Since finding work in my field is taking longer than I had hoped, I took a job working at a Halloween store a few weeks ago. It's been an interesting ride. I've never worked retail before, but I can only imagine that my store, which sprang mushroom-like out of nothingness, was full of madness, and will soon disappear, was a unique experience. These are the top ten things I learned working for a Halloween store.
Consider yourself warned! Some of the things I learned would be R-rated for sexual content, disturbing material, and deeply questionable taste.
10.) Zombie baby props. They are awful, and they are everywhere. Probably because no one wants to buy them.
9.) Every men's costume can and probably will be named after a penis related pun. My pick for the most egregious: "Dr. Howie Feltersnatch".
8.) Cultural sensitivity takes a break on Halloween. If someone wants to dress up like a Mexican, Asian, or Native American stereotype, they'll find it incredibly easy to buy a ready-made costume. Also a German, Scottish, or French stereotype. Really, if it simplifies an entire culture to one recognizable and probably insulting attribute, you can find it.
7.) Have some faith in humanity: Jersey Shore costumes didn't sell well at all.
6.) But don't have too much: two of my picks for most offensive costume, "Department of Erections" (a prison jumpsuit with a fake penis!?!) and "Wet T-Shirt Contest" (complete with enormous false breasts), both sold.
5.) There is no limit to how many variations of vampire, witch, and zombie costumes you can have.
4.) Slutty cop was by far the most popular woman's costume.
3.) Ninja was the most popular costume for boys.
2.) Variations on 'princess' were the most popular for girls, but then, half of the girl's section is variations on princess costumes anyway.
And the number one most inalterable fact...
1.) If you are a woman and you buy a costume from a Halloween store, it's not going to cover your upper thighs or your cleavage.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Aikido Inspiration: 5 Tips for Beginning to Study a Martial Art
I started training in Aikido when I was fourteen-that's eight years ago now. In that time, I've seen many new students and even done quite a few first day classes. Every new student is different. Yet at the same time, some patterns show up over and over again. These are the top five things that I try to tell new students, and what I wish I'd understood myself.
5.) Being self critical accomplishes nothing. True, it's very difficult to avoid being self critical. But it's good to recognize that it's not expected, it's not helpful, and you don't have to feel bad about learning at your own pace. There's nothing wrong with taking time to learn something difficult. In fact, that's how it works for almost everyone.
4.) Stay in touch with what you're actually learning, and why it's important to you. Rather than getting caught up in the form of what you're learning, keep track of what it means for the content.
3.) Show up. Go to as many classes as you can. You want showing up and participating to be a strong habit. You'll be tired some days, or you'll have had a tough time in your last class. If you're in the habit of going, you'll end up going anyway, and benefiting enormously.
2.) Bring your practice into the rest of your life. Think about what you're learning. If there are any things you can do at home, do them. (Mitama shizume... Mitama shizume...)
1.) Most of all, find a touchstone. Find something that speaks to you, something concrete and easy to do often. Use it to keep your interest strong and to gain understanding of things that come less naturally. For me, this was koku dosa. But anything works, as long as it speaks to you.
By the way, none of this is at all relevant to anything other than Aikido. So it's not like I'm writing this for my own benefit, to remember and apply to new experiences. And you certainly shouldn't apply them to anything other than martial arts.
Of course not.
5.) Being self critical accomplishes nothing. True, it's very difficult to avoid being self critical. But it's good to recognize that it's not expected, it's not helpful, and you don't have to feel bad about learning at your own pace. There's nothing wrong with taking time to learn something difficult. In fact, that's how it works for almost everyone.
4.) Stay in touch with what you're actually learning, and why it's important to you. Rather than getting caught up in the form of what you're learning, keep track of what it means for the content.
3.) Show up. Go to as many classes as you can. You want showing up and participating to be a strong habit. You'll be tired some days, or you'll have had a tough time in your last class. If you're in the habit of going, you'll end up going anyway, and benefiting enormously.
2.) Bring your practice into the rest of your life. Think about what you're learning. If there are any things you can do at home, do them. (Mitama shizume... Mitama shizume...)
1.) Most of all, find a touchstone. Find something that speaks to you, something concrete and easy to do often. Use it to keep your interest strong and to gain understanding of things that come less naturally. For me, this was koku dosa. But anything works, as long as it speaks to you.
By the way, none of this is at all relevant to anything other than Aikido. So it's not like I'm writing this for my own benefit, to remember and apply to new experiences. And you certainly shouldn't apply them to anything other than martial arts.
Of course not.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Aikido Inspiration: Idealism and Cynicism
I actually have two things that I wanted to share in this post. First, I tested for and received my black belt just over a week ago! It was and it wasn't a surprise to me. I've been pleased with my progress in training in the last months, but at the same time, there are so many things that I want to work on, I had thought that it might be months before I would be ready. That night was an interesting class. Despite struggling with a painful and distracting headache, I had a lot of fun. My sensai didn't announce ahead of time that I would be testing-he just called me over and started telling me to do various techniques with another student. I had a lot of trouble recognizing words, but my Aikido was very flowing. That's really the way I would want it to be. Generally, words come easy to me, and being in the moment is harder. That's why I'd rather struggle with language than movement.
My Shodan (black belt) isn't completely official yet. For one thing, I don't yet have a belt that is black. And along with two other students that were promoted to shodan at the same time, I'll be expected to demonstrate my competency for my sensai's sensai. I'm looking forward to it.
But what I really wanted to talk about are some recent thoughts on idealism and cynicism. Both the initial inspiration behind this and much of the vocabulary are not mine-they are the work of my sensai, Bert Bennett. A few weeks ago, I asked for a class centered on sensing possibilities and new directions in a non-martial context. (In my current position of having finished college and needing to define a new direction, this is not at all theoretical!) I found the resulting discussion of idealism and cynicism inspiring. My feelings run deep on this subject. It's a challenging topic for me, but one I've already found immensely rewarding.
When my sensai first brought up the terms, "idealism" and "cynicism", it was obvious to me the cynicism wasn't the right answer. But at the same time, I felt alienated from idealism. My instant reaction was to think that idealism was naive, impractical, something that ignored real conditions. There was a sense that idealism didn't, couldn't belong to me. It was something that applied to people that-what do they do exactly? This is worth examining. When we look closely at idealism, what is it?
Idealism is having a dream. It is believing in something strongly, wanting something passionately. It can exist and thrive in the real world, while recognizing real conditions and obstacles. And it isn't restricted to lofty and indistinct ideals. Idealism can be extremely concrete and detailed. It centers around a question: What do I want to give to the world?
That brings us to the other side of things, to cynicism. Cynicism is what exists in places where idealism doesn't. To put it another way, cynicism is what happens when we are hurt and discouraged, causing us to give up on idealism. What is a cynical viewpoint? It's one that looks at what could go wrong. It sees things as impossible and anticipates disappointment. All of these aspects have something in common. They are defense mechanisms against pain, developed from a time when we were hurt. That was the time our idealism was damaged.
This is a difficult topic for me because I feel alienated from my idealism even as I desire it. Some of my recent work in meditation has been to shift down through the layers in my own being in an attempt to discover my deepest ideals. I feel as if I have no firm foundation to return to. In my childhood, I can remember raw panic and conviction that the environment was poisoned and dying, but never a conviction of safety and health. What personal ideal waits for me, buried under fear and a conviction of impossibility?
I don't know. Peeling off the layers of cynicism and fear takes time. As I've meditated, I've found powerful answers. Each time, I sink deeper into the levels of buried experience. Will there be an ultimate answer for me? In one sense, it doesn't matter. Each layer, each experience, has been valuable.
More and more, I feel that idealism is a sense of excitement about being alive, a desire to give to the world.
My Shodan (black belt) isn't completely official yet. For one thing, I don't yet have a belt that is black. And along with two other students that were promoted to shodan at the same time, I'll be expected to demonstrate my competency for my sensai's sensai. I'm looking forward to it.
But what I really wanted to talk about are some recent thoughts on idealism and cynicism. Both the initial inspiration behind this and much of the vocabulary are not mine-they are the work of my sensai, Bert Bennett. A few weeks ago, I asked for a class centered on sensing possibilities and new directions in a non-martial context. (In my current position of having finished college and needing to define a new direction, this is not at all theoretical!) I found the resulting discussion of idealism and cynicism inspiring. My feelings run deep on this subject. It's a challenging topic for me, but one I've already found immensely rewarding.
When my sensai first brought up the terms, "idealism" and "cynicism", it was obvious to me the cynicism wasn't the right answer. But at the same time, I felt alienated from idealism. My instant reaction was to think that idealism was naive, impractical, something that ignored real conditions. There was a sense that idealism didn't, couldn't belong to me. It was something that applied to people that-what do they do exactly? This is worth examining. When we look closely at idealism, what is it?
Idealism is having a dream. It is believing in something strongly, wanting something passionately. It can exist and thrive in the real world, while recognizing real conditions and obstacles. And it isn't restricted to lofty and indistinct ideals. Idealism can be extremely concrete and detailed. It centers around a question: What do I want to give to the world?
That brings us to the other side of things, to cynicism. Cynicism is what exists in places where idealism doesn't. To put it another way, cynicism is what happens when we are hurt and discouraged, causing us to give up on idealism. What is a cynical viewpoint? It's one that looks at what could go wrong. It sees things as impossible and anticipates disappointment. All of these aspects have something in common. They are defense mechanisms against pain, developed from a time when we were hurt. That was the time our idealism was damaged.
This is a difficult topic for me because I feel alienated from my idealism even as I desire it. Some of my recent work in meditation has been to shift down through the layers in my own being in an attempt to discover my deepest ideals. I feel as if I have no firm foundation to return to. In my childhood, I can remember raw panic and conviction that the environment was poisoned and dying, but never a conviction of safety and health. What personal ideal waits for me, buried under fear and a conviction of impossibility?
I don't know. Peeling off the layers of cynicism and fear takes time. As I've meditated, I've found powerful answers. Each time, I sink deeper into the levels of buried experience. Will there be an ultimate answer for me? In one sense, it doesn't matter. Each layer, each experience, has been valuable.
More and more, I feel that idealism is a sense of excitement about being alive, a desire to give to the world.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Aikido Inspiration: Breathing
Tonight, I was meditating. And, as often happens, it inspired me.
I'd like to share what Aikido has taught me about breathing, and how a healing breath is a) easy for anyone to fit into their life and b) incredibly beneficial.
This is the Aikido breath: sit with a straight spine. Align your body so that you need to do very little to maintain your posture. Breath in though your nose and out through your mouth. See how lengthy and free from tension your breath can become.
Then, endless variety. You can sit in a kneeling posture, or with crossed legs, or not at all-stand or lie down instead. What is the shape of your breath? Is it a rectangular breath that is very even throughout? A triangular breath that starts big and tapers off, or does the reverse? Do you pause between breathing out and breathing in, spend some time empty of air? Different things are likely to feel right on different occasions.
I generally sit in seiza (the Japanese word for kneeling). I breath in and out without a pause. My exhale is generally longer than my inhale. And this is the crux of why I find breathing practice so valuable: as I breath, I become aware of the tension in my throat, my neck, my chest. (Those are my most common storage places, but not my only ones. Yours may be different.)
That tension shows up in my awareness as a painful spot. Not as physical pain, or at least not primarily, but as the memory of stress or grief. When I-when most domesticated humans-experience stress or pain, we don't really fully experience it. We tend to push it aside, as if negative emotions were experiences we just don't have time for at the moment. But when these emotions are represses, they don't dissipate. They stay in our body until we make time for them.
Breathing in, breathing out. The first level of tension becomes apparent to me. I feel it, rest within it, accept it for what it is. It is here. It is real.
Once acknowledged, it loosens. This loosening is one of the things that makes me so in love with breathing. This solves tension headaches. It can ease back pain. Done in the morning, it fills your day with energy. Done in the evening laying down, it's the best cure for sleeplessness I know. It gives heartfelt, inspired solutions to dilemmas and provides a wellspring of inspiration. All of this, from simply listening to your own body, your own being.
Breathing is necessary for life. Breathing with awareness is a great source of powerful life energy!
I'd like to share what Aikido has taught me about breathing, and how a healing breath is a) easy for anyone to fit into their life and b) incredibly beneficial.
This is the Aikido breath: sit with a straight spine. Align your body so that you need to do very little to maintain your posture. Breath in though your nose and out through your mouth. See how lengthy and free from tension your breath can become.
Then, endless variety. You can sit in a kneeling posture, or with crossed legs, or not at all-stand or lie down instead. What is the shape of your breath? Is it a rectangular breath that is very even throughout? A triangular breath that starts big and tapers off, or does the reverse? Do you pause between breathing out and breathing in, spend some time empty of air? Different things are likely to feel right on different occasions.
I generally sit in seiza (the Japanese word for kneeling). I breath in and out without a pause. My exhale is generally longer than my inhale. And this is the crux of why I find breathing practice so valuable: as I breath, I become aware of the tension in my throat, my neck, my chest. (Those are my most common storage places, but not my only ones. Yours may be different.)
That tension shows up in my awareness as a painful spot. Not as physical pain, or at least not primarily, but as the memory of stress or grief. When I-when most domesticated humans-experience stress or pain, we don't really fully experience it. We tend to push it aside, as if negative emotions were experiences we just don't have time for at the moment. But when these emotions are represses, they don't dissipate. They stay in our body until we make time for them.
Breathing in, breathing out. The first level of tension becomes apparent to me. I feel it, rest within it, accept it for what it is. It is here. It is real.
Once acknowledged, it loosens. This loosening is one of the things that makes me so in love with breathing. This solves tension headaches. It can ease back pain. Done in the morning, it fills your day with energy. Done in the evening laying down, it's the best cure for sleeplessness I know. It gives heartfelt, inspired solutions to dilemmas and provides a wellspring of inspiration. All of this, from simply listening to your own body, your own being.
Breathing is necessary for life. Breathing with awareness is a great source of powerful life energy!
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