Wednesday, August 26, 2009

So-called medium reveals her intentions

“I’d love to go to a Red Hat meeting with you,” a so called "psychic" & "medium" declared to my 80-year-old Mom who had not invited her to go. She inquired about details, while Mom remained vague, and pointedly did not mention any. ”I LOVE hats! I have a whole collection of hats! We’ll go, just you and I,” she continued with considerable enthusiasm .

Poor Mom didn’t invite her, barely knows her, has been something of a captive audience until this point. This person failed to notice her silence,  or the grimly bemused smile on her face. After several more comments along this line, she announced “It’s a date then,” as she heads toward the door without once noticing the older woman’s reaction. So much for her claim to be psychic…. or even sensitive to others….

After the woman left, my mother turns to me and I know I am in trouble… “If she shows up there I am going to stop going to meetings,” she said glaring at me. (And, in fact, she did stop going!)  This woman was not listening to her, and Mom hates that. She didn't care what Mom wanted, she wanted what SHE wanted - which was to invite herself along to her group meeting.

It was me who brought this person, who is a self-declared psychic, self-declared spiritual “guide” into the house. The so-called psychic and I serve in a volunteer organization I am fond of, and I have been trying to figure out how to handle our philosophical differences for over a year now. (I am a secular humanist, a non-theist, a naturalist. etc) She has aggressively befriended me, calling repeatedly with invitations - which makes me a bit nervous - and we always avoid talking about our core beliefs.

Now my Mom has been a realist all her life, worked for 25 years for a police group, has seen all manner of hucksters, deceit and fraud. Because of her police background, Mom thinks such people are purposefully manipulative con-artists looking for bereaved emotional marks to swindle. And she might be right..  Mom  noted many of the red hats are widows, vulnerable to someone who might "guide" them to dead loved ones for a fee, or to curry favor, or find a place to live for a while...

And, though I worry about the sanity of this tale-spinner who says she talks to the dead, guides people to recall their past lives and has “remembered” over 100 of her own (story telling of a different magnitude indeed….) –  Mom might have the clearer view. And I am sure this so called "psychic" woman is “telling stories” – but to us or to herself? I wonder if her "stories" have become such an integral part of her persona, that she can no longer separate her self from her inventions.

The other alternative is the possibility that she is a charming manipulator. She is a careful listener, an astute observer of body language, a clever story-teller, seemingly a very caring sort. Surely she is self-deceived, not inwardly cold and calculating. Maybe. But this bid to get Mom alone has given me doubts. What could make it easier for a faker to channel the dead to the living - then talking to them when they are still ALIVE, and asking just the right questions about their relations to younger relatives and friends? She has confided about other elderly folks who she'd "befriended, who had "passed over," mentioning furniture and even a car "gifted" to her by grateful relatives." Once she asked a grieving relative if she could live in the departed's home until it was sold. That request was not granted. Who know's what "psychic" revealations might have resulted from unfettered access to the deceased's belongings.....

This culture wants to believe so badly it tosses science and logic aside, gives credence to folk who need to feel "special" by inventing supernatural powers for themselves, and who are accepted because of their very real and often quite subtle,  talents of listening carefully, observing carefully, recalling details, having a good sympathetic "graveside" manner.  Yet often these same folks blatantly manipulate others for emotional or financial gain, for services, support, living quarters,  or items tossed out when the estate is dissolved, stored and later sold on ebay or the like. (This particular woman did maintain a storage locker crammed with stuff and an active ebay account.)  Today we have psychics featured on tv shows, we have fraudulent ghost hunters – ( and these folks really ought to be ashamed because deception is involved in each filming….

But what can be expected in culture where a large segment of the populace can no longer make a cogent argument, separate opinion from fact, tell fakery from science, where warm fuzzy but false feelings are valued over what is real….

Thursday, August 20, 2009

A Song: It's love that makes you free

Here is yet another song resurrected from my past. I am testing a new mic on this recording and it looks like it's a move in right direction. The mic is a Blue Snowball. So far so good. For other recordings I have had trouble with distortion on loud or high notes and had to jump through technical hoops to minimize it. This mic seems to handle it all well.. Just a bit a reverb added to this one no noise control needed.



Just a note: It's NOT romantic love nor religious nor spiritual love that I think sets anyone free -- it's the aspect of love which is accepting self and others as they really are - as full human beings with both virtues and vices - with a rational mind, a slippery core of emotion from the rat brain too.....

It's love that sets you free
by Mad Mar Walker

Stubble-Bearded Papa
What have you got to say?
We never did that much talkin' anyway
Half of what you tell me
I know it is a lie
The other half is guaranteed to make me cry

Refrain:
Love won't grow that easily
It's raging up like the sea
Love it is that pains your heart
And It's love that makes you free

Weather can be sunny
Weather can be mean and bad
Love can be sweet
it can be sour and sad
Try to start a fire in the pouring rain
You can light the body
Buddy, can you light the brain?

Ref.

I've known my share of stubborn old men
One or two I'd like to see again
Faces like sand paper
hearts like stone
Breathing fire they burn you
right to the bone

Ref.
coda: It's love that makes you free

All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

The Kerry Boys & Pierce Campbell

Well, let's see -- what have I been up to. Late Sunday afternoon I took a trip to Bethel to check out a well-known group The Kerry Boys with Pierce Campbell at the gazebo:


Very folky. Absolutely perfect production and sound. Smooth, flawless and everything you would expect. Attendees were mostly grey which surprised me, with a smattering of families with kids playing on the grass. The concert was free, and fairly well attended though the attendees spread out in what little shade was available. 

Saturday, July 11, 2009

15 Books that stayed with me over the years

  • The Greek Way (Hamilton) I read this in high school, and it gave me the crazy idea that I should try different things. (Try reading my resume...) The ancient Greeks believed in the well-rounded man who could recite a poem, play the lyre, make a speech, etc etc etc according to Hamilton. Jack of all trades master of none, oh well....
  • The True Believer (Eric HOFFER) I read this book right after I dropped out of born-againism around 1972. I think it made me wary of other fanatical things I might have fallen into....
  • Utopia Minus X (Rex Gordon) Science Fiction, and now out of print - people are codified and some people are classed X because they don't fit. Hmmm . Classifiable folks get to live in Utopia, the oddballs get launched out into space....
  • The Adogmatic State (Apostolos N Depastas) This one also reenforced the dangers of dogmatsm in a cultural sense rather than a personal one.
  • Working (Terkel) I didn't read this until later in my job-hopping life. Too bad. What a great project.
  • Times Arrow (Martin Amis) In this book, time runs backwards which is the only way the life of a Dr. Mengela makes any sense - he takes the dead, broken or tortured and turns them back into whole human beings.
  • The Road to Wellville (TC Boyle) OMG. This is the funniest book and makes you not want to take any claim at face value. Oh for a good colonic... haha
  • Does Poetry Matter? (edited by ?) This book is a series of essays by different people on the meaning and function of poetry. And yes it does too matter!
  • Leaves of Grass (Walt Whitman) Whitman goes with Turkel's Working somehow. Leaves of Grass is a celebration of the everyman...
  • Why I am not a Christian (Russell) Two other books on this line that influenced me were The American Religion, (Harold Bloom) and the Lucifer Principal (Howard Bloom)
  • Mount Annalouge (by Rene Dumal) Hmm. Holding the incongruous and eccentric, striving for metaphorical heights, but helping on the way up and down.
  • Owning Your Own Shadow (by somebody johnson) At some point in your life, you might find that this slim volume is worth a library of self help books. A novel I read around that time was The Man Who Would be Thursday by Chesterton? which featured the idea of a doppleganger
  • Pale Fire (by Nabakov) This is the first book I had read where the narrator cannot be trusted to tell you the truth. But you don't realize this at first. Slowly it dawns on you that the narrator is fabricating.
  • Einstein's Dreams (by Alan Lightman) ...a series of vignettes portraying different imagined mechanisms of time and their effect on a town or a few individuals -- written in a clean yet lyrical way.
  • Labinrynth (by Louis Borges) A collection of his short odd works. The Garden of Many Paths. etc My dog orginally chewed up seven of my hats, then abruptlly switched and pulled this book out of the book shelf and chewed it to shreds. I was so upset I bought a crate and crate trained her....)
  • On Writing Well (Zinsser) This guy's advice can enable you to trim Doughboy prose into a jaguar..... Other than the inestimable Jack Sanders, I can't think of anything that has changed my writing more. Hmm - a reread may be in order.
-- Mar Walker

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Talk about my process

ARTWORK:

This is a slide show of my weird art work - rough sketches or formal works, in a variety of media. I tell the original medium for each piece. MUSIC: The background music I improvised on a Yamaha keyboard, recorded on a tiny Olympus recorder. I also used that to record the talking track. I tried using the macbook mic in iMovie but the fan is running a lit and it gums up the sound.


One of my interests in creating visual art is in capturing or creating motion. You can see that in some of the pieces shown here.

 A sense of motion can be created in a number of ways:
** by the texture or vigor of mark, scrape or brush stroke
** the lines or the edges of the forms depicted
** by moving the eye with either the juxtaposition of light and dark or colors.
** Also by subject matter, ie bodies in motion. (though that in itself is not enough)

 I am not a purist when I work, I tend to make a mark on what I am working on using what ever is handy. I like working in oil pastels with water colors, but might also make marks with gesso or pencil or even ball-point pen or nail polish. I also am very fond of collage, if I have what I consider and unsuccessful composition, I might cut a particularly nice section out of it and glue it to another work.

Comments from the original post:

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Pedaling poetry in New Haven: Elm City Cyclists' Poetry Ride

Original Date 6/21/09

Pedaling hmm. Often I find I am sitting absolutely still as I think or meditate, so I was quite surprised to be invited to read a poem to a small group of Elm City Cyclists at a location of my choice in New Haven! I liked the idea, as long as I didn't have to pedal. ( I don't even own a bike!) To the right is poet/cyclist Lisa Siedlarz who does own a bike, and who went on this pedaling poetry journey put together by William Kurtz!

For a location I picked the New Haven spot I had driven to recently - Orange Street where I parked when I saw Buckwheat Zydeco last week. I had parked right across from Millennium Plaza where there was an odd relief sculpture with the marvelously dualistic name "Millenium Relief."
Anyway, after standing around like an loitering lunatic for almost an hour, getting quite pleasantly damp in a light rain, and fielding one polite text msg warning me the event was running behind, a group of eight or nine smiling cyclists arrived.

So on Orange Street - in the shadow of the New Haven Hall of Records I read the following poem: (click the title to read the poem)
After I read, a young guy on the tour had us all laughing with his on-the-money yet whimsical poem about boring business meetings! Then we all strolled down to the next stop which was the Bru Cafe just a few doors down which was the last stop on the tour - for more poetry and CAFFEINE!

To the left is a poet and cyclist named Paul, who frequents the Word of Mouth reading over at the Institute Library. He was sporting a multi-colored umbrella hat which he was happy to model with a big smile.

The tall multi-colored Apollo to the right is an enormous sculpture in the yard of the Bru Cafe!! It's very cool.
At the cafe a Jazz Musician/Poet who calls himself Pigman read some fabulous poems in the open mic at Bru!!! My favorite was "Do Angles Have Sex?" I only was able to stay for a few of the readers, and one cup of Sumatran. (No doubt that's why I am still awake!!!

Saturday, June 20, 2009

POEM: Lady Liberty Gives Her Report


Liberty's report


I am moon to this loud sea.
Chaos or collusion -
the tide’s drawn out
by me.

From colony to nation,
with woodsmen’s maul and wedge
you divided peculiar powers;
with ink-stained sledge
But I am mirror - honest glass ‘n lead
reflecting your collective head:
freedom to speak and hear
to read any book
to believe or discount
with skeptical looks
freedom to sell and buy
to hawk and whine
freedom to sue anyone, anytime.
Free cruises for congress
on corporate boats
- freedom not to know
- not to vote.
Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson and I watch
jetsam’s apex and ebb
future flotsam in moonbath,
drunk on the web of tide.
Below, deep, the waters move.
The paper leviathan continually entwine,
create unseen vortices
flee the harpoon’s sting
with lurching expedience.
Indifferent yaghtsmen quaff their conyac.
Speedboaters toss back beer.
Innumerable row boats rise and fall,
bail and steer with hapless oar
while hungry shorebirds
sing and soar
dropping oysters
to salt- stained rocks below.

Bystanders watch for pearls.

copyright 1998 Marjorie M. Walker
(from the Metaphoratorium on http://pages.prodigy.net/mmwalker