Anti-references are just as powerful as references.
I’ve been reading a lot of personal essays and memoirs, taking in different voices and stylistic choices. To write factually about your life is one of the most meta things we as homosapiens can do. You’re still in the midst of living, but to write a memoir-esque book, you have to pull out threads of story and do your best to tie them up, so you can offer a digestible glimpse of an ongoing life. At a glance, this genre might illicit the same reaction as abstract art: anyone could do that. We’re all livinggg. But it’s a lot harder when you actually set out to make a complete piece. In many ways the genre is loose and alive, which leaves room for experimentation. I love seeing how each author chooses to tell a story that may one day have a different context or an entirely uncharted ending.
When I read these books, two things will happen.
Sometimes I’ll land on a book that makes me want to respond. This is a visceral feeling, like I’m in a dialogue with the author and I understand what they’re saying. I can sense the root of their experiences, I get so excited to underscore their story with my own. Maybe I find their use of language so visual, it makes me want to stretch my imagination and turn my sentences upside down. I read a chapter and another and another. Then I grab my computer and let my own words come to the surface.
A book like this immediately goes into the reference pile. I hold these books close and revisit the sentences in my mind.
(I’m putting together a list of references for this Sunday’s paid dispatch.)
An anti-reference plays out a little differently.
At first, I don’t know how I feel about it. I might resonate with a few aspects, which sends a balloon of hope across the divide. This encourages me to keep an open mind. I keep turning the pages until I find my eyes skipping paragraphs. Usually I will read more than I want to, because I don’t like to quit something unless it’s really obviously past the appropriate time. When I finally put the book down, the author’s voice will not stick with me. Instead there’s a echoing void. Like an awkward pause on a long distance phone call. I will not want to write.
Recently I was complaining to boyfriend about a book I was struggling to get through. I wanted to get to the end because I was already halfway through. But was it worth my time? He said, oh so you’re reading an anti-reference. I’d only heard the term in passing, like when a film person watches a movie that’s the opposite of what they want their work to be. A.K.A a great excuse for a self-serious director to watch M3GAN and write off the tickets on their taxes. I set that word aside, thinking how nice that film people have all these terms they get to use amongst each other.
But when boyfriend applied anti-reference to the book I was slogging through, a chord struck deep in my high school memory bank.
Long ago, my mother discovered YouTube. She was late to the game, as this was shortly after she got off a decade’s worth of medication and was tasked with essentially starting life anew. My mother loves to find new material and focus her entire attention on it. One day she’ll decide to read every single thing Paramahansa Yogananda has ever written. Then she’ll read multiple books on the Australian Outback, reciting facts about the deadly snakes and spiders. There was the Catholic kick that coincided terribly with the year I lost my virginity. When she got into YouTube, it was only a matter of time until she found the manifestation corner. That’s how Abraham-Hicks entered our home, along with hundreds of hours of recorded retreats and remixed abundance meditations playing at full volume on a loop.
Most of the videos feature a repeating cast of archetypes that ask the same questions in slightly different ways. One of my favorite characters is a nervous man wearing a maroon polo tucked into khaki pants. He stands at the center of a champagne/beige conference room. He’ll clasp his hands in front of his belt buckle and tilt cautiously toward the mic, which manages to pick up his soft voice. Abraham, he’ll ask, how do I manifest the life I want, when everything around me is exactly what I don’t want?
The question to beat all questions. How to defeat the physical realm and unlock the universal powers that seemingly have everything you’ve ever wanted just beyond the confines of the silly limiting mind?
It’s a valid ask Marty. (In my head, all these men are Marty.)
I think about this concept a lot, the concept that Abraham-Hicks outlines over and over when the Marty Archetype comes to the mic. It’s one of the few things I remember from the hours of videos. I enjoy it because it draws a shape across my mind and images usually stay with me.
The body of Ester Hicks will lean back in her pant suit. A smile will come across her face, but one that seems distant and not-so-Ester-y. Say what you want about channeling, but this is what everyone in the conference room has signed up to see. The voice that exits Ester’s body has a slightly automated angle, stilted as though it is being translated in real time through a thousand unknown languages. In this not-so-human register, Abraham-through-Ester explains what we’ve all heard them say and we can’t believe Marty doesn’t get yet.
Contrast helps me to focus.
Since your house wasn’t filled with hundreds of hours of Abraham-Hicks (or maybe it was and you’d love a refresher) here’s what that means: when you are surrounded by what you don’t want, allow that to inform you of what you do what.
Are you in a house with four roommates, waking up every morning with your head in a cloud of anxiety? What about that experience would you change? Start small. Let the details guide you to the vision of your ultimate living situation.
Now can you focus on that, instead of stewing about the Captain Crunch sprinkled like glitter all over the counter?
If an anti-reference is contrast, then I learn as much from the anti-reference as I do from a reference. This applies to relationships, to work, even our emotions. When I can identify a feeling that I don’t enjoy, it doesn’t need to be a negative experience. Instead, it’s an anti-reference. I’m a professor studying my own life with all the ups and downs, utilizing the data to give shape to the experience. Every piece is helpful, nothing is just “bad”.
Today I arrived a stop sign at the same time as another car. I saw the car was turning left, so I started to roll forward. But the other car drove (sped?) through the intersection and started to cut right in front of me. I braked, let the car go. No big deal. As the man slowed to cruise by me, I could see him shaking with rage. He mouthed fuck you over and over to his rolled up window. Tbh he looked exactly like a huffy principal in a Disney Channel Original Movie. Kind of like a Marty.
Immediately a scene from years ago flashed before my eyes, when I gave into a man’s road rage and ended up rear-ending an entirely different car. I was so upset that my brake reflexes failed to respond in time.
Anti-reference. I thought. Don’t react.
Suddenly this man’s outrageous display became funny and I felt my hands go up and make a little shoo-shoo motion, flicking off the vitriol coming from this Marty-wannabe.
It’s not personal, it’s just another reference or anti-reference.
All the sudden I’m laughing at this man’s outburst. I’m cruising down Los Feliz and Joey is sitting next to me, none the wiser. Reference moment. More powerful than the original contrast.
That’s all for today.
xx
James
personally, I love that you reference ch*** as “boyfriend” not “my boyfriend” or “the boyfriend” just... boyfriend lol so irrelevant to the topic but I just love it so much
Thanks for articulating this ... wasn’t aware of either meaning of the word in terms of art or life ... but you’re right particularly helpful when applied to discriminating how to live...