Blissed Out

When was the last time you felt bliss?  Not happiness or contentment, but actual bliss.  Be sure to exclude sex because that’s too easy.

A recent episode of Radiolab explored this very question (although not with the sex qualifier).  In the show they discussed the story of Aleksander Gamme  - who had been on an  expedition in Antarctica.  As he traveled to his destination he left packages of supplies and occasionally food for his return trip.  As he made his way back he had forgotten at which of the drops he had left the food at. He was wondering if he had any food left and he was very hungry. That’s when this happened after he had not eaten in two days:

For those of you too lazy to watch the amazing video, he did find food in his last drop.  Cheezdoodles, to be exact and his response is classic. He is blissed out on junk food.  His expressions (especially those when he is just staring with his mouth agape in shock) are priceless.

Anyway, back to the question about bliss....when I first heard it, I just kinda pushed it in the back of my head as I was listening to the podcast and grading some quizzes.  Later on I starting thinking…when was the last time I felt “bliss”? I thought of the typical answers – when I got engaged?; at my marriage ceremony?; when my kids where born?  Nothing stuck though. Sure, I was happy in all of those moments but Cheezdoodle Bliss? No, not really.

It seems like if bliss can exist at all - it could only begin when your sense of self awareness becomes lost in a blissed-out moment.   In most big moments like getting married - you're too self-consciously aware of "the moment"  to be in bliss. I recently watched the DVD of our wedding and I look extremely uncomfortable and on the brink of tears.  Although I don't remember feeling exactly that way, I do remember being super-aware of everything like my brain was trying to record and store that moment forever. It wasn't exactly bliss.  

Then it came to me as I was driving home from work. I remembered the last time I experienced bliss. In fact, I could even recall the date (11/10/12) and even down to the exact moment.  

Here it was:





So you might guess I am an Aggie from watching the above video (class of '99).  The interception clinched an upset of the #1 team in the nation.  Texas A&M hadn't been this good in decades. When the season finished we were ranked in the top five for the first time since 1956.  When the season started most Aggies would have been happy with a winning record, which made everything that followed a little bit sweeter. Even before this particular game, I knew this team was special. When I witnessed the interception, I jumped up and down in my living room and laughed like a high-pitch hyena. My 6 year-old daughter told me that my laugh was "terrifying". Terrifying or not and as temporary as it was....it was...bliss. 

It struck me that sports offers these spontaneous, unconscious, self-forgetting, moments.  Isn't that what mystics enter in meditation, worship, prayer, etc. Religions offer individuals ways to subsume themselves into a larger consciousness or understanding.  You can forget and feel forgiven, come before the divine and forget your burdens, worries, fears, sins, insecurities and just...be. 

Whenever I am at church and I see people do this  I wonder - how can they be doing this? How do they turn off the part of their brain that feels foolish or self conscious? Granted I wasn't raised in a church that did this so that explains a lot. However, it's not just raising the hands in the air - it's everything. I always feel like the kid in class who doesn't "get it" (or maybe everyone else is just faking it). 

I've always craved to have a religious experience like that and yet my self seems to always stand in the way.  I'm over thinking, over analyzing and I just can't make my brain stay still. I could blame my culture and the fact I was raised on corn syrup, I have ADD (no, not really but maybe) or watched too many cartoons growing up, but I think this problem is larger than culture. Getting over ourselves is a problem all humans have encountered. You might even say that's why religious practices were created - to create possible fleeting moments of bliss. 

Today, we're less religious and more distracted. Maybe that's why there are so many sports fans and sex fiends -- we're addicted to the rush of feeling bliss. It's the only way we know how to forgot our selves.  

Cool Dad Moment

Hanging out in my living room with the kiddos. My six-year old starts singing, "Ba Ba Baba, Ba Ba Baba, I wanna be sedated".

Her mother walks into the room, and says very motherly, "Where did she learn that from?"

I state, innocently, "Uh...the Ramones?"

I know my kids aren't going to be little versions of me (and that's a good thing) but I sure hope they enjoy a little rock n' roll from time to time.

Clarification: I am under no illusions I am cool, it was the moment that was cool. 

Saturday Night Special: The Bends

There was a time in the 90's when I knew just about everything that was going on the alternative music scene.  My depth of knowledge was quite shallow but it was wide. My knowledge of the history of rock/pop music was extremely poor as well.  I knew about bands, when albums were coming out mostly due to the fact that I was a DJ at our college station so it helped me keep in the “loop” of the college music scene.  

Looking back, my ability to have an educated taste was at an elementary level. This doesn’t stop anyone from having opinions though, and it didn’t stop me.  I knew what I liked and I was picky as hell. To make matters worse, I was always on the look out for sell-outs or poseurs. I figured if something made it really big and wasn’t “rock out with your cock out” then it was lame.

Anyway, when I discovered The Bends shortly after it was released, I liked it. Not deeply or intensely but I knew what I liked and I liked this. I eventually grew to love the album.

Lots of people like radiohead. I am happy for them but for me, radiohead begins and ends with The Bends. After this, they lost their ability to truly rock.  There’s worse bands out there but they ain’t my cup of tea anymore. This song shines for me on a great album. I really could have almost picked any song on this album (except “Fake Plastic Trees” as by definition, I am supposed to pick “rocky” songs for my Saturday Night Specials).

So, I feel like this is introducing the Beatles to someone, but surely, there is someone like me when I was in college. They might just be discovering the history of rock music....maybe, just maybe this is their introduction to wade a little deeper out away from their own comfort zone.  Probably not, but ya know the thought is nice.

Poem Post: Visiting Grandpa

I feel like I am making up for lost time with the blog. Here's a poem I wrote in 03-04 around the time my mother's father passed. It's a sad little thing but it captured my thoughts at the time.

visiting grandpa


i found him trembling in room 504

i remember thinking he looked like a defeated Indian chief

his face looked sad, brown and weathered

i combed his hair

and spoon fed him lunch

his bruised hands held mine

i am sure he doesn't know who i am

vast sadness filled those halls

with or without,

we all die alone.

The Story Teller

I often never finish or follow through on my creative plans.  Even the art projects, written projects, etc. I do complete seem to take inordinate amount of time. Nothing comes easy for me, but then again, I am a lazy man.  Hence, the whole title of this blog, I think I wrote this all before....this brings me to my latest endeavor, storytelling.

I’ve always been a story teller for my kids, stories in the car, stories when we're stuck in public somewhere boring, you get the picture.  But my specialty are bedtime stories.  Since we brought our son home in September, I've had nary a night off (if I did have the night off for the girls, the story was told before their Mom tucked them in). In fact, I am working on basically the same world and characters since September. We’ve had all sorts of adventures; being taken prisoner by trolls (who wanted the main character's toenails, of course), hiding from witches, being caught in a goblin's snot net and generally adventuring in a fantasy world - think of it as Lord of the Rings-lite for ages 5-9.

Soon after starting these stories, I found myself on a Sunday afternoon, drawing a map of the entire world we had explored including areas we had yet to "visit".  It struck me just how much fun I was having creating this little world, even without the kids.  After a few more weeks of storytelling, I ran out of room on the map. At Christmas, my oldest daughter bought me a poster board and map pencils so I could draw the whole map out.   

Cute story, eh?

I was happy to start but then I realized what I was up against.  It took me well over a month to complete,  including coloring the map in map pencils. I usually worked at least a 1-2 hours a day and at times closer to 4 hours in one day. It basically became my life outside of parental duties and work. Every morning the girls would ask to see what I had worked on the night before.  

The finished map

 

Now, the wonderful aspect about the map was that it helps write the stories themselves.  Once you have the geography and culture decided on, then it’s just letting your characters interact within the framework of your world.  I estimate it took me a tad over 48 hours to finish  the map. The night I finished I took it in to get laminated and hang it on the girl's wall. 

All this is to say, I have been harboring dark, conceited little thoughts about publishing these stories in some capacity.  If it took me over a month just to complete the map how long would it take me to finish one page, let alone one chapter of a book I would be actually happy with? I don't even read children's literature, at least not this type.... I can't even write a blog post without finding numerous grammatical errors or unclear wording. Do I want to devote all my free time to working on something that holds no promise of success?  If I do finish, I would have to search for a publisher and likely be rejected countless times, maybe even face rejection for years?  Do I want to risk the fact that the likely outcome is, well, nothing tangible....

I’m not looking to get rich. I don’t care about that stuff, but I’ve always harbored the fantasy of getting paid to come up with silly ideas. I suppose this whole idea is silly (but it’s not as cool because I didn’t get paid for it).  

Sometimes I feel like God has pulled me in five different directions. Each direction offers completely different risks, outcomes, advantages and disadvantages.  Eventually, I will have to pick a path and hope for the best.  For now, I’ll just keep being the story teller before bedtime.