Tag Archives: perspective

Featured Fool: Shane Koyczan, Master Alchemist

gildedtarotfool

(Image Credit: The Fool Card from the Gilded Tarot Illustrated by Ciro Marchetti)

I’m a bit behind on my “Fabulous Friday.” Thankfully, it’s not because I’m all out of fabulosity (cause I’m not!), but rather I’ve been trying to find words fabulous enough to do this entry justice. I just hope I have succeeded.

After getting lost in Youtube for a while, I realized I couldn’t wait til Friday.

One of my favorite books of all time is The Dodecahedron: A Frame for Frames, by Paul Glennon. I stumbled upon him (read: had it forced upon me) during a Lit class, and it’s definitely overdue for a re-read.

What I first took for “gimmicky,” twelve short stories, each reframing the one before it, was actually quite brilliant. Not only was each of the stories strong enough to stand on its own, but it was powerful enough to completely change the story before it.

It’s been years since I’ve read it, and yet the concept, if not the specific details, still sticks in my mind.

We think in language; we experience and remember in perspective. As each story reframes another, the perspective changes. The book itself was enjoyable and well-written; its theme is what resonates even now: reframing is alchemy.  Reframing turns lead into gold; it transforms pain into wisdom and beauty.

Reframing is the key to transformation.

We tell ourselves stories of who we are, who we want to be. These stories often contain strong elements of other people’s definitions, other people’s goals. Our reference points can be our heroes, (I want to be just like Sally!) or our nemeses (I want to be anything but like my mother), but they’re just one perspective.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the story we’ve created is incomplete. Not only is it unfinished, but it’s from a very, very, limited point of view. It’s just one side of the story.

There’s an old parable about three blind monks who discover an elephant. Each monk feels a part of the elephant, and describes it one way, but no one gets the whole picture. No one realizes it’s more than an ear, a trunk, a leg.

Shane Koyczan is, in my humble opinion, a Master Alchemist.

I’m not sure how I first ran across him, but it was with this video, “To This Day.”  It’s difficult to watch; I won’t lie. It’s one of those things, while terribly beautiful, is simply haunting.

It’s one of those things, in a sea of terrible internet memes, that you can’t “unsee.” It’s also something that you never, ever want to forget.

You should really, really watch it. You can watch it here. You can see his TED talk, which includes his poem here. You can also read it here.

(Note: It doesn’t look like my hyperlinks are showing up against my background. Until I figure it out, all of the “heres” link directly to his work.)

His spoken word poem is specifically about bullying, but in this case, bullying is the set up for Koyczan’s Master Alchemy.

Continue reading Featured Fool: Shane Koyczan, Master Alchemist

Nothing Else Matters

Congratulations.

You are not too old, too unhip, too fat, or too phobic to go to a Tool concert.

You are, however, too old to deal kindly with the pot-smoking drunks below you.

You didn’t say anything, actually, to them, but you didn’t try too hard to stifle a giggle as one began blowing chunks onto the guy below him.

You did feel sorry for the other guy, however. You are, after all, a decent person.

“These damn kids these days,” you complain to your concert mate. “Most of these people weren’t even in elementary school, if that, when Tool first came out.” You gasp as you realize you’re experiencing the sublime metaphysical act of channeling. You’re channeling an ancient, ornery Irishman who calls you such endearments as Swampy and Gypsy and Daughter of the Cock Lady.

Continue reading Nothing Else Matters

Smile

Was it because she smiled that everything changed?

Or did she smile because everything changed?

One of those things I’ll never know, I suppose.

I saw her getting off the elevator, and couldn’t place her. Vaguely familiar, like someone I should have known. I have horrible name recall. Maybe she sat in the back of one of my classes, never saying anything? The one I call the “Red Shirt Girl” although she may have only worn red once?

She smiled, said hi, and stepped out of the elevator.

I smiled, said hi, and stepped into the elevator.

Two ships passing, and all that jazz, and I didn’t have a clue who she was.

Continue reading Smile