Where We Live

You never get to the future. It's always out there just out of grasp. It used to be the future was 2000, or 2010. Living in the 70's or 80's or 90's, 2000 seemed like some kind of marker. And in a way it was, but it wasn't really the future, just another year.

If you're an optimist the future will be better. If you're a pessimist the future will be worse.

But really we just never get there. There's some kind of process. The process of experience.

It's never definitive, always incomplete. That's where we live...

Live with Soul!

Soul. Live with more soul. That's a resolution. We live in a world of material. And the material just seems to multiply and fill up our world. It gets so you think the only thing that exists is material.

And we think we are material too. And maybe we are, but that's not all we are. And not the most important part either. It's soul. That's the important part. You can't see it, can't put your finger on it. And lots of people will tell you it's a chimera, a ghost, a mirage, an illusion and it doesn't exist.

They lie. Live with Soul. More Soul!

Hazards

The Cold is a killer bitch. The Heat is a killer bitch too. And even a on Mild Day with no extremes in the forecast, you can find yourself on a slab in a morgue somewhere.

It seems Death isn't choosy about the weather.

The weather is just one of those hazards of a life. The elements conspire against you. Sometimes they caress you too. Either way, they are not really your friends. They are just the elements you must deal with sucker! So deal.

Winning Formula

Less Information, More Wonder.

Personal Resurrection

A good sleep is almost like a resurrection.

Maybe not quite as dramatic as rising from the dead, rolling the rock away, and ascending; still there's something about hitting the pillow feeling hollow, burned out, and beat; and waking up sunny, filled up, and refreshed. A personal resurrection promising a new day.

Live with Spirit!

I do think Religion tends to give Spirit a bad name. My kind of Spirit really has nothing to do with organized Religion. My kind of spirit life is full of questions and wonder. With very few certainties.

I think it's best to choose to live with Spirit. And I do think it's a choice. The jury is out. And really there are no certainties.

Still, for me, it's not really a question of belief, but one of experience.

There are those moments of light, of transcendence, of enlightenment, of oneness with the universe, and one can try to explain them, or explain them away. But still you are finally left with the experience.

One can choose to embrace those experiences or to discard them. I choose the embrace.

One can say it's all explained by neurons, and brain chemistry and DNA, or alternatively, one can talk of higher powers and angels and demons, and well both sides of that coin are just telling you a story, which you can choose to embrace or not.

Again for me, it's not so much the story I bank on, but the experience of my life. I have lived with spirit and it has carried me. Whether that's an illusionary experience or not, I guess I can't really decide. And finally it matters little. In some sense it's all illusionary.

Some illusions work better than others. Give me the Spiritual nature of life! Give me the amazing creativity of nature. I put my "faith" there. I think it beats the alternative. And ultimately that's more than enough!

Brothers

We weren't stoned or inebriated or foggy-headed in any way. We were both clear-eyed, clear-headed. We were talking. We both like to talk. We are loud and we like to hear our own voices booming away in a room. We are brothers.

We are alike in many ways. We are different in many ways. We are probably alike in ways we don't even know. We are probably different in ways we don't know either. We share DNA. We share lots of experiences. We know and grew up with lots of the same people.

We see things from very different perspectives. I have a few years on my younger brother. Which when we were young meant a lot. Which now seems to mean a lot less. My little brother is now bigger than me. He could probably hold me down and make me eat dirt. But we don't do that kind of thing any more.

We were alone together. Which doesn't happen often. So we talked. Probably did more talking than we have for a long, long time. And then we played music, me on guitar, my brother on harmonica. We played loud. We filled the room up with our sound. We sound good together. The acoustic guitar, the harmonica and our voices rang out into the room and it was good. Brothers.

One Step Closer...

I love this song. I know for some folks U2 is old news, but I think they are the real deal. They certainly know how to put on a big time rock & roll show.

I was once walking on the lakefront, a cold windy day, a dog on a leash, looking out at the frozen lake, and this song was playing on my iPod. It's hard to describe the feeling that came over me.

There was a shaft of light breaking across the horizon. My heart rose, my head spinning, the tears welling up. One of those amazing transcendental moments that are completely impossible to communicate.

Giving Season

So I guess it's the giving season...

Some days it's all smiles and words of endearment. And compliments. And people coming out of the woodwork to throw money at you.

And people who tell you how special you are, and how glad they are to know you. And all you can do is say, "Thanks." But inside what you are saying is: "Really?!?

Dead Man's Boots

I walked through more mush than Nanook of the North yesterday. I can say that with confidence, because that Dude is long gone. I wore these heavy old boots, I call them the Dead Man's Boots, because I think (it's a hunch) their previous owner is no longer with the living. And when I put those boots on I swear something of the Dead Man is transmitted to me.

I bought the boots years ago for a theatrical production. They change the way I walk, they give me more gravity, the weigh on me, they make me feel like I'm carrying more than just my own thoughts, fears and dreams. I have a heavier foot with those boots. But they make me more sure-footed, they grip in the ice and the snow. They support my ankles and keep my feet warm even in sub-zero conditions.

One of my neighborhood friends tells me I have a distinctive walk, he calls it the "darkness on the edge of town walk." I haven't told him it's the Dead Man's Walk, not mine...

Hands

On the one hand, we have this amazing ability to create. And on the other hand, we have this uncanny ability to destroy. Aye there's the rub...

Everything in it...

Yeah, well, I can go with the Animist idea, that everything (plants, rocks, animals) in the universe is alive and infused with spirit. And that the universe and everything in it is sacred, or as Blake would have it "holy."

And yes, well the plants and the trees can live without us, but we can't live without them. And maybe we should find some humility in that reality? We think of ourselves at the top of a long chain of being, but what if we are just another link in the chain?

And every link is important and has a job or a reason to exist. Even if we don't know the reason. And we should be living a little lighter on this little crust of earth. Humbleness, and thankfulness, and joy...

Too Full

The Lovely Carla: "Jimmy, your cup is always too full."

Joy and Anarchy

I get these cryptic messages when I'm sleeping.

Not sure if they are words of wisdom from a higher power, or just random static chatter from my zapping/napping neurons.

Anyway last night it was: "More Joy and Anarchy!"

We Deserve the Truth!

If you build secret prisons and house people there, if you order people to torture other people, or you order people to fight an unjust war, (a war of choice where many men, women and children die needlessly), if you lie to people and pretend you are promoting "freedom" and "democracy," when if fact you are imposing the Iron Fist, if you make up evidence of "weapons of mass destruction," (when in fact they do not exist), if you unleash lots of fear and pain and destruction on people all over the globe to burnish your own ego and petty concerns, if you deploy diplomats and ambassadors in every nook and cranny of the world who lie and pretend -- well, if you are that person or persons, you get to walk around free and easy, they give you medals, and name airports after you, and give you big book deals, and quote you in the newspapers, and let you go on tv to act like a big deal.

On the other hand, if you expose the lies, if you reveal the truth about the war, if you shed light on the darkness around the globe, if you reveal the lies of the politicians and the diplomats and ambassadors, if you show the world that the narrative the Powers that Be are pitching, is a load of shite, well now that person or persons are considered a threat, an enemy that must be tried and put in prison.

Something is very, very wrong!

P.S. A simpler formulation: if you commit crimes against humanity, they applaud you and call you King! If you tell the world that crimes have been committed in their name, they condemn you and call you Enemy!

Cards

The cards keep coming. The Dealer is a monster. He keeps shuffling that deck, blistering fast. And he shoots those cards over to you quicker than a blink of the eye.

You get these cards and try to put them in some kind of order. You want to tell yourself a story with these cards. And sometimes the story is pretty neat and simple, and sometimes the story is fractured and convoluted.

And sometimes you just want to lay those cards down and push away from the table and take a long nap. But it's not that kind of game. This game you have to sit there and play. Round after round. Sometimes it's boring as hell, and sometimes it's just the most fun you've ever had with clothes on.

And you can never tell what's coming next, even when you can, if you know what I mean...

Perverse Pleasure

Yesterday was cold. So cold. Hell, it's Chicago in December. Cold. It's no surprise. Still the absolute reality of the coldness was kind of overwhelming.

Two pairs of socks, three sweaters, a pair of long johns, big old boots, massive gloves, a bulky overcoat, a silly hat. Lots of hot beverages.

There is a perverse pleasure in somehow enduring it all: the ice, the snow, the bitter cold, the stark chillness, the arctic air. Is it a punishment, a challenge, a test?

Or just the weather? Yes, the weather in the Midwest. Made it. Oh yeah, it's cold today too.

Past and Present Lives

I start wondering how it is that all roads lead to this moment. Why am I here? And what the hell am I doing? Is it destiny? Was I born, did I go through all those years of tumult, just to arrive at this day, this moment?

I read this post from Kris Cahill, my great meditation teacher, about past lives and I wonder about where I've been and where the hell I'm going.

I have been baptized with dog's blood. I have been cut and scarred. I have grown hair and cut it too. I sing my songs. I put my boots on. I take them off. I inhabit this body like it's a foreign territory.

I think about string theory, and aliens and the big bang, and how many angels can balance on the head of a pin. I think of all the crazy shit of this world and I think my head is getting larger. Will it get large enough to encompass the universe? What kind of headaches can I expect?

My ears and nose are getting larger too. I pray for proportionality.

I remember and forget my dreams, I remember and forget the books I've read, the movies I've seen. I remember and forget myself. And I think there are important things that I've misplaced, that I've forgotten. That I don't even know about.

And I wonder if I've really done this in other lives in the past. And will I do it in other lives later. And I wonder why? What a funky, baffling existence. And I laugh too.

Kitchen Session

It all went sub-zero yesterday. We decided to play music in the kitchen. We set up our little p.a. with microphones, and our bass player came over and we ran through songs together. It was all so nice and cozy and warm.

It was an intimate session. A bass, an acoustic guitar, and three voices snaking around each other. Sounded pretty good. It was basically just for us. And that was enough.

"Honey, Gimmee the Covers!"

Working on a poster for a show we're gonna do in late January. I think we're gonna call the show "Honey, Gimmee the Covers!"

I had an idea for a photo for the poster. So we set up a tripod and put the camera on, and gave it a go. Snapped a ton of pictures. The idea in my head and what we actually came up with kind of diverged, but...

Here is my favorite one...