Kush

 

 

Vladmir Kush

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This weekend I went to my uncle David’s wedding. I used to think that weddings are boring and long, but now that I understand love a little bit more, I now realize it to be one of the happiest and most beautiful ceremonies there are. It’s also funny all the rituals there are, like whoever catches the bride’s bouquet is the next one getting married, and the groom not seeing the bride the entire day, and the fact that one can spend $1300 on a wedding cake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s a form of art, really.

 

Ironically, when I was hanging out with my new friends last night, they kept talking about this “marzipan” stuff, and I was like what the hell is that. When they googled it, I had a great epiphany, and made the connection that the flowers made of sugar at my uncle’s wedding were made of marzipan. I found out you can practically make anything with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I know where babies come from.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is my friend Franny’s online artist portfolio. Her shower concentration eternally changed the way I think about taking a shower. 

http://francesmendeslevitin.carbonmade.com/

She does an exceptional job of portraying how the cleansing can sometimes feel like melting.

Melting off the bad parts of our day, or our insecurities, or just those things that restrict us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my environment and culture course, we learned about a Native-Canadian tribe called the “Ojibwa” who live in Ontario. 

For those of you who don’t know, Ontario looks like this.

Don’t worry, I didn’t know what it looked like before I looked it up either.

These indigenous people believe that their dreams are just as  much a part of their existence as being awake- they recall experiences from dreams as true events, or conversations they’ve actually had.

During their dreams, they can communicate with the spirits (what they call the "grandfathers”) that have taken various forms. For example, they may encounter an old woman, bear, or raccoon, in a dream who they suppose is a spirit who has gone through metamorphosis.

“The ‘dream visitors’ (ie pawaganak) interact with the dreamer much as human persons do”

 

Note: They legit believe that this stuff all happens daily. It’s the center of their culture (one dude said “the Ojibwa live in the school of dreams”).

At the same time that they can be visited by other metamorphasized people, spirits, or animals, they can also have their own adventures while they sleep.

 

“When a human being is asleep and dreaming his octcatcakwin (vital part, soul), which is the core of the self, may become detached from the body (miyo)…”

 

While the soul is detached, it can go about the world and have what they believe to be “real life” experiences during the night. Since the soul is separate from the body, they believe that

“the human self (soul) does not die; it continues its existence in another place, after the body is buried…”

Socrates explains this concept of immortality of the soul in Phaedo, when he says that things can never become their opposites (ice cannot become hot, or else it wouldn’t be ice). He argues that since the essence of the soul is that it brings life to whatever it embodies, it can never be dead, or it wouldn’t be a soul. Therefore the soul will always be alive.

 

 

 

 

Um, so anyway,

Some of them believe that they have taken the forms animals in the past, and take it as an extremely meaningful (metaphoric) event in their life.

Since spirits and humans can take the form of animals while they sleep, they consider animals as fully cohesive peers. They are also always very skeptical of one another because they never know if they’re talking to the actual person they think they’re talking to, or a spirit who has taken their form.

 

“This is another illustration of the deceptiveness of appearances…The body of a sorcerer may be within sight in a wigwam, while ‘he’ may be bearwalking.” (Hallowell 71)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So basically what I gathered from the paper is that you can never trust anyone, ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What would anthropologists say about this?

or this…?

I haven’t the slightest idea.

Lackadaisical Abomination

I find myself entering a pattern where I only feel inspiration around the time of Tamtams. Maybe it’s because the people and events of the Sunday afternoons evoke my purest out-of-the-box thinking.

 

 

For example, today I learned about slacklining. Enthusiasts set up lines throughout the base of Mont Royal that attached from one tree to another. While I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other, even with a spotter, I was utterly amazed by the extremely well-balanced crew that set up the lines. Some were jumping on the lines, some were dancing, some were sitting, some were doing yoga, some were stretching…I am puzzled at how this is possible, and it is a goal of mine to figure it out.

 

 

I’ll let you know how that goes.

I also got a brief juggling lesson from a group of jugglers in the park. I sucked, so I’ll be working on that as well.

 

After we saw the slackliners, my friend Alec and I ventured into the woods. While there, we spent time jumping from stone to stone down a creek, trying to avoid muddy failure, and bouncing on fallen trees. We also picked up burs, followed strangers, and attempted to stick it to their clothing without them noticing. We were successful 4/4 times, luckily. We hiked on rocky gorges and ran down the side of a steep ridge, sliding on rocks and jumping over branches as we went, not even thinking about potential mishap. Our feet flew and our perception was well coordinated with the fast moving obstacle course. I collected forest flowers.

 

 

I had fun arranging these blossoms today in my wine glass.

One time I spent an entire afternoon arranging flowers at a small flower shop. I got paid, but I would’ve probably done it anyway. It was aesthetically pleasing to make bouquets because they are both beautiful and fragrant. My grandma knew the couple that ran the shop, and they incessantly believed that they wouldn’t talk to her if “she weren’t such an outspoken liberal”.  I’m thinking about being a Flower Ranger for Halloween.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This video further illustrates what I wrote about in May’s “Out of the Blue” post, where artists will create illusion art using mirrors and lights.

 

Pretty sweet, eh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh no! I’m becoming one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which isn’t that bad, considering where our good pal Deadmau5 is from. 

 

 

 

 

Yep, this mouse is crazy.

 

 

 

 

There are a few more differences between America and Canada, most notably

-they do not use the freshman, sophomore, junior, senior system. They simply call it grades 9-12, like every other grade. It’s pretty sensible, actually.

-they use celcius. I am so confused about what temperature it is here, I couldn’t even begin to estimate. They say it’s like 13 degrees while I’m wearing a t-shirt.

-they call the letter Z “zed”. So if you were to spell zonk out loud, you would say “zed, o, n, k”.

-they’ve never heard of Mexican landscapers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back in my post A Cosmic Laugh, I described a perplexing idea-

“What if...
Everything we know is already in our heads. We experience life to discover these things, and each time we remember something, it seems as though we are learning it for the first time.”

- and I realized in my last philosophy lecture that this is exactly Plato’s theory of recollection-

“Plato's theory which postulates that all knowledge that has ever been known and will ever be known is already preexistent in your memory; thus time is an illusion, merely the unfolding process of remembering everything. Such a recollection is known as anamnesia. This theory would explain both deja vu and synchronicity.”

(http://everything2.com/title/Plato%2527s+Theory+of+Recollection)

It is ironic that I had figured this theory out before it was even taught to me. That legitimately proves that he was right, for all knowledge lies within, and all humans possess everything they need to know innately.

… I recollected his theory of recollection!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here are Rare Portraits of Americas Endangered Species, a brilliant collection of high-quality photos taken of animals. Definitely worth your time if you enjoy things along the lines of Planet Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So anyway, I got distracted. The main goal of this post was to make Tamtams an eternal memory.

I got a new hair wrap, as I said I would last time. The man who gave it to me was a Spanish speaker from Cuzco, Peru. Beats me why he was in Montreal, but he says he enjoys spiritual cleansing and dancing the Salsa. We talked in Spanish the entire time he was working on it, and he thought I was a pretty good speaker. I always love using my Spanish skills in real life (because the classroom is not real life), seeing as it is my ultimate goal to become fluent in it.

Another goal of mine is to make Mocha coffee using my single cup coffee maker. I will need:

1/3 cup of cocoa

2 cups of milk

1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1/2 cup of whip cream

and a dash of cinnamon.

One must simmer all ingredients in a saucepan then pour it over coffee. Considering the resources and budget I have in college, this may even be a more difficult task than becoming fluent in Spanish.

 

 

 

Regardless, today is the only day I will ever have two wraps! They look cool together, but the first one is getting a little ragged.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I was walking back from Tamtams through the forest, I encountered a man who I thought looked like Einstein. I told him that, and with a French accent he replied that he thought Einstein was an innovative, out of this world thinker. From there, we discussed my idea about lunatics (http://katyscanvas.blogspot.com/2010/07/blissful-counterstroke.html), and how they perpetuate society to discover new things and advance infinitely from there. He agreed with me absolutely, thought I was a “genius little lady”, and we said good afternoon. His name was Albert.

 

 

 

 

"Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love."

 

"I never think of the future. It comes soon enough."

 

"Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I’ll do whatever I please,

I’d even paint with blue.

I’d climb up in the trees,

and bring with me your shoe.

 

 

Cryptic Ceiling Wisdom

Today I went once again to Tamtam’s, the drum circle at the base of Mont Royal. It wasn’t quite as crowded today, probably because the Montreal fall is beginning to chill us  all, that rhymed, and I had a completely different experience than last Sunday. I was able to dance for a good half an hour, but then got lost in conversation with some people doing hair wraps (which I will inevitably purchase next week, to replace my old one).



  After that, I worked my way into the forest to find L.A.R.P. (live action role playing). Larping is essentially dressing up in medieval or pirate attire and running into a giant dust pit where other medieval pirates are stabbing each other with duct tape axes, swords, shields, and other weapons.


While watching, I ditched my friends and talked to some of the players. One man was named Malic. He was sporting his pirate best, including a leather hat, vest, belt, and a pirate flag punched into the dirt next to him. He is Quebecois, meaning he has never left Quebec in his life and barely speaks english.

Some of his hobbies include being in love with liberty, coaching boxing, freak shows involving a snake, reading, and leather working.

























My residence has two pet tortoises. I spent a while watching them eat grass and feeding them leaves, and was getting nostalgic for my turtle Ace, at home. I never even realized how much I’d miss his purple little scaly arms.

 














I sincerely enjoy the freedom of being a college student, and feel like this is the way I was supposed to be living the last few years. I never have to check in with anyone, and the city is always available for wandering. I am never alone, as I am living with kids who are always awake. My room is a playhouse and everyone is invited. At the same time, I’m allowed to be alone, and to say what I want, and to do what I want, and to be irresponsible if I so choose. I am the highest authority, and we are all flowers.


















It’s not Mac n’ Cheese here. It’s Kraft Dinner.

KD is what students, including myself, live off of. That, coffee, and Lucky Charms.









 

While walking around the campus, I’ve been trying to capture the best views so that my friends can at least try to understand what I’m experiencing up here. I especially love getting pictures of turrets, because I like everyone to know that there are turrets here.


















That last picture was Hogwarts. But you would never know.












This in particular is the view from Gardner Hall, where I live. It’s the uppermost building on campus, so getting up here is always a hike. People are usually sweating by the time they climb the 200+ feet hill. I just can’t wait till the winter when it turns into a cold, slippery mess.  However inconvenient, we still love the scenic views everytime we come home, and we can’t deny that it’ll keep off the freshman 15. It’s also really cool to watch the weather from here.






This is the view of Gardner from the field below it.















This is the view out my window. To the right, you would see Mont Royal.















My room has been a pleasant place to do some watercoloring. I feel inspired, and have the right music (Animal Collective and Penguin Cafe Orchestra) to make unique creations. Tea helps too, maybe coffee. I love how watercolors blend together and make a tie-dye effect, it’s much more pleasing than drawing where the marks are unchangeable, and mistakes cannot be fixed easily.
       
Splattering is fun too.






Some new art from Surrealartists.org





























Plato’s theory of forms says that we are living in the world of becoming. Everything in the world of becoming is a reflection of something in the world of being. The world of being is static and whole, whereas the world of becoming is constantly changing, has multiple forms, and is unique. For example, in the world of being there is “yellowness”; it is a form. In the world of becoming, there are many forms of yellowness that can be found— bananas, No. 2 pencils, school buses, the sun, giraffes sometimes, etc.
Every object is a reflection of the higher category it belongs to, however each object will never be a perfect reflection. It is no mirror—more like looking into a rippling pond.
I wonder what the world of being would be like, if you were ever to go there. Plato’s theory suggests that everything here is imperfect, so I’m curious to know what perfect looks like. Would everything be all shiny? Would all the lines be precisely aligned, would all humans be virtuous? Would the floor  never get dirty, would Vil’s hat have been through all of its imperfect moments?

Maybe I’m glad to be living in the world of rippling imperfection. Maybe it’s more fun, the world of being sounds too uptight for me.