Unknown's avatar

About B Gourley

Bernie Gourley is a writer living in Bangalore, India. His poetry collection, Poems of the Introverted Yogi is now available on Amazon. He teaches yoga, with a specialization in pranayama, and holds a RYT500 certification. For most of his adult life, he practiced martial arts, including: Kobudo, Muay Thai, Kalaripayattu, and Taiji. He is a world traveler, having visited more than 40 countries around the globe.

Introduction to Myth Making [Free Verse]

From the hilltop,
  one can watch nature reclaim:
 green grows up the glass,
 tufts sprout from each crevice
  and the man-made world is crevice-laden,
 one seed blown into a mortar crack
  will become a wedge --
   a sprout that splits stone.

Concrete and steel prove
  digestible:
  time, water, oxygen,
 the enzymatic requirements are few.

Fungi blooms from a pile-full of dung.

I don't know whether it's a desirable meal,
  whether our trappings & vestiges are
  haute cuisine,
   or merely a meal
   of convenience.

This place was once with us.
 Now, it's hidden so well
  that it's become a myth,
 a once firm and tangible thing --
  now invisible & conceptual.

Nature swallowed our world
 and farted our mythos.

“O sweet spontaneous” by E.E. Cummings [w/ Audio]

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting
   
    fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

  beauty  how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods

  (but

true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

  thou answerest

them only with

  spring)

PROMPT: Admiration

What is something others do that sparks your admiration?

Give anonymously and without expectation of having something named after them or gaining publicity.

BOOKS: “Anthony Bourdain and Philosophy” ed. by Scott Calef

Anthony Bourdain and PhilosophyAnthony Bourdain and Philosophy by Calef Scott
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Amazon.in Page

Release Date: December 26, 2023

These pop philosophy books that examine philosophical ideas through the lens of a particular pop culture personality or entity have become, well, popular. It’s not hard to see why; it’s an easy way to take your medicine, your medicine being to learn philosophical concepts. And, let’s face it, scholarly philosophical books are often nigh unreadable, being laden with jargon and having a tendency to get so lost in the minutiae of razor fine points that they display no relevance to the human experience. I am not immune to the appeal of such books, though when I see a book like “Miranda Sings and Philosophy” I figure I can take a hard pass. But this one caught my eye because Anthony Bourdain did live a life shaped by his own particular philosophy, and an intriguing one at that.

Like most of these books, this is a collection of essays written by different authors. As such, the quality and relevance of the included chapters does vary somewhat.

The book is divided into four parts. The first part looks at the subject of the work for which Bourdain was best known — i.e. at the intersection of food and travel. In these four chapters, authors explore the aesthetics of food and questions like: Do “expert” views on food matter? What is disgusting? And what role does culture play in the culinary experience?

The second part is entitled, “life,” and these five chapters look at Bourdain, the man. That is, they shift away from his work, and look at Bourdain as a martial arts student, a storyteller, and -generally – as a person. These chapters also offer insight into his epistemological perspective — i.e. how he viewed (and engaged in) the pursuit of truth, as well as touching upon his philosophical views more broadly.

The third part takes another turn to examine Bourdain’s addiction and his death by suicide. The chapters present broader philosophical frameworks on suicide and freedom, as a means to put Bourdain’s experience in perspective.

The final part is really kind of a grab-bag of subjects that don’t fit neatly into the other sections. Probably not coincidentally, this is where most of the book’s rough spots are located. It sometimes seems that Bourdain’s philosophy is not so much the subject anymore, and some authors convey their ideas more clearly and effectively than others. This is not, by any means, to say that any of the chapters are completely stinkers, nor to say that all of the chapters are defective. Chapter 13 [which, BTW, I think could have found a spot in Part II] does an interesting job in clarifying Bourdain’s approach to ethics, no easy task as it can seem like an odd mix of spiteful nihilistic impulses and compassionate humility (and it certainly evolved over time.) But even Chapters 14 and 15, which are not only the least flattering discussions of Bourdain but also the most didactic, have something to offer. The first lays out the scandal involving Bourdain’s girlfriend who was a MeToo leader but who also paid off a young actor who accused her of statutory rape, a pay-off made by Bourdain and which seems to be a factor in his suicide. Chapter 15 offers examples of what the author believed Bourdain did right and wrong in discussing the historical context of the places he visited that had been colonized. Ch. 16 was a discussion of the ethics of engaging in luxuriant fine dining in a world with starving people. I thought this chapter would stay the course set by the previous two, but it did shift back into academic objectivity by producing a more complete discussion of competing viewpoints. The penultimate chapter goes more niche than the others, but is a fascinating look at the ethics of AI generated voicework for the “Roadrunner” documentary — i.e. using AI to make it sound like Bourdain said things that he wrote in emails or books but never said [at least not into a recording device.] The last chapter involves climate change and episodes Bourdain did in Madagascar and Bhutan. This was both one of the longer chapters and definitely the most muddled. It remains unclear to me exactly what the author was trying to say, exactly. It’s perfectly readable, and yet unclear.

All in all, I enjoyed this book (as much as one can “enjoy” a book that is about a deceased beloved figure,) and thought it offered some excellent food for thought.

View all my reviews

River Ripples [Haiku]

ripples march
across the glassy river --
 faced by a reed phalanx.

DAILY PHOTO: Hippos on the Shore

Image

“Happy the Man” by Horace; Translated by John Dryden [w/ Audio]

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul, or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself, upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

Camo Fail [Senryū]

the flowers hide
in tall grass & sedges,
but bees still find them.

DAILY PHOTO: Chicago River Scenes

Skittish Dreams [Free Verse]

I don't remember my dreams --
not in the middle of the night
and not in the morning.

But, sometimes, I catch a glimpse
at a random instant:
composing a poem,
reflecting on a passage
from a book,
eating a cracker...

But my dreams are like
frightened animals,
turning my attention
directly upon them,
makes them skitter off...,

vanishing into the thicket.

My dreams vanish like they
were never really there,
and I am left wondering
just what I saw.

The harder I try to remember,
the more severely I scrub
my mental hard drive,
purging all shapes and motions,
until my recollection is nothing
but a vague residue of feeling.

I don't KNOW that it was a dream.

I couldn't swear to it.

All I know is that it's an image
that I can't tie to my waking life,
can't tie to any person, place,
or thing I know to be real.

(And, often enough, it's an image
that couldn't exist in the real world.)

I couldn't remember it as a dream,
but - somehow - I intensely FEEL
that it was a dream,

but the Dream is deep down in its hole,
shaking like a critter that
was almost snatched up by
a monster too awful to
contemplate....

and, somehow, I am that monster.