Alysse Aallyn

Author: alysse

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Danger

    Antioch Columbia decided it didn’t give grades, a fact my father, who was paying for it, found unsettling. They also told me if I wanted a class on Women’s Lit I would have to teach it myself. I could handle that, what I couldn’t handle was my writing teacher’s outspoken preference for and devotion to Bruce Vill. He ‘writes like an angel,” she said. He was also a successful musician and disturbingly handsome. Horribly, I married him. But nothing shapes a warrior like suddenly finding herself in the wrong camp.

    Your Sideways Smile

    I heard you singing and remembered

    All the things that you’ve forgotten.

    I see you clearly like

    A fish in a hailstone.

    See your hands, so

    Long for a man I always thought

    And your upper lip too short

    Like a lion’s in fact

    You have an animal presence

    Placing no trust in words

    No trust in love

    Acting after marriage like

    We’d never met –

    Creating islands undiscovered in

    Worlds unreachable.

    You were the joke

    I didn’t get;

    Blowing your smoke endlessly

    Between us

    Refusing to forget or

    Forgive that essential fragility

    Marking us human;

    Fated as you were

    Always to surrender

    To the scornful cries of your

    Invisible hecklers.

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Synchronicity

    You could say I was a “success” at Circle in the Square, because I got the coveted ingénue part in the student production of Anouilh’s The Enchanted at The New Yorker Theatre. But I wasn’t happy. I thought I was as bad an actress as a dancer and it wasn’t gratifying because I wanted the story to be different. I wanted to be a writer! In fact, I felt I already WAS a writer. But I had absolutely nothing intelligent to say.

    How to get my inner development synchronized with my outer existence? In other words, develop a professional life. I did realize I needed a string of degrees – how coordinate that with my abhorrence of Higher Ed? Enroll at one of the Antioch College experimental schools – the one in Columbia, Md, for a degree in Creative Writing.

    Peacock Pavement: The Poet on her walk

    Femininity’s  Everests

    I climb them daily. Envy the crow’s

    wombless contentment

    As I stroll 

    among the old

    wrappers used

    condoms; joints rolled like French

    Letters used abused discarded.

    What the crow envies is my

    Zircon hair; a lunar map of freedom

    Battering-ram jaw 

    baroque nose, the

     Greek depths through which

    My eyes record their wanderings

    Outside the convent wall,

    The stalls, the chained-up lambs,

    The  leaf-clogged swimming pools.

    First act, second act, third act

    Epilogue. 

    Number days by seeking out

    Life’s taproot;

    Marking ages not my own;

    Investing in some future;

    All unknowing what anyone will make

    Of these

    Portentous Pleiades:

    disparate sisters

    Me, myself and I.

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Education

    As soon as my education was my own to manage, I bollixed it up. My high school’s near total repudiation of Art left me seeking some kind of art school, but which? I was accepted at a School of the Arts in San Diego but depressed by the distance – a visit to my ex-boyfriend in Oregon and a visit to my handsy uncle in Hollywood had not endeared me to the West Coast. I auditioned at glitzy acting schools but had zero game and even less confidence so obviously THAT wasn’t going to work, so I started off modestly by interning at Southwark Theatre School (they gave me office work) and taking classes at the Philadelphia Academy of Dance. I was physically clumsy and slow and this was going to hold me back from any theatre career. I was very well developed in the left brain areas but my right brain appeared to be asleep. Although I was the worst in the class I did get better and I was amazed to be accepted by a prestigious theatre school in New York City. I got an apartment in New York city, signed up for classes at Martha Graham to prop up my confidence, and gave that a try.

    Act, Don’t Think

    Anxious about future

    I had no idea of living in the moment.

    Until was dancing

    The “present” wasn’t real.

    Releasing my

    Self

    Freed me from self-ness

    Becoming “eternal”

    In one second

    Was exactly

    The training I

    Required.

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Self-Sufficiency

    When looking for approval, you first notice that the “approvers” aren’t in agreement, keep contradicting themselves and shifting their own goalposts.

    This is enough to make a warrior out of anybody.

    How to choose your standards? How to design our path and feel confident about it?

    As a child, I was a sunflower, looking for nourishment I could turn my face towards. People who dampened and depressed, who structured and suffocated, were to be avoided.

    My parents claimed to be interested in physical health (and I wasn’t even completely convinced of that) but mum on the subject of mental health, which seemed to be the purview of adults who’d mastered the wherewithal to “step out of the rat race.”

    As an elementary school student, I was certainly in a rat race. And it looked like a long haul. When we moved to Morocco and I was sent to a school where I didn’t speak the language, life got downright dangerous.

    Luckily there were books. Agatha Christie in specific, who turned out to be the favored reading of travelers passing through Dar El Baraka, where we had been installed.

    Agatha Christie is excellent training in the Art of Being a Warrior. Life in her books is dangerous, but since everyone is lying and pretending to be someone they’re not (“Society”) it’s difficult to tell where the threat is coming from. The Detective uses Clues and a knowledge of Human Nature to figure out The Truth.

    This is riveting stuff for an eleven year old. These skills of judgment, analysis, research and truth-telling are essential for the Warrior.

    Clue Gathering

    Don’t take people at face value

    Check their stories –

    Question values

    Motives,

    Duplicitous

    Suspects

    Hoodwink

    Bamboozle

    Beguile

    Ignorant

    Dupes like

    You.

  • Secrets of the Self – becoming a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Solitude

    I’ve always enjoyed being alone, where I can sort my thoughts and groom my feelings and arrange my objectives. This fact was startlingly obvious from the first, and later I found out that people like that are called “introverts’. We draw energy from being alone, whereas our energy is depleted by contact with others.

    My most profound warrior resistance, so ancient I can’t recall its inception, is my allergy to being “directed.” For my poor parents it must have felt like their third daughter never emerged from ”the terrible twos.”

    My father was a very self-directed man, happiest with just my mother for company, so I had a model of resistance to being “molded.” He explained that he never could work for anyone else because their management style always rubbed him the wrong way. He formed two companies that he directed, and towards the end of his life was the kingpin or a charitable organization with a religious bent. He was grateful to that religion since they’d helped him with his conscientious objection in World War II, but he was never a believer. My mother was more mystical, with a strong response to beauty and design, who felt the most important things in life cannot be expressed. A wonderful challenge for a writer.

    Conscientious Objection

    I said No to

    Trooping past the David statue

    Attending parties

    Avoiding concerts,

    Wanting to be alone to write.

    I kept a diary my sisters

    Jeered at and it was

    Pretty stupid – training ground for

    Plays and proms

    Novels and stories –

    And I still make notes on

    Everything.

    “You’re not important,” said my

    Cohort –

    “You have to become important

    To have anything to say.”

    I knew that was wrong – every

    Artist I had studied –


    Every thinker –

    Bubbled like a kettle

    From inception.

    Reading tealeaves is as

    Necessary as

    Finding tea.

  • Secrets of the Self – becoming a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Rebirth –

    I’m convinced the main attraction of the evangelical religious movement is that it offers the opportunity to be “born again.” But I believe that option is always available to you without the necessity of signing up to be a cog in a “movement.”

    When I was twelve years old I read a James Bond novel in which he is washed up on a beach and needs to be nursed back into life without any of the previous appurtenances of his personality. I was very taken with this idea. Of course, it has literary antecedents in all the “castaway” and adventure stories of John Buchan and Robert Louis Stevenson. The question revolves around your essential self: do you have one? Or can even that be remodeled and rebuilt? This is the question warriors try to answer.

    Warriors pare their needs down. We keep ourselves ready for action. We are shapeshifters and time travelers – if that sounds attractive to you, keep listening.

    The first rebirth was rather brutal. At age 12, I was sent to live with my father’s sister and uncle and four boy cousins in Wayland, Massachusetts. Since these people didn’t believe anything my father believed I found this cross-training startling, and the more I behaved in my father’s image, the more I was punished. My uncle was enormously excited to have a pubescent girl in the household, snuck into my bathroom, groped and French-kissed me. I did my best to fend him off, while crushing on one of my cousins. In intervals, we exhibited social politeness. (I attended dancing class where white gloves were mandated for touching specimens of the opposite sex.) I also was taught to ski. Sort of. This hot-house atmosphere lasted only nine months.

    My parents simply refused to listen to, believe in, or pay attention to any of this. I realized I needed to become a different person –the person I truly was, underneath, the person without all this reflexive training and behavior. And the question was, who was that?

    The Kilning

    “Shame” means

    Should Have Already Mastered

    Everything. Excoriating

    That you couldn’t

    Eviscerating

    Failure on top of

    Guilt.

    Once fire retreats

    Examine the scorch marks.

    Yellow mud

    Fuses into azure glass

    Shining for

    Eternity.

  • Secrets of the Self – becoming a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Serendipity –

    People often translate “serendipity” as “luck” – highly desirable and a very rare commodity. I think it translates better as “surprise” – equally desirable and much more common. It’s easy to imagine yourself into a modality where everything’s a surprise – as it is for a three year old or a friendly and excitable dog.

    Warriors enjoy surprise. We ride its drafts, like a hawk aboard breezes. Seen this way, all life becomes a joy.

    Art is built on a framework of serendipity and so are warriors. The idea is to take advantage of what’s around, use your imagination to aggregate seemingly unconnected objects/ideas and shepherd them into usable, satisfying and constructive formats. Usable for what? To get where you’re trying to go. Natch. Share the surprise.

    The “warrior” ethos first emerges when we bump up against the “forces” trying to block us. What are these forces? Sometimes individual people, but more usually combinations of people, working together to pound you into a shape for their purposes, not for yours. They’re not interested in imagination and surprise, but in coercion and control. It doesn’t take much observation to uncover their conviction that all resources and power belong to them, and you should cooperate with that. Why? The pay-off is mutable and unclear, but the punishments are stark and immediate.

    Warriors become wily. Serendipity itself – its recognition, use & joy – all in our corner. Their side is having a miserable time and they have to crank up the addictions to get through it.
    We, on the other hand, are finding invisible breezes. And riding them.

    Disappearing Act

    First, my sister and I ran together

    Then she disappeared.

    The baby was too young to run

    I regarded her speculatively:

    Would she ever be ready?

    Better go on alone

    Braving the night’s reaches

    Breasting the sunrise

    Singing to myself and

    When I get home

    Writing the music down.

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Inspiration –

    The desire to participate in the world of art hit me early. As a young teen, I was fascinated by the internecine struggles of the Trojan War and the Wars of the Roses. History was a family story, history was a crime story. Books for children – the Narnia stories, for example, couldn’t match the explosive, desperate sweep of historical intrigue. I had a facility with English that allowed me to “opt out” of language drills – I read the encyclopedia instead, which was full of improbable information. I loved reading to the class, and the class loved to have me read to them.

    When I entered boarding school at age 14 I really began to write in earnest. But the faculty did not like what I wrote. Moby Dick and the writings of John Steinbeck were seriously offered to me as models. This was the first moment I chose the Warrior Path. I complained that we were not reading any female authors and in fact, made a resolve never to read male authors again (I broke it for the Russians, who were feminine enough for me – especially Turgenev.) I liked Colette, so I read Francoise Sagan. I modeled myself on them – they were literally anathema at my school to such an extent that I decided not to go to college and pursued acting school instead.

    That was a dumb decision literally no one helped me with but by that time I had discarded The Appropriate Path to such an extent I don’t know if anyone could have reasoned me out of it since Adult World seemed so desperately stupid to me. What I chose – I thought – was the world of inspiration where magic could be created, second by second.

    PLAYING HIDE & SEEK IN THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART

    Life class is

    My game – you started it.

    Now I’m too obvious –

    Resembling

    This swollen storehouse where

    nothing is explained.

    We are all

    Open to interpretation.

    Outside the tiny window a single tree

    Flowers in its smug

    Delusion.

    This whiteness weights

    my soul. I long for the whick

    of teeth on lip; and bite

    the bended elbow where the blood 

    lies gathered. Take responsibility 

    For unfinished work.

    Unsignatured because

    It never finished school. 

    No blood here, lady


    You must have

     Imagined it – a

     Powder burn without 

    A bullet.

  • Secrets of the Self – how I became a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    Intuition –

    Intuition is the Warrior’s most critical tool. It starts in childhood when adults say something that sounds “not quite right” to the child. Something about their facial expression and the way they hold their body suggests they’re hoping you won’t inquire further, meaning they have no evidence or rationality for what they’re proposing. Sounds like they don’t quite believe it themselves and they’re just passing it to you, like an infection. It’s an infection you don’t want to get.

    Sometimes you ask further, other times you snoop around for evidence on your own. You can usually catch the Grownups talking earnestly in what they think is privacy about what you will buy and what are the consequences if they fail to persuade you.

    Reading is a helpful source of information. You can always find evidence that completely contradicts any BS du Jour.

    And right then, you’ve become a Warrior, because you’ve realized you need to rely on yourself. Not them.

    Breaking Free

    In retrospect we
    Forgive ourselves
    Imperfect inspirations
    Unbecoming intuitions
    Seeing how high we flew;
    Unaltered
    Compared to many others
    Scraping by along the
    Substrate;
    Just a memory of cloud’s
    Enough
    To settle into sunset
    Pillowed into selfhood;
    “I heard
    I saw
    I
    Flew”

  • Secrets of the Self – becoming a warrior by Alysse Aallyn

    The Lovers

    My husband and I frequently refer to each other as our “cuttle bone/cuddlebone.” We keep each other’s warrior blades sharp. When trying to explain how I became a warrior, deepest emotional relationships we form by choice paint a picture of a quest for support and validation. My coed boarding school had rigid social requirements of dating and communicating – there was a “Boys End” and a “Girls End” and every evening representatives from each side would meet in “Central” and exchange baskets of messages. At Girls’ End these messages (called “KOBS” or “Kindness of Bearer”) were stored in a stocking hung beside the recipient’s mirror. This was our earliest form of flirting! One lover I chose because his KOBS were beautiful – always expressed as free-floating poetry – another because he was imaginative and ambitious – a third because he was forceful and honest. It was how these boys came alive on the page that was significant to me.
    My last boyfriend at that school – whom I was to marry eleven years later – we are still married to this day – presented himself as an ideal combination of all of these, plus he was gorgeously beautiful. But before we could come together, many dragons needed to be killed.

    Leaving the Coven

    A craven of cronies stood
    Between us & God –
    God demands clones
    God hated short skirts.

    A damnation of judges
    Stood between us &
    Knowledge; truth exists
    Only in service.

    A clowder of cretins
    Stood between us &
    Art: “Don’t be disturbing”
    “Never trust instincts.”

    From the depths of
    This oubliette
    You drank the koolaid
    Guaranteeing survival

    Cherishing passions that
    One day would rescue me –
    So I could grow up
    And write you this poem.