Go Long

Okay. I think I'm starting to get a bit of perspective.

It's my understanding that you can't get over. That is, you can't say, oh I'll drink just a little coffee and somehow skip out on the feelings of being tired and maybe needing to relax, and then wake up the next day like nothing ever happened (or be as alive and present as you want later in the day).

If you could somehow moderate unconsciousness, then why not just be a junkie, cheat on your wife, watch porn all day, etc. Why ever do what you want that is hard or takes time and energy to accomplish. If god is really like a big safety net. (Which is not to say that any of those things are bad--if they ware what you really, really want--and is not to say that god is not at times a complete safety net, or that much refuge can be found in him).

My cousin, who I trust implicitly on matters of natural health and the like, once told me that when you're getting better, there's what's called a healing crisis, right before you heal that looks and feels like you're getting worse. And I've experienced this. It's a little like the darkest night right before the dawn syndrome.

Another way I've come to understand it is that what goes up must come down--that everything that goes in must come out.

So, if you think your life is boring and need a little affair or some casual sex to spice it up--when what you really want is to be connected in a real way with someone, but don't believe that that can or is happening fast enough --if you believe this, chuck your faith and understanding that you are in control of your life and can make what you want and start to settle --then at some point, like drinking a six-pack, or using cheap materials when building your house--you must revisit it.

We (I) often feel that this is the universe punishing us, but in reality, I believe that we would much rather have it this way. The positive benefits of getting to feel something positive and having faith twice, must be/is radical. When you're on your way up, there's nothing like having a wind at your back. And it's probably worth it in the long run to have lame (lower energy) stuff, things we don't really want but often convince ourselves are the only option, hurt twice as much as they "should". Even though we're usually even more hurt up and lonely when the second wave of feeling it comes.

The trick, then is not to fall for it. Stay focussed. Stay in faith about what you want and how you want it. Let the fact that it has been long in coming inform our certainty that it has never been closer to us then it is right then.

And just like the only way out of sugar, or porn, or casual sex, to the intimacy and love and relaxation and self-enjoyment we crave is through sugar cravings, porn cravings, and the craving for more casual sex--the only way back to ourselves--to the life we want--is through whatever un-ease/dis-ease we feel.

And I think that we can go straight through it or wander around in it a bit.

Lord help me go straight through.

And I should say here that I don't think that sex is bad, not at all, it's just that we want real sex. We want sexy and juicy sex. A real connection. We want a meeting of like souls, hearts and minds. Not a drunk and embarrassed one-off.

This kind of connection can be frightening. It can engulf your whole being. But that's no reason not to jump into it. Or maintain your poise and saunter over to investigate. The reason it feeds so many dreams is that it's one of the main reasons we're here. But I think that in our (my) attempts to make it safe, to loose the uncertainty that can be attached to living that way, we settle for--whatever the word is meaning manufactured or simulated representations, half truths, partners and work experiences that tickle our notions of the real but never fully engage us.

And then, with luck and dogged perseverance, we fight our way back through our half-choices, made out of a lack of faith and a stunted notion of "reality" to what we really want. And find out that it was available to us from the start(?!). If we had only had the guts to step straight to it.

And the road can feel nightmarish because we not only have to address out lack of faith, but also revisit every instance where we made that concrete though our diet, lack or surplus of physical activity, our choices about where and how we live, when and if we choose to relax, when and how we choose to act, etc.

But I surmise that we wouldn't agree to live in a universe structured any other way.

Which I guess is a very long winded way of saying it's exactly when you think you're starving to death that the universe you previously created brings you what you claimed you wanted last time you were feeling hurt--an unsuitable lover, a chocolate cake, an expensive distraction to your financial concerns, whatever. And it seems like it would be the best thing ever. The most glamorous and delightful. Pop in and pop out.

It's the door that's open and a guaranteed 5. You've opened so many other doors that had nothing but a 3--some were even empty.

But what if the evidence of a 5 was proof in and of itself? The result of a prosperous universe working in harmony with the way you were living and gaingin momentum for the 9.3 or whatever that you were destined to enjoy ONCE YOU WERE STRONG ENOUGH TO HANDLE IT?

What if there were a 7 and 8.2 coming up that you had to meet, feel and discern? Cause the rest of the world isn't going anywhere after you get with the 9.3--job, wife, house, etc. You're going to be all happy or have a bad day and the rest of the 8.2 world (8.2 for you, not necessarily universally) is stil lgoing to be there. And you're going to shine like the sun. Because you're not afraid of the work. Or the feelings. Or the uncertainty. Because you have faith.

And you know how to turn it into concrete results.

What if that?

All I know is, to do a Hail Mary, you've got to have five guys downfield and have the QB throw up the impossible pass. You've got to put it all on the line again across the board.

If all you need, or want is a first down, or two yards, if where you are is close to what you want, then just run a draw. But if you can barely imagine what it will take. If who you really are isn't even represented inside your current stadium of understanding.

Then you're going to have to go long, throw it as far as you can and hope you've said your prayers.

This isn't to win, but to find out who you are. And what you're capable of. And to enjoy all that you are capable of enjoying.

And it may be that we don't even know how good it can get. There's a great line in The Prestige (said by Tesla, played by David Bowie, btw) that it's not that our reach exceeds our grasp, but that our grasp exceeds our imagination.

Stay tuned and you'll know. I'll either go international after doing the end run of the last century or so, or I'll be here, blogging to you, from the cement floored, flooding prone basement of my mom's house.

My money's on the latter.

(ps: I guess it would also make sense for the temptations to get larger/stronger/more elemental as you became more yourself or got into touch with larger, more deeply rooted beliefs--and also had already trained by and displayed great courage in dispatching your lesser fears with a steamroller-like tenacity.)

Lord have mercy. So this is why people shut off. It's too much. Just relaxing into it. Love, sex, money. All holy, but is there any need to discern, edit, or squash a well embodied feeling? Are ther pre-urges? That warm you up for the main event but would prove distractions if followed through?

Or is it like my dream the other day mentioned and even actions that feel distasteful or harsh (I was throwing someone out of the car for not wearing a seatbelt, on her way out, she mentioned that she had back problems) have positive consequencees. The walk brought her by something she wanted.

By the way, my dreams aren't all about epic subjects. Sometimes they give me very simple directions: "take potash--but every day and not a couple times a week like you do with other stuff after a few weeks" (I later found out potash was potassium), and my recent favorite, "Wear real shoes". So I had been wearing clog-like things for a while. They're comfortable. But ultimately a bit like going out in sweats I imagine.

I'm paying attention. One of the most important ways we pay to create exactly the life we want. And another place where you see clearly that there is no getting over. There is no shortcut or bargain route to what you want. (Not that there aren't sales, windfalls, inheritances, etc.) But there is no getting over on what's really going on. It pulls us all back to it's comforting breast sooner or later. One way or another.

Lov.

Do You Believe in Magic?

Oh shit, it is Bowie as Tesla in The Prestige.

Radical confluence of god winks there.

Radical.

In fact I'd say that's a plain old tip of the hat. All slight of hand being dispensed with by the old gem.

This is much deeper than we can fathom.

Tesla was a genius by the way. And he either went crazy or he knew how to transmit electricity wirelessly in the early part of the last century.

Tesla, the one with his name on the patent plaque on Niagra Falls. The one who discovered alternating current and made the transmission of energy through wires possible. The AC motor, the radio, your cell phone, flourescent lights, the spark plug. That guy.

Enjoy that Love

I'm always surprised how much better my life can get. How much better it can feel. Remember when you used to build forts when you were a kid? Or maybe you still pull the covers up over your head sometimes.

That's what we're supposed to feel like walking around. It takes some doing, of course, and some maintenance, but it's like having coffee, heroin, sleeping pills, andt-depressants and anti-anxiety medication naturally at your disposal. And unlike many I am certain that nothing needs to change politically or socially before this is widely available. In fact, I understand it as our birth right.

In fact of fact, I don't think our politics or social situations, or even our relationships get much better before we do. We're leading the way, not Washington, not the middle east, not Hamas, not anyone--we are. And they respond to us.

And it can/will/is turning on a dime.

I had a great dream last night that Will and Grace were having sex in a church--to show the congregation that that was holy. I stepped up to the front and put a few things on the altar and everyone was aghast--sacrelidge!

I started saying that at one point every thing on earth--every group of people, ethnicity, sex, economic status, education level, race and age had been told they were unholy. That every one of us in the church knew what it felt like to be told that, but that it wasn't true. That everything was holy. Even the things that person x, y, or z thought were unholy.

I like that image of Will and Grace. Not the tv show, but the western world as will--it's uses and abuses (still holy, just perhaps not as enjoyable), and the east as grace--beautiful and also horrifying at times. And them getting down right in front of everyone.

I'm not going to lie, I didn't even want to particularly see it. I have my own unholy catagories like anyone else.

But I have also seen first-hand. Felt. How hold union is. And how crucial a part of what we are doing it is. It's no mistake that the most popular artists of the last 100 years, world wide, have been charged with bringing sex out of the dark into the light. Often using holy, church rhythms. And getting kicked out of their homes proverbial and literal for it. Ray Charles, very overtly, Al Green, and just about everyone else.

Sex is also the most powerful of powers, so it didn't come easily. Many of these artists were burned by it. Some consumed. It takes a radical discipline to enjoy the freedom that we have available to us. And a radical freedom to keep the discipline from making us so uptight that we loose our groove thing in trying to moderate it.

That's pretty much the history of white folks right there. And probably speaks to a lot of why we love black folks so much, but often can't admit it. We've got the will, but need some grace. Which requires the relaxing and slowing we so desperately crave, buy magazines about daily, but find so elusive in practice. (As if we weren't going to be here every moment anyway).

It must have been really hard to get the crop in before the winter came. And really scary. For a long time.

I was raised, not necessarily overtly, but almost absolutely, to believe that what you wanted was a sin. That what you wanted would leave you penniless. That a Plan B could provide a decent life. That it was possible to work a Plan B while somehow committing enough to Plan A (that's what I'm going to name my magazine, btw) to make it happen. That Plan B was safe.

And I certainly accept that I may have taken this advice more deeply to heart than many. Even most. But i took it. I swallowed the whole thing.

And I wanted to on many levels. It was safe. It could be moderated. It meant that I wouldn't have to live real time, be wrong (gasp), take chances, put it all on the line and reliant on who I was to pull it off. Plan B meant I didn't have to bet on myself.

This post isn't about sex yet. Maybe money is foreplay.

My greatest fear in life was that I didn't love the right people. That my physical attraction wouldn't lead me, couldn't lead me, to my highest self--to god.

It's almost a cliche, but in a very real way I thought the male sex was backward. That our "way" didn't work. That physical attractin, assertiveness, and being clean were all (I read the term in a story about a feminist yesterday or I never would have remembered it) military-industrial constructions.

What the fuck does that even mean?

I can still remember very clearly being made fun of when at the age of 11, or 13 or something, coming across a bra ad in a newspaper and saying, very naturally, almost involuntarily "Focus, Focus". Whoever was in the room, or in the next room made fun of me and what had been a normal appreciation went straight to shame. I took me another 25 years and two-thirds the way through my book to write "I like fucking". A bit crude out of context, but a real expression nonetheless.

I have no idea where I got the actual idea that desire was a dead end inhabited by moping romantics deemed "hopeless" but I definitely did.

I can also tell you where I got the idea that this whole thing could work if done properly. That life could be just about perfect if approached in the right way.

It was while I was fucking.

I was also making love, because I was in love, but the fucking aspect was not absent at all. It was not necessarily tender, although its lack of Halmark type sentiment, it's lack of premeditation and affectation made it even more love-ing and love-ly. And not just from my side, although I didn't really know that I didn't have to check at the time, my sentiments were very strongly corroberated.

It was a coming together without falling into each other. (At least from my side, I don't know what she was doing). And it wsa then that I realized that love could be done by one's self. Not by one's self as in alone, but from one side. That if I was completely willing to be myself as long and as hard as I humanly could, then that would naturally result in a radical, identical opportunity for the other person as well.

But I couldn't ask for permission. I just had to do it.

And that that was what the other person wanted me to do (as long as I was being myself)--even if she said something else. Sometimes especially when she said something else.

It was in that relationship that I also realized that it was possible to remain yourself in a relationship. Necessary even. And that that would almost necessarily cause some thrashing and drama from the other person. As their lower, "I want someone to save me, I think I'm tired of being myself" viewpoint did battle with their higher self.

My friend Leonard once told me that love was the most powerful and supreme addiction. Essentially that it needed to be conquered.

And I took some brilliant insights from Leonard (and fought some epic battles on the basketball court with him). His notion that we much give and be willing to give ourselves the attention that we so desire from other people is spot on. And a beautiful way to feel the attention we desire--both from ourselves and from others.

But I don't agree that love is an addiction. Notions surrounding love may be our greatest barrier, but the love at the center is as pure as it gets. That's the real thing that all the other addictions--soft and hard--are both trying to emulate and keeping us from!

Love is the greatest teacher. And the purest form of knowledge. One that surpasses head knowledge. Makes certainty and routine spontaneous. Makes us love staying home--with ourselves. Brings us back to ourselves. And god.

But you've got to keep going. If you stop at the marriage and declining sex you're done for. The greatest knowledge is in the sex act itself. And it takes your whole body. And training.

And I don't believe you can just do it THROUGH SEX. YOU CAN'T, for example, skip yourself, skip doing what you are craving to do with your life every day and jump into bed and fix stuff no matter how good you are. Or maybe "in tune" is a better word.

But doing what you most want to do every day--being yourself without fear--and this includes the fear of losing your mate, or being ridiculed by your mate--is just about perfect practice for the power you need to approach the loveli-est of all lovlies without fear.

Back to the story, this relationship ended just about the time my father passed away, and, although, as I mentioned before, I thought I was prettty good--overt--about processing emotions, I think I may have stuffed a bunch of it. Otherwise I most likely wouldn't revisit it here or anywhere else.

It was a powerful relationship. In many ways it felt like we fit. Although I also felt like it was a stretch for me at the time. She was in a number of ways, more powerful than I. Or I believed so and in so doing made it so.

The highs were unreal. And I'd been in love before. And the earlier stuff didn't even rate. And the lows were dead weight. It was my sense the whole time that if I could just even it out. If I could just maintain, it could be unbelievable. For a long time.

But I'm not trying to reminisce here. I just want the truth. If I could really do it all from my side, if by being myself I could be unleaveable, how did it end?

I let her crack me. Guys, you know you can't get left unless you get cracked, right? This is why the myth about women being attracted to assholes is so true. They don't want a push-over, no matter what they say. They certainly don't want to sleep with a push-over. That I can guarantee. But in this bi-frucated, polarized world, we men are taught that we have to choose between being a jerk and being nice. Not true. Not even close.

I was doing fine through the "break-up". I let her get mad and say all the stuff she wanted to say. I let her be in charge of her own destiny and call the shots. I didn't say "baby, please" once. I said okay, if that's what you want.

It was about two weeks later. (I told you she was strong). Right when her ego would have cracked for being aggressive and destroying instead of asking for what it really wanted and creating. I was dazed and confused, on the ropes if you will, and I came up with a reason. Beware the reason.

And armed with that "reason" I convinced myself that me "helping" her--my natural lower self, that also loves to put itself in control and know what's wrong with everyone--would somehow be able to fix stuff. It makes me wince just to admit it.

And from there I'm sure I got a whole bunch easier to leave very quickly. Having gone from a man to some sort of relationship facilitator. Having gone from 50% to 51 or 52%--a difference that under normal, relaxed levels of stress wouldn't have mattered. The more I learn, the more I think it's all in our ability to integrate energy/emotion. I couldn't integrate the fear of losing her fast enough. Probably because I was using her to plug some of my own holes. I was also afraid that she was eroding my ability to write. (At the time I was working on The Love Artist.)

If I could have swallowed the fear of losing her, I probably could have stayed in the relationship. Part of me maybe even knew that. And I don't think that what happened was wrong by any means. Or that w would, or should still be together by any means. But I did love her and I don't care to revisit any of that territory again if it's possible; by ignoring fears x, y, or z; to avoid it.

What if it took twenty years or preparation and training to enjoy thirty or forty years of near bliss? Would you do it? What if it only took ten? What if you had to risk it taking twenty but it might take as little as three before you began to generate serious results. Or it might start overnight and grow from there.

What if a life where you did what you wanted, when you wanted to and how you wanted was possible? Was the natural order of things. And we, adn the way we were raised was out of step? (How could it be any other way?)

What if you could work 20 to 30 hours a week producing things and managing your books, take an hour for a relaxed lunch, six hours a week at the gym and two to three in bed with the woman you love each night. Even with kids?

What if by doing so you could afford to live anywhere? Drie whatever car you wnated? What if the lord guaranteed to take care of you--even though the road to where you were going might include your greatest fears and heroic struggles?

What if when you died nothing changed? What if whatever you believed was true and you didn't get any magically closer to god? What if death just got boring after a while and you decided to come back--with a little quiet part of you still hungry for the feeling of that woman you once knew, that time you read that poem out loud, making that movie that noone believes you can (or maybe it's will) make, racing stock cars, bringing love to particle physics, helping clean up the oceans--whatever.

What if there was a way to do it and be rich? What if the only way to be rich was to do it? What if there was a way to enjoy full, radical, enduring, threatening, love while doing it? What if the only way to enjoy that love was to do it?

And what if, in doing whatever it took, we created a world where near bliss was possible, even probable for our children? Where fears were seen as signposts pointing to greater rewards and drama ignored?

And what if, then, the whole world caught wind of it. And wanted in? And flocked to jock, so to speak. But those who knew refused to become pimps. And instead just kept doing what they wanted? What if inspiration worked--was the only thing that worked? And that demanded of us to be ourselves all the way or endure the consequences?

If you were god, and loved us as your own, would you structure things any differently?

And for all that I'm Thankful

Okay. Time for a little catch up. Or, as they say in India, a little Ket-chu-PEE.

First off, watching the AMAs for aminute last night and Madonna for a minute today makes it hard as hell to take a night off from recording, but I'm beat. I had a dream that an Asian woman was driving me home and she was running things over and missing turns becuase she was so tired. I guess I'm out of touch with my male, Western side (right side of body, left eye, left brain). I ended up in gridlock traffic on the freeway inadvertantly. See what happens when you try to go too fast?

Watching Jay-Z and Gwen Stephani I just wanted to win. Snow Patrol too. I'm hugely competitive but I don't think it had anything to do with them, just that I'm so hungry to drop. I'm working a couple, three hours a night and my guitar playing is good enough and my singing is getting there. Much better than a year ago and just a few whatever it takes away from what I really want. I figure a few whatever it takes should be doable in a month or so. Or maybe I should just do the songs and then go back and do vocals?

If you've ever done an extended artistic project you know how much you grow during the process. It's hard not to want to go back at the end and re-do stuff. To stay with the feel of it. Then there's the question: where were you hurrying and it's not worth keeping? Whatever. After a month of marination, I can pretty much tell if something I've done is shiite or not. I know my book is good because it hasn't aged a second. If anything I enjoy it more now than when I first wrote it.

What I liked about Madonna was her hips. She has the turnout of a dancer and killer legs. The more I learn, the more I learn that we are essentially embodied ideas. Our posture, our muscles, our everything is intimately related to who we are, and what we believe. This has nothing to do with "the beautiful people" being right, or somehow holy, but everything to do with how you look to yourself in the mirror. Not to mention how you feel. A subserviance to authority or others can't help but show up in your stance. The same with arrogance. Same with gentleness, love, strength, boldness, compassion and tact.

Maybe this is just another way of saying that we are who we are--all the way. Anyone who thinks that they can get over--and not be subjected--ultimately--to who they are--is mistaken. There are no shortcuts and the big G holds all the treasure. All of it. You could have a Porche, a trophy wife and a mansion and wake up in dread. This world is important--very--but it doesn't matter.

_____

In the last post I started to talk about surrender. Turns out it's a big subject. I would have told you that I was pretty well adjusted spiritually, especially for a guy who hasn't punched a clock in (counting) fifteen years or so. And took 5 years of that to writeand put out a book.

But it turns out I've been white-knuckling it on a number of fronts. And I've just got to let that go.

I have been in the strange position that I believe so much in people that I didn't believe in people. And so much in the universe taht I didn't believe that any of what I saw was true. But now I'm starting to see that it's all true, and about to change massively, and already changed, and not in need of any change at all.

I don't think this is very interesting, or makes very good reading. Let me step up my game.

It turns out that I have layers and layers of belief and non-belief. And that as I get closer and closer to what I'm here to do (make music, start the mature mass culture mudslide of love, enjoy myself, make and be radical love), I excavate layers like an emotional archaeologist.

For a while I felt like I was going back. I looked back and tried to figure stuff out. I had a therapist. I dealt with "problems" or "issues". I tried to make things better.

Then this worked. And I found a contentment that I had never eveen dreamed of. And I came to the realization that it wasn't "dealing with problems" that had gotten me there but more simply the the confidence or understanding that things were okay--good even. And getting okayer/gooder. It was kind of a Jedi mind trick--ghosts can't scare or chase you if you don't look back. It took a while but I learned how to improve myself without making some big horrible problem that I could freak out about. I learned how to grow without something being wrong to push off of. Then how to keep doing this without external pushes from others or the universe.

So I thought I was pretty butter. And I was wrecked and tired. So, being done, I'd just chill for a while. After all I was fixed and the ghosts were gone. Things were just fine.

Then I had a dream that kicked my ass. And told me that as fine as things were (I was still broke and living at my mom's house, btw), that when I was really done, or had made mor cocrete progress, it would be even more dope.

So I reluctantly took up the whatever and started whatevering.

And a lot of that involved bringing what I had learned in my mind into my body. Which took place at the gym, doing manual labor, sharpening my discipline, etc. Not anything I wanted to do, but I've certainly learned to move when told to by now. And that there are concrete rewards, enjoyment and real life waiting to feel and relish.

It turns out that I met a whole lot of my old beliefs and viewpoints in my body. Maybe they were coming out instead of going in this time, but I still had to deal with them. If you want to believe that this world is magic, if you truly want to have and enjoy the benefits of faith, then you're going to take so many risks it'll make your head spin. And that's just getting you to a strong enough faith so that you can believe what you're really going to do. It's basically leaping practice. Which can be daunting when you realize that the only reason to practice leaps of faith is to take bigger ones, from even more leveraged and compromised positions. (Gulp).

And along the way I'd definitely lock up here and there, if for no other reason that I wouldn't have to process all this nonsense. I'll take the leap, just, fuck it, don't make me go through the damn feelings again.

But that's not ultimately what I, or anyone wants. We want the feelings not to have sway over us. Or to find the love underneath them, not tap them down. No one wants to be a love expert, but here we are, here I am, usually working in some manner to look good, to be as cool, or detached, or macho, or whatever as the guys at the gym. Or even just trying to be better than in whatever conversation we're having. Subtle, wierd stuff.

But I don't want any of that. I dont want any of that in my being. Or anywhere near. I want nonsense to wash over me like a wave, and emerge clean again and again. I want to tolerate intolerance. I want to be humble to arrogance. I want to support discouragement. Not to change it, not even to be better than it (Maybe my old MO), but so I don't have to endure it. Because I know it's either becoming a part of me or I am being free. My physical body. Because I want to be able to sing. And I know once I open my mouth y'all can tell immediately. Cause I can tell. If I'm hiding, if I believe, if I'm fun, if I feel it, if I care--because it's there to be done--or if it's just a job. To be that person there doing it. Being cool. Being the expert.

Back to the point, I'm getting into some deep layers recently. If anyone ever tells you that money doesn't matter, do me and yourself a favor and tell them they're full of shit. That would be right behind saying love doesn't matter. Which would be just after saying the world doesn't matter, which would be just after god doesn't matter, I don't matter, and other people don't matter, respectively.

And it's a whole lot like saying sex doesn't matter. In fact they may be governed by the same chakra if anyone out there knows about that stuff.

Back to the story. The reason I was so envious of Madonna's turnout is that I've had a deep-seated hip injury for years. First from a snowboard incident and then likely compounded by sitting in a seat for my work life and riding a bike for my exclusive transportation for a number of years. And not taking measures to correct it.

I knew it would come down to this eventually. That I couldn't get out of being such a perfect hipster for so long without fixing my hip-ster. (Reverse the hip-gnosis! I once insisted on a Post-It somewhere.)

I'll spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say that hips don't want to do much overnight change. They don't care if you're "left the past behind" or even "are happy now". Their job is to keep you upright and mobile. And like a basement or foundation, they rely on the beliefs and understanding you had when you were coming up to do that. Even if that process involved some sort of trauma. Maybe especially if that process involved some sort of trauma.

So I'm down to the hips. And working toward my feet. Which requires letting go of everything above that. I honestly don't know how there guys who are completely in the moment, or present, disembodied (embodied?)--whatever--how they remember lyrics. Unless they build them into their new muscles and then just do it from rote. Or improvise.

To make a long story short, I'm finding fear and disbelief in my body--on basically a cellular level--that I haven't had anywhere else for a while. How can my legs be scared while my brain is perking along happily? Don't know, but it's true.

The nice thing is that there's nothing compicated about this stuff. If it's muscles you're holding, you figure it out and let it go. If it's muscles I refuse to hold (oh yes, I've got those too), I try to figure out how on earth people go around holding those. You basically do what you least want to do. (Lord help us.)

Which is probably what you most want to do. Be doing.

As Charles Wright (Easy-E's father) said "It’s not what you look like, when you’re doin´ what you’re doin´. It’s what you’re doin´ when you’re doin´ what you look like you’re doin´!" Followed by: "Express Yourself" a couple times and then by "Some people have everything, and other people don’t. But everything don’t mean a thing if it ain´t the thing you want."

Express Yourself!

Sounded pretty right on this am at they gym. (Oh, and where, by the way, I just ordered a custom pair of pink and red Nikes to wear. The pink part is patent leather I believe. And If I remember correctly I ordered ALL*MYTEE on the side. I already wear all red and pink (sometimes a little orange) and have a pink iPod cover and a pink water bottle. Can you say ready for takeoff?)

When I was depressed and suffering significant anxiety I figured out a trick. I would let everything go but whatever was worst and basically stare straight into it. Instead of letting it chase me around and pick away or throw me off balance and get me in a tailspin, I would sit down or even lie down and say "C'mon then".

And it worked. It was much quicker than writing things out and eventually helped me move to real time in my processing of emotions. And sometimes I think that's what feelings are. Just saying check this. The point being to stare straight into it and get quickly back straight rather than try to avoid it and deal later or let it grow. I thought it was a mind game (or exercise) but I see it may be the same with physical stuff as well. Go straight to it. Take the hit.

So how does this work with surrender? With everything being easier? Good question.

I don't think surrender necessarily means relaxing--or easier. Okay, maybe it does. But you may have to, at various times, surrender to the hard work it will take. Or the slow pace of something. The point is that every moment is to be enjoyed--sunk into--even the ones we are thinking we should just grit out teeth and muscle it out. Maybe especially those ones. And then you can even muscle from beneath, from a point of standing under, of understanding as well. Leave it all in your feet--or better on the floor.

But I think the real deal is to be 3-D. To be able to go in any direction at any moment. I had basically given up my days to routine--and thinking I was knowing what was coming--because all I want to do is record music and I have to do my business x number of hours a day to do that. And with eating and the gym and Sunday, that's most of it. But once I let "knowing what was going to happen" go, things started happening. Differently. I didn't know what a day was going to look like. But this only happened after I gave up on both knowing what was going to happen and my body's reluctance of knowing what was going on. It may be all about control.

Being in control was very convenient, as I was pushing myself past where I was comfortable creatively and past where I was used to giving it my all energy wise, and being available to change when I had some time and energy wasn't really a priority, as I was in conservation mode. But a strange thing happened. As much as I was able to give over to it, it gave me more energy.

And now we're getting somewhere.

If you're still with me, god bless you. We're in deep.

I started doing the Suze Orman financial stuff. Money has always, always, always (past tense) been from an annoying trifle to a chronic, raging, stifling frustration. Quite simply I have never felt as though I have had enough. And a periodic glance at my bank account often times confirmed this. Writing a book for five years, you would think, takes more than $8K in starting money. And whenever I've gone to go get the money I needed to go do something, I've found myself without the time or energy to do it.

Extreme frustration of global proportion. Ugggh.

Compound this with the fact that I like the good stuff and no longer even pretend to be interested in going without cashmere (or a clean, dry, warm car) for my art, and you get an embodied feeling of "lack" that can stand up pretty well. You might even say that it has it's own legs. (Me and Suze are working on that, though, even though I don't do much overt "self-help"y stuff these days I may have needed her inspiration and insight on this one).

While writing my book, I learned how to just soldier on. It's the 30th and no rent $$ in sight? Oh well. It's been 3 years, can't stop now. Happen into the guitar shop and learn that my amp sold. Rent for another month.

That dried up around the time I put my book out. Oh well, time to learn how to go even further. Must proove dedication by borrowing to believe in my own creations. Even though I think, almost literally, that it will kill me. It doesn't but neither does the book do anything. I end up with significant debt, which dries up as well. (Not the monthlies, btw, just ability to exercise the line).

My answer, raise the price for the book, start painting, move in with mom, move on from painting to building a studio. Studio prooves pro-sumer, sound quality bunk, start upgrading. This is before almost my first song mind you.

My point is that I've lept so much that leaps almost don't phase me. (Which, funny enough, brought a new concern itself). --But I was still radically curious as to how I could so perfectly broke when I was living as if I lived in a prosperous universe. I told you all about the time I bought a new Rolex didn't I?

How could I still be broke after believeing so long and so hard? It wasn't about my mind, it was about my body. I didn't feel as though I believed. I would take a nap when I was beat but went kicking and screaming, even when I was talking (or writing) about "the beauty of a bath and nap everyday" (That's a quote from the Other Eben, actually.) I didn't believe as in Be-the-shit -Live (instead of dead), I just thought it and acted accordingly.

And maybe this is why it takes 10 years? If a smoker's lungs take 7 to clear out, it could easily take 10 to work the faithlessness and despair out of your dna and riboflaven (whatever). To go from "I believe" to I believe. To work those golden jjuices all the way down to yur cute little tootsies.

I don't want to be recognized as someone who believes, or even look like I believe, I want to actually believe. To feel, believe and understand plenty. I don't need proof, or even for it to happen as long as I feel it. I completely realize that this makes me identical to everyone who's out there searching for mushrooms or blow this weekend. It's what I wanted when I was searching for those things.

The power we have is, in Charles Wright's kind of words, is that we can want what we have. And have what we want.

___________

On another note I saw what I wanted today, hoo boy. The most beautiful woman turned the corner, with a white brother like me in the front seat. And I'd be lying if I said her new car wasn't part of it. I want the whole package. Except the car will be gold, not silver, and I'll be driving. And it'll go with a good sized house. Does that sound good to you, baby?

I kn ow this isn't popular knowledge at he moment, but we men have been too quiet as of late. Come on guys, we know what we want when we see it. We double check with a feel and know for sure with a hold tight, pheramones and discerning experience like anyone else, but we know what we like when we see it. Before we talk. Before we know your political stance. This doesn't mean we all want the same thing. Or taht you aren't beautiful. But there isn't much getting past square one when it's not there. Believe me I tried.

Pretend this is five different posts and I'll roll on.

Who and how I loved was always my greatest fear. I loved beautiful women. Tall, powerful women. Women who scared me.

But I thought, or was taught, that that wasn't right. That everyone was equal and that everyone was worth getting to know. That you couldn't judge a book by its cover.

So Itried dating books I couldn't judge by their covers. And sleeping with women I should have been attracted to. I can laugh now but this shook me to my core. My absolute core. I guess the greater question was how could I know anything or be trusted with anything if I didn't even have a reliable way of knowing who was right for me. What I liked. If I couldn't be the judge--but someone else--some committee had enough authority to tell me this. That my desires were wrong. Schwing!

Every organized religion and most scholastics say the same thing: Too bad you piece of grunt, we can't let you go free. That's what's been messing the whole thing up teh whole time. I figured that there was no way I was smarter that 3000 years of human progress, prophets, artists and spiritual teachers (Even if there wasn't one of their lives I envied--wasn't one of them that I wanted to be). I'm way generalizing here but I hope you can grasp the point.

I even assummed I was gay for a while. I followed my doubt so long and so hard (I had been trained in skepticism and the critical method after all) that when I got to myself, I went in with both guns blazing. If my desires were wrong then my fears must be right. (Warning: do not try this at home! : ) ). I must be gay and really want to move to Hawaii with my friend.

That was the conclusion I came to after believing that happy endings were a scam perpetuated by money grubbers in Hollywood and the truth was ugly and gnarled and cheap like punk rock and Schlitz. Dirt was natural, cleanliness was artifice--because you had to maintain it. I'm laughing but I went out on a limb for these ideas. I went all in. And it was probably more god and the nature of the universe--being positive--that alowed me to do that than my own will. Because you can't doubt yoruself that completely without eroding your own will as well.

If you ever get there, just remember to be complete. If you're willing to give up on everything, give up on unhappiness and despair as well and you'll be fine. But you have to be thorough. Be willing to give up on the certainty that you're destined to lead a meaningless, unglamorous, humdrum life as well. Then you'll be able to come out the other side the rock star, airplane pilot, veteranarian you always wanted to be. It's actually not that hard if you're willing to suspend disbelief with as much determination as you suspended belief.

Anyway, I'm still open to radical correction. And MT (that's Miss Thang) may be 180 degrees from what would be good for me. And if so, you'll hear it here first. But god gave me a little wink as she drove by, and said, yo motherfucker (he didn't actually call me motherfucker, but the intent--that he meant it that hard--was the same)--"Yo, motherfucker--your little All*Mytee ass is going to be all-right. In fact, you're going to be thick as a pig in shit. And if you can be the two-thirds the man you were born to be with HER--with that woman--and you can grow and be in the face of that constant beauty, that strength, that vulnerability, and, when it comes, the horror of that fear, then you, my friend, are going to be in for some wonderful, holy-assed, thisi world shit. I'm glad you did the work to be alive to feel it, and congratulations for finding the discipline without gettting too uptight to enjoy it--you have no fucking idea, my brother, how good it can get. And how long it can stay once you're willing to be ruthless. About your love.

"Welcome to it baby!"

Actually, he didn't say that either, he just put a song on the radio earlier in the day. That I heard in the car coming back from dropping my mom at the airport and running an errand. --One hundred point three. --LOVE FM. The lyrics to that song, by The 5 Stairsteps are:

Ooh-oo child, things are gonna be easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll be brighter
Ooh-oo child, things are gonna be easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll be brighter

Some day, yeah
We'll put it together and we'll get it all done
Some day
When your head is much lighter
Some day, yeah
We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Some day
When the world is much brighter

Some day, some day, some day
We'll get it together and we'll get it all done
Some day
When your head is much lighter
Some day, some day, some day
We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun
Some day
When the world is much brighter

Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll be brighter
Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier
Ooh-oo child, things'll be brighter

Right now
You just wait and see how things are gonna be
Right now...

It made me very glad to live in a city where they have a whole station dedicatd to songs like this; Celebration by Kool and the Gang; and More, More, More by Andrea True Connection. And when it came on I cried about as hard as you can when you're on the freeway and have to merge and get over two lanes to make your exit.

__________

And one last thing. I realize now that I've got to want it. That I've got to believe it, and want to believe it. That there is no thing that I should be believing and that by listening hard enough I can discern. It's a ball that's got to be picked up and run with. A nature that must be embraced. A being that can only be embodied--by one person--me. Surrenderedly, of course. And it may not be true for anyone else. But that it must be absolutely certain for me.

More more more, how do you like it how do you like it
More more more, how do you like it how do you like it
More more more, how do you like it how do you like it
Ouuuh... how do you like your love? (X2)

The Fountainhead Meets The Alchemist

Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and Paulo Cohelo's The Alchemist are the same story. Discuss.

Extra Credit: Why did Ayn Rand smoke?

White Gold, to have and hold.

I'm in deep folks. There are about 12 corners that I have to turn this year and they're not the cute ones.

I had a dream a week ago or so that was quite disturbing. What I got from it was that I hadn't let go of the death of my father, may god bless his soul. This hit me a bit harder than a usual, hard to swallow dream, because I thought this was a done deal. And I'd like to think that I'm fairly good at emotional stuff. Or at least recognizing where I am with it. My father died years ago, and I felt like I grieved fully, and I felt like I learned what I could/had to and moved on.

A friend and I used to have long conversations about how hard this stuff was supposed to be. He was from the magic school--that it should/could be instantaneous and painless--something almost done to you, and I was much more of the put in the radical work school. Most of my gains having come from that. And having been told by the universe in no uncertain terms (like my health) that there were some very difficult things that I was to take care of.

I went kicking and screaming, and sometimes crying, but I went. And I'm not looking for sympathy but I went alone, which was quite possibly the hardest part for me. I didn't understand the purpose of the struggle, of the lonliness--of any of it to be honest.

Sure, I understood in retrospect that as long as I was deferring to others that I'd never be the person I wanted to be, or was capable of. I understood that as long as I was living as a member of a tribe that my freedoms were limited to tradition's historically limited understanding of life and love. But that didn't mean that I understood why any of THAT had to be. Or why it took some Herculean effort to budge the sucker even an inch (all I wanted to do, after all, was sell what I considered a better book for more money--not the most radical thought ever thunk).

And the whole time I probably would have told you that I was doing what was easier--and in a sense I was--but it ws stupidly hard. It was all I could take hard.

And I always had the sense that it was supposed to be somewhat easy. Or at least get easier. Or at least easy enough to be done gracefully. Though it didn't necessarily feel that way.

I kept thinking that I'd magically pop out of the forest into some nice warm glade. Where butterflys were doing their thing and hungry bears came by only occasionally. Not often enough to worry about them before they showed up.

But getting to that spot has proven difficult. I'm sure there a lot more than I ever have been. But in a sense I fought so hard to get there, went to the mattresses so often, went to war with such committment, that it's hard to relax and enjoy it.

And I am really not interested in wringing my hands about this, but I am very interested in understanding it. How can we be totally relaxed and ready to assert ourselves completely at the same time. Not by ourselves at a monestary, but right here in River City.

When I was writing that I almost wrote something to the effect of assert ourselves in the middle of this... (unconsciousness/unlove, whatever) -- and maybe that's the whole thing. To change our perspective so completely that we don't even think of this secular world as anything but a 100% sacred training ground and proving center for love.

In the dream I had it was about a house that wouldn't sell because someone had died there and it hadn't released or let go of the smell. I guess the other part, that I am only seeing now is that it was all ready to go except for whatever magic thing it had to do.

Which reminds me of another dream I had where I told someone off and expected to get arrested by the police. I stuck out my hands for the cuffs but the cops walked right past me. Then I was going uphill in a chair and was supposed to just lean back and let the chair carry me.

I know this is what's supposed to happen. That you work hard to learn something that is a weakness for you (in this case maybe hard work?) and then at the last moment, to kind of prove that the lesson is spiritual, and that the world is 3-D you are asked to give up even what you've learned. But that doesn't mean I'm any good at it. Or that enjoying yourself is any easier than learning how to do the work. Even though it is, of course.

When I started off I thought it would be easy. Or at least do-able by what I understood as do-able. Write the book, that's very hard (but what you really want to do), put it out (same), then get some reward for your labor and go from there.

But what I think I'm getting to now is that you can't ever sacrifice the present for the future and have it work. (Left ear scratching--means listen to yourself, Eben). That that whole way of thinking is faulty. The thing to be overcome itself.

My challenge right now is to feel that. To leave the results and the preferences and the comparisons and the drama. IF the world is perfect, it's perfect right now. If the world is based on love it's based on love right now. And any "improvement" can only come from that understanding. (Or maybe improvement comes from anywhere--everywhere). Maybe improvement comes from everything.

I think where I'm at is my embodied beliefs. Not even my brain beliefs. This is what my cells think. It's like I know all the right answers but don't know almost anything. Do I think that the world is based on love? Do I trust and accept that people are well-intentioned? Or do I feel it?

If I felt it completely would I need to say it? Or would that be redundant? Or just paperwork?

What if the universe was easy? Wanted exactly what we wanted? Was a well-oiled machine working overtime to make each of us exactly what we wanted. Everyone.

What if god really was love. And we, made in his image, the same thing? Could it really be possible, then, that I was mad that the world wasn't loving enough? Was mad that the love I did put out was un (or under) recognized? Could I be frustrated that I didn't have enough time? Or didn't have enough energy?

What if, when Jesus said above all else, love your neighbor as yourself, he meant so that YOU"LL be happy. Because that's what you want. (There's also the matter that this seems to assume that everyone already loves themselves, which may be a bigger matter. I think people, by and large do love their neighbor as themselves--the question then is how much you love yourself, and if you have the time, energy and right to do so.)

Certainly, if the world is created and re-created from our consciousness, collective or individual, then how we imagine it, what we believe with out whole selves--the premises we use to formulate our questions--may be the most important/valuable/powerful thing of all.

That's What I'm Talking About

I got a comment on my last post and I thought I might be coming "give up" mopey instead of "giving it up" extatic, so let me clarify what I've been talking about. I'm working more toward the rocking church choir who ignores the preacher and does their favorite secular song here than the despondant rocker deciding about his last beer or line of whatever. (Though I've certainly experienced both). Alot, if not all more. The phrase isn't most praise. It's all praise. And the name I do music under isn't some*mighty, it's ALL*MYTEE.

My current question is bassically about giving up. NOT giving up as in I give up, screw it, I'm going back to ____ (insert whatever you are at risk of going back to here). Giving up as in I give up, screw it, I AM going forward (or staying still (or even looking back), if that's going forward--if that's growing--for you) no matter what it takes. Both are giving up, but in one case you give up your self/on god (the bad one), and in the other case you give up on this world/results/your own fear/ whatever it is that is preventing you from taking the leap. You get a little crazy--even if that getting crazy for you is being more quiet--or deciding to be happy no matter what happens. It can be anything, but at the crucial moment of decision, it will likely be what you least want to hear, unfortunately. Take it from me, we have myriad ways tto keep ourselves from what we truly want.

That's why getting what you truly want is such a radical thing. Because it will break you down and build you back up. No stone will be left unturned. And then leaving no stone unturned will become the dragon that must be slayed.

The comment was responding to (I think) a sense that I had given up in the traditional sense. Nothing could be farther from the truth. If anything I have a more fervent and focused wil lthan ever. And now results can't mess with it either. So if it takes 100 years (assuming I'm still alive), I'll most likely be chugging along at it. Unless god tells me I'm off base of course, I'm always open to being told I'm wrong. Just not by mortals.The universe can, and often does, tell me anything it knows is true. It's usually a bit of a shock, but it does so as lovingly as it can, I know.

Here's the deal--me and god both want the exact same thing. It's just that god knows it and I'm sometimes in knowing about it and sometimes not. Whn I'm strong and rested, and clear, I'm as on as I get. But then there are times, and certain parts of my personailty that I don't have as easy access to what I want and how to get it as god does. And that's when the shockers come.

In restrospect, I'm always down with it, with growth, but at the time I'm rarely a willing participant. When and if I refuse, the universe, in its infinite love, usually makes whatever it is that I want even more clear--often by bringing about the exact opposite in my life so that I can see what's going on.

It is at these times that I have to give up, that I have to give IT up--and get back on track. It could be that I'm acting like a child, eating junk, not taking care of myself, not asserting myself--whatever. And it is usually work to being about what I want. Suprise. It was work for people to provide me with clean water, nurishing food, heat through the night, a free education, and clean diapers also. Thank god that that was what they wanted. Thank them.

My question two posts ago was basically if there was any way I could circumvent this painful process of what I call "taking the hit". When you're strung out on the internet or late night television and have to get up and do something the next day that's taking the hit. When you wanted to have half a beer and work on your screenplay but instead it's four hours later and you're heading out to a bar with friends, leaving so you could at least work on it tomorrow for an hour might be taking the hit. When you're angry but there's nothing wrong with the situation, deciding to put it behind you and be happy again is taking the hit.

A lot of times the universe dishes out the hits. YOU GET SICK. You catch your lover with another person. You get an eviction notice (happened to me). You can't find a job.

And many times our response is so ingrained that we don't see anything. That's the way the universe is. No one loves me. I'm being punished for something I did. But just because we think, or feel these things means anything about their validity. If I'm learning one thing--and it is hard to say--it's that the universe is your #1 ally in you getting exactly what you want. AND--even more importantly--HOW YOU WANT IT! Cause I know you don't want the house on the water just to get home at 9:30 and your kids are already tucked in and you dont' have the energy to love your wife. I'm sure the universe would have told you a hundred little times to say no to your boss--and he'd probably respect you more for it--and a raise might even be on the way--but if you're afraid to say no, afraid to get fired, afraid that there's no other better job out there--WHATEVER YOU'RE AFRAID OF--whatever your dragon is--it's coming. Cause that's what has to be slayed.

Because you don't want to live in fear. You want to live in love. And the universe bringing on the dragon is love. Even if that's hard to fathom. And it is.

What would yo do if you were god? Make everyone a child and provide everything? Free TVs and porn? Free drugs? Make it so no one had to be conscious or try unless they felt like it? Would that be love? Would it feel anything like love after 10 years? 100 years? 1000 years?

What if you knew Bobby could do it? What if you knew Wendy was worth so much more than that jerk was treating her? What if you knew Dylan could write that book he'd been avoiding for years. And he had told you, in a stronger, clearer moment, that that was his sole lifes purpose.

What if you knew that peace was waiting. Would you have more or fewer people got shot? Would you make drama hurt more or less?

Anyway, my point was how to internalize the hit. How work giving up on whatever bs I've convinced myself is somehow working because I feel safe and comfortable with it--GIVING IT UP to god and what I really want no matter what my fear is--how to work that into my process.

The painting I mentioned had a guy broken down. Prostrate on the ground. I though the was praying but I think the artist painted him to have taken an external hit and be halfway to the fetal position.

What it sparked in me was that all it is is humbling us to accept our power. If I got power as I was yesterday I'd probably be a jerk. And I don't want to be. I'm still, somewhere, pissed that my book didn't take off. That the price was ridiculed and that because of the cover, and price, the content was ignored--even by people who said it was good.

But I'm also sure that some of that anger was directed at myself. For not having the guts to go straight to music. For letting the comments that I couldn't play guitar, or couldn't sing resonate with who I was. When I didn't care, I was just afraid. And in my believing I began to care. And that pretty much ate up all the love I needed to do the damn thing.

No one divided me without my blessing. Usually without my help. Sure, I was brought up to believe in the plan B, to live as if Plan A was a pipe dream. To live plan B. But I believed it. No one can watch TV without watching tv. No one can spread fear without it being accepted. There are no walls to the prison anymore. We've internalized them. Which is progress. No one will kill you for being yourself anymore--like they did a few years ago. And that's progress. That's love! But that doens't mean anyone's going to light the way down your path.

And that certainly doesn't mean that anyone even knows where your dragon is. It's not like they don't have one of their own.

Yes, god could come down here and put an end to all dragons, but where would that leave us? On the couch dreaming about times when there was something to do. When a man could be a man. When a woman could be a woman.

We don't want that. And desire and responsibility come hand in hand. This I guarantee. I take full responsibility fo rmy desires and for creating the life I want to live. And I bet my life on it.

Back to giving it up, I think that's what it is. Being responsible with power. Nothing comes without responsibility. Especially not power. And without humility and compassion why even bother? God probably could have made me famous and/or rich off The Love Artist, but I didn't want to be the love expert, to know about it, to own that intellectual space, to be a pimp--no matter how hard I demanded that I was equal or better to other pimps, no matter how hard I pounded and cried to get it--I wanted to be in love. Not about love. To live and feel love. I don't want to own and get rich running White Gold, I want to live and feel rich BEING White Gold. Which doesn't cost me anything. And is completely INDEPENDENT of what any other person, living or dead thinks about, sees in, or smells on my work. And I am positive, that once I can do that in meetings with bankers, on E! Tonight, with people stopping by my house just to see what's up, women throwing themselves at me, and all the wierd other stuff that comes with being known--once all my dragons are dead, and getting a bit (or a lot) of attention won't change how I feel about myself or others--then poof--it'll be there. Like magic. (That felt like a hell of a lot of work but is all forgotten in hindsight).

Cause when you love yourself unconditionally, I don't imagine you don't want for anything.

And so can endure any change or challenge.

And so don't need many.

But rather devote your time and energy doing your thang. Being yourself.

Doing what you want.

And enjoying it.

Laaaaaaaaaaaaalalalallalallalala.