Missing

I stand here like a scarecrow
feeling like a lion
wishing for the Tin Man's malady

- Clayton Dean

In Mourning For A Friend

sometimes life is hard
and you turn inside
and dig so deep
that you can't find a way back into the world

trapped
wrapped in the web of remembered episodes
that you've tried so hard to understand

but finding nothing that has not always been there
you fail to make connections

there's no where left to go

-Clayton Dean

Scribbled Notes From My Japan Excursion

Ten Entries


1. Got the last ticket on the 259 out of Seoul. The train left on time. I even had time for a blueberry muffin and an iced café mocha.

2. I woke up after Deajeon (?) and the man beside me and his newspaper have become a young woman and a book of Korean poetry.

3. Led to the shuttle bus by a friendly Korean girl.

4. I have not yet been awake for 12 hours and it feels like I’ve lived more than a full day in that time. I feel life coursing through my body in the vibrations of the ship that is carrying me into the night. Surrounded by strangers with no way to share with them me fear and excitement, I can see that they have some idea of my happiness but I wonder what they think of this scruffy foreigner among them. What is the story they create to explain my presence here? I am romanticizing of course. They pay me much less mind than that I’m sure. They probably guess rightly that I am an ESL teacher on a short vacation toward Japan. They probably care nothing about those things or much else in regards to me. I am surprised at the lack of English on the restaurant menu and in other places on board the ship. My experience with the dried fish has made me hesitant to point-to-order but, if it comes to that, I suppose I will have to. I’m sure there must be some one on board who could help me to order something but I’m not so hungry as yet to go searching. Perhaps I will try later on. I’m very glad this is an overnight voyage as I would not relish the thought of spending >12hrs on this boat awake. It has only been 2hrs since the boarding was opened and we’ve been underway for perhaps not more than 45 minutes. The entertainments are all in Korean and translated into Japanese so I am very happy that I thought to bring books and a deck of cards along in my pack. I am tempted to break out some soju in an effort to socialize but at the same time I’m not sure if that would be for the best. My room is quite nice due mainly to the fact that almost deserted. There appears to be accommodation for 12 people but so far it seems that there are only three of us assigned to that room. Simple yos (mats) laid on the floor with a pleather covered block of medium density foam for a pillow. The thin blanket provided will probably not be required (maybe as a pillow?) because the room at last check was heated to somewhere above 25 degrees. It’s interesting to note also that there are no deck chairs or furniture to speak of above deck. Perhaps this is due to the fact that this ship is used primarily for night voyages? It would be nice to sit outside and look at the stars if they make an appearance. I haven’t seen any for a long time.

5. I cannot help but laugh at the chair two tables away with one short leg and a fate that has put it in perpetual motion aboard this sea-going vessel. The potted plant downstairs waved all night, wishing it were aquatic.

Laying on my yo
The Ferry becomes a womb
Safe, I dream of life

A Poem - ABCB

Looking through your eyes I see
The world in shades of gray
With nothing left to catch the eye
All beauty gone astray

A rose is nothing but a plant
A peacock but a bird
And through your ears it seems I hear
That love is but a word



Clayton Dean

Futon

The gray fall morning falls
Upon your supine body
In light and shadow
Through Venetian blinds

I admire the curves your body lends
To those oh so ridged lines

And move in closer
To absorb the warmth your body lends
To that oh so frigid light


Clayton Dean

Freedom

We flaunt the rules like deviants
Me, a school teacher, and you
With Emily Post upon your bookshelf

“Social conventions be damned” I say
If you can make me swear
And I can make you look at me (the way you do)
Then what of the world?
Let it alone so we need not be


Clayton Dean

One Night

Caught in an emotive tapestry
I lay with you for hours

I remember no sleep

Only ages of half-conscious coitus
-Somnambulant syncopation


Clayton Dean

For You

You don’t cry “Liar”
When I tell you I love you

-At least we have that



-by Clayton Dean

Paper Planes

A poem by Femke Groen


frantically I fly
paper planes
all over your world
to find what you've
written between the lines

lines are hard
to follow into
thin air

where promises float
emptier still

A Further Response to Fear, Obligation and Regret

On Fear

Other people do these things. What makes them more able than you or I?

On Community and Obligation

I say that we only have the responsibility for those who are not capable of taking care of themselves. Children should not be abandoned and the elderly should not be left to struggle to obtain food and clothing. These are the only obligations I believe that others have the right to expect from us. If you have children, they are your responsibility, no one else’s. You made a choice that led to their existence and it is up to you to see the consequences of your actions through. I realize that there is no choice involved in the inherent relationship with your parents but I can not reason why, if they saw you through your period of struggle in the beginning of your life, that you would not desire to do them same for them if you are able.

Communities are based on the idea that all members of that community wish to serve and gain benefit from that community. They are not static entities. People move in and out all the time for reasons that have little to do with ‘the good of the community’. A teacher, who one would be foolish to exclude as a member of a community, does not refrain from moving away to another location because they are a part of a certain population. They feel free to move on because it is likely that another person is just as eager to take their place as they may have once been to secure it.

I believe the idea of doing things for the good of the community comes from those individuals for whom doing things for others is a driving factor. There are people who really want nothing more than to do good in the world. Bless them, but don’t hold me to their standard. I help those whom I desire to help, just as they do. It is true that one may feel pressured into volunteering for the good of the whole but, again, it is that individual’s decision to do so or not. If she fears being ostracized from the group more than she fears the responsibility of putting in her time as a volunteer, she is likely to become a samaritan.

On Relationships and Compromise

Regret, resentment and living unfulfilled will undoubtedly cause more damage to a relationship than an honest attempt at reconciling the desires of those within the relationship. The bond between individuals is in a constant flux and it should be expected that things might change if both partners are to attain their goals. It is not always possible for two people to remain closely bound together while at the same time remaining free to chase their dreams. The question that many people face without realizing it is a simple one, “Would you rather hold your relationship in an unyielding grasp, thereby awakening the possibility it may collapse under its own weight, or allow it to transform into another form of connection from which you and the other person can still draw support?” Both responses take courage to implement but, in my experience, the laws of inertia tend to dictate the outcome in far too many instances.

On Regret

I believe that regret is part of the human condition. It is unavoidable in our lives. However, I also believe that it is controllable by looking at it objectively. First one must understand that there are two kinds of regret. One is to feel sorrow or remorse for an act perpetrated, a perceived fault, or a disappointment. The other is the reflection upon something lost. It may seem that these two definitions overlap and can easily be mistaken as having the same meaning. The differences become apparent only when one considers what it means for something to have been lost.

When a person makes a decision to hurt someone or to steal something and then later professes their regret they are speaking of the first type. They feel bad for having done that thing they did. This regret is useful in that it informs our future decisions and can help us to become the kind of people we wish we were already. To regret having made the decision to perform the act in the first place is the second type of regret. That decision is lost in time. You cannot go back and undo it. Especially, you cannot suppose to know what the outcomes may have been if you had chosen the other path. It is because of this impossibility that the second type is not of use to us. It cannot teach us anything or inform our future decisions because we, as entities subject to a temporal reality, will never face that exact decision again. It really comes down to regret of the consequences of an act (type 1) and regret of the act itself (type 2). One is worthwhile and the other is not.

A Note: Having learned all I know of the life and writing of Ayn Rand within the last half hour by reading portions of Wikipedia, I must say that it seems as though I am following her ideas about individual freedom and rational self-interest without having realized it. Yeah for friends who cite great minds in their blogs. I look forward to reading more.

A Response to "Fear"

First, I must say that I admire the courage it takes to admit to one’s fears, let alone to profess that it is fear which has guided one’s life. I think that it too common a thing for individuals to simply shrug off the background motivations in their lives, of which fear is undoubtedly one, and simply accept their final decision as their true wish.

Take for example a man who wishes above all things to be a writer but, because he fears failure in this arena, he moves toward a more readily attainable goal such as becoming a copy editor. As time wears on he gets wrapped up in the roles that others put upon him as an editor, his passion for literature is worn away by tedious hours in front of text and he slowly loses interest even in his own writing.

I think it is likely that if one were to question him on his motivations after all this he would likely say that he was always interested in literature and that editing seemed to be a reasonable way to pursue that interest. While this seems to be the truth, it is not the whole truth. He had always been interested in literature but much more so on creating his own works than in pointing out and correcting deficiencies in the work of others. His fear of failure would likely be forgotten, or at least sufficiently suppressed as not to be explainable to others.

I think that in most cases individuals gravitate to explanations for their life choices that focus on the positive aspects of their intentions and not on the negative ones. One doesn’t say, “I did this because I was avoiding that.” Instead, she says, “I did this because I was drawn to that.” In reality, however, there is no living without fear for thoughtful individuals. By choosing one path you are neglecting another and it is, at least in part, fear that helps us to decide which way to travel. A man may choose to get married and have children because he wants to have a stable life full of loved ones and familial comfort. Another man may choose to get married and have children because he fears living a solitary existence and entering into old age alone. Could it not be said that these men are taking the same path for the same reasons, only placing the catalyst for their decision in seemingly separate realms?

In the end, we all do what we most want to do, be it taking control and responsibility for our own decisions and path through life or capitulating to the perceived will of others. It is we who dilute the truth of this by reasoning with motivations outside ourselves and saying things like, “my father would be hurt if I chose that path.” It is not in your power to hurt your father. It is within his power to accept his daughter’s choices and be happy for her in her pursuit of what truly matters to her. Likewise, it is within your power to accept that your father may choose to be hurt and go your own way regardless of this, doing so guilt free. By the same token, no matter how much we believe or wish it to be so, it is not in our power to make others happy. They must find their own happiness and not seek to gain it from our lives. The hard part for both parties is deciding what we fear more, the possibility of being estranged from a loved one or the loss of a person’s autonomy in choosing their own path, your own or another’s.

This may seem difficult to put into practice because of the relationships within families and the degree to which one member may hope for good things to come to another member. However, if one takes into account the desire of one family member for the happiness of the other one can see that this nurturing instinct would most efficiently be put to use in striving to guarantee that the other person is doing what they can to make themselves happy. It may hurt you to see your son living a materially poor existence but, if you consider that he is doing so in order to reach a goal for which he yearns, you should be able to find comfort in that. Perhaps even happiness.

It seems then, that each individual must consider a few things if they are to live without regret. First, each person should determine what it is that she wants more than anything else. If she could do anything short of the supernatural, what would it be? Then, one must ascertain what obstacles of frustration and loss may be encountered in the attainment or loss of that goal. Finally, one must then decide which they fear less, the trials of self-indulgence or the trials of acquiescence.

E-mail Excerpt

February 6, 2007

I had a slightly magical evening of my own tonight. It was utterly surprising because it happened to be at the district workshop I was dreading. It ended up being an evening of Korean culture. We got to make Kim-chi, learn to play a chango (probably got that wrong), do a little calligraphy painting, put on the traditional Korean costumes, han-bok? (mine was a lovely little pink and pink number, I felt like a gay genie) and then eat a really quality Korean dinner including lotus root.

Sadly, as I was anticipating an evening of lectures and water-torture, I did not take my camera and will have to wait for someone to email pictures before I can display the glory that is me in neck to ankle pink. (now available on Flickr)

Honestly, I could not help but dance a little bit when I was wearing the costume. I just felt that it was 'perform, or feel like you belong in this thing'. We all had a good laugh.

Story On Demand

A couple weeks ago I went out with a friend to this little Korean hof and ordered a pitcher of beer. As is the custom here they asked that we also get some food. Between the two of us we might be able to sound out the Korean alphabet in under a half hour so we figured the point and pick method would be our best bet. It turned out all wrong. So wrong. We ended up with this lovely silver platter, on top of which was the ugliest dried fish I've ever seen in my life. Heads on, dried eyes still in the sockets. Gaping mouths with rows of tiny sharp looking teeth. And the smell! Gah!

Unfortunately, (more so) my friend happens to be a veggie so it was up to me to make an attempt at eating this fishy foreign feast. It came with a sauce that appeared to be made up of equal parts soy sauce and sliced jalapenos with sesame seeds floating around in it. I waited until I had finished a goodly portion of my second pint from our pitcher before digging in, in an attempt to gather my courage. Finally, in a burst of cultural interest and personal fortitude I reached out and pried a chunk of the fish's flesh from it's dehydrated skin. It crackled and snapped, releasing an odoriferous assault upon us. Quickly, before I could lose my nerve, I dipped it liberally in the sauce and popped it in my mouth. Immediately I regretted this decision. It was wrong. So wrong.

It was so salty and spicy from the sauce that at first I was amazed I couldn't taste any hint of the odour that had so thickly saturated the air around our table. Oh, then it hit me. I gagged, but continued to chew, egged on by the promise of another pitcher of beer if I succeeded in swallowing this malevolent morsel. Attempting to shut out the taste, the smell, and the texture of the fish and, of course, the cacophonic laughter from the far side of the table, I continued to chew and swallow mechanically.

Once it was down, I one shotted my beverage. It did very little to cut the salty, burny, fishy film that seemed to have attached itself to my tongue. I poured another and swished a mouthful. Slightly better. I did it again. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat. At last, my throat muscles relaxed and I was past the point of regurgitative danger. Then I smelled my fingers. Why must I do such foolish things?

Korea - Third Month

Subtitled : A response to culture shock



I look out the window

at the beautiful day

and wish it were raining



How I long for heavy clouds

black with water

to come and hide the sun



How badly I want to live

beneath an oppressive atmosphere

that I can witness with my eyes



Must all my relationships progress this way?

Oppressive

Aggressive

Recession of Joy?



Even my newest mistress

with all her mystery

begins to lose her thrill



Of course, they warned me then

and now they say -

those who say such things

- "The bloom is off the rose"



What is left for me then

but to relish in sticks and thorns?


by Clayton Dean

All That You Love Will Be Carried Away

I.

In a week or a month you will find that your necklace is gone. That one you bought in a marketplace in some ancient city you have not thought about in years. As for the necklace, you cannot quite remember when you wore it last, only that it was on a date with him. Of course, he is Gone too.

II.

In a year it will be your new kitten. Grown now but still curious, he will find his way beneath the tires of a delivery van or into the jaws of a fox. Or, perhaps, his weak heart will simply give out as he sleeps upon your pillow. Loss need not be Violent.

III.

In five years your father will die. They will tell you that it was some exotic-sounding condition of the arteries and veins. They will say, “if only we had detected it sooner”, “he died quickly with little pain” and, “it is an inheritable condition”… You will never feel Invincible again.

IV.

Two years later you will lose your job and with it will go the lunchtime talks with Debbie. It is not the job you will miss, but somehow you just aren’t able to stay in Touch.

V.

In ten years they cut down the Elm tree on the corner. It’s been there since your grandmother owned this house and you played beneath it as a child. It seemed like the biggest thing in nature until you discovered love. Nothing is bigger than Love, unless it is Loss…

VI.

In twenty years your hair will be grey. Your wrinkles will suddenly seem deeper than before, but perhaps that is just your new glasses. With bifocals, creeping Age is always right before your eyes.

VII.

In thirty years you will pass away. It is not what either of your parents died from; they have pills for those things now. You are hit by a delivery van while reminiscing about a kitten you once owned. You don’t Feel a thing.

VIII.

A few months later your children will sell your house and it will be demolished to make way for a new apartment building. Your favorite watercolor print, “Lilies in the Afternoon”, the only painting to have ever really moved you, will still be on the wall above the stove when the roof comes down. No one will want it.

IX.

Later, much later, a young man will inquire as to the availability of a certain book. It is the collection of short stories you published just after finishing college. He will be saddened to learn that it is out of print and has been for quite some time. Your Work was too colloquial it seems.

X.

Eventually, time and events lose meaning.
All that you love will be carried away.


by Clayton Dean

Title borrowed from the Stephen King short story of the same name.

Adaptation

While riding the KTX on my way to Hak-hari Jakwangsa*
I am reminded - by the effortless speed of engineered steel -
that there are many paths to enlightenment and knowing

Stasis and silence are rarely catalysts for change

by Clayton dean

*a Buddhist temple located in Daejeon, South Korea that hosts meditation retreats

Change

I pile my sins like small change
from foreign currencies
Shiny
Hard
Precise
Each one minted
in the same cast
as a million others
And yet special
because it is mine

by Clayton Dean

A Poem

Awoken from warm dreams
into the cold morning
- into a somnambulant embrace of farewell -
I thanked you
and all the world for providing fortuitous encounters
which
by their ending
leave me saddened

Clayton Dean