Mind the Gap!

Just heard a great story on NPR's Morning Edition about why certain songs make us want to dance.

Anatomy of a Dance Hit

The conclusion is that songs with moderate rhythmic complexity and syncopation, inspire us to "fill in" the rhythmic gaps. So we jiggle, tap, clap, and...dance!

The same is true in storytelling. A classic "involvement strategy" for storytellers is to develop a rhythmic under current that grows in complexity and leaves gaps for the listener to fill in, resulting in spontaneous participation. The linguistic strategy of ellipsis (...) likewise inspires the listener to fill in the gap.  You can hear this at play in the cumulative pattern story of The Little Ant:

Electric

I recently had a wonderful experience as Emcee and Presenter at The Electric Universe Conference (EU2014) in Albuquerque, NM. This was a gathering of passionate and dedicated physicists, geologists, climatologists, mythologists, and others, all exploring the a big "What IF?"  What IF... electricity plays a major role in the physics of the cosmos? What IF the sun is more like a light bulb than a fire-ball? What IF the mythic cosmologies of our earliest ancestors were reporting actual experiences of extraordinary events? What IF we were to re-examine and re-think our own understanding of ancient history? What IF we are all part of a vast integral electric circuit called 'universe'? What IF?

My mother died just before Easter and I have been pondering her legacy in my life. She had been a high school science teacher. She told me that if I wanted to be a scientist, I did not need to know anything. But, she said, I must wonder about everything. "The end of science is Knowing, the beginning is Wonder."

So at an early point in my life, I set out to be a scientist. I became a storyteller. I discovered that story and science begin in the same place: Wonder.

Here is a storyteller's perspective I contributed to the conversation:

Present Tense

So I saw the new Captain America movie today with my 12 yr old, Nick. It was a fun ride. But I kept thinking about all these mythic tropes that keep presenting themselves in our modern comic book movies...starting with the previews.

Coming Soon! The movie about a terrible menace that is brought up from the deep earth by the machinations of hubristic humans who think they can control nature. There will be wreckage, there will be chaos, and there will be conspiracy: what is the secret the government is keeping from us? Why are they lying to us? What is about to happen? We are about to be destroyed all the way back to the stone age! [We've heard that before, right? Bomb them back to he stone age!]

Who will win?

Next up: the forthcoming Great War of the X-Men Mutants and...? Some mysterious, all-powerful enemy that can out-blast all our heroes. Former enemies must form an alliance to confront the even greater evil. It is so bad, we must go back in time to stop this thing from even starting! [Check that out: go back in time. An idea that comes up again in our feature film.] Who will win? Good? Formerly Bad, but now Good? Weird, unnamed menace that is threatening everything?

Who will win?

Next up: the war among the races from other planets over the hidden queen of the good people. The bad guy on the throne tries cruelly, and impulsively to hold on to power. All of this has something to do with the planet Jupiter! At the center of this story is the heroine - the lost queen of the great empire, but she does not know her true identity. The hero will try to convince her of her true nature, while saving her from the danger that surrounds. The heroine is a house-cleaner, but the hero tells her: it is not what you do, but who you are that matters! Cinderella in space!

Again the lingering question: Who will win?

And now for our Feature! Captain America is honest and pure, but doubts are creeping in: can he trust that he is doing the right thing? What are these missions for, anyway? Something is happening here and what it is is not very clear, there's a man with a gun over there, telling me I got to beware.... And who is the Big Bad Wolf? The guy we most trust and rely on, and the institution he represents. Turns out it is all a deep undercover operation to rule the world by ridding it of free-thinking trouble-makers and controlling all the rest of us, so we will be happy. The fascists from WWII have been in stealth-mode engineering a world of order over chaos. Their well-meaning desire to combat chaos requires a solution justified by the ends: kill the several million would-be troublesome [read: disobedient, sincere, creative, self-determining, true American types]  Our heroes: the great ragtags, brought together by our indomitable Achilles: the Captain. Yet, even as the Big Bad Guy is a sly, deceiving two-face, his muscle is a brain-washed former good guy, turned into an evil hammer until he confronts the hero and memory stirs. [Reminiscent of the meeting between Gilgamesh and Enkidu.]

What must they do against the vast, impenetrable fortress of power? Against all odds? Destroy the destruction capability. Train the weapons on the weapons. Unmake the ring of power. Plenty of fun destroying in the name of ending destruction!

Here is a basket full of modern mythic tropes: the real enemy is in our most trusted institutions and our most trusted leaders. The real heroes are rogue outsiders. The real solution is to expose and destroy corruption. [There is a great Wiki Leaks style moment when all the secrets are sent out to the internet and there are no longer any rocks for the vermin to hide beneath!]

And in the heroic journey, our main man must come face to face with his past! He must revisit his old training grounds, his old friendships, his old nemesis. Only by confronting the past can he overcome the present.

Okay, so these are narrative turns we see in many of the heroic stories around us: the enemy is the institution; the hero is the free-wheeler; the solution to the corrupting influence of power is to destroy power; the jaded cynic becomes the believing companion, the lost soul finds his heart, the lies are exposed, and a new age of true liberty and freedom from fear, oppression, and injustice begins.

This is what many of us are dreaming of . This is what gives me the sense that our unease with the Present Tense is pushing through in our stories.

Lost pt 4 aka "Found"

Animism comes naturally to storytellers. The storyteller is a kind of ventriloquist, throwing imagined spirit into any and every thing. Birds talk, trees talk, doors, plates, shoes ...anything talks and thinks and feels.

As a storyteller father, I find it very easy to animate the objects around me, especially when such animation serves to amuse, instruct, or motivate my children.

So, naturally, that day I was trying to get Jordan (then 4) into the car so we could go somewhere, I resorted to animism.

Jordan was lingering on the sidewalk, investigating the starry leaves of a Japanese Maple. I stood by  the car door, explaining why he needed to get in his seat. (Why did he need to get in his seat? Why did I get so worked up? An agenda, a destination, an agreed-upon system for time-keeping, and I can't see the starry wonder of a leaf!)

Clinging to my sense of urgency, I decided to animate the buckles of his child safety seat. I spoke to them resignedly, "Well guys, I guess we're not going out after all..."
The buckles replied, "Aww too bad, we were lookin' forward to the trip. We been sittin' here going' nowhere all day."
"Yes, I commiserated, "but that's the way it is. Jordan isn't coming, so..."

I was angling for Jordan, using Polonius' strategy: "by indirection, I will find direction out."
For some reason, the belt buckles had a kind of urban street dialect; a touch of Brooklyn, I think. I instantly realized that they are basically naive; ignorant but not stupid. They just don't get out much. So they rely on Jordan's reports to understand his world.

The trick worked. Jordan came over to talk to the seat buckles and they were delighted to see him.
"Hey! Look who's here! Good to see ya kiddo. Come on up here and let us give you a big hug. Where we going' today?" On and on they cajoled him, while I dutifully snapped the buckles and took my place behind the wheel, leaving the stage to the newly animated seat.

Jordan carried on the conversation and had a nice chat with the buckles. I drove on, throwing my voice into the seat buckles, while the rest of me watched the road.

I paid the price of the Creator. Having brought the buckles to life, they were now a part of our routine. Getting into the car, Jordan would call out "Hey guys!"

They would chat while I took on the chauffeur's duties.

So, it happened that I was driving with Jordan to a pizza party at his school during the time that I was also disintegrating into the microbiome and losing my self. ("Lost" parts 1,2,3 on this blog.)
As we got into the car and I buckled Jordan in, he began to converse.

"Hey guys!"
"Hiya kiddo! Where we goin' today?"
"We're going to a pizza party!"
"Oh that's great! What's a pizza, some kinda shoe?"
"No, a pizza is a thing that you eat."
"Oh yeah? What kinda thing?"
"It's round and it tastes good."
"Yeah? What's it made of?"
There is a brief silence. I am driving. He answers.
"It's made of God."
There is another silence. I don't know what the buckles have to say to that.
In the pause, Jordan addresses me.
"Isn't that right, Dad?"
"Isn't what right?" I say, feigning ignorance of this conversation.
"Isn't pizza made of God?"
"Well," I consider, "yes, I guess it is. If God is in everything, then God is in pizza."
Jordan and the buckles are satisfied with this answer.
Suddenly the world has become luminous. I am driving in harmony with all creation.
All is one and God is All."

Walt Whitman's words come to mind:

"... all the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any.
I will not make poems with reference to parts;
But I will make leaves, poems, poemets, songs, says, thoughts, with reference to ensemble;
And I will not sing with reference to a day, but with reference to all days;
And I will not make a poem, nor the least part of a poem, but has reference to the soul;
Because, having looked at the objects of the universe, I hold there is no one, nor any particle of one, but has reference to the soul."

I have lost myself and found, instead, a greater Self.

Lost pt 3

Human Microbiome Project

Within the body of a healthy adult, microbial cells are estimated to outnumber human cells by a factor of ten to one. These communities, however, remain largely unstudied, leaving almost entirely unknown their influence upon human development, physiology, immunity, and nutrition. 

So who am I anyway? Who are you? The Human Microbiome Project (HMP) currently lists 12,328 micro-organisms in their catalog (ranging from Yersinia pestis to Anopheles gambiae.) These are organisms that have been cultured and made available for research and by no means a complete list of the micro-organisms constituting the Human Microbiome.

I drink my ("my"?) morning cup of coffee. But who lifts "my" hand to the cup? Who is sipping, swallowing, and absorbing the liquid? I suddenly felt like a massive manikin being operated by a confederacy of diminutive creatures. 

Then the kitchen sink became clogged. A dingy pool of water sits over the open drain, stagnant. I take the plunger to the sink and plunge away. A gurgling expectoration ensues and the deep pipes belch up a greasy stew of undigested scraps. The pool slowly (over night) seeps back down and out of sight into the narrow capillaries I imagine that are formed amidst the  waste coagulating in the plumbing.

I run a metal "snake" into the drain and twelve feet down. The clog resists. I go to the hardware store and shop for a longer, thicker, snake to use. While there, I spy a biochemical drain clearing solution. A blend of natural bacteria and enzymes. I dose the drain and wait over night.

That night I meditate on the microbiome of my body repossessing my tooth while the microbiome of my kitchen sink suffers from constipation.

My wife is big on probiotics. I get it. We feed ourselves micro-organisms to keep our microbiome healthy because, after all, not only are we what we eat, we are what is eating what we eat.

The biochemical drain treatment failed. I got a bigger snake. No success. Finally I called the doctor (aka the plumber.) I realize that the plumber is essentially the house doctor who makes house calls because the house can't fit in a typical waiting room for treatment. The plumber performs his version of a household colonoscopy using a very big snake. The drain is clear. 

The money goes away with the problems: to the plumber and the dentist (and the repo man.) I am still confused about where I begin and the world ends. Not only am "I" an expression of millions of micro-organisms outnumbering my human cells, but I am a component of an even larger organism called a house, which takes in food and other materials (the paint I brushed onto the bedroom walls,) processes it through me ("me"?) and the rest of the family and then eliminates it through the various pipes that link it to the larger biome of the neighborhood, the city, the endless infrastructure and skeletal schema of the world.

? 
continue to "Lost Pt. 4" a.k.a "Found"
  

Lost pt 2

Novak is a Bohemian name meaning "New Man" or "New-Comer." Bohemia is "the home of the Boi," encompassing a large portion of the modern Czech republic, including Prague. Bohemia appears to have been settled when the Romans drove the Boi out of Northern Italy in the 2nd Century BCE. The Boi appear to have been a large Celtic nation, the name meaning variously "cow-herder" or "warrior." It is likely they were ancient cowboys depending on agriculture and warfare to survive.

They may be related to the Boetians of early Greece.

So, the Novaks are "New-Comers" from an ancient race of wandering Celtic cowboy warriors with ties to the early Greek civilization. Wild.  This much I know: not one generation of Novaks that I am aware of (in my family tree) has remained in the place they were born. We are perpetual new-comers. Strangers.

It is highly likely that the Novak name became so widespread - it is the virtual "Smith" of Bohemia - due to the Christianizing of Central Europe. As previously pagan peoples were converted to Christianity, they were made "New Men" having been "reborn in Christ."

Either way, the name carries a story. A story of constant motion and newness. A narrative in which it is easy to feel lost, or at the very least, far from home. Non-indigenous. An invasive species.

So I'm lying in bed with a toothache and this is what is going through my mind: dissolution and invasion. The discovery that my pain was due to resorption made the conflict internal: I was at war with myself.

I could practically hear my body arguing with itself: the tooth attacked by the mouth, the belly angry with the mouth, the limbs impatient with the belly, the mouth, and the tooth.

It was like the old parable: the limbs go to war against the belly, thinking it lazy and greedy, getting all the goodies while they do all the hard work. Finally the entire body begins to starve and must learn to appreciate the different functions and responsibilities each has for the survival of the whole.

[The parable has long been used to describe the socio-political functions of the state - the "body politic."]

So my dissolution continued down to the microscopic level as I realized that my "body politic" was like the early Greece of the Boetians: a loose coalition of independent city-states.

Then I made a disturbing discovery: My body's coalition included a vast nation of non-indigenous micro-organisms. In fact, they were the majority.

There are 10x as many micro-organisms in the human body as there are human cells.

So who am I anyway?

continue to "Lost Pt. 3"

Lost, pt 1

I lost myself. It started with a toothache. A back molar began to throb. I dosed myself with Tylenol and lay in bed enduring the deep dull pain and wondering what to do. No health insurance. No cash. So, until I  could afford a dentist visit, I would floss, rinse, dose, and concentrate. The tooth was commanding my attention. I could picture it, growing in my jaw; an infection developing from some foreign strain of opportunistic bacteria. An invasion. The root reaching into me, a kind of plant, a growth, an entity separate from me. I felt invaded.

There are trees and grasses and flowers in my yard. They all put roots down into the soil. They sometimes are invaded by pests and bacteria. That was happening now in my jaw. Why did I feel the pain when the "plant" was attacked in my jaw but not when the plants are attacked in my yard? "My" is such a relative term. "My yard" because I am the putative possessor of the territory (though the land as well as the bank would disagree.) "My jaw" because I am more than the possessor; the jaw is me. Is the tooth? The tooth is mine. When a tooth falls out, we say we lost a tooth, a thing once in our possession. So, now, this tooth of mine is causing me pain and I am ready to lose it. Will I lose me in losing my tooth? Am I an assemblage of parts? Where is the me that is the possessor and the experiencer?

An Alan Watts limerick comes to mind:

There was a young man who said "Though
it seems that I know that I know,
what I'd like to see
is the "I" that knows me,
when I know that I know that I know."

I was falling apart. Literally. I finally got to the dentist (deferred payment for a week) who looked at the tooth and said it was not an infection but a resorption. Root Resorption. The body was repossessing the tooth, resorbing it.

Medical Definition of RESORB: 

to break down and assimilate (something previously differentiated.) 

Last fall my car was repossessed, resorbed; the bank no longer wishing to play make-believe with me. ("Make-believe you own this.") This happened mere days before I was to appear at a major job: the National Storytelling Festival, which, as it happened, was the Universe's way of getting my car back after hefty fines.

"My car."

"My tooth."

"Mine."

"Me."

Not.

continue to "Lost Pt. 2"