What It Looks Like

What it looks like for me to be depressed, down in my hole.

Now more than ever friends of mine are seeing as my family already has... what it looks like.
To you perhaps it doesn't look like something so much as it looks like the absence of anything, no presence, no communication, radio silence, a radar scope with no hits.

I will try in this post to add some information to this void, by sharing what it looks like from my perspective.

I would like to have titled this post, "What it Feels Like", however I cannot really say how it feels. When I am down in my hole I am disconnected from feeling anything at all. Mostly I am trying to block/disconnect from feelings of shame/inadequacy/failure.
It is sometimes a conscious choice but more often than not it is a reflexive 'self-protection' process whereby negative emotions are sensed triggering almost immediate blockage.

The mechanism of blockage is not selective, it is a complete shutdown. A mindless dull place. Habits I frequently use to perpetuate this mindless dull state include masturbation, binge eating, reading wikipedia or a book, watching TV shows or documentaries, closed-eye fantasies and sleep.

Movies seems to be a bad choice because the magic of a movie is that it triggers emotions in you.
This past month I did watch Steven Spielberg's AI: Artificial Intelligence, which is a real tear-jerker in its drawn out finale. Emotion definitely came through for me, however it wasn't a torrent like Niagara Falls it was like spurts of water rising through a crack in the ice during the spring thaw.  
Communication requires awareness to process and respond, touching it breaks down the armor and allows feeling to reenter. Thus talking and engaging are the most helpful things. The instrument of blockage knows this, thus it keeps me away from communication as it keeps me away from meditation and anything else that might break it away.

The past few days, slowly coming to (thank you to everyone who I have allowed in to help), I have seen this even more clearly, engaging in moments of awareness of body sensations I cannot help but be aware of everything else I have blocked, mainly feelings of shame and thoughts of real world responsibilities.

So for me it is not endless crying or physical pain, it is endless dullness and lack of sensation, lack of awareness of all the things we are normally aware of.

I am capable to rejoin the world of my own impetus, usually If I have some obligation to which I feel attached. For example, I once spent a good few weeks down in my hole before I got back up because of a Bike Tour I had planned was looming and I had much to do to prepare. Another example from a couple of winters ago, it would not be uncommon for me to shut down for a few days until the 43 minutes I needed to get up and make it to work on time. Sometimes these jolts will move me in a new direction, sometimes I fall right back in my hole.

Other times It seems like it runs its course because it is so boring to be endlessly dull that the craving for feeling overwhelms the protective shutdown.

One thing it isn't is constant mental voices of shame and failure, they may come from time to time but are almost entirely blocked. In the past I was less practiced at shutting down and these negative voices would arise more. It could be that I generate these negativities less than I once did.  Maybe they are still there in equal measure. Sometimes I feel them below the surface (i.e. without thinking them) and it will cause me to thrash for a few seconds.

Another thing that isn't present are thoughts of suicide or self-harm. These used to come up for me in college when I was first learning to deal with depression. I think my experiencing the dharma these past couple years has removed the delusion behind these thoughts.

So I choose each moment, each hour, each day not to deal with anything: my emotions, my friends, my responsibilities. Like an unpaid credit card, the balance grows and seems more overwhelming with each deferment. It never is though.

For me, this is what it looks like.

Mostly I feel badly that I contribute to the worry and suffering for those that care about me, Also for the time I have lost, I can do so much in an hour... and yet I lose months out of the year.

I Love You All, even if you don't know me or I don't know you, even if you're not reading this post, I Love You.

What Its Like

I intended to post tonight about Portland's looming Mega-Quake, as tonight January 26th 2015 marks 315 years since the last Cascadia Subduction Zone earthquake which occurred around 9pm that day in 1700. It is particularly apt for me to write about disaster preparedness since I spent most of today preparing for the Blizzard that is hitting the northeast.

Instead I feel like right now, in my first post back, I want to write about how hard it is for me to accept where I am and what its like to be here.
  [Note: Two Months ago I moved from Portland to New York, specifically my Grandfather's house on Long Island]

     I want my time here to have meaning for my grandmother. It may or may not. Because she has Alzheimer's/dementia it doesn't seem possible that I would know what it meant to her... if it had any meaning at all. I should be content to know it has some meaning for me, however I feel a bit lost in my journey at the moment, so that meaning is not clear in this moment. I usually find it's hard to tell what something means until after, like weeks or months or even years after... I should summon some patience.

     I want my time here to be be meaningful for my grandfather in a very narrowly prescribed way. I want for him to learn to see the world the way I see it, not overall, but in at least one way.  I don't gauge that this is likely to occur for him. Is it not enough to bring some company and compassion into his life, to hold space for him, to cook and make life easier in a number of small ways?
     It's often difficult for me to accept him for who he is. In those moments I want desperately for him to see it my way, to make suffering go *poof*. I must remind myself that the whole point to coming here was to sit with suffering, not to alleviate it in any gross way. It's hard to sit with suffering, or perhaps reframed its a part of my mind that hasn't been well exercised. I hope I'm giving it a work out.

     I want my brother to be more like me than he is like my parents. What does that even mean?  I myself am very much like my parents. I am letting this fixation, this attachment to a desire for things to be a certain way get in the way of my being open and real and brotherly with him. I should be grateful to have a loving brother and be able to spend moments together. He's really wonderful.

    And my father... I generally am in the habit of reacting. The reaction is "I can't accept this." Why is your father the hardest one to accept? Is it because I love him the most, care about him the most, therefore want him to exhibit some degree of liberation the most? OR is it because I see in him so much of myself that I feel like I have rejected. Have I rejected it? or grown with it? learned from it? loved it to death? denied indulging those seeds? All of the above please
    Father is the hardest one to accept. I'm grateful that I can see that the reaction I am having is "I cannot accept", I've made it to step one. Now I see the connection to Deb, so hard to accept father.
    Maybe its easier to accept from a distance, it allows you to pretend that things are other than what they are. That doesn't sound like true acceptance though. From far away you can hang onto your fantasies longer because you are presented with less contradictory evidence. Evidence of what? like my father is a criminal? What crime has he committed? He has committed the crime of not exactly matching some wishful idealized avatar of a father-figure I have made up in my mind. Would I be any happier if he had matched this profile, or would I want only for him to be something else entirely?...Tanha
    I am grateful for the work my father did that helped me be here now doing this self-study.

All of this speaks to the difficulty of step 2 in my 1 2 3-step theory (Which is mentioned but not well explained in this post).  The hard way through, the only way through, step 2... acceptance.

       

Looking For A Better Way To Get Up Out Of Bed Instead Of Getting On The Internet And Checking A New Hit Me: Finally Found It

A friend of mine taught me a cool technique recently. Instead of reaching for Fbook/email/Instagram first thing after the alarm goes off.

Step 1: Put down the cell phone after disarming the alarm.

Step 2: Take 10 deep, slow, mindful breaths.

Step 3: Focus on what you want to do this morning, visualize your ritual, consider the sequence, consider the significance of each action.

Try this one morning.
If it doesn't work for you I will gladly refund twice what you paid for this advice.

The Civic Critic: Blue Star Donuts on Hawthorne

I don't generally advertise this fact, but I love Donuts. I remember when Krispy Kreme came to the Northeast when I was a kid, it was literally a revelation.

This past January, when the family-owned Chinese Restaurant on Hawthorne posted a notice in the window that they would close down for good, forced out by ballooning rent, I was of course saddened. However in a city that is blowing up this isn't a unique story.

Shortly after they closed work began on what would become another location of Blue Star Donuts. For the cynic inside of me this was too much:
"Of course we need another coffee & donuts place right in-between the Peet's and the Starbucks on Hawthorne!"

But when the furnishings started going in I couldn't wait for opening day. A friend had advised me that Blue Star on the west side had some of the best doughnuts around, but I had never made it there.

Now of course something must be said about Portland's most famous doughnut shop: Voodoo.
When I first came here I was enamored of it, as a local the $5 and later $8 bucket of day-olds seemed like a steal. Repeated exposure to the donuts made me realize that while innovative they were sometimes good, sometimes bad (Double bubble flavor?) and never mind-blowing. I stopped indulging.

Of course I found other donuts to explore, Annie's in NE was nice, classic, unpretentious, but merely good. Donut Queen in a little hut next to 7-11 at East Burnside and 60th has even better classic donuts and a charming Vietnamese proprietor. A visit is recommended for all, if only to chat with him.

This week (2 months ago) I finally got around to check out Blue Star. After driving a friend to the airport I showed up at 6am to look in upon the baking team in action. The hand written sign on the door made it clear, donuts start at 8am. The glass frontage allowed me to give the body language of 'WTF' to the man at the counter. He shrugged back, implying: "yeah were closed, can't you see us working the dough right now?"

Seriously only in Portland could a donut shop get away with this. Typical morning rush for donuts is pre-work. Tall coffees to perk up the brain and a dozen for the officemates. Really though this was a telling sign about Blue Star.

Like Voodoo, its not a donut shop in the traditional sense. Blue Star is more of a luxury, an artisanal creation, and the prices echo this fact.
They don't want you to grab-and-go for a breakfast in the car, because how could you appreciate their hand-crafted donuts if you did?

They probably also don't want you to order a dozen (even though you can buy 12 and get a 10% discount). Blue Star is only open until the product sells out, so if they did a steady business by the dozen they would probably piss off a lot of potential customers later in the day.

The Donuts:

The Old Fashioned Buttermilk is gigantic, one of the biggest non-fritter donuts I have seen. It is also amazing. The crumb is dense but not too heavy, like a rich pound cake without the acidity which sometimes plagues this style. The oily/crispy crust and thinly applied glaze stuck a perfect harmonious chord of donut bliss.

The Citrus/Widmer Hefe was a special donut for Portland Beer Week. The cake was less rich than the old fashioned but retained terrific moisture and a perfect crumb. The beer element was light enough to be just barely there and the lemony icing too wasn't overwhelming. A nice donut but the multiple elements never felt like they came together in a coherent taste.

The Blueberry Bourbon Basil glazed donut is a customer favorite. The glaze has rich fruit color and a delicious creamy and not too-sweet mouthfeel. The star ingredients play nicely together with the herbaceous basil balancing the tart fruit notes from the blueberries, a hint of bourbon helps balance out this perfect melody. The yeast risen donut base doesn't really do it for me, and this is true for all yeast risen donuts at Blue Star. I taste a slight off flavor in them but that is likely just my mind playing tricks. I have such an attachment to Krispy Kreme yeast risen doughnuts that all others just taste wrong. Friends of mine love the yeast risen donuts at Blue Star.

The Fried Chicken Donut takes up prominent wall space as a featured item. It takes a few minutes to make, this is one donut shop with a cooked-to-order experience! Unfortunately this donut was a disappointment for me, I had dreamed of a luscious piece of fried chicken leg but instead got a cut up fried tender/breast. It is served on top of a glazed yeast risen donut, and while some carb with my protein is always nice and drowning the whole thing in Franks Red Hot Sauce makes a gloppy good mess, the glaze's sweetness is out of place in this dish. If you want to try it I would ask that they make it for you with an unglazed yeast risen donut.

The Marionberry Filled with Peanut Dust. When I ordered this donut I was expecting a nice local/fresh marionberry experience and was confused by the idea of the dust. One bite and I was left smiling and laughing, It's PB&J in your mouth. The yeast risen donut provides the carbs and the peanut dust hydrates in your mouth mixing with the sweet berry filling. Grade-school memories flood forth. This donut is a pure delight, and was for me a total surprise. Having it with a glass of The Funky Buddha Lounge and Brewery's No Crusts would probably be the best thing ever.      

A friend had insisted I try the Crème Brûlée donut. Since I didn't see one I asked the server about it. The cook said she could make one for me, though it would take 5 minutes. She didn't seem super-enthused when I said of course I'd wait for the donut, but she made it anyway. Service points scored, tip earned.

What I got was a creme-filled with a burnt sugar crust and a disposable eyedropper full of sugar water sticking out the top. This strange appearance was a true sign of what was to come: This was indeed a novelty donut. The creme in the middle was too much like vanilla custard/boston creme and not enough like the rich vanilla-scented creme of the eponymous desert. The sugar water injection appeared to serve no purpose other than to thin the filling out and force it out of the front of the donut, making a mess. Maybe I didn't get that this is the whole point, the donut is really a pastry gun that pushes creme into your mouth. The burnt sugar top was a nice contrasting flavor and texture but it couldn't save this donut from being a mess. The three elements, doughnut, filling and sugar crust just never worked together in harmony.

And then you're left with a piece of plastic to throw away at the end (The disposable eyedropper). Voodoo has some gimmicky donuts but at least no part of them has to end up in a landfill at the end of the day. On this note Blue Star earns some serious demerits. There was a bin by the coffee station (Stumptown regular or decaf is what you get), but it had no markings. On the wall there were two nearly-identical blue bins, one had a recycling symbol while the other had no markings. I asked the cashier about compost, and which bin was which. He struggled to explain the system which is in fact a lack of a system. I looked in the recycle bin, to find it was full of empty paper coffee cups, which are of course not recyclable due to their plastic lining. I put mine in the trash. Fortunately it was trash day and there were bins out front so I walked out and put my greasy parchment paper in the green compost bin. At the bottom I saw some dough remnants. It was Blue Stars' own compost bin! I'm not-sorry... in Portland this doesn't cut it, especially for a place which generates mostly compostables (soiled paper, dirty napkins, crumbs). [Update: I was hopeful that this situation would be sorted out after the frantic opening weeks had passed. Unfortunately two months later I must report that there has been no change.]

One note on the Decor. The shop is small but has a nice enough bathroom. The sterile white look is a bit shocking to the eyes but makes the space feel bigger. The all-glass front opens up the store to the street and provides for ample people-watching, which is always an enjoyable pastime on Hawthorne. Blue Star's interior makes it clear this is not a "third space" the stools are uncomfortable for a longer sit, the seating is limited and there are no electricity outlets or wifi. It's as if they are saying, "This is our house, line up, bow down, make your offering, eat your donut, and leave."

For the orgasmic delight which is their Buttermilk Old Fashioned, I will do so with pleasure.

Why We Do Awesome Things

As if doing awesome things needed defending. But since I've quit my job it seems that life has been full of awesome adventures and things like: Pedalpalooza rides; Birthday every-brewery-in-Portland bike tour; What The Festival.

Why?

Is it simply a way to fill the time? I can say from my experience that this is not the case. The last time I quit my job I found that it was really easy to fill the time with weed, food and Netflix. Its far harder to do awesome things; for one it requires getting out of your house every once in a while. But seriously it is stressful, at least for me, where I am at now. I have felt the cortisol flow through my body this past week. In fact I'm almost tempted to go for the vanilla Ice Cream right now (it is still 77° past 1 in the morning).

The answer starts here: For the past year I have said, both to myself and out loud, that If I were to die this instant I could be grateful for a lifetimes worth of rich experiences. And its not just something I've said, I truly believe and inhabit this mind-state. I am fortunate to have had so many experiences, more than most people get in a lifetime. Sure I have things I'd like to do next week, next month, next year. But I don't feel the hunger, that I've been deprived. No desire to plead with the Angel of Death, "Please, I need more time, I haven't yet _____."

A few years ago back in Rhode Island one of the phrases I was working with was:

Live every day as if it were your last.

I made it my own by transmuting it into,
"I could be dead on the side oftomorrow."

I worked with the phrase but I'm not sure how deeply it affected me.
It was during this period that I certainly saw the phrase in the light of how not to do it. Shortly after I started working at the factory one of the shift leaders Rob was retiring.

He wasn't more than 55 years old. The story I accrued was that he had lived stingily for many years while pouring his heart and money into the dream of an early retirement in Florida. He had even spent his vacation day in Florida working on the house. He had finally built the house of his dreams and saved up enough for him and his wife to move down there, live thriftily, work part-time and just relax. For Rob the rat race was over.

I was of course happy for his retirement, and sad to loose a great co-worker and mentor, but I couldn't for the life of me understand his scheme. What if his wife got cancer next month? What if a hurricane came along? What if he was dead on the side of 95 tomorrow?
Would all the stay-in dinner-from-a-can nights have been worth it? It seems to me that life is to uncertain (tenuous?) to put all your eggs in one basket like Rob did.

I think I finally understand on a deep level "live each day as if it were your last" because I'm living it. I'm not building my dream day by day through deprivation
I'm living it for me and the world through exultation    
 

 

Lookin For A Better Way To Get Up Out Of Bed, Instead of Gettin On the Internet and Checkin a New Hit Me

Its Monday Morning, I don't have to be at work till 5pm. Facebook before get-up, almost assuredly. Here's a little video to start your day off right.


The video was created by SYPO, a Netherlands-based microlending NGO, to show the world how small business loans have helped impact their lives. Hmm for $300, I might just give this a try myself.

List of State Mottos That Make Sense

A List of State Mottos That Make Sense

Alabama - Audemus jura nostra defendere - We Dare Defend Our Rights
California - Eureka 
Florida - In God We Trust
Kentucky - United We Stand, Divided We Fall
Massachusetts - Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem - By The Sword We Seek Peace, But Peace Only Under Liberty
Michigan - Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice - If You Seek A Pleasant Peninsula, Look About You
Minnesota - L'Étoile du Nord - The Star Of The North
Mississippi - Virtute et armis - By Valor And Arms
New Hampshire - Live Free Or Die
New Jersey - Liberty And Prosperity
New York - Excelsior - Ever Upward
Oklahoma - Labor omnia vincit - Labor Conquers All Things
Oregon - Alis volat propriis - She Flies With Her Own Wings
Tennessee - Agriculture And Commerce
Texas - Friendship
Vermont - Freedom And Unity


And now a list of state mottos that don't make sense to me:

Arizona - Ditat Deus - God Enriches
Colorado - Nil sin numine - Nothing Without Providence
Connecticut - Qui transtulit sustinet - He Who Transplanted Sustains
Georgia - Wisdom, Justice, Moderation
Louisiana - Union, Justice and Conficence
Maine - Dirigo - I Lead
Montana - Oro y plata - Gold And Silver
Nevada - All For Our Country
New Mexico - Crescit eundo - It Grows As It Goes
Washington - Al-ki - By And By

The rest? I know not enough to pass judgement.

But these 10 states, what a wonderful opportunity you have, to pick a new motto that is alluring and fitting. In 1987 Oregon changed from the bland Civil War-referential 'The Union' to the beautiful and fitting Alis volat propriis. 

Louisiana -- a state with a unique, storied, and long history has a motto that has no significance and came out of thin air in 1981? ... come on. (Hint: try something in french this time)

Nevada, all you have to do is steal Montana's motto, it makes more sense for you.

The rest, get on it.