Back to School Time

Hmmm. What about a faith that doesn't flinch? Ever?

What about a sense of self that doesn't cower even when the super frat boys, or the ridiculously beautiful women, or the under-victims roll up and start pressing every button we have? (God bless them all, btw, if you haven't figured it by now I'm pretty much of the mind that we think things of others mostly to learn about ourselves. Not completely, probably, it's likely there are lots of things around to just ignore, but the ones that jump out at us--whether we say we "like" or "hate" them, I feel often has more to do with us and our response than their essence.)

(And, even more certainly: I find that once I stop reacting to whoever unconsciously and "suck it up"--in the words of one of my least favorite fraternities at my college--that is, be the person I want to be with no excuses, I find that they're just who they are. And we may even have some good stuff to talk about. I'm usually amazed at how passive and presumptive I/we can be about folks. It doesn't mean that what we can glean isn't true--a jocke may still be a jocke, a mopey artiste may still mope--just that it doesn't matter as long as we're doggedly being who we are and doing what we want to do. It's hard to understand and even harder to feel in public that the "oppressors" and other type A folks are just as inured to the game as the "victims"/type B, whatever folks, but they are. If you don't think it gets lonely in corner offices or with family money in the bank, then you likely put money before feeling as much as anyone, which is precisely the problem.)

How do I know this, cause I've felt all sides. And just had a money incident that started to take away my feel today. Nothing I'll remember in four months, but I don't have four months. So I fought to get the feel I wanted, money be damned. That's what god tells us to do. Every day. And in every way. Because the present is, literally, a gift. That's why it's called the present.

My grammy beat is getting better. And I spent a few hours figuring how to wrap the straight guitar part around it. I'm getting close to a true merger. Backbeat beats and plow-ahead guitars. With the in-tune chants on top. Now that it only takes one song to make it big (Panic at the Disco got on with two on the internet, having never performed live, so it only follows that the next cat only needs one) it shouldn't take very long at all. But I won't talk smack because this could take another ten years. Either way, I'm ready, willing and able.

Enough procrastination..

I Can See Clearly Now...

I also wanted to say that I have, for the first time in as long as I can remember, the feeling that I've been working on so long I forgot I haven't seen, thought about, or felt it in years: the "it is" feeling.

It is happening. It is real.

In college and just after I played around with what I most wanted to do: create some sort of new art movement; but as no one actually did that anymore (and certainly not themselves), I considered it a somewhat enjoyable delusion. Something to play around at after work or discuss after a beer or two with a like-minded conspirator. Except for a couple times, usually in the early fall like now, where I got a sense of "it is". (Then there were years and years where it was absent altogether and I either drifted or clawed my way forward for no reason--or despite both reason and the way I was feeling.)

It's a feeling just on the tail end of the body (the summer) and just on the front of the mind (the winter). It's where thought and action combine to drop the huge harvest on your doorstep, but before it gets really cold. Where all your hard work becomes manifest and all the silly little things you worried about on the way there fall away.

Part of it was watching that documentary on Warhol. He put himself in the right place at the right time and nailed something huge. He did exactly what he wanted and rode it where he wanted. It got gross at points, but that, too was what he wanted when it was. Whatever it was, he created it. He created. And in a lot of ways ne nailed it. Although the years that I would have enjoyed (now) were fairly few. If I had seen this twenty years ago, I may have been able to skip a whole lot of difficult realizations.

When I left the east coast for Seattle a bit after college, on the train I felt like I had to step up my game if I wanted to create what I wanted in Seattle. I ended up being more of a consumer of what became known as grunge because I thought it was going to do what I wanted. I thought it would do it for me. (I hoped.)

It didn't. And it's taken me this long to even get a whiff of that "it could"-ness, of the whole world being in front of me, again.

It's funny, because I'm not even the same person. The part of me that remembers the feeling isn't really even embodied in my person, and it's not like anyone wants to talk about it. It's just there. And growing as I get ahold of it and understand how it's created.

It has something to do with the cool fall air. It made me go out and buy a Harry Potter book. You know--discoverd at 12 that we were wizards, and that a parallel world existed where you were already famous. And that in that world you were expected to undertake tasks that no adult of expert would even entertain. Partially because of who you were and partially because of your training. Even though you never quite felt ready.

Excitement.

And I remember that every century starts off with radical change. Picasso. Van Gogh. Was anyone moping around at the beginning of last century saying nothing was ever going to happen? Probably most folks. They had just been through the fin-de-siecle wringer. Cultural upheavals. They were afraid that big business was too big. That money came with too much power. There were wars going on. Things looked dark.

Now fast forward to the Black Ark studio in Jamaica in the 70s. What does the guy dancing around his mixing board playing with delay and reverb while one of the greatest singers ever kicks it down on the other side of the glass care? He has a board (and copious amounts of pot, but that's another story) and a mic. And knows how to get his records pressed. What does he care about Babbylon? He's broadcasting ("The Return of the Super Ape") all day and then eating fresh fish for dinner. And he's about to flip the script on what all those big businessmen thought--what everyone though--was true for so long. Their kids are going to wear his record out trying to get even a whiff of what he was immersed in all day. (There are some great videos of LSP doing his thing on YouTube, btw).

Some would say that Lee Scratch Perry went crazy, and maybe he is. But Picasso didn't. And van Gogh might not have if he hadn't insisted upon licking his toxic paintbrush. And not taking care of himself.

We're past the point where musicians are as healthy and prosperous as Picasso was painting. Now the final battleground is being and staying in love. Feeling love. Being happy. And creating a new world. AND getting the money.

It is now possible for a powerful enough artist to run the show FROM BENEATH--through inspiration instead of control. This is what the counter-culture has taught me. Business doesn't have enough ideas to move as fast as it, or it's consumers, want. It needs artists to tell it how to cut its pants, color its shirts, even build its engines. It wants to be told what to do (how's that for kinky for you?), it's begging to be dominated. It just hasn't met its match. But I can guarantee you this--this century is the century of business meeting its match. And if your family isn't in the arts at the beginning, chances are it will be by the end. If your family is in the applied arts or upper management, you're probably already looking for a crossover route.

We have built an ENORMOUS content delivery machine almost unintentionally. Providing the thinnest broth of content. We have an intercontinental pipeline we're sending one Capri Sun juice squeezer through. We have a warehouse of linked supercomputer running x(y+2).

No wonder we feel empty.

But we're all fully capable of receiving and enjoying that full bandwith--and sharing it, and talking about it, and sending back out our own. Once we drop our fears and prejudices. (Artists read Ayn Rand, Businessfolks go paint).

Me? I don't do one thing that doesn't make me happy. I love Ayn Rand (and know where she fall short) and I've painted plenty (and know where my paintings fall short). I'm a true hedonist. And for 20 years I've been building a personal, professional and social apparatus that will allow me ridiculous contentment, pleasure and joy for the rest of my life. If it takes broccoli and hamburger for breakfast every day; no caffeine, sugar or alcohol and two hours at the gym three days a week to get all the feelings I got from drugs without any of the downtime, so be it. I call that selfish.

And once that joy pays the bills, I'd call it a roadmap. (But it may very well be unmediated, which means no one will tell you it's okay. More about that in the below post).

[And, be notified: as with most gold rushes, there will be larger opportunities available to those who brave the risks first. This will be different than most in that many of the opportunities will be unlimited. Still, I can't imagine missing even a single day of this one. Or leaving it up to your children to find their own way there unsupported.]

Love.

Mediation

Check, check...

I've been thinking on this one for a while so I hope it flows right.

It started with the latest trench coat killer guy in Montreal. "He's right", I thought, remembering that I had also though the same thing about the originals when I was writing The Love Artist. These people aren't dumb, or even crazy, they've done the math and see no alternative. Which doesn't mean there isn't an alternative, just that they didn't see one.

What they've figured out is that our society has almost no room for individual knowledge--from true outside, unique, UNMEDIATED sources. Which means that to get along, to even feed yourself, you've got to put your dick in the machine. You can put it in a cool way, or a way that look like it's not really in, but you will insert it. And the machine will do it's thing. Life wasn't always like this (although I'm not wistful for a microsecond about those days), things used to be funky and weird. Maybe even primarily defined by how unmediated they were. Going from New York to Texas used to feel like going to India now feels. Almost anyway. Now going to India feels like the next town over. Almost (not really, but it's heading that way--India's going to be a tough one to tame).

My point is that the world is coming together in a radical way. In my youth you couldn't find fun in downtown Seattle for love or money. Skateboard wheels were so rare as to make securing a pair a month-long ordeal. Now you'd be hard pressed to leave your neighborhood to find some. And that would be just so you could get the exact micro-type you wanted.

So what is being mediated? It basically means being a secondary source. It is knowledge of the community rather than knowledge of the individual. It is anything that has been okayed to broadcast.

But, you say, everyone has their own broadcast--the internet, etc., etc.

I agree, but in a sense, this level of decentralization of broadcast authority can only happen in a society where people have largely internalized whatever community controls (mediation) would ordinarily be used. You could also say that this would only happen in a society advanced enough (you cultural imperialist!--I'm just describing the development of technology) to extend enough power and education to enough people that it would happen. And that they would want to communicate, do buisiness, share their art, etc., etc.

The gatekeepers is us.

In some sense, I feel that the world is a process of preparing people to be responsible for themselves. Responsible enough to wield the power that people can wield. And that all the controls that people see as external ("the man", your boss, parents, rich white men, tradition, etc.) are nothing but lessons in self-reliance and love maintenance. Love, as I'm sure you know by now, takes a fair amount of discipline and maintenance. It's certainly doable--and in my experience to a level unthought of by most people--but it is a radical and complete practice.

Let me pause to say this more thoroughly if I can without getting sidetracked: life as we know it, on this planet, can be almost as good as we want. (And I only put the almost in there because of my limited sight). Put another way, when I have been willing and able to do the work required, I have never seen a barrier to how enjoyable my life can be--both in the moment and as an ideal--something in history moving toward something. (That would be both in the eastern spiritual and western physical senses, meaning that enjoyment and and progress are both compatible and complimentary).

So, what's in the way: our love of mediation. We love media.

When nothing was media, when we had access to no information, no cultural mores outside our own family or clan, we relied upon mommies and daddies for structure and authority. Kings, queens, minstrels, griots, shamen--they told us what was and that's what was. End of story.

As we started to learn more--enlarge our community and experience--we gained enough experience to make more of our own decisions and choose our own risks. We internalized some of the power of the king or queen, the minstrel, even the priest. This process has continued wonderfully--at no time in history have more people wielded the essential power in their own lives than right at this moment. That's love. And progress.

But in the parts of the world where this has been happening the longest--say Seattle for instance--the mediation is becoming toxic. Just as Rome brought roads and clean water and peace with their conquest, so mediation has brought political and social freedom, education, safety, leisure, and standards of cleanliness and health that were never available in the old days (even to the emperor himself!). The problem being that people initially grasp for more mediation--the thing that has helped them come so far for so long--to solve their new unease. And it just compounds the problem.

This is what we referred to in college (back when we used to know everything!) as not being able to build a new house with your father's tools.

The counter-culture (you knew this was coming) was built in many ways with old tools. Which is why it is not salvation, but more of a token improvement on the mainstream. (One reason why indy folks are constantly dissapointed and angered when their ideas and memes are absorbed by what they perceive as the mainstream.) If it was salvation, it would get down and thank whatever lord it wanted when even one small idea was taken up.

When Nirvana went big there was a general feeling of being coopted by those in the "original" community of so-called grunge. I was extatic. I thought we had won--and how else could we win but by winning. By capturing the ears of every sentient person from Omaha to Tokyo.

But grunge didn't want to succeed. Or at least was conflicted enough that it took the suicide pill upon take off. Which is just as well in my opinion. As it's leadership characteristics were almost nil. In a sense it set up a power vaccuum where behind the scenes folks with much less consternation about ambition could operate freely. And created a huge and powerful playing field where they could do so.

The original mainstream was created as a reaction to fear. People were afraid (of all sorts of things--real and imagined) and saw correctly that by ditching a few old world traditions and quirks they could come together and face the dangers of the new world much more forcefully. Out of Swedish, Italian, French, Spanish, Dutch, etc. white folks were created.

This may have been the original mediation. By putting the kabosh on that wierd last name and learning a new language (literally and figurateively), you had access to a new world of opportunity. You had to become a new person, but part of that was what you wanted to do anyway. (And I'm not suggesting that the process was cute--or even not coerced, just that the access and privledge it provided were rarely undesired).

But this process was cumbersome, and ugly at best. Worst of all it was slow. Huge groups of people were demonized to represent the newly created groups fears and keep them cohesive. And to make membership--and continued and enhanced mediation--even more appealing.

So, sometime in the late 50s, those who were the children of some of the earliest mediated, and other kindred spirits, started to mediate the mediation. These be-boppers, beats, and other artistic and even spiritually-minded folks saw that the process and access was being unjustly controlled by those who had benifited the most from it and, partly out of a desire to gain their own power in a world where most of the authority had been divvied up (more unspoken), and partly out of a desire to improve conditions for those seeking access and authority (more spoken), they, very vocally, dropped out.

This was a crucial step in modern history--and even in spiritual freedom--but it was still a reaction, and like most reactions was initially conceived in an atmostphere of frustration and fear--based on the belief that those who undertook it were otherwise powerless, or somehow less powerfull than those in the seeming seats of power. Some of this fear was real and some imagined, I don't consider this some sort of comprehensive analysis of anyone's motivations, as I know it took an incredible amount of courage and an incredible amount of love to take this step, but rather include it just to see the similarities in the two major mediation movements in recent history. And how to move on from here. (Please remember also that the initial mediation movement--the move to create a mainstream--was one of both love and necessity as well. This doesn't change the fact that it was created from a initial perspective of scarcity and an "it's us or them" mentality.)

The inception of the counter-culture contains these same "us or them" seeds--ultimately a fear of scarcity--but this time applied to the spiritual realm. If their parents had been afraid of physical scarcity--not enough food for the winter, wood for heat, clean water for the baby; then these young people were afraid that their parents fear was cutting them off from a spiritual bounty that this world offered. Thus was the world of cool cats and squares started. And continues to this day, albeit it to a much more differentiated and splintered, hyper degree. (Where "emo", "goth", prep, jock, and rap kids are lame and whatever miniscule sect one belongs to is cool.)

[Knowing this, by the way, is nothing. I could just as easily just be the ne plus ultra splinter group and fighting for supremacy of that. That's why I give this blog away for free--because it comes from the left side of my brain it's worth less (though maybe not worthless) than my book, my paintings and my music, which is what I should be judged upon.]

But back to mediation. The mainstream invented it and controls access for the physical realm, where personhood and the ability to feed onesself is based, the counter-culture invented it and controls access for the "spiritual" realm, where human-ness and notions of authenticity are based.

But these are all just games. And we choose to play them. We feel they are real, and some of them certainly have real consequences on this earth that we can see, but ultimately, neither of them dictate reality. Unless you let them.

Reality number one: if you're on this planet, you've been adequately fed, housed, and cared for every day so far. If you are over 18 or taking care of yourself you are safe. Your people have been taken care of for generations. You have the same birthright as everyone else on the planet: the opportunity to do exactly what you want to do today. And to sacrifice as much or as little, as long or as short as you like to do so.

Very convenient thoughts for someone who lives in his mother's house and lived for years on credit cards he got because of familial access, you say.

My response: I believe we all have to give up everything we have access to to gain that which we want. That's the process of being remade into a new person and a new people without mediation. It is literally being stripped down to nothing and being built/building yourself back up. And I believe it is 100% universally available.

I'd also add that having to do what I have done has been a process so humbling and thorough that I never would had chosen it had I not been utterly compelled/forced. I wouldn't have even stopped smoking. :-)

So how do we get to a culture built on self-determined creativity and joy instead of mediation and fear? First, I believe that knowing what isn't going to work is crucial. I wouldn't say one word against anything if I didn't believe that knowing exactly what's up and being true with yourself about it was possibly the most important part of the process. Leave everything that doesn't feed you. You don't have to hate it or demonize it, but you will have to leave it. Only then will we ever have room to start building this beauty.

Final thoughts on mediation: mediation is about being in control. The counter culture is just as mediated, just as homogonized, just as insistant as the mainstream. Maybe more. And it is just as limiting in many ways. And more thorough because it is more sophisticated, it's motives deeper and more hidden. Appears to be more altruistic. Superficiality has benefits. As does depth, of course. The real love, the real joy, the real quantum possibility of loving your work and loving your life and being in radical every day love comes, I believe, when we take the best from both worlds without prejudice or nostalgia and craft a new third way. When we take absolute and complete physical and spiritual responsibility for ourselves both in the moment and in the future.

Love is absolutely clear about what it wants. Ruthless even. It wants adventure, and joy, and growth. It wants to be fully committed. It wants to go into and press through. It is singular. Which is why we'll have to create a more unified but much more three dimensional culture to foster it. Or, said another way, which is why we create a unified, accepting culture as we really enjoy and practice it.

Gotta Give It Up

Okay, I'll give it partially up for Warhol. I have a bit of a problem with most things counter-culture (kinda like being a former smoker, I think), and a bunch of his tone, but he did make a number of brilliant, very unpopular leaps. And he changed the game. So respect due. I'm'n'a do the same thing god willing.

Newness

Still watching the Warhol jammy--some interesting points: it wasn't just the painters that changed when pop hit the scene, the old galleries, dealers and even magazines got clobbered--the whole industry got swept out to sea.

Artforum was the first mag (new at the time) to dig Warhol. His soup cans were otherwise almost universally panned/ignored/etc. He sold the set of 32 to the gallery owner in California who originally showed them for $1,000.

Their value today--approximately $100 million. And a blue chip investment to be sure. (They're at the MOMA in NYC).

There's gonna be a little wiggle room in the new cultural economy. What I call the economy of inspiration. And a whole lot of old grunge is going to be swept out to sea. God bless it. (Not all counter/youth culture will be affected in my opinion, but the hold-ons and hold-outs most likely will. We'll still have a robust culture of protest, againstness, rebellion, etc., it's just that a lot of the counterculture lite that has sprung up as a "cool"/acceptable way for hipsters to be somewhat mature/grow up will be ditched like your friend's sister at prom. Because you finally worked up the guts to ask the girl you were really interested in to dance. And her date is getting sick outside. But first someone's gotta make it.)

I Got Next

Didn't even come close w/the Macarthur dohickey, but then again how could I overcome all odds if I had $500,000 in the bank? : p

Still working on that beat. Now I gotta arrange it and kick the vocals. Watching the Worhol wack-off on PBS.

Maybe what I'll make will be called hi-pop. Kinda a right down the middle thing. Or maybe High Pop (say w/nose in air).

Bloobloblooblo..

What?

I had faith. I found the $60 four ways today. Now if only I could do it without flinching. Like my cousin Carolyn (and the Matrix) says: it's a set up.

The Matrix actually says you know what decision you're going to make, what you want to know is why.

Makes a lot of sense.

Yo, Macarthur, Pick Me!

I've been reading about the Macarthur Fellowship in the Tribune and schemulating like a mug. $500,000 no questions asked, no strings attached. Come on, baby!

"The MacArthur Fellows Program awards unrestricted fellowships to talented individuals who have shown extraordinary originality and dedication in their creative pursuits and a marked capacity for self-direction. There are three criteria for selection of Fellows: exceptional creativity, promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment, and potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work.

"The MacArthur Fellows Program is intended to encourage people of outstanding talent to pursue their own creative, intellectual, and professional inclinations. In keeping with this purpose, the Foundation awards fellowships directly to individuals rather than through institutions. Recipients may be writers, scientists, artists, social scientists, humanists, teachers, entrepreneurs, or those in other fields, with or without institutional affiliations. They may use their fellowship to advance their expertise, engage in bold new work, or, if they wish, to change fields or alter the direction of their careers."

Sounds like me to me. But hey, I'm not the one in charge (of cutting the checks anyway).

And wanting it and saying so probably takes me out of the running if I know the non-prophet world (and I thnk I do):

"The Fellows Program does not accept applications or unsolicited nominations."

Note to self: walk around with mouth open a little more. Try to cultivate idiot savant/humble griot thing.

I would write all about it and what I think yoobidie doo, but I'm not getting paid to blog. And I might not get paid to do anything until I bring it with the record. Lord knows y'all ain't exactly snatching up my book. And that took five years. [Just remember that almost no one bought it even at $40. Once it hits that will be a very important example of how people can't even see things they don't want to see--even if/(especially when?) they are the things they say they really really want. Everyone says they want something new and different--trust me, they don't, even/especially those who cry for it the loudest. The truly new and different is THE SAME! --Is ourself, which frightens us more than anything. Our "new and different" battle cry is one of boredom--of hoping to escape ourselves--a demand for entertaiment and relief. How else could half our kids be dressing like a walking graveyards? Once we explore every inch of the new and different we'll be stuck, lovingly, with the eternal sameness/peace that is ourselves. It's not boring, but compared to the push and pull (the drama) of drama it feels like death. And of course, once you find it you have to start doing what you want, which is even more frightening than being yourself (which you can do quietly and out of the way). Doing what you want is full-blown, real time, in front of everyone, tell your family-type stuff.]

But maybe that would take me off the list--not writing to make music to make money. Why don't I have a more complete faith? I could start with the bill I'm supposed to pay today that I couldn't pay yesterday because I had to pay another one, which I couldn't pay earlier in the week because I had to pay another. It's not month to month, or even week to week, this is the financial day to day. If something sells on eBay then I can pay the eBay bill ($200). And the credit card bill mentioned above. The good lord has provided everything I need except about $60 and I have two whole days (minus what I'll probably give at church tomorrow). : )

I really try not to worry about it because I've been led into this place. I would prefer not to not pay bills on time, or even when I get them, but who knows how far faith is supposed to carry us. It was due on a Saturday, so it's likely not even due until Monday. Which means there is still plenty of time for the good lord (and our significant economic engine) to work his magic.

And I fully realize that that is what I want to learn. If we are not to worry about tomorrow's food today then how far does that go? Ever? Really? If we are not to consider financial concerns when making our most important decisions (not to say that we shouldn't endeavor to have our undertakings be profitable, just that we shouldn't be afraid when making decisions), and we have credit at our disposal, then should we not be afraid with it? That is what I'm led to believe. Although I certainly don't recommend getting reckless with it, I live better now than when I had a job and an income. And I am much, much happier. Even when I'm not happy. And that's pretty happy. (Previously I was diagnosed with clinical depression, moderate to severe depending on when I was tested if I remember correctly).

And I believe that everything is working itself out--as I learn what I want. And the farther I go, the more I see that what I want is just to have complete faith. But never worry about anything? Really just do your best and forget it? Just so you can be present to the birds taking a bath on an early fall day while riding home on your bike from the gym? (And why the F didn't I start my post with that gem? --Is it this creep I'm battling about a lousy $800 on eBay with?)

I guess my main question is how much are we worth? What is our attention worth? Both in spiritual currency and economic? (As if they're different--spiritual being faith and economic being fiduciary--trust).

Can I afford not to worry? To enjoy my weekend? Can I afford not to?

Put another way: if I look at the long-term, I have never wanted for a single meal in my life. Never gone without a roof overhead (except by my own hand). Rarely been cold. Rarely been assualted or subjected to physical violence. Rarely been discriminated against (although I certainly have been).

So, why doesn't my mind tend toward relaxation? Why doesn't my physical being naturally relax and feel secure a representative amount of the time? I'm 400% more relaxed, faithful and secure these days than I was, but why not go all the way? Should I believe this incontrovertable fact or the grand or so in present/upcoming expenses? Or the seventy or eighty thousand in mid-term liabilities that I am responsible for (almost insurmountable given my income record--as stated quite clearly on my social security summary--but almost insignificant compared to what I feel my earning potential is)?

Why not be suprised when something bad happens? And forget about it as quickly an anomoly? I know I would be bucking the whole western critical tradition, but hey, I'm willing. Why not believe? And how deep would it go if I did? (Should it go when I do.) Why should even $8,000 cause me a moment's concern? $800,000. $8 mil. Why should I even cross the street for money if it's not what I'm here to do? Wouldn't that devalue me ultimately? Cash out my equity like Eddie Bauer (they used to be real--remember? So did Brooks Brothers, Abercrombie (Hemmingway wore them), and a whole lot of others).

So, if I am interested in building the new--the new real--why flinch at even 20 years of "market underperformance"/dire poverty? If that's what it takes? Why worry for even a second about being alone if that what it takes, and that's where I am right now? (Now we might be getting somewhere).

Maybe that's it--maybe I worry about money so I don't have to think about how much or how long I've been alone? Maybe that's what America is about.

I've been alone most of my life--relationship wise. And this has allowed me to do the work that I never would have been able to do otherwise, and I completely believe that when I can do the same work with someone else around that will be if that's what I want, and--very importantly--this solitude has allowed me, over years and years, to develop a relationship with myself
that is as fulfilling as most I've had with others--more fulfilling if you take the valleys with the peaks.

Does this mean that I advocate being alone or think that it's something to strive for? Not unless that's what you want. I've wanted more pretty much the entire time. But I've wanted more a bunch of the time I've been in relationships as well. And I imagine that that a whole lot of this "more" can really only come from ourselves and our relationship with god.

One of my big realizations around 9/11 came while I was sitting in a Starbucks in Seattle. First of all, sitting in a Starbucks in Seattle, if you come from where I come from (Seattle), is tantamount to eating Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in Italy, but I was tired of the "un"-ness of all the coffeeshops, I had given up on caffeine, and had lost my appetite for the "independent/alternative" in my early 30s just as I had lost my appetite for the "normal/mainstream" when I was a teenager.

So anyway, I was sitting at Starbucks, drinking a cup of tea. Probably not having been with anyone for a while (definitely not intimately, I had a therapist at the time and he was likely the most recent person I had had a thorough conversation with). A song came on--it may have been Willie Nelson--but with a great, almost funk, beat. I sat there listening to the snare and feeling horrible because I felt generally bombed out after 9/11 and all of a sudden I got a little glimmer of something. Boom, chuck, a-boom, chuck.

In general at that time I was trying to figure out how the events of 9/11 were love. Which was of considerable difficulty. I knew that having the buildings there was love, and having the people here was love, but how was having them gone love, and god or an airlines security guard not having prevented it love?

Boom, chuck.





A boom, chuck.

MIles Davis' famous quote about the space between the notes being what he was really playing came into my mind and Bhuuu--LING! It was like the third lemon (or BAR) come up on my slot machine. There would be no beat without silence. There would be no presence without absence.

God was "absent" so that we could live. So that we could love and make choices and be powerful--ourselves. It was because he loved us that he set us free--that we were apart. And it was because he had faith in our abilities to set everything right and live the way we wanted that he let us keep going. Without a single repremand. Without so much as a word or blink (and believe me, by this time I had berated and dared him to speak enough that he probably would have just to straighten me out had it worked).

I didn't need it--we didn't need it--because there wasn't anything wrong with me--or us. And it was only my thinking that there was something wrong that made me look outside myself for authority. And any corrective--any any--authority outside myself--even if it was telling me that I was okay--especially if it was telling me that I was okay--would have had a negative impact on what I wanted to learn--namely, that I didn't need a book, or a teacher, or a guide to live my life, just to listen to what was real with me.

This is why no self-help book can really work. It can suggest, or give you some tools (and no reason not to read it if you're feeling it, btw), but ultimately, you're good. You do know. And outside voices can easily muddy the waters.

And god isn't really self-help. Or, rather, he's so radically self-help that he lets every single action and consequence stand. In it's naked, stark, glory. He knows what works. And what you're capable of! But is so much more interested in getting people the full 9 yards--to the end zone--that he lets them feel it all, rather than coddling them along three or four yards and watching them fumble, punt or go for the field kick out of fear when he pulls back.

And it's more than this. I don't claim to know the limit or level of god's interaction with us. And I now suspect it's on a profoundly deeper and much more constant and much more constantly positive level than this (and have amassed significant personal proof), but this was the answer I needed at the time. And it allowed me to see the love in empty space. In not having squat. In having had a gift taken away. Because before I could only see the love in things. In having things--more things. In presence. In other people. In words and ideas. The silence scared me spitless--but was essential in me letting myself come forward. Even though that was the last thing I "wanted" at the time. It was also the only thing I have ever truly cared about in my life. And the easiest thing in the world to avoid with all the access to information and entertainment that I had. Or even more significantly, because those are only external mirrors--with all the drama and noise I insisted on creating and holding tightly inside of myself.

I also started to realize why we so undervalued love in our society. How the hell could we measure and pay for leavng each other alone? Who would pay more for better spaces between the beats? It seems so blatant now that people with money would pay for tv programming or a magazine with no (or just very specific--their choice) ads, but we can't even see a movie in a theatre without 15 minutes of ads and trailers before it. We have control over everything EXCEPT the most inane, crass and stupid aspects of our culture. To have a more loving economy in full bloom, we'll have to be much more confident and much less needy. (Why is it harder to turn off the radio and put on a CD than visa versa? Because you're going off the grid--entering solitude--leaving the land where someone could--but probably won't--surprise you with something new and wonderful and entering the land where you'll have to do it yourself.)

We'll need to be sure of what we want and take full responsiblity for seeking it out and bringing it into being. (And have faith that we are able). I'm not saying that we do this by ourselves, or even as individuals, or without god's help, but for everything created and consumed there must be an authority--someone responsible. This goes for feelings, artwork, junk mail, goods and services, trash, byproducts, solitude, and ideas. We can say god willed it, or inspired me, but we have to take ultimate responsibility as his actors/interpretors here on earth. Programmers can't hide behind audiences or shareholders. But neither can consumers hide behind what's inexpensive or available!

I'm wandering a bit, a sure sign it's time for lunch--but I still take full responsibility for everything I say. : )

My final point is that the lengthy solitude, and lengthy financial distress that it takes to learn such things is most likely just a transitional phase. There is no reason that young people can't grow up with being themself as a value and skill and there's no reason why these hard-won ideas (like not being afraid what something you truly desire costs) can't become commonplace--so commonplace that you wouldn't need to go anywhere to find them. And so commonplace that parents pass them down as values to children and society financially rewards them. (Wait, then people would joyfully pursue them as vocations--gasp!)

Bigger picture, what this means, I believe, is that we'll be in relationships that more accurately mirror the long-term state of love (and faith and financial security and spiritual health). I didn't set out once to be alone for a minute, but I'm happy to be so as long as it bears significant fruit. One of the reasons I've done what I've done is so that my partner and children will never see some of the things that I've seen. They may certainly have other things of their own to see, and I hope to share the beauty I've seen with them, but if it's in my power to turn malaria and polio into grassy fields and parks, then I really don't care what it costs. These relationships may feel a little wierd, or be a little frightening to get into compared to what we're used to, but they should reap unbelieveable benifits both individualy and socially.

(These are my next questions--to what degree does physical attraction lead us to love? Does our physical attraction change as we mature spiritually? Can we realy have everything we want? I've been staring at these suckers so long I can't even remember. Probably since high school. Make that 6th grade. Lots of good stuff left to learn!)

I'm off to Vietnamese food. Tank on Broadway. Number 10 I believe. If they call me on Tuesday (even to let me know I was in the running) I'll post a full report!!!!!! :)

Fusion

If fision--the splitting of atoms to make power--came to being in the west, with it's years and years of practice in taking things apart and applying doubt and seeking proof methodically, then maybe fusion will come from the east, with their great well of belief?

I've believed for a while that to unlock fusion, which promises to all but solve the world's energy problems and likely a number of its social ones, scientists will have to apply methods and approaches they have learned outside of science. But it may even be a spiritualist of some sort applying science to belief.

To me it makes perfect sense that to learn how to bring two particles together in an essential way, one will have to know volumes about attraction, love, magnetism, etc.

For this reason I believe it may take a methodology past reason and the critical method. And maybe even a method past methodology. They'll have to pay their scientific dues, no doubt, but they'll throw something in at the last minute, for fun--whatever--and bingo.

Then there's also the matter of getting the world ready to wield that much power. As it's likely that fusion will be generated on a distributed grid, if there are people still more interested in settling old grudges or messing with others than in taking care of the business of improving/living their own life, things will get ugly quick. I imagine the bombs will make fertilizer bombs look like mud pies.

I think that that is what the oil world order is preparing us for--a world where energy is cheap and plentiful. Where literally, everyone is powerful.

So what's to learn?

Well, those of us that are already wealthy and still hungry will probably have to learn to relax and enjoy what we have. If we were any more powerful in the west, we'd probably have consumed the entire rainforest and each have our own cheapo plane, helicopter, car, boat, etc. It wouldn't need to be the exhaust that got us in trouble--it could easily be the packaging and materials needed to make and replace them all.

I believe we need to learn to a) relax and enjoy what we have--understand the difference between being rich and feeling rich--(this doesn't mean that stop, by the way, just that we go for what we want withouth regard to finances or economics--step out on faith again and again), which leads naturally to.. b) create and consume with faith--so that we don't end up with loads of shoddy junk in landfills. So that we are employed making things we care about. So that we're happy. So that we get the damn couch and forget about couces for the rest of our lives, not jjust four years. We feel so guilty about creation and consumption that we find it hard to produce and buy what we really, really want--which is usually high quality goods/services/content. The most used line: I can't afford it. In my fuzzy economics, if people afforded what they really wanted, they a) wouldn't have so much money to buy the stuff they will throw out in a year and a half when they grow a bit and b) wouldn't care or want to spend the time looking for that junk. This is beyond fashion to style. Are you really going to wear those in 5 years? I know once I started making what I really, really wanted (and I needed some very expensive tools to do so), my time became really valuable to me. And mediocre movies, fashionable pants, and the link became really uninteresting. I still wanted beautiful clothes and surroundings but I was find to either make due or go all in for something I believed in.

Plus--the biggest problem in my opinion--getting us all there. If we all start out buying (and making) the cheap stuff and had to work our way up like we do with couches or magazines or shoes, we'll have a world of garbage left behind. If we find a way to build and buy high quality, repairable and upgradeable goods, services, content we might have a chance. Make and buy fewer, better things. (And a bit of re-use, reduce recycle). Assumming we learn how to share. And assumming we're also spending our time doing what we really, really want. And riding our bikes to work when we want to. And living close enough to do so when we want to. Etc.

As for the other side--it's really not my place to say what the rest of the world needs. But I imagine the temptations of new money and power are as significant as those of old. (Honestly, I'm ready for the challenges of either). I think that the reason we over here like to go visit "over there" and folks over there seem as interested in working "over here" is that we have a lot to learn from each other about living and working. And we're each led by what interests us. Inspires us.

One thing that commerce does wonderfully is bring the world together and start a discussion. What it's about is up to the people. The process often looks like making hot dogs, but I think it yields t-bones.

We're literally sewing the world back together. I, for one, am happy that we have everything out on the table. I feel that's progress.

Quote

"Rare content can be sold at a higher price."

--Alex Rofman, Snocap VP

Here It Comes..

Walkin down the street..

Snocap is teaming up with Myspace to allow MP3s to be sold from Myspace pages.

The kicker, baby?!

Sno cap will charge a flat rate of .45 a song--the artist can charge--and keep--whatever they want.

Here is comes, baby!

Just remember--you heard it first here on White G. You can't imagine how lovely a culture this will produce once it is embraced. Imagine an adult culture eight times richer than our youth culture (that's how much more money we have, right?--we just don't have any artists willing to forgo healthcare and braces for their kids to pay the dues it requires to get funk-eya. So youth artists either "grow up" and stop production or maintain a relatively permanent, relatively youthful outlook and demeanor in their productions. And us old folks guiltily watch and reminisce on em.)

Now we're gonna get the real thing. I'm thinking around $14 a song. Call me whatever you want (I've probably heard it before), but that's a bargain for what it costs to produce. $80K for college (back in the day), ten years in the counter-culture, five years to write a book, $50K in credit card debt, four years looking for work, $800,000 in lost wages (give or take), another $25K and nine months to start a business to support me while I do the dang thing.

And the emotional and physical cost has been even higher. I'm not trying to say I had it rough, just that I understand why there aren't many folks out here. Working on an indigineous mainstream culture. The path to get here alone is brutal, let alone the work. Though it's an unbelieveable joy when you're right there. And I'd do the same thing if I never made a dime. You see that my book flopped so hard I had to move back in with my mom and I'm still rolling. That's a bit to swallow at 39--after not having produced anything that got any love--sub-culture or mainstream--after 15 years of chopping.

(The book will rise, BTW, but I underdstand that folks may not feel it until the music drops--or later--either way it's got nothing to do with me. Thank god I didn't get big off the book. I was already starting to think I was a writer--and to be a good writer I had to stay in the world of the mind. To make music--and really be happy--I believe, it's better to be in the world of the body. There's still plenty of thinking but you feel-think first and think-feel second. I still find it hard to believe that folks will spend $500 for a workshop where an expert will help them "heal"/"frame" the question--if such a thing is possible--but they won't drop $120 on a book living it/answering the damn thing. But then again, other people's consumption habits have nothing to do with me. I probably would have convinced myself I couldn't afford the one thing that would "save" my life too--especially at a buck twenty--the good lord knows I sold out a whole lot cheaper than that!)

The good news is that we're one step closer (two if you count the beat I'm working on--I believe it's the first aural, and most direct example to date of what I've been talking about and working towards for the last 10 (25?) years).

&Nd ain't nothing like the real thing, baby. Ain't nothin like the real thing..

Love art wil have it's day.

In case I haven't been hammering my basic point enough lately--here's a post I put up over at Gearslutz. I'm making premium mass culture. My book The Love Artist is the prototype and I'm working on the audio component as we speak. The book is $120. The music will be roughly $10 a song. That me.


The original post was about how lame the MTV video awards were or the current state of music:

MTV and the radio is about as good as free music is going to get. If you want better--it's quite simple--make it yourself (and offer it up for whatever price you desire) or pay someone else to make it. At .99 a download and a relentless tour schedule and a gang of record label bs the only way to make decent money, it's not to difficult to understand that many caring, intelligent, talented adults aren't interested in paying the dues it takes to master the craft.

We have an antiquated view of art being magically divorced from commerce--which is like the pastor at the crumbling church refusing to ask for money or change what he's saying because he doesn't deal with such earthly matters. Ultimately it doesn't matter if he deals with them or not, because they'll deal with him.

Can you imagine running the space program (or even a computer company) on a similar setup as the music industry? With similar job security, working conditions, benefits, retirement and risk/benefit ratios? You'd get nothing (except for possibly some dead astronauts or faulty motherboards)--but you wouldn't be surprised. (You'd probably be on your way to Aruba!)

With the money so tight we get great music that--suprise--is either very angry about the existing business structure or very concerned with making money. Or a marketing scheme. We get what we pay for. Name another field where someone will labor harder to make something superlative and absorb the extra cost so that it will cost the same as the lower quality competition? Are they still in business? And would more or less individuals attracted to that field with that kind of competition and inability to differentiate your quality?

Ironically, if we really cared about music more than commerce, we'd be happy to reward artists for the radical risk it takes to produce something of merit. And if we really wanted better music and better artists we'd be begging iTunes to raise their prices on the good stuff! And in doing so, ironically, we'd generate a whole slew of artists who probably wouldn't adapt either an anti- or pro-money pose. Because they wouldn't have to appeal to such a huge audience to make money--so they'd be able to afford more subtle distinctions.

Nothing that five or ten years and $2, $5 and $10 songs couldn't cure. Us artists have plenty of work to do as well. But there's way too many folks out here with tons of money and no decent music, movies, magazines or TV to consume for it not to happen eventually. Sooner or later we'll either start buying what we want or pay the dues to make it.

It still sounds good today. Hallelujah! It ain't done but lightning finally struck!

Grammy

I just made my first grammy possible beat. Who knows how it'll sound tomorrow, but I'd put it up against my favorites tonight (Dre, Timbaland, Kanye, Pharrell). I'm growing.

Ze Matrix

There's a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.

--Morpheus

The God Effect

I'm not going to lie, today I want to crack on a mo-folker. But that must be my opportunity. To turn that boat around midstream. Even if I get completely ganked (and everything else I can imagine bad happens) it isn't worth wasting a day on. Or even a minute. Same with that guy on the freeway and that bilboard obviously put up by godless children wielding considerable amounts of power.

So instead, I'll choose as my topic the god effect.

The God Effect is the title of a new book by a guy named Brian Clegg (I believe--like any good blogger, why check your sources?). I haven't read it, but that's never stopped me before either. In a sense, folks are too smart now to have to read an entire non-fiction book. They can move pretty slow. Okay, I haven't read anything but the title and back page (and the Amazon blurb). That won't stop me either.

The author claims not to know why he named it The God Effect, but maybe I can help in that regard. His book is about a particle so elemental it's called the god particle. The effect happens to it. He claims he called it The God Effect for dramatic, sales, reasons, but I think it's much bigger than that.

The jist of the effect is that these elemental particles can become so interconnected that even if a connected pair are separated across the galaxy, a change to one registers instantaneously in the other.

I don't believe this is new because I've heard about this before. It seemed clear (instantaneously, btw) when I hear it before that this was how it all worked--god and stuff. Whatever else there is that we can feel, know to be true but can't quite pin down. Humans have been trying to describe this condition for millenia, so let me give it my two cents.

I believe that the universe once existed in a state of relative perfection. Maybe all matter/energy/magic/stuff was one, maybe not. It didn't really matter as it was perfect. No one really cared. It was like lying in a perfect temperature milk bath all day. And never having to sweep or cut your toenails.

Actually it was a lot more than that. Imagine constant, permanent orgasm. Probably non-sexual (why would you have to chase anyone down and worry when they got a bad haircut? And why would the feelings be localized or connected to anything in time or space?). Just chilling (or should I say warming), never even having enough knowledge of separation or want to have any anxiety or doubt about it.

So after forever (time wouldn't have any reason to exist in this condition), it might occur to this big, blissed out sphere of pure warm light (for example), that it knew everything, had everything and loved everything--except imperfection.

Think about it. You're a rich kid (like I was, like most of us are/were) and know you can never realy fail. Even if you really fuck up. You literally couldn't become homeless unless you spent a lot of time and work alienating your friends and family and a lot of time bored making sure you didn't produce anything valuable or amount to anything. Now take it to another level--no matter what you did, your life was perfect. Nothing ever could separate you from your source--from perfect love.

Now imagine you're disembodied (why have a body? it's just maintenance?). And floating along perfectly happy and in perfect harmony with everything that exists. Wouldn't there come a day when you wanted to be tested? Wouldn't there come a day when you wanted to know what else? When you wanted to taste the apple? Wouldn't you want everything?!

And what if, to do this, you had to create a way that you wouldn't be safe for a while(you don't want to be a dilettante or a dabbler do you?)--or at least wouldn't be safe until you had learned what you wanted to learn, at which point you would be endlesssly and permanently safe no matter where or what you were. Wouldn't you create the world? Wouldn't you create a body that needed attention? (Some folks say that we are creating a way to be embodied perfection instead of disembodied perfection, the former being much preferable cuz we can feel stuff and enjoy more certainty--with more oomph! We can feel it! Compare real sex with a supermodel (who is a true joy) to thinking about it and jackin'--or real cheesecake to a perfectly airbrushed photo. Not that I have anything against any of these--models, masturbation, cheesecake or airbrushing--just that I know my preferences in a heartbeat. Actually I don't find many current models very attractive so it'd have to be the woman from Pussycat Dolls with more time and relaxation and less travel than I imagine her and broccoli--now you know me all the way).

Anyway.

To gain this state of perfection PLUS (plus being full knowledge of hangovers, kinky wierd sex, death and decay, wobbly planets, decadent debauchery, and impotence--everything else)--to attain this beyond eternal perfection state, wouldn't you erase all but a hint of your former perfection and explode into perfect shards that would have to walk the ends of the earth to put themselves back together? (Remember, in your perfect state you also have complete faith!!!!! And you know that only love exists and only love can exist--and that it will all be over in the blink of an eye--no matter how many millions are crushed under the wheel, murdered, tortured, raped and maimed, no matter how feverently we will demand (to ourselves) that we (god) have abandon ourtselves and that our true nature is evil, ugliness, death and decay.

Why wouldn't you devote a few million years to learning everything you didn't know. Learning to love imperfection, hate, and shortcomings. Learning about learning--the only thing you've never experienced? You wouldn't be afraid of a stubbed toe would you? Or getting cut from toe to nose and being left to the buzzards? If you knew where you were going once you cried uncle? If you knew what comfort was available to you even on earth if you just dropped all that which you wanted to drop anyway? You've already spent several billion times that long being everything else?

And to truly learn about imperfection--separation, illness, war, loss, mayhem, slopiness, hurt feelings, spilt milk, pain, limited talent, and the like--wouldn't you have to create and believe in time? That things could go away and never come back. or deteriorate. Even though you knew that nothing real ever so much as sneezes, let alone lose a flake of dandruff, let alone go away forever?

And wouldn't you have to create a place where you would have limited time--but almost limitless chances--to become more whole? Where you had other things to do? That seemed very pressing. Where a lack of faith ruled but also hurt like nothing else? Wouldn't you make it take your whole life and require giving it everything you had and then some? Every ouce of everything you could muster? (And then seem easy once it was done). Wouldn't you want it to?

Where union and re-union was like a shot in the arm? And like walking on air when done so well it could be done more often?

Isn't this what you'd do? If you were an all-knowing creative force who believed life into being--and wanted to know even more? Who wanted the one thing he didn't have--experience? Who wanted to not only know but feel? Isn't this what you'd do?

Now, of course, you couldn't really tarnish anything that was pure--so you'd have to establish kind of a set up--some sort of fake boot camp where it looked like the obstacles were real. And the penalties severe. And you'd have to send the recruits in somewhat brainwashed--or at least open, trusting and clear--blank slates. After a generation or two, the drill seargents--believing in their own self-created reality--and the loving mandate of their task--would see that they didn't just happen to grow up loving and purely pure--as their nature would want to. [Cause then they'd just sit down in the middle of the fire or walk in front of a car anyway--and what fun would that be for all those other folks who really, really want to travel and have fires that don't smell like burning flesh? --Which is what we're here to learn--how to be both corporeal (real, with free will) and wield power.]

And being real, exercising your free will and having power is what you want. And who you are. It's what you do. It's your true nature. And when you are living in concert with your true nature you cannot help but be a beacon of that inevitable coming back together that every religion, prophet, and overturned stone talks about. To speed its happening and be it already happened.

And of course the drill seargents come for your ass once you start to bling. That's their job. And it's either you or them that's employed (dammit!). They have their whole life invested in their way of seeing things. And so often when they got serious, when they asserted themselves, we've been ready to back down. To only be happy and loving (and insist upon integrity) when the coffee was good, the sun was out, our bank account was full, we were getting (or going to get) some. (Being happy and loving and in integrity for these reasons are all well within the drill seargeant's mandate, btw. They don't even start drawing a paycheck until true no-reason love comes along. Then they go straight to combat pay.)

And what if the drill seargents so truly loved you that they didn't even care if you were mad for a year, or scarred for a "life"--if it brought you one speck--one iota closer to understanding--to feeling and living as a practical embodiment--of that which you are. And to the reality that you don't need any of that to be happy. (Though you may certainly want it--in which case you'll defiinitely get it. The remaining question being once you get it, how can you be happy having it?)

Or what if they had already tried feeding, clothing and loving your ass every day (for a few generations) and that didn't work? What if they had already given you the time and inspiration to physically do that which you most want to do and you didn't do it. Or did it for a year and a half until the other drill seargeants got annoying and you got tired and pitched it cause you thought you weren't any good? What if they had walked up to you and delivered love for free, or removed vile hatred from your life--and you still didn't get it. What should they do?

How should god reach us? How shoudl we reach us? Should we make it easier or harder on ourselves? Should we coddle us or crack down? Should we make it appear to be darker or appear more peaceful? Give ourselves more creature comforts or start pulling on the pillow under our atrophying butts?

From where I sit (in my mother's basement, thank you very much) (and I do pay rent, pay my bills, cook my food, wash my clothes, clean, mow the lawn, etc, btw).. From where I sit, that's exactly what's happening. Whatever is in front of me today is the exact right thing. That doesn't mean I'm supposed to ignore it or get all worked up, it doesn't mean I'm supposed to be nice or kick it's ass--it doesn't mean anything--except that what I want to learn, to be the person I want to be and to live the life I want to live and to get to the place I want to go (cause I'm definitly not a Buddhist--Oh the places I'll go, my friends) (tho, I'm not really a true Christian either--I know how to sit and enjoy essentially--and believe me I can sit)--and I know somewhere that only by learning all these damn things--everything--and enjoying the process--can I both be here and move to there happily.

This re-unification, this re-membering (forgetting the dis-memberment?) is inevitable. Because the separation never really even happened. But to sit around and wait for it ain't no good. That'll only delay it. And it denies that our nature is holy--and we can live the exact way we want! And to give up our lives to work for its arrival isn't the answer either--cause then we ignore that we are already where we want to be--right now. The answer is right down the freaking middle. [And if you don't believe there's enough room for an entire universe between the left/right, East/West, conservative/liberal, dominant/submissive, control/creative demarkations of this world then my breath is wasted.] Go check out whatever extremes appeal to you (that's what I did)--I'll meet you back in the loving center.

It's both being who we are and doing what we want that we save the world/ourselves. And the action/state of being is a singular thing. It's not either/or it's and/and! (Which is not to say that some of those "yeses" aren't loud and firm "nos".

Our actions are as holy as the rest of this world--as butterflys and hurricanes and baby seals--and to think that we won't be doing something we really, really, really want to do as we get more evolved is freakin' blewey. We'll be doing what we want, where we want, when we want to. As time and desire allow. Or by definition, the world ain't saved!

So what does this have to do with the god effect? The god effect is the practical, scientific tool of us being perfect and somewhere else and here at the same time. There may even be multiple "here's", with different levels of struggle/knowledge/peace/enjoyment. Some new agers think there's another earth we'll beam to when we're ready, but I think we better plan on sticking to this one for a while. Committing to what's right in front of me is the only way I've ever gotten to the next level anyway (even when I was wrong).

We get drunk and spin around here, we knock a vase off the table over there. They don't really care--it doesn't bust their flow--it's still perfectly broken--but we--both here and there--actually wanted those flowers for the few more days they were going to be alive. And really liked that vase. More importantly, we never for a second thought that the boss's rebuke was worth messing up a Friday evening running from. Or worth wasting a Saturday morning recovering from. Or a Sunday evening dreading dealing with. But we also know that going through those feelings is the only way to be a person who doesn't give it much thought. And that that's the only way to be self-employed. or the VP in charge of sales--whichever you like. (Hell, telling the boss how you really feel--when based in fact of course--can be the quickest way to healthy promotion. You could have skipped four years work with the proper five minutes of "feeling your fear and doing it anyway". You can't imagine how tired he is of being in charge all the time. He's literally dying to have somone lead from below him--ignore his authority.)

And both here and there we know that, in the bigger scheme of things, the whole shebang--the entire month of August/job in Kentucky/your forties ain't nothing but a little bitty fleck of plankton--begging us to hose it off our second toe.

On our way to meet our favorite people ever at the world's biggest, best and most beautiful fish fry ever.

Peese!