Right Before the Dawn

What discussion about decisive moments would be complete without a something about coming back?

The Treasure of the Sierra Madres talks about what every mountain climber knows--that getting to the summit is only half the battle. And often the easier one. Then you've got to get back down.

But you haven't been psyching yourself up to get down for six months. You haven't pictured it since you were a child. You didn't know what it would be like once your wildest dreams had been fulfilled and life just kept on rolling. You made it! You made it. You made it. Now what?

There's a zen saying that's good sometimes: before enlightenment: carry water, chop wood; after enlightenment: carry water chop wood.

We're so geared for the fight, for the battle, conquest, challenge--what do we do once the peace is won? If we bring our ruthlessness home, we'll mess it up for sure. Not that we're going to be patsys, but still, we have to be prepared to enjoy ourselves and relax.

Maybe it has something to do with faith. If we don't believe we're going to get what we want, then we fight for it and do it almost to spite god, or society, or whoever. Then when we get it, we're suprised--and still steeled for the battle. And fear that we'll lose it. Sierra Madre is great about this. We magnetize for our fears. Think that was our one shot. Believe ourselves now rich and before poor. We think it's a one time shot--or an anomaly (sp?).

But if we believe. And in the bible it says it's promised. Seek and ye shall find. Period. Not if you're good, or in the top 10%, or worthy, but seek and ye shall find.

If we believe. Then maybe we're prepared for the denoument of the story as well. The descent. For the coming back with pockets bulging. The relaxed success. Living out our days happily. Coming down the mountain. Reintegrating into the tribe. --With what we know, of course, but re-integrating nonetheless.

Cause it's a whole thing--and your world changes in an instant. You work for years to get to the tipping point and it comes and whao nelly! The sucker tipped. Tipping means falling over, right? And that happens after the work, when you're most exhausted and maybe even when things are darkest.

Right before the dawn.

If we're really to believe that the spiritual realm (the irrational, the abstract, the creative, magic, whatever) rules the universe--and that all our Newtonian, rational, concrete, mechanical world is peacefully on top or within that larger truth (and it seems to be), then how do we learn what to expect while fighting/dancing our way out of the material realm? How can we possibly prepare?

I guess that's the beauty of it. The love. --you don't. We can't And to think you could is even folly. But we also can't not--because in our trying we become flexible and strong. We adapt. We learn. We keep going.

And somewhere along the way you just give up all together. On knowing/being in charge/meaninglessness/winning.

And all of a sudden you're capable of just about anything. You're strong AND flexible. Not only do you not care anymore, but you don't care so much that you've decided to care. Forever. No matter what it takes. Or what you have to learn. And then maybe there's nothing else to learn. Or not much anyway (after that it's gotta be pretty much small stuff, right?). Or you find that you don't have to be prepared because it's all right there. It's what you want. And as long as you don't care about losing anything in the material realm, what could get you anyway?

And wouldn't you then have access to the magic of the spiritual realm? The creative? But you couldn't go over thinking that. Or rather, thinking that would bring you back. Looking for the material gains.

But that doesn't mean that they won't be a significant byproduct. A lavish outpouring. And I'm not saying that that couldn't mess someone up too, but as long as you've been training with your eyes on the prize, what else can you do? (Besides get a wife more captivating than enlightened. Hook up with faithless business partners and get tired of directing them. Have groupies through themselves at you and be lonely a few nights--or months--in a row--and then have a couple critics trash you and your follow-up album tank.)

At least then you'll really know. Because if you're doing it all right--and avoiding all that nonsense--you'll be even stronger. And more humble.

Gold (Or the Yellow Jersey at Least)

Ho ho!

And what happens? The day after they all counted him out? Landis flies back with a performance called the one-day best in modern Tour history. Makes up over 7 minutes. Now expected to win again.

That's right, you just walk up to her on the street, say the stupid shit that pops into your head and then roll. If it works (and you're still interested) you ask her out. If not, then you bounce.

This is where failure starts to lead to the promise of success. Because you've made a decision. Because you take "results" as just universal feedback--you probably didn't really want it anyway! Just "wanted" it. Lord have mercy that I didn't get any of the wack-ass jobs I applied for over the last five years. Or the three businesses I tried to start. Or even that my book took off and I believed folks who thought of me as a writer. Or even that all my paintings sold and I got orders for more. Cause I wouldn't be exactly where I am now. With what I know about what I want. And how juicy it's possible. The cat-bird's seat.

Also watching The Treasure of the Sierra Madres right now. ("Badges, we don't need no stinking badges" is actually "We don't need no badges. We don't need to show you no stinking badges"--but I'm with the revisionists on this one. They should have flipped the script.)

As it shows, and as promised in the bible, finding gold is just a matter of risk, determination and work. Yeah, you're going to get shot at, cry and get paranoid, and lose sense of what's going on--but that's what you wanted. An adventure. The true test comes once you've got it. That's when you find out if you're gold or not. If you've really got it in you.

After you pack up your burros and head home.

Maybe even after you've made it back and gotten you picture in the paper. Are embraced by high society as a roustabout and thrill seeker. A self-made man.

But never let anyone tell you that you can do it without wanting it. The Buddhists are only half right. If you try to live your life by what you "should" want, by some external authority--even if you claim that it's god's voice your listening to--you'll never get anywhere. Unless you're really adamant about it. And then you'll get depression and insanity. (If you're just insistant, you'll get a nice little neurosis, or maybe an addiction or two. I don't have an addictive personality but it would make total sense to me if addiction were the shadow side of supressed healthy desires coming through with a vengance. If you tell yourself you could never in a million years be a Shakespearean actor (or bee-keeper--whatever), accept that you may have to suffer and twitch to keep that one under wraps.

And if it's something hard, or that's never been done, you've got to want it even more. Ever more. We're so afraid that it's our desires that are raping the planet, keeping people oppressed, hurting our friends, leading us astray.

But there's nothing farther from the truth. These are all byproducts of the detachment we've created from ourselves. These are all surrogate desires--ones that can never be sated. Because they're not original. Or even ours. They're just around. And relatively acceptable. And safe.

Mostly safe.

Which is odd, because there's nothing more dangerous.

If you want to be informed by Buddhists, then detach from the results. Honor your deeper desires. Your desire to commune with the divine. Your desire for intimacy. Your desire to be the rock star that also saves the planet and has his own clothing line. Your desire to be a man. Your desire to be happy. Your desire to know love. And be love. (Even if that means being less nice.)

The east is half right and the west is half right. The liberals are half right and the conservatives are half right. Women are half right and men are half right. And it's up to those of us who know that to get down to the business of creating a way flexible enough to reflect that.

Peice.

Moment of Decision Wrap-Up

The theme for the last month or so has been the moment of decison. (And the Holy Grail, of course--the two most likely are intertwined.)

Here's what I've learned.

To "get" the grail, to be worthy, you must be worthy at your least worthy-less (most worth-less?) moment. This does not mean you have to be perfect--rather that you must continue on in the face of certain failure, or ever death. The cavalry comes after the hero decides to fight on. He decides to fight on because he's a hero, not because he thinks he's going to win.

This decison is made from a spiritual foundation--and is ESSENTIALLY IRRATIONAL!

Irrational--another great word describing the holy grail, the female side of the universe, the eastern, the creative, the abstract, the spiritual, the instinctual. It's become a negative, but is anything but.

Reason can only take us back to the big bang--and it still can't even touch the limitless ocean in which our little boat of history sits. Let alone the sky above it, the clouds, fishies--you get the picture. Let alone the universe that scene lives in. And so on.

So why do we think it's rational to make decisions based on such limited knowledge? Why do we believe that which we know to be limited, historical, contrived, and convenient--reason--to be the truth? Or even the basis for anything? Isn't that like matching your handbag to a zit (or mole) when otherwise you're wearing all blue? Reason certainly has it's uses but it seems the ultimate irrationality to base decisions on it that are outside of it's scope.

Nowe I know irration certainly has its drawbacks. Much of the current Middle East conflict is unconscious reaction--and then reaction to reasction. All of which could be termed irrational.

The police torture detailed today by the Chicago Tribune? (A report detailing two decades of it was issued yesterday.) --Irrational reaction.

But don't let that give irrationality a bum rap. That's like giving up on god because folks choose to kill in his name when they please. It has nothing to do with god. And unconscious irrationality--fear, hatred, loathing, violence--has little do do with conscious irrationality--love, vulnerability, peace, relaxation.

If you try to live without it altogether, it's going to be a pretty plain, and pretty boring ride.

We are not here for any reason that we can discern. That's freedom. And no matter what the SMBD community tells you, there's no love without freedom. God lets us have reasonable dominion here on earth because he loves us. Even the killers. And police torturers. And more importantly--he knows that everything's going to be okay! He isn't afraid. The whole middle east could erupt, a nuclear bomb could go off--and that wouldn't so much as scuff the love that the universe is built upon. We might feel pain, but who's to say that's not love as well--demarking as it does something we don't want to be involved with. Teaching us, telling us. Helping us decide. Some people say that most of our pain is chosen anyway. Certainly the anguish that arises from lack of faith we have much to do with.

Here's the deal. We get to do what we want. For better or worse. We are creative--meaning that we make how we live. Even if we choose to be or imagine ourselves consumptive. How easy or difficult something is doesn't change how true or false it is one iota. (Unfortunately). Ants are here for a reason--to build nests and feed the queen. They start working as soon as they're born. We're here for whatever. Whatever we want.

Which brings us back to the moment of decision.

And fear!

We are desparate--starving at least--for the future to outstrip our past. Yet we insist on the same decision-making process when approaching something new. --We let ourselves decide with our desparation. With insecurity and doubt crowding our beings. We consider all our fears before taking the plunge. We use reason--which is necessarily based on the past--hoping beyond hope to surpass our history. And ensure that we are crippled from the word go. (If we then blame god is a question for another time).

And I don't want this to get too heavy. Nothing swamps joy like that. But I am interested in what this stuff looks like. Floyd Landis dropped in the Tour de France from almost a certain win to an almost also-ran. After years of preparation, weeks of racing--in one day. If there is a lesson to be learned--a way for us to make with our freedom something that outshines our dubious past, humble roots and numerous transgressions against ourselves, our loved ones and the universe at large (I'm smiling as I write this)--what is it? Don't get tight? Don't believe in anything but belief? Get into the work as it's own reward? Attack without fear?

Or would it be to never give up belief? To not for a second think that this world's results--be they a twentieth in the Tour or a beating by the cops--have anything to do with your place in the universe? Even though you want to win. Even though you want to crush the cavity creeps. Even though there is a higher, more loving way. Even though you want everything. That's a little Eastern, a little passive for me (especially with my gumption up as it is at the moment--maybe it's the gumption that has to go?)--but we are told--or even I have been talking about getting into the irration of it all. That the female side is the ultimate reality. That despite our desire and demands that things end, that results be handed out. That judgement be executed--that, that, that, that. That it won't happen. That it's a process with sights along the way. That you do want things and that's how you choose your focus. And that yields your world.

But results are created on this planet. How do I get to be one of the folks calling the shots? How could you not be?, I ask myself. There are kids on Clark St. wearing clothing you and your friends wore fifteen years ago. That you were wearing because someone else you thought was cool wore it fifteen years (or fifty years) before. That original person needn't have worried a moment that he was alone. That he didn't matter. He may have FELT that way, but that doesn't alter the reality of the situation. And, had he checked into the evolution of the species, and done his math regarding the motives of both himself and what he may have viewed (in the 40s?) as mainstream America, he could have been all but certain that he was on the winning side.

And what if our task now, was to do the same thing AND feel it? What if we couldn't succeed if we didn't feel it? Even when we don't feel it. Or have a reason. What if to win now, we had to feel it even when the reason were piled up like Tour de France stage losses? Like World Cup qualifiying losses? And what if, in being certain in that moment, the whole war was won forever--battle be damned.

What if all the work was to get to that first step--the whole world cascading out naturally after that. Having been created in the moment of decision.




____

I leave the rest of the post written another day below:

The world is limitless opportunity re-created continuously. We are forgiven every second. We don't HAVE to do anything. But there is still the very real matter of what we want. And the opportunity our luxurious lives present to create that. And certainly, even with a god that is great, all-powerfull and loving, writing a book is a much faster way to have a book that you've written than not writing one. Same goes for getting fed, having a house, etc. Wanting it and doing whatever it takes to make it happen will certainly yield more results than not.

This is not to say that miracles don't happen. They do. (A miracle being the fruit of the irrational coming to be where reason/science/our minds have determined it impossible).

Maybe a better question is where do we rely upon miracles? Do we do the work for love and rely on miracles to feed, clothe and shelter us, or do we feed, clothe and shelter ourselves and rely on miracles for love? Not that there's a choice--I don't believe the universe is stingy, but certainly, if history is a guide, we accomplish the large part of what we set out to do--certainly much more that that we don't set out to do.

Do we seek that which inspires us and rely upon miracles to ground us (a rainy day, a bill to pay, some housework)? Or do we seek that which placates our fear (often of the irrational, the creative, the female, the unquantifiable, the moment, love), and leave inspiration for miracles?

Inspiration means breathing in for a reason.

Do we breath in first, or do we get all of the exhaust out of the way and get a little weekend in as a reflex?

Fuck that--freedom is terrrifying. I'm terrified of it and I've been chasing it my whole life. It doesn't exist anywhwere but in the present. It has way too much to do with sex to be comfortable--but is the only place comfort can be found.






It is un-everything uncertified unapproved unknowable un communicable unsaleable untraslateable





Fuck it

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!)

I apologize about my low energy vocab lately. I thought I had gotten past that. I guess I was feeling a little sorry for myself the last few days and like folks weren't hearing me. Or just getting a bit sloppy. I am usually enough of myself to realize that other's hearing has nothing to do with me--and that to get louder or change your tone is worth-less, but it seems my battery was lower than i thought.

Back to loving love.

Lots of love.

Not Dead Yet

So I might as well keep expressing myself over here on Isle D'Or. Who knows if I'll have the guts to keep it real when I'm with someone--not that such a condition is immanent by any means.

First, no one has even mentioned at all that the grail--the cup--is empty. Or rather--filled only with air. I've been practicing inhaling as I meet people's eyes and sometimes I think this may be just about all there is. Breath, air. The god all around us that supports us but that we can't see (that's ignoring those 8 other dimensions of course--but I'm not one to get ahead of traditional science. They only think there may be 11 dimensions wrapped in each other invisibly occupying the space before our eyes.)

I find a larger difference between my state of being depending on whether I'm inhaling first (on the one) and somewhat consciously or holding my breath to "think" and letting whatever has to happen to keep me alive happen whenever.

I think breath is the body's thinking--the thinking intended to supercede our mental thinking. And our life got so pat that we just packed it in and decided to see how far we could go without it. Living this "meta" way is hard to drop, but the body is the only thing I've ever found that can experience joy, relaxation, or of the many other of life's true rewards. And that my enjoyment of them increases along with my ability to stay on the one--to be myself first. To demand that I be alive no matter what I face--computer work, beautiful women, art, lunch, a bird chirping, hanging out with kids, etc.

The direct correlation is when they tell you on the airplane to attend to your own oxygen mask before assisting anyone else--including your loved ones. This is radically true--whatever we convey to people by telling them things, we convey 1000 times more by our actions and decisions. Put another way--you will never teach someone, save someone, somehow propel someone past where you are in your thing. (Unless possibly negatively--but that's never intended, nor does it always work).

Anyway, I know it's a hassle, but it's really all we have. It's not that glamorous either, but just think how hard you'll rock that mic or what a sex god you'll be when you can drop everything every second and breathe and be yourself.

(I don't talk about it as much as I might, partially because I don't want to seem like a total freak, but the sexual act is the crucible for all this stuff as far as I can tell. It's no odd chance that everyone wants to get with powerfull artists, singers and the like. Being yourself in front of others (especially with vulnerability) is radical when applied in bed.

Is that all? Holy grail--empty cup--mystery--the great unknown/unknowable void--that you're trying to get to--the quest for which will show you yourself. Or something like that. If we're worthy. And it may be the opposite in the East--or even for women. I can really only speak for white, well educated western (and Northern) men. And may god bless us. If you hear anyone else talking about what it's like for them, please let me know.

I don't really want to sully this up with incidents of violence, but I gotta at least mention Zindane. If only to say this:

It doesn't matter if it's the World Cup. Or if it's overtime. Or if it's your last game ever. There are much bigger fish to fry than all those and if someone needs to get a headbutt, then they need it there just as much as at an amateur match.

With that said, it's hard to think of something that the Italian could have said that wouldn't have been better responded to by winning the game on his ass.

And I think I just learned what these last month or so of posts are about. If you take your eyes off the prize, if you let the bitches get you--excuse me--the crabs in the bucket--if you get tired and give in to that desire to crack, to react, to follow indstead of remaining the leader, you'll lose your fairy tale ending. After all that work--it's nothing to god, he's just in it for the learning. Maybe that's putting too fine a point on it. We'll see.

Because I didn't get her number, I pussied out and gave her mine.

I guess we'll see how forgiving god is. [I rarely edit--as the point is how good a person can be in real time--but this (two sentences) has to go. it's not that saucy anyway, just inconsiderate.]

All love.

The World Cup

I didn';t even get that until just now. Duh. The World Cup. The Holy Grail.

It writes itself. Sometimes I wonder if anyone's even paying attention (myself).

Or will it take legions of future archaeologists. Who's got the time?

A Question

I swear I'm not trying to bury the bigger, much jucier post I just did, but one more question--the enviro cleaners is $15, the cheap guys $5. Should I pay for it or give the $10 to some org? (The people at the cheap cleaners are much more fun, btw, and employ more folks and more folks who probably need jobs. They also play better music.) Too bad I can't convince them to return my chirts w/out a plastic bag.

Comments? Ideas?

Oh--also, while I'm on the topic, recent carbon calculators circulating in my email box suggest that the single largest thing you could do for the environment this year is not take a plane once or twice. I fly and believe resources are to be used (well, of course--and without guilt) but I also believe in ye olde facts.

Lots of love.

E

Ronco Me

Actually, the serious money will be made knocking me off--bringing White Gold-esque values to the mass-er market. Call it beige silver.

But that guy's probably still skateboarding.

Or maybe, though the thought turns my stomach, I'l just make a "Chaps"-like line and license it all out. Give the money to solar-powered computers in Africa or something.

Or to pioneer a R&D line that's even farther out the White G. White G White G. --That's something.

Anyway, back to the show..

Roissy France

Still thinking about the holy grail. Possibly more linearly. But to that in a second.

Newsweek declares everything green and wonders if the Baby Boomers can find new bands. Describes an entire demographic of Whole Foods shopping, Volvo-driving (or Prius), organic yoga sweats-buying (at Sam's Club for those of you in hip neighborhoods who thought the rest of us weren't cool), etc., etc. The one thing these folks don't have? A culture.

They pay through the nose (we pay through the nose) for better, more spiritual, more loving everything, and not a band in sight we can get excited about. Nary a book around. Magazines, sure, but those are so left-brain, so editorial. So consumer. Where are the new producers of these folks (my guess--they followed the money and became self-help gurus. Wayne Dyer calls himself a poet. I've seen him on tv for hours and never heard a poem. Is he a poet who doesn't believe in poetry? No offense Dr. Dyer--god bless you (and I couldn't separate you from the source anyway, right?), I'm just looking for the goods.)

There's no money in culture. Even Puffy doesn't make much for what he does. (And not that he necessarily does a lot, but he is relavant to many folks--and has some good songs). And I will never live like a musician again. Ever. Having done it and found it squalor of the drowned rat in the toilet and silverfish in the kitchen variety. And I will never tour or even play smokey bars to try to get drunk people to love me. It's just not my thing.

But before I get boring, I'll just say that not only is the advent of premium-priced, mass-produced culture what we all want, but it will cure more of the world's ills faster than anything in existence. What if all the corporate hustlers and dogged managers ran off chasing their dreams? For money? What if being an real, loving, sober, happy, adult artist paid for braces and health insurance? (Haven't seen that in a few.) Dental insurance?! What if being an adult without your ^%$# in the machine paid? And I mean paid, paid!? What if courage paid? What if knowing love paid? What if being a true cultural and spiritual leader paid?

First off, a couple hundred thousand of the best and brightest would leave the corporate heirarchy. Allowing for those traditionally affected by downward economic pressure their first opportunity in years/decades/generations--at all levels of the economy. I know you think this is trickle-down nonsense, but it's more like the whole top leaves and leverages itself massively to do something real. There's no reason the top of the pyramid can't resemble a huge expanding orb as more educated and spirituallly attuned folks make AND PAY FOR the goods and services and inspiration for which they're starving. We do have a heirarchical social structure--but only because we've made it that way.

Because we haven't been in the position to pay for anything else. The question is: do we have the guts to make it another? A way we want? Do we have the guts to make it real one emotion, one product, one interaction, one transaction at a time?

The question is: will we pay for it? That's the bottom line hoo-do-dad: Will we pay more for what we want, what we want, what we really, really want? Will we work harder and relax more. Will we breathe more and medicate less?

But first, there's a certain amount of guilt to be dealt with. A lot actually. No big. It's happening anyway. Just breathe in. There's no rush (expect for folks like me--and even that's just the old paradigm stallking me). But remember, these products are green, inspired, require proper nutrition, relaxation and inspiration to make. Require extended sushi lunches and fearless Friday afternoon swimming sessions. And horseplay. If you can stare down the machine, you win automatically. Whether it pays or not.

When you wake up in the middle of the night and the farthest thing from your mind is robbers and the dark, or when Monday morning feels as bouyant as Saturday--you're already done, my friends. And then it's just a matter of getting some.

Which leads me to the holy grail.

Interesting reading in my church yesterday about thorns and I realized with all this talk of grails--the symbol for which is the rose, which represent a woman--women, there's been nary a peep about thorny thorns.

The reading was from one of the "C" books (Corinthians--E)--about how you're a better person when you have a weakness. A thorn in your side. You're not supposed to take it out (what? -- is this Old Testament?), but use it to keep you from getting so elated you'll float away. Or just becoming a jerk.

Then the French lost the World Cup, and I met a very attractive French woman, and I realized how much of a certain kind of clarity I have without that kind of love in my life. (Not to mention time). Are you still with me? I did just switch gears. The holy grail--our bodies, it's symbol--the rose, it's inevitable companion--the thorn. What if love is the thorn inserted to keep us all human. To preserve our humble holiness?

I'm sure I'm not the only person who feels like they sleep with the wrong people. But here's my question--do you--CAN YOU--try to avoid it? Do you have any control at all over who you're attracted to? (The Love Artist is largely about this question--and it's a pretty good one btw.) Is it something to fix or something to submit to--accept? Love.

I know I must be on to something because I'm a bit scared. I havent' been scared in a long time (except when that guy with the dogs on Friday told me he was going to beat me).

But that's my whole question: do we do what we like or what we're supposed to do? And where do these become the same thing? How the hell can art, can fucking--excuse me, making love--be holy? How can they not be?

I gave this idea to a friend but I don't believe he'll be the first one so here it is again--why not have movies with real sex in them? Why have a culture divided straight and porn? Why does every porno have total shit plot. And why is sex in regular movies so corny, or political, or Hallmark? (The price point, but that's a separate issue).

Even from an economic point of view, in a massively fragmented culture, with 1000s of tv channels, where's the truth? Where's the real? Not because it's good, but just because we get to it eventually? 100,000 monkeys on supercomputers and not one Shakespeare?

Doesn't it have to be?

And, more importantly, should I hit it?

Sorry if I sound a little crazed, I'm trying to pull the veil off this mo-fo. I think about all this stuff, like I think most people think about stuff, because it relates directly to how I love. How I come together with people. And since we find it hard and are told it's inappropriate to talk about, it comes out in other ways.

What's interesting about Christianity, is that it chose one of the oldest symbols in the world for it's own. The cross is, at it's core, about relationships. Which are, at their core, about union. It's the X in sex turned straight. The point where two individual lines meet. A representation of how they meet. A discussion of why. A declaration that they do. (An assertion that they already are?)

The Holy Grail

If the holy grail is the cup and the cup (per DaVinci Code) is the womb--then the stem of the cup must be the legs and the base the feet.

We're not looking for the womb, but our own lower half. Our means of true support.

I once wrote a poem in college that asked for my legs to hold light as eyes. I wanted my legs to be as conscious as my head and shoulders. I wanted them to feel their way along like my brain. My brain enjoyed chewing it's way around campus and books, why couldn't my feet enjoy walking their way to the dining hall? (Besides the fact that they knew what the food was like).

I think the ego is rooted just below the solar plexus--and a block there can keep us from our true support. Now I'm not anti-ego (at all), but all things in their right place. I just want to be happy. I don't care about anything else.

Interesting that both the book "Excuse Me Your Life Is Waiting" (which is great, btw) and Confederacy of Dunces make much reference to a valve by the stomach that controls the flow of life energy. Carlos Casteneda talks about it a bit but it's a little different (but, interestingly enough, still located on the left below the heart and above the waist). Hard to feel your feet when you sit. Unless you do a lot of sit-ups.

In the West we seek (and fear) the grail (the cup, the female, support, vulnerability) and are very male; while in the East, you are much more likely to see a religious lingham or phallus (are female/body and seek/fear the male?). All our linghams are secular (buildings, monuments). --Something like that. East and West coming together to get 3-D. Please also consider that the female/East/body may relate more closely to/be the present and the male/West/mind may correlate more closely to the future. We desparately need both relationships with time to be happy, but most folks have one predominating, often stifingly so.

Also, one other note before I head to the gym--what we really want is for East and West, male and female, present and future, enjoyment and planning, to come together within us. For our two-lobed brain to work in concert instead of yelling at each other all the damn time. For our feet to enjoy their job, and our body to enjoy it's job, just as much as our dominant aspect (mind in the west?, emotions for some maybe?) enjoys its job.

It might even be a trinity:

Body, mind, spirit.
East, West, everywhere else.
Male, female, everything else.
Father, son, holy ghost.

So maybe we white folks do need yoga. Would that mean that Indians need Ballys?

Cracking the Code I

Treo'd freestyle upon leaving The DaVinci Code:


Church's message is human nature is sinful, Jesus' was human nature was holy.

The Church has been so successful that we now pronounce ourselves bad boys and leave the church. Even if they disbanded, we'd continue indoctrinating/infecting each other.

The perfect jail has no jailers.

It's not even a conspiracy. Just a natural human reaction to the unknown. Maybe even a male reaction to the unbelieveable--and for us all but unknowable--power of the feminine. we can't be a part of it unless we supplicate ourselves. And that we hate. We've spent 2000 years insisting that male power, over power, control, can provide the life we want. It can't. It's a part, and a beautiful option. Necessary. But only valuable in the service of the under, the vulnerable, faith, instinct.

Male could also be called reason, technology, science.

Why, though, would men ever deny their own divinity? Because they couldn't have it by themselves? Because they couldn't enjoy it and be in charge?

The Dalai Lama says the one thing he misses is sex.

That motherfucker could get laid in a heartbeat. And why not?

Is the female southern, non-white, eastern? The body? Is male white, western, northern? The mind?

Is the dividing line the heart?

Are the upper chakras male? The lower female? The right is male and the left female.

Is the right brain female, the left male. Yes.

The the answer is union. Coming together. And learning how to stay together. Being together. Being yourself in radical proximity.

For it is possible to fuck without sin, which means becoming separated from yourself. You can be that close to the divine--transcendance--and remain yourself. That's what Jesus did--he lived without sin. And was a human god.

The church's cover-up being that he was able to do that only by mortification of the flesh. But what if he just didn't allow that to rule his behavior, his being, or color his decisions? Couldn't he then be both divine and human? If he was sure enough about his true nature?

Then the church is authority making a doctrine of social control out of his message?

The first couple thousand years of human existance ruled by superstition and ignorances-tribe and body worship, the second ruled by mind and increasing individual worship--neither being enough to describe our 3-D natures. Or nurture our full hearts. Or support the kind of union--or even sex--that we are capable of.

Deep shit. Only the worthy shall find the grail.

Is the grail the closing of the root lock--for men. The placing of the gut in the primary position?

A man's task then is to be a prick without being a prick. A woman's... Is not for to say. That only took me ten years to learn.

(Leonard) Schlains's book (The Goddess & the Alphabet) describes this either or/male/female dichotamy becoming healed (either or becoming and/and--just like science has with the quantum world--being big enough to contain contradictions). He said in the book that he predicted a re-emergence of the feminine but when I contacted him and asked if it wouldn't be a merger--a balance and not just a female goddess replacing the male one--he said that was accurate.

I think that the tie goes to the runner though. Faith, mystery, the body, the female has to be the source, that which is served. Knights serve the princess, and maidens may serve the king, but not as a way of ordering society, yourself, etc. Plus, God himself is unknowable completely--and therefore primarily female. Say 50.000001 percent.

It's hard for me to say that but I think it may be true. The under power, the support, the legs and hips and feet, the benifit of the doubt, the forgiveness, the lamb. There's plenty of lion around but only when the lion serves the lamb does life make any sense. Or is even enjoyable.

Note: Let me mention that I don't feel in this day and age that all women are predominantly feminine nor men predominantly masculine. As we get closer and closer to the reality of eventual union (re-union?) there are many shadows of these forces I full effect. A tough brawling biker may be covering up a seriously hurt feminine, a hard woman the same thing. Similarly an overly-passive man may snap when pushed to reveal a hidden but monsterous (as it's been left to fest

Cracked the Code II

Hi diddley ho neighbor!

I just saw The Davinci Code and it was killer. Not so much for the car chases or Tom's dialogue (a couple of those could have been overdubbed, Hollywood), but for the ideas. The meat and potatoes.

When I was writing The Love Artist, I wrrestled with making it all true or writing a story about how it felt (and that wrestling is much fo the book). What I learned was that there are ways to be more true than non-fiction. Much more.

Which is why I consider this blog close to worthless. I can introduce whatever ideas, but as it's essentially non-fiction, it's all left-brain, male, status-quo--EVEN IF THE IDEAS SEEM RADICAL or tweak new nerves in your cranium. This is what the armchair editors and the prophets know--that it has nothing to do with what you say--but how you release. How you say it. (Thanks to Just-Ice for help clarifying that.)

This blog is all talk--or 99% talk, which matters little. I give it away for free because it's still completely rooted in the old world and it's traditions--and even it's toxic homogeny--when I dance about it, sing about it, remain silent about it, paint about it--then it's the real shit. And threatening. And raw, rough, etc. And that's when I charge for it. People like my blog, even if it seems a little over the top or something, The book tends to deal more with the core of things. And...well, whatever...

My point is that there is a world that cannot be measured, where you can't be sure, that can only be described, sketched, pointed towards from this one--though it coexists simultaneously. It is the capital T Truth. This material world is the little t truth. The material world, the smaller one, is contained entirely by this larger world. It is of great importance, but of little ultimate significance. That doesn't say it very well. I guess the best way to put it is--this world is a possibility. And we can do with it whatever we want. And we've been working on it so long we're almost there. And have done almost nothing at the same time. Don't worry, though, these two statements are not contradictory. You can, we can, this world can, be saved in an instant. (But if it took ten years of the hardest work of your life, would you do it?)

_________

The DaVinci Code was a great discussion of how to talk about and read this larger world from this one. Basically, this world is a book. One that hints at, describes, flirts with, and guarantees the existence of the other, larger one. But, it's only a book. Not the thing. The thing itself can only be experienced. Lived, Enjoyed, etc. And to do that you can't start believing in, or putting your faith in books! Even though a book was where you learned everything you know. That's the trick. To let the book talk to you--and believe yourself even more (and books less) after reading the best book of your life. Having the best sex, eating the best meal. taking the best drugs. To say that we are disinclined to do so I believe would be accurate. But that doesn't mean that all those things aren't showing us the way. Aren't insisting that a better world is right under our nose. Is our birthright. They are. And if we insist that the world is not a loving place, or that god don't love us, then that's just one more thing that we'll be lovingly allowed to do. And one more significant hurdle for us to overcome. Or undercome, as the case may be. Us western types love to overcome things. But some hurdles can only be undercome. The easterns may be better at that, but it's not really for me to say. If you are one and have any ideas about it, I welcome any comment.

One other note I should drop off before getting into things is that this is all, for the most part, part of a continuum. I'm going to talk a lot about being white, and male, and rich, and western, and etc., etc. This is a very useful way to talk about things, evn though I know it murders to dissect. And it's very western. I know this. But I also believe this way of seeing things is true. And does not contradict a wholistic, relativistic viewpoint. (Not all the time anyway). Put it this way--it's much easier to learn if you call a dog a dog and a cat a cat and talk about them as animals that either bark of climb trees. This doesn't mean the cat can't bark. Or that a dog coulnd't get into a tree. If something is true it's not stereotyping, nor does it mean that that's all the thing or person is.

I should also say (can you tell I'm going to get way into it by how hard I'm working to cover my ass beforehand?)--I also should say that I think male and female, western and eastern, concrete and abstract, hard and soft, etc. are all contained within each of us. We may be predetermined for certain ones depending on our birth and upbringing and even how we're feeling and what our last meal was, but I think we all have the capacity to kill, to love, to reason, to play, to feel sadness, to create, to revel, etc. Another way of saying this is that we are BOTH a product of our environment and upbringing and transcendent. And we can, by our beliefs, thoughts, words and actions become even more or either one (more rooted or more transcendant). I would never say it but there are definite time where I feel as though I'm acting more white or more black. There are definitely times when I'm acting more male/control or female/support/allow. And times when I am doing either and should be doing the other. This doens't mean that one or the other is bad--even in a given situation--just that I have things that I want and that flexibility and certain skills and attributes are MORE EFFICIENT ways to bring that about at any point.

I'm kissing so much ass now that I know it's time to move on, so suffice it to say that I know I'm gonna step on some toes and that that might even be love for 15% of the people. Y'all other 85%--all I can ask is that ya feel me. I'm a person just like you who thought to sit down and write this up even though I didn't have to and knew it wasn't gonna be extraordinarily popular (though who knows, I may be selling y'all short...thought ain't none of y'all bought a book yet..but we'll see. I know it happens in a flash--after working fastidiously for years). Or maybe I know I'm' wrong and that I also know that only be appearing wrong can anyone ever be right (get right?).

Love.

__________


The best thing the DaVinci Code says, although it doesn't DO it, is that sex is key to salvation. That Jesus was a man--AND THAT THAT DIDN"T NEGATE HIS DIVINITY!

This of course, means that you being male, or female, doesn't negate your divinity.

Huh? --Which means, of course, that you are divine. that you are one of god's children.

No matter what your relationship to church doctrine.

It's taken us 2000 years to even deal with the smallest implications of this revelation. Are we ready for the larger? The largest?

All ove the bible it says that we are created in god's image. That we are the children of god. It would take a greater scholar than I (not hard, btw, I got straight Bs), to tell if the church's references to the "only" son of god are from scripture, and accurately translated, or just cool stuff put in later to give it some zaz.

I am a Christian. Episcopalian in fact. And I do go to church on Sundays. But what if Christ being a prophet, being the chosen one and being a regular man were not contradictory? What if he was just ahead of the curve--walking on water-wise, healing-wise, raising the dead-wise, and picnicing-wise? What if he was just straight?

I read somewhere (this phrase means beware, btw, severe conjecture coming up), that Christ means body. If that's true, then I think it's entirely plausable that Christ was the one to show us how to get to god THROUGH OUR BODY. By being ourselves. By feeling ourselves. By not flinching at an ounce of our corporeal pain. "None can know god but through me". --Meaning none can get to god by ideas, or emotions or disembodied, or by renouncing the body. That you've got to go through the body! Be yourself. Feel your body--and not let it own you. Not let it take your mind off of heavenly things. Feel the fear and do it anyway. Feel the pain an do it anyway. And you shall have eternal life.

Who knows? In the bible it talks about people living hundreds of years. Not as a big deal, but just by way of describing who they were. Not like it's trying to convince anyone. If we were more of who we were--if we were doing what we wanted, if we knew god more completely--both as individuals and as a society--wouldn't we by definition be less dis-at-ease? And given that scientifically all we are is energy, if we were better energy, wouldn't we be better energy? Have more energy? Be of greater ease?

Now I'm not getting down to it either. The whole secret that the church wanted to banish and the Priory of Scion wanted to preserve was that fucking was holy. Right? (Funny, then that there wasn't a kiss in the whole movie. --For all you budding film makers out there there's still a 4x The Passion of Christ to be made. Call it The Real Passion of Christ--and show why he was willing to endure what he did unflinchingly--because what he felt with Mary Magdalene was of no consequence to what the Romans could dish out (ironic that the church is centered in Rome?). Because he had known both god the father and god the mother.

I'll get more into this later possibly but it's time to spark up the BBQ. I'll post below what I Treo'd out upon leaving the theatre. I;m going to put it in a separate post because I know all the fucking apologizing at the top of this post will bore some folks off.

Best,

E