The "Thing" is not the Thing

Whoo,

Too much flip-flopping for me. I try to lead a nice, orderly, linear life. [Yeah I'm a white male, so what?!] I've done enough radical, messy flip-flops for a few lifetimes--from here on out it's 94.9% onward and upward. [And yeah, I believe in direction, too--you know what you want for dinner? (Or even what you don't want) There's direction.] I guess it's always new when we see the face of a demon peek out from behind whatever fantasy or delusion we hold to keep our weaknesses in place. The reality of the situation (and excising both the demon and weakness) is always preferable, but getting to it, or accepting it can be scary. Sometimes I think peace is too peaceful to enjoy. Then I let myself have some. And ooh-whee! Give it to me bay-bee! But between those two points the spectre of being alone is almost certain to raise it's gnarled head. (My vote for the beast guarding the gates to paradise.)

The thing about the holy grail--or any quest--is that it's imperative to get into the quest itself. The mystery and grist of the process. It's not the woman, it's not getting laid, or being a mogul, having a Cribs-worthy house, tippin on 4 4s, or even being the ne plus ultra artiste de siecle--it's walking down to the corner store and enjoying it. And that's all it will ever be. Enlightened or not, happy or not, good person or not, humble or not. It's going to be the same thing and we'll either be there for it or not. That's it. C'est tout.

I'm still waiting on my first jump in the lake--I did a drive-by to the beach the other day but there was a water quality warning in effect so I kept peddling (riding on 3 9s, wrapped in 3 9s). I've been getting some good cruising time in on la bicyclette, which counts for a lot. (Does talking in a language with masculine and feminine pronouns make anyone else not want to do certain things?)

Do I still have the energy and drive to reshape the economy and culture with an album released at $140 a pop? Do I think I have what it takes to make my first recording at age 40 (39 actually) and change the game like Kool Herc did? Like Charlie Christian did? Like van Gogh? (Like Grandma Moses?) Can I still spit game based on little more than some ideas, a few good chords and a book that 80 people read? --Hey, it's just July. And if there's one thing I learned from writing The Love Artist--which will end up doing a whole bunch of those things just mentioned--it's that belief is a luxury. If you've got it, great. And hold on to it. If you're close, fight for it, sure. But if it isn't around, if you can't even remember why you started, what you were thinking, (what you were doing), or how you planned to make the rest of your life work while you were so occupied, just continue on. ["Continue on" was the worst thing I heard about 50 times daily while employed as a bike messenger. Transmitted via radio from a dispatcher I really didn't care for (I think the feeling may have been mutual)--it meant that there was no sexy, dramatic, infuriating $5.50 1/2 hour rush delivery (for which I might make pasta-with-canned-clam-sauce money) and that I was to continue on with the $2 slow boat delivery that might get me to pasta-with-soy-sauce money. That was back in the day when having some fun (often a 40 of Country Club) meant maybe the rent wouldn't get paid. Not that it wasn't $325 to begin with.] Anyway, it often sucks to hear, especially if you're spent, ready for some glamour, desparate for something to happen, and hungry,--not to mention pissed and exhausted--but continue on is just about as lovely as love gets. Time to relax. It's going to be okay. Refuel. Take a nap or something. Eat some sushi (hey, if it was $6.25 at Whole Foods back in the day, "continue on" might have been exciting!), and otherwise just get back into the day to day of this sucker.

I realize I could do everything I've ever dreamed of (White Gold premium culture business empires, movies, books, labels, etc.) and it still wouldn't hold a candle to the backyard bar-b-que I'm having next week. It'll be fun--oh yeah. I'll be bathing in money--sure. Like Snoop said: I want it all, clean socks and draws--but what is it going to be compared to a kiss from my wife? A couple of squirrels chasing each other around the tree outside? The pigeons. Leaves.

It will be nothing. And if I can't feel that--if I don't know that with certainty after a day of dealing with people who don't--after hours of negotiating, cajoling, entreating and walking away from deals it to protect my assets--then I'm done. No more music, no more books, no more movies.

And if I can't feel content and loose as I head into whatever a day brings--be it paperwork or recording--if I can't have fun when everything's going well--then I'm done too.

If everything is really everything, then there shouldn't be much difference between the two. Sure, one I want to do and the other I "have to do" (though I've actually chosen it as well)--but as long as I'm being myself, why would there be any remorse or displeasure in either?

The thing to remember is that you don't leave this life when you think you do either. Not at the moment of ectasy, not upon your deepest communion, not during your highest high or even your lowest low. Those just feel like death or transcendance. They just feel like what we think of as meaning. And believe me, they'll last a lot longer if you demand to see them for what they are--a mirror, an opportunity to be yourself, a vehicle to learn and become a better person.

Then you can have anything. Have it all. Cars, vacations, boats, love, money, clothes, influence, time, energy, patience, adulation, respect, fame, family, faith, trials--anything. You can have it or not have it. And you'll still do the exact same thing.

What you want to do.

A $140 album--my $140 album--will be like my $120 book. (God willing). It will offer a more direct--and more enjoyable--connection to the life that's right under our feet. The bubble will burst and we'll be floored at how much we missed the atmostphere used to inflate it. Yes, we'll have to feel the pebbles and sticks on the walkway--we'll have to come out of meta-land--but we'll be enveloped in the beauty of the real world. And see what a drain the constant hype was. Big night out over and makeup back off. Collapsing back on the bed and putting the old feet up for some quality time--what we really wanted to do in the first place. (I know you're not getting so easy as to get sold plain old time and relaxation.)

And nothing to it but to --lovingly--. And take your time, now..

Do it. Whatever it is you want.

Even though that might take years to figure out.

It won't need anything to keep it going. (How ridiculously relaxing).

You just go until you're tired. Then rest until you're ready. Or, more likely, since that's kinda like to current paradigm, visa versa.

It might seem obvious that it sat so close for so long. We might be ashamed that we didn't just take it ages ago.

But we also won't care.

{I did get to the lake, and boy it felt good. Time for lunch. That sushi is calling my name!)