Food for thought: passion fruit

The following is a racist entry based on a generalization... 

Passion. Thats what's missing from American culture. I finally put my finger on it after five years of feeling like something was missing.  

I went to see the Fine Art Museum in Buenos Aires, Argentina and it brought me to tears. There was something about the color and intensity of all the pieces that resonated so deeply with my heart. Argentenians (and Latin Americans in general) are such fiery, passionate people. They feel something and they express it. They build up simple things and live the drama. Spend a day with Argentenians and you will see that these people are interpersonally fascinated; the highs and lows of live in Argentina are experienced unabashedly.  

I think it took a trip to a culture where it was ok to express yourself in a colorful way for me to realize the thing that I have missed most  since moving to Los Angeles five years ago is some plain and simple passion around me. I miss the collective permission to express intensity. Albeit, Hollywood is a place where people make a good living of creative expression of emotional complexity. However I dont believe that American culture is at ease with this. I think people are comfortable with passivity due to a desire to fit in. 

Its no wonder that Americans suffer from the highest levels of depression and anxiety. They are bottling all their stuff up to stay normal. "Crazy" is the name people who are passionate are labelled in a country where no one speaks their mind. I think its sad that "crazy" has become synonymous with passionate. From personal observation I have learned that many Americans feel if they unleash a little passion in their lives they will self destruct. 

I have noticed a distinct difference between the blunt and honest expression  of Argentenians and people I know in LA. People here just say what they feel when they feel it. They are constantly in a flux of full fledged reaction without apology. I think Americans can learn so much from the Latins. Putting up a fight with some real Latin kinda gusto may be the only thing that bolsters the economy from insecurity. 

Im wondering if the pursuit of an artistic lifestyle requires a mandatory commitment to protecting passion at all cost. From what Im seeing its the difference between what's good and what sucks. Makes some sense. What makes the heart move is what keeps it going.  Do you agree with my theory? 

 

Surrogate decision making

I can never make decisions.

I particularly enjoy restaurants that have a limited menu because it significantly reduces the amount of time I need for making a choice about what I would like to order. I am afraid of places such as The Cheesecake Factory and Jerrys Deli. They have everything you can conjure up in your head. They extend you ten pages beyond the club sandwich and chicken ceaser salad. Yet somehow I always order the club sandwich.

I have a lot of dissonance about decisions. In marketing school they teach you about post purchase dissonance. It is when the buyer starts to rationalize and justify their purchase making by finding clues and evidence to back up their decision. I spend a good deal of time doing this. I ask people for their opinions and I read into street signs. The other morning I was making a decision based on a quote I pulled out of thin air about "we" and "me". A lady jogged past me and was wearing a tee shirt that read "Its about the "we" not "me" ". Case closed. If thats not a sign that you're on the right track then what is?

There is a possibility that selective attention has a lot to do with this. Its as if its Easter and I hid all the Easter eggs in my own garden and I am deliberately picking out the places to look that I know I will find the eggs. Im squealing with delight but really I knew the eggs would be there. Do you believe in selective treasure hunting?

So what do you do if you know you're being selective with reasoning and you want to find the truth? How do you know if you are making the right decisions?

I think there should be a place you take your decisions and submit them. It should be a box and look like a sweepstakes barrel. You write your decisions on little A5 pieces of colored paper. You label their urgency and category. You place a return address and you post it. You get to pick if you would like express mail or regular post (sometimes you dont want to see the "correctness" of your decision for a few weeks) There is a panel somewhere - TBA - that assesses and weighs your decision merit. It responds with feedback that gives you the truth about the consequences of your choice. You get a score (its out of 100%) and you will know for a fact whether you made the right choice. The closer to 100% you get the better your decision was. Lets just say you scored poorly, you get a chance to retake the test and make a different choice next time. If you choose expedited service maybe you even get to postpone making a decision until you can be certain you're aware you're making the choice with the best possible outcome.

The reason i like this quantifiable and qualitative way of measuring decision making is that it gives the decision making power to something else to handle. Oh have you seen that movie, "The Surrogate"? Is it a movie or a TV show? I really dont watch TV but I do see the posters and billboards everywhere. This Surrogate idea is ideal. Someone else lives your life. You get to tell them what to do and they take the weight of the responsibility for you. I think this is also a very good idea to couple with the decision making submission box. Perhaps the surrogate submits the decision on your behalf. That would be even better.

I need to make a decision. Life is too short to keep waiting for someone else to make one for you.

A Return to Baking

I am inspired to bake cupcakes again. 

There is a craze in the United States of America right now. It is very cool to open a Food Truck business. A Food Truck is a restaurant or cafe on wheels. It parks off street for lunch or dinner hours and serves food to pedestrians at cheap prices. They come offering all sorts of inventive foods; Korean BBQ, Vietnamese, french fries and cookies, sweets, grilled cheese sandwiches and hotdogs. 

I had a cupcake from a Food Truck on Thursday evening and it blew my mind. During the 30 seconds that I consumed the cupcake I was just in awe at the skill of the baker who created it. I love simple pleasures like a tasty home baked dessert. The couple that owned the truck were aware of their talent in the baking department. They were this sweet Asian couple that were busy as bees flitting around making sure that cupcakes were coming out of the ovens in perfect timing and that icing was being completed simultaneously. There was so much love going into the careful decoration of each individual patty to ensure it looked appetizing to the customer. I noticed the customers that were lining up to purchase their delectable offerings were also as pleased with the cupcakes as me. The people who owned the truck looked so proud of their business and happy to serve the people who wanted them. 

The whole experience of watching this shook my heart. I want a slice of the pleasure that this woman took from baking cupcakes. I want to serve people and enjoy the pleasure on their faces as they express sincere gratitude and excitement at something I helped to create. 

My mother was a fantastic baker and when I was growing up my brother and I would spend hours and hours in the kitchen busy copying her baking recipes. We would prepare a cake batter together, make an obnoxious mess about it and my brother would secretly putting green food coloring so it would come out green and blue when baked. Some of my happiest memories are helping my brother bake in the kitchen. 

I really want to bake cupcakes again. 

Neuro Framing

Have you seen the film "Momento"? Its written in a non linear fashion and tells of one mans struggle to recollect important facts pertaining to a murder impaired by a severe memory disorder. The character tattoos details of his identity into his skin in order to assist him in retention. His identity at any given moment is defined solely by just how much information is recorded in his skin. As you watch the film you find yourself drawn in by his fascinatingly repetitive act of finding himself.  

I lot of people I now are going through trying times of personal discovery. The label I hear commonly used to categorize this period is usually something along the lines of "finding oneself". I believe that memory can be a powerful trigger of personal identity. And I believe that a distorted memory can lead one towards a distorted sense of self later in life. 

Its difficult to retain every single bit of information we ingest on a daily basis. Yet, over years and years we are selective with which memories we retain. I have noticed through the act of journaling about my personal history that memories that have been squashed down for years have popped up. I will admit not all my memories serve me in a positive manner. And for that reason I truly attest to the power of using memory to shape a more positive future. I believe you can change certain negative views about your current personal identity through a regressive technique of revisiting memories and healing them through introducing a positive interpretation of their true meaning. 

Ill share one of these memories as an example. When i was younger my parents kept a display cabinet for our trophies and photos from sports and extra curricular activities. I remember that inside this cabinet was a picture of my brother and myself wearing different placed pins from a sprint race for the "green team". I am wearing a 2nd place ribbon and my brother a 3rd place in the photo. The photo has stuck in my mind for a very long time as representative of my achievement in sports as a youth. Im a much better athlete as an adult but it takes a lot of moxie for me to compete against others. 

Recently I found a dog eared photograph of my brother and i which was taken during that same primary school sports day afternoon. In the photo im wearing a pin that shows a 1st place ribbon. The picture is special to me because it was never one that was displayed in my house. The moment I discovered it I felt released from this jaded view of my sporting ability. 

Imagine if I had revisited the first photograph with humor and contradicted my negative attitude by remembering the second. I think its pretty magical how one impression can color your history and simultaneously change your future.  

better get reading

Jane Goodall believes the only real difference between humans and apes is our sophisticated language. As scientists continue to teach chimps to become smarter, more intellectually proficient we as a society are regressing to a culture of digital emoticons and urban abbreviations. Its only a matter of time before we are culturally conditioned equals. 

imagining a life this beautiful

i love nature. when i was a little girl i would climb a huge apple tree adjacent to my dads tool shed and just sit up there for hours daydreaming; i would muse over ideas and significant people in my life. i remember i used to even bake little tea cakes for snacks so i could stay up there even longer. i hated when the light got dark. it meant i had to climb back down to reality. my parents always wondered where i had got off to when i would climb up in the tree because it was quite hidden from the house and a difficult one to get up. i would be so quiet when i was up there because i enjoyed thinking that they had no idea about my secret world up there.

been backpacking/camping around new zealand for two weeks now and i find myself taken aback by the sheer majesty of beauty that this island has to offer. some of the backdrops ive experienced in the south island are the most beautiful things ive seen in 27 years of my life. im also wondering how come it takes me to go all the way to new zealand to be inspired to see beauty!

i have always felt drawn to travel. when i was a kid my brother and i would pack bags as if we were going on a long journey and pretend that our backyard was a trek through different continents. i even would bake cakes and store them in an airtight container inside one of our backpacks in case we needed sustanence along the way. i remember gaining inspiration from the tv cartoon series "The lost cities of gold".

Anyway its hardly different now. As im packing my bags to go somewhere new, i find myself with the same eager anticipation that i did when i was faking it at 7 years old. i think i was so curious about my backyard at that point that over the years ive just continued to recreate that experience in my career. i remember my little heart beating as i convinced myself i was about to uncover a huge treasure near dads passionfruit plant. i think i was desperately wanting something new but content creating it in the same place. its sad to think that i never needed to leave my backyard because my imagination was enough as a child and now that ive gotten older i need to physically take myself away to believe i can be inspired? i dunno...

why do people forget the simple pleasure of seeing new things or things theyve already seen in new ways? how come its so easy to get disenchanted or numb to the beauty we know in our daily surroundings?

loving peanut butter and jam

Have you ever wondered where your little quirks come from? 

I was making myself toast tonight and i started thinking about my ongoing penchant for toast and really dug deep to discover its root. 

As a kid i would wake up at sunrise and hear my mother preparing her breakfast downstairs in the kitchen. We didnt spend much time together when i was in my school days but i just thought it was normal cuz i didnt know anything different. I remember we had this little game we used to play that she would quietly tiptoe into my room, scribble a quiz question (to improve my general aptitude) on a blackboard in my bedroom at about 6am every morning. She thought it would help me do better at school and achieve the highly coveted award of "teachers pet". Because she wanted that for me i wanted that too. I stressed about getting the answers to the questions right. I would anticipate the topics and had many sleepless nights when i got a question wrong.

I dont know why but i would always pretend to be asleep when she came into my room. I woke every morning to watch the sunrise (i was obsessed with watching the sun come up) I would wait till she left my room, skim over the quiz question and immediately rack my brain, write her back my carefully chosen response which she was to check when she got home from work late at night. Meanwhile she would be making toast downstairs and id hear her opening the cupboard to get the peanut butter and blackberry jam out to spread on it. The door would open and slam and i would hear her car engine start. It was at that point i would dash downstairs and sit alone in the empty kitchen, take in her leftover perfume (chanel 5), then begin about making the same thing for my breakfast.  I had a vision of her process and i would mimick it from the times i had seen her do it on weekends or days off. I loved this occasional memory of watching mum savor every bite of the peanut butter thickly spread and always thought she went a little heavy on the jam. It was one of the few memories i have of my mother enjoying the simple things. 

So to this day i still have this thing about toast. I love to make it. I love peanut butter and jam. I always buy blackberry jam just like my mother liked. And i eat really loudly savoring every bite just like i remember her doing so. I think it makes me feel really close to her. I run to it when i am stressed or feel lonely.

Isnt that funny how simple little quirks can remind us of our need for love? 

no more clever

I want to be perfect and i want to be loved. Who doesnt? I think the more you attempt to attain perfection the more it seems to slip away. Golf is one of my favorite sports. Because it is one where you have to practise the art of following through. The moment you think about what will happen after your club impacts the ball your body will attempt to control it and you will over direct the shot. The key is to practise good form in your swing and then allow your follow through to happen naturally. Easier said than done. I always trick myself into thinking i might be able to do something clever last minute that will ensure the "best drive ever". Ha. When i swing with this mentality i always swing poorly. I know plenty of "worst drives ever" that began with the best intentions. Its when i relax and just swing without the need to do something extra that i make good drives. Ugh how do you get your heart to do the same thing? How do you apply this theory when you're off the golf course? Is it ever possible to just surrender to a divine plan and let your heart just trust that its doing what it does and the right way? I want to know what things i do that hurt my hearts greatest opportunities. I want to know when im close to being on track and i want to feel home there.

Search me, Oh god, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way

dodging mind balls

I played dodgeball for the first time today. It was a riot! I have to admit there was some resistance to following through on a commitment to play. I hadnt met my team before, i didnt know the rules of the game and my knowledge of dodgeball consists of the movie about the game i watched over four years ago! So i was scared. 

There were a bunch of obstacles to making it to the game to increase my options of bailing out. First of all i was running late due to unexpected heavy traffic on the 405. Second I showed up at the location to meet my team members and no one was there. Third i didnt have my contacts phone number and had to rely on emails to communicate. However everything seemed to work itself out just fine for me to make it on time to the correct location without compromising our game. See if i hadnt shown up our team would have had to forfeit. And that was what kept my faith high that somehow, someway i would play dodgeball today.

What i wanted to talk about is not my experience of dodgeball. Its more that i want to share about an amazing breakthrough i had while playing today. I have always been a fairly competitive person when it comes to sport. Back in school i played almost every sport and did fairly ok. However i was never GREAT at any particular sport. I always wanted to be but really struggled with maintaining the psychology to bring my best to each game consistently and not choke when the stakes were high. You could say i would sabotage some of my greatest opportunities to succeed in sport - especially when it meant a lot to me. I was told by many coaches of my natural ability to excel. I had discipline and determination and a fighting spirit. However, whenever i would visualise the stakes during a game i would play my worst. 

My friend told me today that he plays his best when he enters with the attitude that "he doesnt care". I told him that was what i used to say. And thats pretty much been my approach to life. Ive been convinced for years that if i let go of the importance of a game, skill, relationship i wont be disappointed if i fail and i will exceed my own expectations. However about a year ago i realised this apathetic attitude wasnt getting me to the top. I was mediocre in every aspect of my life. Lukewarm. I would let go of any expectations to excel and compromise my opportunity to be the best. I dont think a master of any sport will ever impart the wisdom that a laissez faire attitude brings out your best game. In fact, most sports legends ive had the honor of quizzing on the topic have said their absolute "can do" attitude is what led them to their consistent best. 

So today i wanted to practise a little of this. See i was shit scared that i would make a fool out of myself in front of a whole bunch of fanatics. I hate losing secretly and i hate to suck at physical activities especially. I felt paralysed by my fear of not being able to understand or contribute to the game. I know it was just a dodgeball game but it wasnt that to me today. I had mentally turned it into an exercise in beating fear.  And wow what an exciting experience it was to just dive in and give myself the opportunity to explore if i really could do this. I decided that the game was in my life for a reason today and that there was a finite possibility i could do it well and could have a great game. I refused to believe any other conflicting message. 

I loved playing with this attitude. I did really well and even was one of the only people on my experienced team to attempt to catch a ball. My teammates seemed shocked at my spirit. I was shocked myself. I wont say that i am a natural dodgeball champion but i will say that i did much better than i thought was possible. And its because i really just believed that it could be possible. I believed that things i had no idea about doing i could do over and over and get better and better. I believed that i could with practise become a master and i wasnt afraid to invest myself in getting the practise to get me there. 

Enough anthony robbins for today...

But seriously... try it. Think that there is no reason why you cannot trust that it is possible for you to do really well no matter what setbacks lie ahead. You can rise above whenever challenge you are afraid. Everyone is meant to be great! 

magic markers

Help! Im back in Los Angeles. And i am scared to death of losing the happy go lucky glow that you acquire from being as far as possible from this place. City of Angels they call it. Well, from my experience they must be a bunch that fell into a deep well. Its hard to find some tangible evidence to support the idea that people are inherently good when you live here. 

Theres a Psalm in the bible that is shockingly accurate in description of the breed of fallen people attracted to life in LA; he who boasts of the cravings of his heart, he who blesses the greedy, is prideful and in all his thoughts has no room for a God. Isnt it funny that back when the bible was written there were evil people reigning who were just like that. Nothings changed. These are the kinds of people who think that nothing will ever cause trouble for them and they renounce accountability. 

I feel like i have chosen to live in a city where everyone gets given a free magic marker upon entry. You get to write whatever the fuck you want on the wall with the marker and then you get to erase it so other people who want to take a look at it see what you want them to see. And i guess if you dont believe in a God system of accountability then nothing you do can be something that bites you back in the long run. Since everyone mucks up in life im always hearing people use this as an excuse to say that since imperfection is inevitable why pretend otherwise and best ignore any effort to attain perfection. I think that is why everyone gets to publish, erase without guilt. Being spiritual equals a risk of condemnation. Who wants that? I think that is what gives birth to hedonism. 

I hate hedonism. Theres a point where you've done everything under the sun to run free from structure, free from pain, free from expectation and you just stop. What is the point of "getting happy" and maintaining your happiness through constantly seeking out a stream of pleasurable activities to quench your interest? When all the activities become boring and you run out of material things to get excited about whats next? I guess death. In the sense of identity. You're nothing but a mess of the same stuff as everyone else whos doing the same thing. Whats special about you? What exactly did you trade up for a plethora of quick fixes? 

I see the huge fork in the road in society right now and seems very clear that you can either submit to the culture of greed and gain maximum pleasure for your self out of this lifetime and hope to God (well if you believe in one) that it turns out in your favor once the lights go out or you can start looking at the big question of what happens in the end and what you need to do about it now. Keeping the end in mind has never been so present for me since moving to a city where you learn to live for today and forget tomorrow. I dont buy into the bullshit about staying in the present moment if you cant keep the eternal in mind while youre doing it. 

So back to the magic marker metaphor. I think that it would be nice to see a few more people in this town who bother to pen their existence on the wall for others to see. Im not the perfect example of someone who has done this in the past but im ready to at least do something about it because i havent really got anything else to live for than that. Do i? I think living without a reason is what hellish existence is. Maybe in the end, you get to sit in a room surrounded by big blank walls of all the things you did when you were alive that someone else greater than you erased with an even bigger magic eraser because none of the stuff you did when you lived counted...  

 

message in a bottle

Had a few reds tonight and feel like a yabber. How i wish i had logged every wish i made to jolly ol Santa or God or whatever bartering, wheeling and dealing i did on a daily basis! Ive been experiencing some childhood wishes come to fruition and although grateful for the blessing i cant say im feeling the same urgency or importance of the wishes i made back then now. I always believed that no matter what we wish or pray for, if we wish with pure intention, hard enough that it will be delivered. And i still believe this to be a truth. Would say i live by this strength in faith about what we pray for. I dont think we have any control over the timing or method of delivery but be assured it will be delivered.
I found old journals lying around in my childhood bedroom here in OZ. Almost everything i journaled nine yonker years ago has come into my reality by now. And that scares the living crap out of me! At the same time its so reassuring that during the dark times when we cant seem to understand why and how things work out the way they do that we can trust that somewhere theres a magic marker penning our deepest desires and making sure they do and can happen.
I was thinking that the tradition of writing a wish on a piece of paper and sending it off in a bottle to reach an unknown destination is really quite an effective ritual. I have never tried this to see if it works but think in theory the application of wishing/praying and then letting go can be quite effective.
Anyway today was a strange strange day and i just kept thinking how funny it is that we get so worried and stressed when things dont work out the way we want them to in the moment. That there is the possibility that timing has a lot to do with wish fulfillment and that in times of despair thats just really all thats needed to be remembered.

Scratching the itch

Scratching the itch

Ive been taking care of two one month old puppies here in Malacca. Their names are "Blackie" and "Brownie" named respectively after the color of their coats. They are the most adorable bilingual pups ive ever come across. Both have a pretty bad dose of fleas because the weather here is so moist and sticky most of the time. My uncle baths them daily but cant seem to stop the fleas from coming back. 

I have watched both dogs reacting to their case of fleas in different ways. Blackie seems to take the approach of ignoring they are irritating him. He finds things to explore and destruct in the garden, takes joy in savoring each chew of his chicken bones and really seems to be quite ok living with the itch daily. Brownie on the other hand has taken the neurotic route. Hes been tearing his coat apart with scratching. Cant seem to find a moment to forget the fleas that are bugging his wellbeing and keeps trying to get back to the state of non-itchiness he once felt. Its not working. He itches to alleviate pain but as a result he pulls hair out and causes himself even  more pain and irritation. And his skin is just so sensitive to everything now. Poor bugger! 

I feel like im learning a lot from these dogs. Ahhhhh to scratch or not scratch... 

Did i mention i have mosquito bites all over? Emotional ones. Hungry little suckers mosquitos. I have this unending longing to itch the bites too. Im taking a page from Blackie's example and going to tear up the garden before i give them a good scratching.