Place of Refuge

Place of Refuge

03 September 2010

when will I get done, revolving it all? (a channelling)




This semester I'm teaching Footfalls,
That fabulous Beckett play
the got itself etched 
in my mind so many years
ago,
that, and 
Medea.
 It's funny: I may be setting myself up
for failure.

Whenever I decide to teach
a play I know oh so well
and love so much,
I find when I reach the actual
teaching itself,
I can't do it.
Students get really mad at me,
because I love all that old stuff like
Shakespeare,
or Euripides,
all guys I once knew once.

and beckett

The problem is: I know so much about these guys
and their times
that it would take forever
to teach it,
so for about a week
I'm silent, demanding the students
teach themselves some little part of
the
history.
(Oh, these 21st century students hate an old
history bound chick like me --
it's not their fault;
they were raised in an age
that scoffed at
history)
Still, I force them
to teach themselves.   I want them to
get it in their bones
as deeply as it is in mine.
And the only way they can do that
is
embody it.

When that's over, I teach the play and I teach it intensely.

Unfortunately, some students think that anything not taught directly by the teacher doesn't count.
For them, there is a  tough leap
from self-taught to "worth something."


( detourart )

So much of what I know
is self taught.
And it's all worth something.
I confirmed that
when I did a dissertation
at a fairly well known university
and won a departmental award for my work
in a blissfully forgiving cross-disciplinary field called
"Performance Studies."

Yes, that's right, in this age, Makropoulos is a PhD.

By gaining that, I confirmed to myself
that all that stuff
I taught my self
over the ages
was both worth it an
well taught.

If I can teach myself
all the crap I taught
myself as well as I did,
then,
you'd think I'd be able to teach
others,
and for a decade or two
I could: I was recognized as a good teacher,
at some very good schools.

However, I'm not as one of those schools now.

This generation,
lovingly referred to as
Generation Z
is so different from any I've ever encountered
yet.
They just want to be spoon fed
(I don't like doing that)

Students don't like me,
because
I just don't take their bullshit.
I want them to take
responsibility
for themselves and their learning.
Not a good thing to require these days,
in the good ol' U.S. of A.

MY CONCLUSION ABOUT GEN. Z in the U.S.A.:

Students in generation Z
are either
the most spoiled children we've ever produced
OR
they're the most literal generation in recent history.


( timeoutsydney )


So tell me:
have I finally hit
the Generation Gap
or
is this another marking of a
major cosmic shift?
Has Generation Z inherited the task of being
the cusp generation?
If it is a cosmic shift, it is heralded by a generation
that is honest and true; they see life simply for what
it is.
That is the constant,
and then there are the variables,
and that depends a lot on who their parents are:

1.  Those raised by the more Idealistic Hippies of the '60's and 70's - Empaths, that would be,
the kids are empathic to a dangerous extreme.

2.  Those raised by the Folks-Who-Like-To-Get-Stoned Hippies,
Some of Whom Still
Giveadamn,
and some of whom who don't,
well,
they are the largest group
who produced kids,
and their kids are
a mixed bag.
They're either really thoughtful, caring, ethical, slightly
goofy, but nice to be around

or

They're stoners.

3. That group is nearly rivaled in size
by the children of the early generation
Stoners,
whose kids, for the most part
are stoners;
but there are also children of Stoners
who look at their wasted parents
and decide:
"there must be another, better way";
and they are any of the above

. . . . and then . . .  .

4. there are the children of
the Nice, Straight Kids From the Seventies
Oh, yeah, they're out there,
those kids.  Some become
stoners, because their parents, who were
Nice, Straight Kids
when they were young
have become
Anal Retentive,
so their kids are either
doubly anal retentive
or they become
Any One Of the Above.

5.  And then,
There are the kids of the
Religious Zealots, and often
those kids are psychopathic religious zealots

or

they're any of the above
with any level of
Religious Fervor.

But,
the common denominator across all these groups is:

they are matter-of-fact and literal.
They live day to day;
they have trouble dealing with
authority
and that may be
because many of their parents
yielded it abusively.

---^---
They don't like me
all that much.
I didn't have kids this time around.
Instead, I was and still am
the nerd you kind of liked but also kind of hated
because
I didn't ever turn around and say to you
"why the hell did you do that?  That was really stupid!"
NO
I just refused
to participate.
I have done
my own thing.
I suppose some
would think me a snob;
others,
after they get to know me
just come to see
I'm actually very nice
and always honest.

Well, why not?

What the hell?

I'm 424 - going on 425
years old, and
it just doesn't make sense to
alienate
all the people around me.
I've seen you all
so many times before;
you just keep coming back
and you don't remember
a damned thing about what you did
the last time you were here.

(Many of you look at me with that vague
mist of remembrance
and say:
"wow, I know you from somewhere!"
but generally
you don't remember
who you were.
You were a girl.
You were a king.
You were black.
You were a slave.

You put yourself
in those roles
because you knew
it would teach you something.

The problem is: most of you
didn't learn it the last time around;
you never attained that identity;
you went to your grave denying
you were a girl
or a slave
or a black man
or a muslim
or a christian
or a jew,
and therefore,
the thing you were the last time around --
the thing you never were able to see --
is the thing you hate the most
today.

So the challenge of this lifetime
is double:

Gain the knowledge you didn't gain in your last life
(ie: OK, that black man could have been me 100 years ago)
and gain it
in the body you chose for
This Life.

Learn to be honest
and frank
with yourself.
Learn
from Makropoulos
who is the most honest
person you will ever meet.

That's right,
I'm past my gripes with you -- we
dealt with them a century
or two
ago,
and now I just want us all
to get on with it.


There are only a few; indeed,
a very select few I
haven't met in all
my decades; and those are the ones
I am supposed to meet.
Not just one, mind you, but the ones,
the ones who are like me,
like CricketSong.

We're here looking for each other
because
we are the pillars
of the next generation of humanity.
Our words will be preserved
into the future, and
humans -- in whatever form
they take -- will say:

"well, hell, it's not like nobody told them."

********

We've had prophets before
who proved themselves
right; and we have prophets
right now, of equal magnitude,
and that is because
we are the same
prophets.
It's our cosmic fuckin' job.

  The funny thing about
the words of the prophets
(not those on the tenement halls, but especially
those on the internet)
is that they will last for an eternity.

Humankind, on the other hand,
is physical and will pass,
but
it is a Fact; humankind is God's
Creation, and it will
return
in some form or another
until
it gets it right.

(What is it to get it right?
To get it right is to reflect back to God
Her Image,
unflawed and as perfect
as an Image
can possibly be.)


(docarzt 's interesting blog entry on Bentham )

The problem is:
if the revolving
Eye of God,
which loves to turn around  and survey
all its creation,
when it finally comes back to
that place where
it is looking directly as US,
well -- if it's not happy,
like it wasn't happy the last time it looked
(see the book of Genesis, chapters 6 - 9 : the story
of Noah)
well -- He kind of warned us
that the next total destruction
(that is, if She's pissed)
will be fire.

That's right -- fire --
He's moving through
the Elements,
folks:

 In His first Disappointment,
he used
Death by Earth:
ie: to be sent out of the
Garden of Eden and told
"Now it's ashes to ashes,
dust to dust
for you"
is, fundamentally,
Death by Earth.

The flood was
Death by Water.

The next threat on God's agenda is
Fire.
(check out the Book of Revelation
for that one)

( picsdigger )

Therefore,

we  have two choices
more or less,
assuming the majority of us don't want
Death By Fire.
There may be enough among us who do,
and given that,
we'll get it, but
some will live on
to carry the burden of our errors;
to reproduce
exponentially until
all the souls who have yet to get it right
have hand another change.
We
will have to learn to live in the askes
as they wait an eternity for God's
Eye to come around again.

And I would have to keep coming back, dammit.

ANYWAY>
so that's what happens if we do nothing.

However,
we could  do a really good job of remembering what the hell
we did wrong and fix it, quickly, and then,
 well, one of two things would happen:

a.  If, say, 90% of the world was being good
and 10% or so were still raising hell, well
She (I mean God) might decide to be 
light on us.
We might get off with Death by Air,

or

She might give us a little more time,
just a little more,
and then check on us again
a little sooner
 (God is, after all, a just God, and a forgiving God)

or

b.  If we were ALL good,
when the Eye of God
is suddently facing us fully
again,
well, then,
 God would see His Creation,
that reflection of Herself
in all its Perfection,
which is what
He wanted
all along.

And, well,

God would look at Her creation and
finally see Himself, and
finally find that He
could Love Herself
or at least Their Own Likeness,

which is Us.

God is Love:
He keeps insisting;
why can't we give Him
what She wants to see?

> > > > > > > > 

The good thing about Generation Z
is that it is wise enough
to be willing to at least try Love once --
and if they find Love 
to be Good,
they'll stay in it.

It's their parents
who will be the ones doomed
to another turn 
on the dance floor of time;
and it could be a very long time
in fire
if we're not careful.


Ah.  So.

So I'm teaching 

Footfalls

and wondering:

". . . will I ever be done
revolving it all
in my poor mind. . . . 

it all.


it all. 











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