fear

Black Swan

mandy — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

The hype had me prepared for Black Swan to be a disturbing and gory movie. But the truth of it is this: even if you’re squeamish, like me, there’s nothing in the film you can’t look at… out of context.

Context is the name of the game for director Darren Aronofsky, in this and his previous films. Aronofsky gives viewers rich, often confusing imagery—the back of someone’s head, for instance; a favorite shot he's borrowed from Hitchcock, Van Sant, and others—and then leaves it up to our minds to interpret his meaning. Example: a physical wound means one thing if it’s accidentally caused, another if it’s created by an external person, and still something else if self-inflicted. But if you only see the wound without its frame of reference, it means nothing beyond blood and guts.

Some viewers find this equivocating pretentious and sadistic, while others enjoy the challenge. With Black Swan, Aronofsky has achieved the ultimate cinematic ambiguity: his film will have us talking about it for years, trying to make heads or tails of what’s really going on with Nina the ballerina (Natalie Portman).

The trailer gives us the narrative framework (no spoilers ahead): Nina is a dedicated dancer who assumes the lead role in Swan Lake, only to end up in torment as she tries to shed her virginal white swan persona in favor of the darker, sensual black swan. Are her demons real or imagined? Can she play both parts, good and evil? Will she dance herself to death, or find fame and glory? Black Swan is a thriller racing to answer these questions. But saying it’s a movie about Swan Lake, or even about ballet in general, is like saying that Swan Lake is about birds.

When the curtain came down, so to speak, I wasn’t disturbed or scared. Instead, I felt mildly exhilarated and happy to go home to a foot massage from my husband. Later that night, however, I tossed and turned to terrifying dreams. I saw Nina’s mother’s icy stare. I dreamed of broken, twisted limbs and skin tearing from my body. The next morning, I received an email from a girlfriend with whom I’d seen the film: she claimed to be having “out of body sensations." What happened to us? How could we have endured viewing the film itself with no terror, only to wind up feeling dizzy and insecure later on? But that’s probably the point, right?

Black Swan transcends its obvious message of self-sacrifice for the sake of art and makes a wider statement about sexuality: it points out that women are intraculturally conditioned to sacrifice their own pleasure in favor of male gratification. We encourage and adopt a meme of female frigidity, forcing young girls to think of their virginity as something fragile, even breakable. We set up an expectation in young women that virginity and subsequent self-sacrifice can result in the “perfect” first time. (That’s according to me. You want a different conclusion? Ask a different critic.)

A review by Danusha Goska on the Internet Movie Database suggests Black Swan “tells us that women are fragile and neurotic and if they do anything remarkable it makes them crazy.” I went looking for this kind of reaction, and I liked finding that viewers are recognizing misogyny in the film. But to say that the filmmakers are sexists is inaccurate; in actuality, they’re pointing to existing rigid demands for women to model ourselves after feminine archetypes. True, Portman and costar Mila Kunis did reportedly lose an enormous amount of weight for their roles as skinny, somewhat masochistic dancers (about 20 lbs. each off already tiny bodies). But the question is: why are ballet dancers skinny, not why are actresses who play ballet dancers skinny?

One of the reasons I braved the supposed gore was because I wanted to gawk at pin thin bodies on screen. Instead of assuming an air of superiority to this trend, however, I found myself envying their ability to achieve a desired aesthetic. (Talk about social and cultural memes: women are supposed to be frigid and skinny, it would seem. And even this feminist, with all of her bravado, can’t get rid of a desire to be outwardly beautiful and adored.)

Okay, now comes the part when I tell you whether or not I recommend the film. I do. Black Swan is beautiful to look at and, at times, campy fun, but only fun for those who don’t mind a few days of psychological indigestion for which there may be no effective antacid.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 8th 2011

Fearless: The 7 Principles of Peace of Mind

annette — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Brenda Shoshanna

Sterling Ethos

A healthy dose of fear is necessary at times, but I often wonder how much further ahead humanity would be if it wasn’t bound by insecurity. Fear-based emotions like jealously, aggression and insecurity have wreaked havoc on our collective development, leading to war, oppression and famine.

Oftentimes we are hindered by the “worst case scenarios” that we dream up in our minds. This, according to Brenda Shoshanna, is no way to live.

In her book Fearless: The 7 Principles of Peace of Mind, Shoshanna examines the fear-based psyche and offers seven steps for eliminating negativity. Shoshanna believes that understanding our personal and professional fears will lead to a greater self-awareness, that negativity cannot be fought with negativity and that fear dissipates in the presence of love.

Her assertion that love should be embraced and fear rejected is simplistic. A closer inspection however does reveal complexities. How exactly does one “let go” of paralyzing phobias? How does one “dissolve” fear?

Shoshanna attempts to lead her readers through this mental quandary with the help of Buddhist teachings. She believes that enlightenment can only be achieved by embracing discomfort. Fear is, after all, nothing more than a mental construct, bred into existence by unrealistic expectations. Understanding the ebb and flow of life, embracing true natures, and turning attentions towards positive things will, according to Shoshanna, lead to a more purposeful existence. Shoshanna’s seven principles appear to be based in common sense rather than any form of scientific or sociological study. New-age clichés are prevalent throughout. She urges her readers to “cultivate the miracle of love”, to “embrace” their “perfect nature” and to “find the precious jewels” in their lives.

I suspect that Fearless will be popular among self-help enthusiasts. Those that don’t subscribe to new age mentalities, however, will find nothing new here. Despite being filled with Buddhist fables and real-life anecdotes, the book is merely an ad naseum repetition of the notion that life is too short to be bound by fear.

That said, there is a place for this book. The true path to enlightenment is, after all, an ongoing journey. Books like Fearless are useful in that they help maintain focus. Shoshanna has included a “Workshop” at the end of the book that demonstrates how the seven principles can be incorporated into daily life. In my opinion, this is the most useful section of Fearless as it allows the reader time for introspection.

I wouldn’t classify this book as a challenging read but Fearless does inspire meditation and personal reflection, important practices that are absent from the average daily routine. While I could relay criticism about Shoshanna’s writing style and the grammatical layout of the book (she really does love her commas), I’ll choose instead to focus on the fact that Fearless relays an important message. It is for that reason that I will, reluctantly, recommend the book.

Written by: Cheryl Santa Maria, December 1st 2010

Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition

admin — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Alejandro Chaoul

Snow Lion Publications

In Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition, author Alejandro Chaoul presents a scholarly overview of a form of meditative practice that is little known in the Western world. It is called chöd, a term that translates to “cutting.” Chaoul’s presentation studies chöd in the context of the Tibetan Bön tradition and differentiates it from the practice of chöd in the Buddhist tradition.

While Chaoul offers a valuable text on what is a rarely studied ancient tradition, readers should be forewarned that although this is a slim book, it is not a light read. The subject matter is fascinating, however, due to what may appear to some as an extreme type of meditation. The purpose of performing chöd, according to Chaoul, is to cut through the practitioner’s ego as a step toward achieving enlightenment or buddhahood. Chöd is considerably different from our typical view of meditation. Simply put, this type of meditation is performed in such a way that it induces fear in the practitioner so that he or she may “sever” or see through their fear.

To practice chöd, a person usually meditates at night in a frightening place, such as a cemetery or charnel ground. The practitioner performs music with traditional instruments that historically have been constructed with human bones. The drum, for example, is ideally made of two human skulls, one of a 16-year-old male and one of a 16-year-old female. Chaoul writes that it is best if the skulls come from children who have passed away in accidents and not from sickness. During the meditation, the practitioners are to envision their bodies being cut up and served to various demons.

The desired result of the chöd practice is to transcend human ignorance, which has placed us within samsāra (“a cycle of birth, sickness, aging, death and rebirth”). Chaoul writes that chöd is “considered to be a powerful method to liberate one from this cycle.” Not only does this practice offer insight but it’s also a lesson in the ultimate act of generosity: the offering of the practitioner’s physical body. It’s these two attributes (generosity and insight) that Chaoul states are “the two main ingredients in developing the mind of enlightenment.”

In Chöd Practice in the Bön Tradition, Chaoul gives an overview of the history of chöd, discusses ancient related texts, and explains how it is practiced. Chaoul also touches briefly on what he calls “the representations of the female aspects of reality” in chöd. In this tradition, “when one is freed from one’s body, one returns to the oneness of the great womb.” Unfortunately, as interesting as further explanation on this would be, Chaoul admits but does not go into reasons why he was unable to include additional discussion on how practitioners view the feminine as it relates to chöd.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, January 8th 2010