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Oyez, oyez.
Jan. 10th, 2005 11:07 pmThat which was lost has been found - it just took a little convincing. Okay, it also took opening up the binder I had brought for my coursepack to get put in, but what's important is that I found it.
Had a bit of a laugh today, although perhaps for reasons beyond what I thought - the prof for our counterculture class has an iPod. Not quite sure why I find it funny, but I did. And I knew I did because it had something to do with the fact that he was teaching the counterculture class. Truth is, he probably has it because it's a freaking large hard drive that can handle MP3 collections like no other (the smaller one, the 20GB, could take my entire collection and still have room left over) and for many other practical reasons. It was just funny. Don't ask me why.
And so I turned an idea over in my head today - normal life for many of us is the routine - the anarchists say that we're repressed by the System, others say we're slaves to it. To use an Ozy and Millie reference, most of us are probably like Avery or Felicia, surfing fads or being sheep. In the 'net age, almost as soon as a novel idea appears, it's been adopted, scrutinized, and then discarded. There aren't movements anymore, there are flashes. Things can be adopted instantly by millions one day and then have nobody the next. Such is the way of the wired world, perhaps.
Now, occasionally, we do run into people like Millicent. God(dess) bless the Millies. They're the people who have subcultures spring out from their ideas, or have flocks of Felicias making fun of them, and occasionally garner a bunch of bowling-alley (Hail Eris!) devotees. Having followers crimps Millie's style. Having victims helps it, but having co-conspirators who are just as madcap as she is (or at least flexible enough to go along with it, as Llewelyn, and Ozy are) is what really gets Millie going. This is probably why Millies are spread out evenly across the world (diffusion and all that, too) because they're volatile when coming in contact with each other. Calvin needs both Hobbes and Susie to keep himself in check.
For many people, it takes a shock to get them looking around. The prof pointed to one of our readings, saying that someone compared subculture to "noise" - interference in the transmission of reality to media. Now, noise is interference - but I think the distortion aspect of noise (noise filter on an image or noise that distorts the perfect wave of a musical pitch) is worth thinking about, too - enough noise and the original is different, sometimes different enough to be an image unto itself. Putting noise into the image or the pitch forces us to decipher and decode, and then figure out what to do with the noise. Most will filter it out, considering it an annoyance. Some will leave it in and enjoy the composite for what it is, and some will isolate the noise and study it, trying to figure out what makes it tick (often with the purpose of destroying it), and some people fiddle with the noise until they get it how they want it. Perhaps the best thing to be, though, is the person who notices the noise, understands it, and then goes out and makes more. Probably different noise, because lots of people making the same noise makes it louder, but also makes it more annoying. Different noise garbles things further and forces more filtering. At some point, the noise can get so bad that the original is lost, and noise is being piled on for noise's sake - useless. The right amount of noise is enough to make the original decipherable, but that also forces the person to consider the noise as a component of the composite... and decide whether the image or tune is prettier with or without the noise. That's why lots of the espousing of revolutionary action is in creative ways - it's good noise, and meshes with the original well.
As that is, people are built to handle some noise. Too much, though, and they're in trouble. Ozy deals with both Avery and Millie, and each is generating a different type of noise. At some point, Ozy will either gravitate to the center and be the eye of the whirlwind (a position, which he notes, has its own problems), or be spun out to the edge and cast away into the depths. People who have been uprooted enough by a Millie (or something else) from being an Avery or a Felicia, but who haven't quite made it to the end, like Llewelyn or Ms. Mudd, are Ozy. Ozy is many of us - partially enlightened, often without really quite getting it, with oddballs for friends and relatives. Seeing safety in the eye of the storm, because the outer edge is a bit scary. I'd say Ms. Mudd and the school counselor (Dr. I. Wahnsinnig) are probably the best examples of those in the eye. It might be a bit stressful to stay there, since the storm is a bit capricious and likes to move without warning in random directions. Staying in the eye takes effort... probably more so than being whipped around by the wind, and the end results may be just the same - an obsession. How many of us will vow as kids not to turn into our parents, and then have those moments where we look over our shoulder, because we're damn sure that our mother/father just said that, and not us? Being a rebel might take as much effort these days as being Avery or Felicia. Perhaps that is the nature of the subculture - unless it manages to draw sufficient energy out of the storm to stay out of the storm, it is eventually drawn back into the storm.
Thus, perhaps it is the wrong way to journey? Perhaps the outside edge and to be outside the storm is the preferred place. (Sounds awfully like the idea of samsara and nirvana, in the classic sense. Being in the eye of the storm might be the Mahayana idea of samsara-in-nirvana-in-samsara.) Llewelyn is our best Ozy and Millie example of someone who works outside the whole thing. Timulty is outside it, too, with the advantage of youth. Getting back to youth would be an effective way of getting out of the storm, but for many of us, we think that's not possible anymore (although we get close, from what I've heard, when we have kids or get into middle-age). So we turn to Llewelyn, who is adult (albeit on dragon's terms, so he's a bit more aged than we think). He functions perfectly well with people in the storm (the principal, Beau Vine, and Avery) people making the storm (Millie - I think he encourages her with his adaptability and flexibility, and of course, a game of 'House Rules' Parcheesi), people at the center (Ms. Mudd, whom I might think would probably date Llewelyn if she thought she could understand him), and the people who drift in and out (Ozy - he's a perfect father and guide to have. I envy Ozy in a way, since he gets to have Llewelyn's guidance all the time, whereas I have to wait for updates).
So I'm a bit of Avery, in following things (this whole sort of Discordian-subculture-blog-thing is, in a funny sense, a fad of its own, a meme more fit, perhaps for Avery than for Ozy, a way of being counterculture while resting firmly in the mainstream), although I hope I never get as bad as Felicia (Goddess thwack me if I do without good reason!). I'm mostly Ozy - philosophical and an easy target. (I don't know if the serene part applies - especially during finals week) This is, perhaps, an improvement over Avery, but there's still a long way to go. The next experiment of my life, if I get the balls to do it, is probably to be a bit more like Millie - stir the pot and see what happens, even if it does mean getting to know the school psychiatrist well enough that she saves sweets for me. (There's a comic that should be linked there, but I don't remember what date it is, off the top of my head) My ultimate goal is to be Llewelyn - a sort of ageless, timeless weirdo who nonetheless manages to be able to impart wisdom to those he meets. (Plus, having "Zen: The Board Game" is a really cool concept - maybe I'll make one.) That could be another one of those librarian draws - after all, the librarian has all the answers. It just takes longer to find some than others.
There was a point to this, I swear: it's not just pontification about how I can see Ozy and Millie as a philosophical template. I was pondering earlier today whether all of us are really Zen and just forgetting about it - that all we really need to do is remember that we're Zen and believe it enough to make it happen. It could very well be that chasing around, like I'm doing, is only making things worse - searching for external validation where only internal knowledge will satisfy. It might be the thing that separates Ozy from Llewelyn. (Again, Llewelyn's got age on Ozy, so this could just be an eventuality that Ozy gets on par with his dad. We hope so.) Could very well be the thing that keeps me from realizing my own enlightenment. Just being able to stop and sit, and then to make the mind stop whirling about - that's the goal of Zen, and so chasing Zen is getting no closer to it. At the same time as I'm writing this, I'm laughing at myself, because I know that at least some part of me is fighting the idea - that the answer is Out There, and all it has to do is be found. That's the part that needs to sit down and believe. And he'll fight me tooth and nail. Maybe a little Millie-ness will loosen him up enough. Or maybe he's what's stopping me from Millie-ness. And Llewelyn-ness. For Llewelyn is enlightened, and many more people should be like him.
I just have to remember his motto - That which does not kill me, makes me stranger. Not stronger. Stranger. And strangeness might be the ultimate Zen.
Had a bit of a laugh today, although perhaps for reasons beyond what I thought - the prof for our counterculture class has an iPod. Not quite sure why I find it funny, but I did. And I knew I did because it had something to do with the fact that he was teaching the counterculture class. Truth is, he probably has it because it's a freaking large hard drive that can handle MP3 collections like no other (the smaller one, the 20GB, could take my entire collection and still have room left over) and for many other practical reasons. It was just funny. Don't ask me why.
And so I turned an idea over in my head today - normal life for many of us is the routine - the anarchists say that we're repressed by the System, others say we're slaves to it. To use an Ozy and Millie reference, most of us are probably like Avery or Felicia, surfing fads or being sheep. In the 'net age, almost as soon as a novel idea appears, it's been adopted, scrutinized, and then discarded. There aren't movements anymore, there are flashes. Things can be adopted instantly by millions one day and then have nobody the next. Such is the way of the wired world, perhaps.
Now, occasionally, we do run into people like Millicent. God(dess) bless the Millies. They're the people who have subcultures spring out from their ideas, or have flocks of Felicias making fun of them, and occasionally garner a bunch of bowling-alley (Hail Eris!) devotees. Having followers crimps Millie's style. Having victims helps it, but having co-conspirators who are just as madcap as she is (or at least flexible enough to go along with it, as Llewelyn, and Ozy are) is what really gets Millie going. This is probably why Millies are spread out evenly across the world (diffusion and all that, too) because they're volatile when coming in contact with each other. Calvin needs both Hobbes and Susie to keep himself in check.
For many people, it takes a shock to get them looking around. The prof pointed to one of our readings, saying that someone compared subculture to "noise" - interference in the transmission of reality to media. Now, noise is interference - but I think the distortion aspect of noise (noise filter on an image or noise that distorts the perfect wave of a musical pitch) is worth thinking about, too - enough noise and the original is different, sometimes different enough to be an image unto itself. Putting noise into the image or the pitch forces us to decipher and decode, and then figure out what to do with the noise. Most will filter it out, considering it an annoyance. Some will leave it in and enjoy the composite for what it is, and some will isolate the noise and study it, trying to figure out what makes it tick (often with the purpose of destroying it), and some people fiddle with the noise until they get it how they want it. Perhaps the best thing to be, though, is the person who notices the noise, understands it, and then goes out and makes more. Probably different noise, because lots of people making the same noise makes it louder, but also makes it more annoying. Different noise garbles things further and forces more filtering. At some point, the noise can get so bad that the original is lost, and noise is being piled on for noise's sake - useless. The right amount of noise is enough to make the original decipherable, but that also forces the person to consider the noise as a component of the composite... and decide whether the image or tune is prettier with or without the noise. That's why lots of the espousing of revolutionary action is in creative ways - it's good noise, and meshes with the original well.
As that is, people are built to handle some noise. Too much, though, and they're in trouble. Ozy deals with both Avery and Millie, and each is generating a different type of noise. At some point, Ozy will either gravitate to the center and be the eye of the whirlwind (a position, which he notes, has its own problems), or be spun out to the edge and cast away into the depths. People who have been uprooted enough by a Millie (or something else) from being an Avery or a Felicia, but who haven't quite made it to the end, like Llewelyn or Ms. Mudd, are Ozy. Ozy is many of us - partially enlightened, often without really quite getting it, with oddballs for friends and relatives. Seeing safety in the eye of the storm, because the outer edge is a bit scary. I'd say Ms. Mudd and the school counselor (Dr. I. Wahnsinnig) are probably the best examples of those in the eye. It might be a bit stressful to stay there, since the storm is a bit capricious and likes to move without warning in random directions. Staying in the eye takes effort... probably more so than being whipped around by the wind, and the end results may be just the same - an obsession. How many of us will vow as kids not to turn into our parents, and then have those moments where we look over our shoulder, because we're damn sure that our mother/father just said that, and not us? Being a rebel might take as much effort these days as being Avery or Felicia. Perhaps that is the nature of the subculture - unless it manages to draw sufficient energy out of the storm to stay out of the storm, it is eventually drawn back into the storm.
Thus, perhaps it is the wrong way to journey? Perhaps the outside edge and to be outside the storm is the preferred place. (Sounds awfully like the idea of samsara and nirvana, in the classic sense. Being in the eye of the storm might be the Mahayana idea of samsara-in-nirvana-in-samsara.) Llewelyn is our best Ozy and Millie example of someone who works outside the whole thing. Timulty is outside it, too, with the advantage of youth. Getting back to youth would be an effective way of getting out of the storm, but for many of us, we think that's not possible anymore (although we get close, from what I've heard, when we have kids or get into middle-age). So we turn to Llewelyn, who is adult (albeit on dragon's terms, so he's a bit more aged than we think). He functions perfectly well with people in the storm (the principal, Beau Vine, and Avery) people making the storm (Millie - I think he encourages her with his adaptability and flexibility, and of course, a game of 'House Rules' Parcheesi), people at the center (Ms. Mudd, whom I might think would probably date Llewelyn if she thought she could understand him), and the people who drift in and out (Ozy - he's a perfect father and guide to have. I envy Ozy in a way, since he gets to have Llewelyn's guidance all the time, whereas I have to wait for updates).
So I'm a bit of Avery, in following things (this whole sort of Discordian-subculture-blog-thing is, in a funny sense, a fad of its own, a meme more fit, perhaps for Avery than for Ozy, a way of being counterculture while resting firmly in the mainstream), although I hope I never get as bad as Felicia (Goddess thwack me if I do without good reason!). I'm mostly Ozy - philosophical and an easy target. (I don't know if the serene part applies - especially during finals week) This is, perhaps, an improvement over Avery, but there's still a long way to go. The next experiment of my life, if I get the balls to do it, is probably to be a bit more like Millie - stir the pot and see what happens, even if it does mean getting to know the school psychiatrist well enough that she saves sweets for me. (There's a comic that should be linked there, but I don't remember what date it is, off the top of my head) My ultimate goal is to be Llewelyn - a sort of ageless, timeless weirdo who nonetheless manages to be able to impart wisdom to those he meets. (Plus, having "Zen: The Board Game" is a really cool concept - maybe I'll make one.) That could be another one of those librarian draws - after all, the librarian has all the answers. It just takes longer to find some than others.
There was a point to this, I swear: it's not just pontification about how I can see Ozy and Millie as a philosophical template. I was pondering earlier today whether all of us are really Zen and just forgetting about it - that all we really need to do is remember that we're Zen and believe it enough to make it happen. It could very well be that chasing around, like I'm doing, is only making things worse - searching for external validation where only internal knowledge will satisfy. It might be the thing that separates Ozy from Llewelyn. (Again, Llewelyn's got age on Ozy, so this could just be an eventuality that Ozy gets on par with his dad. We hope so.) Could very well be the thing that keeps me from realizing my own enlightenment. Just being able to stop and sit, and then to make the mind stop whirling about - that's the goal of Zen, and so chasing Zen is getting no closer to it. At the same time as I'm writing this, I'm laughing at myself, because I know that at least some part of me is fighting the idea - that the answer is Out There, and all it has to do is be found. That's the part that needs to sit down and believe. And he'll fight me tooth and nail. Maybe a little Millie-ness will loosen him up enough. Or maybe he's what's stopping me from Millie-ness. And Llewelyn-ness. For Llewelyn is enlightened, and many more people should be like him.
I just have to remember his motto - That which does not kill me, makes me stranger. Not stronger. Stranger. And strangeness might be the ultimate Zen.
