A Strong Word

I haven't written in months, and it might as well be years or even another lifetime. This is the equivalent of having my wings clipped, and I have not sung a song in my gilded cage. I may finally be embracing the idea of adulthood. No, wait. I may be abandoning my childhood. Either way, what I haven't said is that part of the reason I haven't written is that I'm a hated man. It's an active, poisonous sense of dislike hidden behind a face of indifference, and it wishes to see the end of me. You can tell me that it's too extreme a thing to exist between two people, but other people see it exists, too. Do I reciprocate the feeling? I don't think I know how.

“Hatred paralyses life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.”
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

I was shocked when I saw that Maya Angelou used the term "hater". If feels so juvenile to me and almost dehumanizes the person. It's dismissive, and yet, while I focus on this for the moment, please know that I have a lot of the right kind of love in my life. I know I share bonds with people that defy description. I'm crazy about them and totally feed off this mutual connection we have. There's love between us without question; Not a single move or word questioned, intangibles understood as if they were a private language between us. I've had a few "what the fuck are you doing?" moments with strangers...and let's face it...I know who they are because the real people in my life fill moments with truth.

In this case and only this instance can I mention names. If I ever look in the mirror and can't recognize myself, I know Vivian will remind me. If I sell out, give up, or surrender to a false definition, Andrea will grab me and set me straight. If I reach the end of reason and begin to let go, I can call Wes and open my eyes. These people are my history, along with new names both within reach and thousands of miles away. From their inspiration, I sit here to fight and write.

"We hate some persons because we do not know them; and will not know them because we hate them."
~ Charles Caleb Colton

I know what you're thinking. Okay, maybe not actually what you're thinking. You might say that you can't please everybody, and odds are that I might not be liked by everyone. That's fairly logical and easy to accept. It's slightly cliche, but there's truth in it. Like I said before, this is an active hatred. I've seen emails. I've heard stories. I've faced the neverending criticism and walk into the storm every day knowing that lightning can strike at any given moment. Do I feed it? I avoid it at all costs. Do I meet the mask of indifference with my own? I know the truth, and at times it completely deflates me because I haven't provoked it. It seethes and needs to be the only thing in existence. The love in my life is the starry night sky, and the hate is the huge sucking black hole looming nearby. That's exactly how it feels.

Cat tells me it's a matter of perception. I constantly see it, so it has to exist. When I forget about it, it resurfaces and reminds me that it's still waiting for me to trip, to fail, to be exposed and open. Jesus, that sounds abusive. I still slip into it, though I'm much better off than last year when this hatred was in my face and almost fanatical about making me unhinge and expose myself.

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."
~ Elie Wiesel

Thanks to Playhouse training, I feel everything (to some extent) and my curiosity prevents me from straying towards indifference. I've held my feelings and thoughts about this for a long time, and felt ready to finally talk about it. It's an insult, really, to those gorgeous stars in the sky. What's going to happen will happen, and I have some say in that. I can't, especially now, be what you want me to be, unless you accept me as I am or support who I want to be. It just can't work any other way.

Falling Sideways

I sit on this hill and I listen.

I listen to traffic, people floating snark in the air, and loud obnoxious music, and I push it away. I wait, and listen for wind. I smell the air and listen for rain. And then I give up. I surrender to it all and listen to my own breathing. She speaks.

C: Ohh, there's that feeling again.

S: I'm debating it.

C: What's the argument?

S: How much of it is necessary...or just my stupid perception...or actually valid. I indulge feeling everything because it feeds my writing, but on the other hand, at the same time there are some things I can fix or reconcile...which is what a healthy person would do.

C: Do we really need to define "healthy" or "normal"? You know, you don't need to make a stand and declare that you're different. The sad truth of it is, everyone is different.

S: But you know what? Hold on to that thought for a second. (pause) Listen, I don't work hard to create a mystique about myself. I'm not a puzzle to be solved by anyone. That's not my spine. I'll tell you something - I am used to going at it alone, and I don't need anyone's approval or validation. I create projects for me and hopefully I've broken down the guts of what I want to do in a way that makes sense to people so I can still collaborate with others, but it's my dream. It's my way of life.

C: That was a little unexpected.

S: In some instances, I say way too much and face the consequences. To myself, I don't say things until I can vent here.

C: What does it feel like?

S: What, the...wow, I really did get worked up there for a second.

C: What does it feel like when you - what did you call it - "indulge" the feeling?

S: It sinks. It starts moving down slowly with...a realization that...you've been rejected again...and right when you begin to shake it off and pick yourself up, you choose instead to let the moment confirm your worst fears, and then you face the truth about yourself. Do I really suck? Am I really not...I don't know how to finish that. I have to answer it, and then I move on.

C: It sounds masochistic. Why put yourself through it?

S: I like to believe that there's an abundance of feeling and color all around us, and most people walk past it like it's old and irrelevant...but all of it is alive and screaming for attention. I just do it naturally because it's about what's really happening in the present moment.

C: Yeah, but...if the end result takes a toll on you, is it a good thing?

S: Until I found a natural perpetual well of reassurance, yeah. This life is self-generated and self-motivated. I made decisions in the past - mistakes, really - that got me here, but in all honesty, I just don't have the same resources I used to have.

C: A matter of perception. Do you remember the girl from a few years ago and what ultimately spelled the recurring end to the relationship? She felt she didn't deserve what you had to give, but at the same time she inspired so much in you. You also never bluntly offered the real thing to her. It was always implied.

S: Yeah, so?

C: If you had to learn one thing from the experience, why did you have to take the concept of not deserving something? It's just...completely idiotic. Why did I give you that speech the other day?

S: God, everything would be easy if we were just talking about writing music or putting together a photo mosaic for charity. If all of it was left up to my own devices and invention, it's a no brainer. I just have to know that this is what I want, and then I make it happen. It's not so true when it comes to people.

C: Did you know you wanted...?

S: Yeah.

C: Why didn't you say it?

S: That works in movies, not in real life. It's perceived as being creepy in real life.

C: Is that what you really think?

S: Yeah. (pause) How's that for straightforward?

C: The statement is, but the thought process behind it is skewed. Just once, take a chance, okay? Be blunt and in as few words as possible, ask for it. Go down in flames.

S: I'll think about it.

C: That means...

S: That means I'll think about it.

And I listen to the cloud of thoughts that rolls in my mind, the very same one that keeps me up at night. The clock ticks, the wind blows, and the music plays a love song for no one.

How do I make sense of it all?

MONDAY morning update.

S: You know what? You're full of shit.

C: Huh? What? You're the one who -

S: "Take a chance. Be bold. Go up in flames." It's a load of crap. You know where that gets you?

C: Tell me. Oh, and before you do, get a good look at my deadpan expression.

S: Do you remember the "I can't match your level of honesty" theme that repeats? I'm telling you, there are friends I have that totally get it and don't use that as a starting gun for a windsprint to anywhere-else-but-here. I was talking to a friend last night -

C: I don't meant to cut you off, but...well, wait. Yes, I need to cut you off. Does it make sense to you when I say that being blunt and expressive like that is actually doing you a favor?

S: I'm not sure.

C: Listen. If people flip out and have a reaction - or non-reaction - to you, then they're saving you time. They...are...saving...you...time and effort, right?

S: Okay....

C: Then don't waste your time being someone else for the sake of anyone's sensitivity or needs. You are who you are, and you've learned your lessons in the past when it comes to that compromise. I know you have. Those people who "get you" can't afford to be overlooked. Wake up to that, and know that sometimes, you have to say what's on your mind and crack open politeness or small talk to get to what's really inside. Most of the time it won't be for you. Every now and then, though.

S: Point taken.

The clock ticks, the wind blows, and blah blah blah blah. It's time to step out of the mud and reconnect.

As You Are

I opened my notebook tonight and found two words inside the cover, with a familiar voice speaking them in my mind.

Begin again.

I woke up my iPod and chose the song I wanted to start writing to, and the voice of a great musician - a guy I met named Ziv - spoke to me:

Forgive everyone you know...'cause they were once a child too.
Forgive yourself and love again.
You've been waiting for it.

C: Welcome back to the right side of your brain.

S: Ahh, is that where my heart was all along?

C: So how have you been? Has work been that good, to take you away from doing all of this creative stuff?

S: You know what...I feel like I sold out. I let it become the main thing, and then writing and playing music became a distraction.

C: Who the hell is that person? I mean, okay, the job is great and all, but I seriously don't care about the fun stuff you get to do. You live when you write. If you don't get that out of your system, there goes a year with nothing to show for it.

S: I...you know, I get it, and for many reasons I've...been given a little clarity right now. But don't think I lost anything, because I haven't

C: I know. I can see that. I watched you lost in thought for two hours. I recognize that person.

S: It's a little scary.

C: Why?

S: When I get an idea like this, it turns and evolves, it needs to live and come into focus. There is a crazy need to get it out of me so I can start working with it. (pause) You know what? It's kind of like the guy from Close Encounters.

C: Is there a huge sculpture made of garbage in your living room? Tell me honestly if you're going insane because...well, wait a minute...this conversation is taking place, so....

S: No, I just always have it in the back of my mind. I'm fully inspired and filled with urgency. I'm writing notes on napkins and jumping from one medium to another. I'm a total freak at work, but people seem to enjoy seeing my brain fire up like this.

C: Okay....

S: Okay...what?

C: So I don't get it. What's the problem?

S: I don't have a problem.

C: I look over your head and I see a cloud of...I don't know, everything. It's hard to describe. There's more going on than this new project you're working on.

S: Really?

C: Do you remember the first time we talked?

S: Ohhh crap. That was a long time ago. It was...1987, right?

C: On a grassy hill, with the sun and wind tossing clouds across the sky. I remember how you had some distance from the thing you were dealing with and were trying to reconcile the lingering thoughts, the stuff that just wouldn't tie up neatly.

S: Yeah. It's weird to think about what it meant then.

C: So listen, I have known the intimate workings of your beating heart for a very long time, and I have seen every accomplishment you've had since what feels like the beginning of time. I know when you're afraid to ask for something and when you're taking a jump in evolution. This project is symptomatic of something else.

S: I don't like that you know this much about me.

C: So?

S: There are some things that I keep to myself.

C: Yeah, I know. But I do want to tell you something. (pause) It is altogether okay to have something other than...an invention completely of your own doing.

And there's no response. The song playing over the speakers by Jenny Owen Youngs - I shit you not - says:

I'll draw up the blue prints but i'll never use them.
Now i've only ever offered you myself and you always say it's not enough.

S: That's an old voice talking.

C: Isn't it weird to think about what it meant back then?

S: Oh, God. I hate it when things fall into place and you say something with such...fucking clarity that I can't explain it away. I like my struggle...sometimes.

C: Yeah, I know that one. You don't always have to earn things you get. Sometimes you get rewarded for good things you've done without realizing you've done them. Just take it. Ask for it. Whatever it is you don't want to talk about, take a step back and look, okay? It's easier than you sometimes make it out to be.

S: I'm a complicated person.

C: Not from where I'm standing.

S: Yeah. Thanks.

C: Okay...empty now?

S: It's good enough.

John Mayer now keeps asking me - and he's being persistent:

Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

The answer might have been an obvious denial for a long time, but it's pretty clear that the simple truth is that right now it doesn't feel anything like it used to. Right now, the Law of Proximity is pretty much in full effect.

Defying Gravity

In 2008 I took a lot of shots straight at the heart and spent my year's allotment of optimism. It was like finding the surface of water on your last breath, and here I am standing just inside 2009 on a quiet, fertile ground that denies the turbulence of the path that led to it. It's quiet, hesitant as if waiting for me to collect myself, and I've brought some of 2008 with me into the new year. I shed some of it already, scattered on the days behind me, and today, I reached another breaking point where I let go yet again. I'm determined to see change. I've got pockets full of optimism again and a heart intact, and no room for excuses.

With few events at work for a month or two, I've got some time to grab some growth, to find that inspiration I've lost, and reconnect with people. I've got to sort out a few things, and I say this not putting that task first but rather with intention to make it all inclusive. This won't be a year with one silly resolution, or two to five goals to achieve. It won't be an opportunity to assign blame or to define myself in relation to anyone else.

Something snapped inside my brain, after which I immediately grabbed my guitar. That's how I knew I had to write before going to bed. Well, that's the way it usually happens with me, doesn't it? I think it means that both my left and right sides of my brain are agreeing on the state of my self, and that calls for me using some of this frustration and anxious optimism to stand right here, throw down a spike and signpost, and say that I deserve, as good as it already is, a better life than the one I have now. I've had it with expectations, I'm done with anything but truth, and I know it's time to embrace the creative life I should be living.

I've got a mixed bag of feelings right now, but I feel like I'm already burning it for fuel. I want to be busy. I want to do my job and then come home to work on something else. I want to look back on each week and have something to show for it. And then I want to have people to share it with. People here, right in the now, who are present in the present. That does require that I stop thinking about the past, and even the recent past, which will be hard, but easier if I stay busy.

So that's the beginning, the first brick on the road to Oz. What will I find when I get there?