an effect of our mentally/emotionally/physically crippling social media.

Pretty dramatic, I admit. I still believe we're overstimulated by Facebook, YouTube, etc. Heck, I'm overstimulated from our society's soul-sucking media dependence. I text like an addict. I'm a social networking junkie. I'd probably need an adult beverage if my computer hard drive crashed again, and a hug if I couldn't access my Skype account. But my Twitter hate has lifted. Here's why.

My women's and gender studies teacher introduced me to the "SMASH" of gender binary via Feminist Hulk earlier this summer. Spoken from a big, green, sensitive and gender neutral Hulk-figure, the tweets craft intelligent humor/ protest of social injustice in 140 BOLD characters or less. It's delightful. Nothing can replace creativity and humor when packaged together into a much-needed manifesto for gender equality. It's tweeting with purpose and flare, and I've been following it ever since (just not in the literal sense. I'd have to have an account for that). From there, I've branched out, and found a few other ways people are using the site to spread valuable information--not just against patriarchy, but compelling, current issues like human trafficking and the oil spill. Since our brains are already fried from instant gratification (i.e. texting and fast food), these short snippets are an interesting way of playing the game alongside our less well-intentioned, Vyvanse popping tycoons of pop culture.

The Formspring following, however, is countering my fading Twitter animosity. I'll save that for another opinion column, someday. If you want to ask me a question, or comment on something, you can anonymously do it here anyways. (If not, looks like I'll have to write about abortion again!)

My intentions to go so far as to get a Twitter page were fleeting (I'd estimate about 1.2-3 seconds before I physically shook off the thought). For now, I'm content reflecting on life by rewriting some of T.S. Eliot's poem "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,"which beautifully toys with the concept of disillusionment within our society: "I have measured out my life with coffee spoons." We live in a world where this anthem rings true: I have measured out my life in status updates.

And to further inundate you with Web culture, here's some thoughts by Terence McKenna. Another little something from friends in WGS. Happy browsing.

Reclaiming What's Lost: Reconciling Talent and Realism

Is talent ever lost or gained? Or, is it something we can manipulate with time, a part of our genetic wisdom?

A few weeks ago, I went to Barnes and Noble in hopes of finding something to motivate myself to overhaul my poor practice habits. As a musician, I'm stuck in the equivalent of a writer's block, where I haven't had the guts to lasso the creative energies jumbling around my head. I haven't trusted my Muse. But now, I'm suiting up for battle.

In the "The War of Art," Steven Pressfield describes these inner battles--the musician who won't play, the writer who won't write, the chemist who won't concoct, the runner who won't run--as a product of "Resistance": What stands between the "life we live" and the "unlived life within us."

Resistance is parasitic. It thrives off anyone who wants to make a difference in their world. It's every time you've ever said "I can't," every time you've exchanged dreams for what was disguised as reality, as "too little time," as deluded priorities. I stopped blogging for more than a year because of Resistance. This book is a must-read for anyone who wants a little kick of encouragement to get out of that nasty funk that Resistance leaves in its wake. It wants you to surrender, to give up, and deprive yourself and others of your individual contribution.

Between summer classes and working at the hospital, I've intermittently been reading the book "A Devil to Play" by Jasper Rees--an almost an ironic find given the nature of my soul searching. The book is the narrative of a middle-aged journalist who attempts to master his childhood instrument--the French horn. This particularly resonated with me since I started to wonder if, by straying from my teenaged dreams of returning to Carnegie Hall to play, once again, I was abandoning the part of myself that used to believe talent could be forged into anything with persistence.

However, as I've reclaimed my dream for medical school, I realized that perhaps compromise is not a bad thing. Instead of looking at life as the shedding of dreams for "being realistic," I'm looking at life through a healthier lens--as the loose interplay of passion, where each dream overlaps another. I will become a doctor, but I will not surrender the pieces of myself that say artist, musician, poet, writer.

Pressfield says that the most important part of ART is WORK: "Because when we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unforeseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose." We can't just bank on talent alone.

Branching off of Pressfield's brilliant reflections on what holds us back from grasping that "unlived life" within us, musicians and writers have everything in common when it comes to the necessity of practice and deliberate, forced time slots to do so daily. Improvement is impossible to gauge without constant stimulation. It's unrealistic, almost superhuman, to acknowledge all my priorities horizontally--to say that studying for the MCAT today has as much precedent as playing my French horn or tackling some poetry by T.S. Eliot or training for that marathon I plan to run.

But It's not healthy to think that way. It's so easy to fall into another rut, to beat yourself up about your shortcomings, your failures. That's counterproductive. (I did that this morning when I slept through my alarm that said it was time to get up and run 5 miles.) Without compromising those future dreams, any soul-searching artist must have the end in sight at all times, and make sure one foot is always being thrust in front of the other. Forward motion is imperative. It may be a hard road to travel, but as long as you're moving in the direction you want to go, discouragement it easier to brush off and move past. Stagnancy is the enemy.

While I may not master the horn and my poems may never be published or spoken aloud, I know that the little progress I make in one area is building on the other. Just by picking up my horn this morning for a 20 minute warm-up, I've beaten out that feeling of utter defeat. I don't want to compromise, but I must accommodate.

So now, it's your turn. Where are you letting resistance beat you in your life, but more importantly, what are you going to do about it?



EDIT: For more on historian/writer Steven Pressfield, click here.

Questioning the Grid Plan: A Metaphor of Discovery

Timothy "Speed" Levitch has the beautiful knack for both articulation and poetry.

For anyone who feels like digging into their biases, who may be struggling in the structure of the everyday-mundane-whatever, or who is interested in some damn good philosophical diatribe, check this out:

Speed Levitch: The New York City "Grid Plan"

Here's the closing passage from the video, which particularly resonated with me.

"By saying everyone likes the grid plan, you're saying: I'm going to relive all the mistakes my parents made. I'm going to identify and relive all the sorrows my mother ever lived through. I will propagate and create dysfunctional children in the same dysfunctional way I was raised. I will spread neurosis throughout the landscape and do my best to recreate myself and the damages of my life for the next generation."

Levitch seems to emphasize the importance of questioning and skepticism--who is "everyone" when relating the values of our society, particularly in this metaphor of the New York grid plan.

Pop culture's influence is intravenous. It has merged so many identities with skewed views of reality, of past mistakes in search of feeble justification. I remain adamant on three things imperative to self growth: Question, question, question. Do we have biases, and if so, why are they there? What purpose do they serve? It may be difficult to question notions that seem so available, so readily injected into the mainstream. But those are the very values we might not be questioning enough.

We must have the courage to seek them out, and like Levitch says, recognize: "There is no homogenization available. There is only total existence, total cacophony." Isn't it time to change the grid plan?

Louisiana's Anti-Choice Abortion Laws

Some truly depressing news: Three anti-choice abortion bills were signed into law today in Louisiana by Gov. Bobby Jindal Wednesday, one of which requires all women to have an ultrasound before being granted an abortion.

With Louisiana abortions already costing anywhere from $80 to $300, this extra cost could have heavy implications on women with low income as well as pregnant victims of rape and incest.

Here's an excerpt from an article from Ms. Magazine:

"The first law requires women seeking abortions in Louisiana to undergo an ultrasound prior to the procedure. There will be no exceptions for victims of rape or incest. Opponents remain concerned that the ultrasound requirement, an expensive procedure that may not be available at free clinics, will increase costs and make obtaining abortion services more difficult for women."

With all the problems the state is facing with the oil spill, the heavy cuts to the higher education budget and the creeping environmental concerns with the coastal erosion, why does Louisiana government believe it is important to focus its time energies on deciding what a woman can and cannot do with her body? This law has the potential to impair a woman's ability to financially access an abortion and interferes with a woman's right to her sexuality. Even rape and incest victims are targeted with this law. Although women can refuse to see the printout of the ultrasound, all women are required to undergo an ultrasound screening examination prior to abortion, regardless of their circumstances.

It will be interesting to see the reaction of Louisiana feminists. While supporters of the bill argue that these laws "empower" women through dissuading compulsive abortions. Is this really what female empowerment has come to? I think not. Empowerment cannot mean stripping women of reproductive liberty. Abortion is one way for a woman to exercise that right.

Check out this link to an article on the Ultrasound before Abortion Act (SB 528) run by the Times-Picayune, which has some more logistics. This article was printed last month, prior to Jindal signing the bills.

In June, Florida Governor Charlie Crist vetoed a bill that would have required most women seeking an abortion to view an ultrasound and listen to a doctor describe the fetus. Other states, such as Mississippi and Texas, have also been pursuing anti-abortion legislation. While Florida may have been a victory for proponents of pro-choice, Louisiana is a frustrating disappointment. It's almost unbelievable to witness in my state this breach of female reproductive rights. However, it could have been worse. According to NPR, the original legislation said the following:

"Anyone seeking an abortion [would be required] to listen to a detailed description of the fetus that included its dimensions and whether arms, legs or internal organs are visible. The woman also would have been required to get a photograph of the ultrasound."

In New Orleans and Baton Rouge, the state's two largest cities, the rate for forcible rape is 1.23 percent and 1.42 percent above the national average. The government better be prepared to deal with the victims of sex crimes in Louisiana, especially now that women victims desiring abortion will face these additional barriers.

Since the Supreme Court legalized abortion in Roe v. Wade, abortion has been hotly contested all over the U.S., and abortion laws vary by state. I can't help but wonder if we have truly progressed much since that decision. In wake of this new legislation, I hope another abortion case makes it to the supreme court. If Elena Kagan makes it to the bench, I wonder how this national issue will eventually pan out. For now, anti-abortion legislation stands as a present reminder of the fallbacks faced by women, their rights to both their bodies and sexuality, right now in Louisiana.