Tips...

I'm sort of serious...

Tips for better living:

1. Show up, don't be late.

2. Do what you say you will do.

3. Always be moving.

4. Humility and Grace in the forefront of your mind.

5. Be "Certain of Nothing," except Love.

6. Expect Fuckups, they will visit you often.

7. Do the hard things first.

8. Don't forget to play, and to laugh.

9. Don't forget that every moment is precious.

10. Don't forget it can (and will) end in an instant.

11. It's OK to cry once in awhile.

12. Greet the day, it's your day.

Living in the Dark & Light...

Glimmers of sunshine, after a few days of clouds and rain. You know the weather is the weather, we are NOT the weather, but no doubt, the weather has a major influence on our heads, our hearts, our emotions,  feelings and spirits. Maybe it shouldn't be so, maybe in a perfect world (there are no perfect worlds), the weather shouldn't so determinative of what's happening with us, but, the reality: it does. Plus if you are pelted with a hard, cold rain on your bicycle heading to an appointed round, you literally are wading thru, fighting past, enduring heavy weather, you end up wearing the weather, can't help absorbing a bit of it into your being.

So, yeah, like I said, cloudy, rainy and a bit dark the last few days. This morning, glimmers, only a few small glimmers, of light. That must be enough. A nice, long, hard sleep, feeling a bit refreshed, the coffee is powerful, the music on the box is all Led Zeppelin, (the first four albums), so lots of light and shadow,  drama, a bit of caterwauling, over the top, maximum blues, and rock and roll. Plus some nice acoustic guitar playing, I mean, you really can't sum up that band, lots of dimension and a full range of dynamics. Perfect soundtrack for an open-ended day, living in someone else's mansion by the lake with another furry little critter.  Might get a bit feral, off the ranch today. No expectations, nothing to live up to, just living in the moment and the dark & light.

Oasis of the Smartly and Responsibly Vaccinated...

Yeah. Don't have all the answers. Don't always have something to say. Sometimes I just type to type. It's a habit, one that I cling to dearly. Often I write to find out what's in my head. This morning up before the sun, looks like maybe the sun won't be out at all today. Dark, rainy, stormy day. Playing the Flying Burrito Brothers again this a.m. on the cd player.

We are happy around here, busy with plans. Onto the next thing is a nice survival strategy, wearing our optimistic goggles. We are sort of venturing out in this tentatively post-pandemic reality. Our little blue bubble is pretty much an oasis of the smartly and responsibly vaccinated. Fear of the virus has subsided a bit.

Our band has been rehearsing for an exciting round of upcoming shows. Finally, we expect to play some indoor venues, some of the finest music rooms in the land. That's pretty exciting, and a long time coming. There has been a slow progression: playing music outdoors in parks, on streets, in alleys. We will finally be venturing indoors once again, masked and a bit distant, but finally in a room! Onto the work. That is the best mode for us to be in. 

Writing and rehearsing songs. Making show posters. Strategizing how to expand our circle. Funny, in some quarters our band is being perceived as a "hot commodity." All our growth, all the attention, all the kind words and validation has come organically, slowly, steadily. It is amazing, we are doing all the things we've always done to make a creative statement, but lately we are being seen in a new light. Or maybe better to say, finally, we are being seen!

We don't take anything for granted. Just do the work. Steady, persistent, looking for those flashes of inspiration, being creative, casting seeds of light into the whirlwind. That is our creative mission. Happy that it continues, and the world is opening up a bit. Maybe not quite post-pandemic yet, but getting there, maybe, hopefully...

Tragedy or Comedy?

Yes, you know. Events transpire. Shit happens. You lose your shit. Things fuck up. Things fall apart. You lose things. You misplace your favorite hat. You destroy your phone in the wash-cycle, you get wet, you don't sleep well, you are "tense and nervous and can't relax," (hat tip: David Byrne's "Psycho Killer"), you are weary, deflated, energy-depleted, sore-armed from vaccinations, over-dogged, plowed-under.

If that's the end of the story, it's a tiny little tragic existence with comedic undertones. Sort of a Samuel Beckett one-act.

But if instead, you endure, you roll with the punches, keep calm, carry on, get your shit back together, un-fuck the fucked-up, you are reunited with your favorite hat, buy a new phone, dry yourself off, sleep well, find your grounding and calm center, recharge, get energized, shake off the soreness, spend time with feathered creatures instead of furry ones, re-emerge into the sunlight, with a smile and a swagger, well, that's a different story.

Now you find yourself in a laugh-riot, Neil Simon comedy. Everything is a bit funny with an undercurrent of tragic-ness in simple human folly. Funny with a slice of sad...

That's life...

Blowback, then Euphoria...

The blowback (head-ache, chills, general achy-ness) from my booster vaccine has passed.  I was knocked out for about a day and half. 

Suddenly, I now feel euphoric. It's like every cell in my body has woken up and is renewed. Who knows, maybe just my imagination?  I wonder if it's just me, or if other folks have had the same experience? I mean, we are all snowflakes, uniquely unique. 

I am so happy to be fully vaxxed and boosted against Covid-19. I am still gob-smacked that anyone is hesitating. It is mind-boggling that some folks are resisting & refusing to be vaccinated.

It is a strange world, and human beings are tricky. We all do stupid and risky things. Pretty sure it's a no-brainer that life is good, every day is precious. It makes sense to be careful, to try to be smart, to listen to "experts."

Trust. It's a slippery slope. So much bad information, disinformation, cynicism, bad blood, tom-foolery. How to wade thru it all? Gently, carefully, with eyes wide open. I have my go-to sources: NPR News, New York Times, Washington Post, The New Yorker Magazine, a few journalists, writers I respect. I avoid the loud-talkers, the cable-news noise, the folks who pretend to know everything. I avoid the bible-thumpers.

I do believe in the scientific method.  I think vaccines are pretty much a proven, wonderful, life-saving strategy. Science and medicine at it's best. But, you know, that's just me. 

Losing My Space...

An Introspective Journey...

Back home after a difficult stay-over (see previous two posts). It is all sort of funny, in sort of a not funny way. I pride myself on being grounded, using meditation and deep-breathing techniques to find an inner peace, to "get my space," but really it is amazing how quickly I can lose my bearings completely.

"Losing My Space," could be my "Losing My Religion."

Being home reminds me how much my space is defined by my things. I have built a little sanctuary of comfort and peace all around me:

a comfy chair in which to meditate and contemplate

a favorite pillow

a familiar bed

my record collection

my books

the air I breathe (no dog-hair here) this is a place where feathered creatures live

Take a fish and plop him in another aquarium, that's what it's like to stay-over at some else's place. Sometimes it's agreeable, and sometimes it's decidedly not.

If you really care about the furry critters you are taking care of (and I do), you totally tune into the creatures. This is a way of giving up your space.

If their hair (which is everywhere) is toxic to you, suddenly, you have difficulty breathing. This is the definition of losing your space. Every breath becomes labored.

It has been a few years since I had an asthma attack. This weekend was the first time (an allergic reaction to the doggies), in a long time. Which is one reason I have been so Covid-Militant (scared to death of getting Covid-19, and taking every precaution). I know what it's like to not be able to breathe freely. Which is why I got a booster shot over the weekend, and, I got a flu shot too. And, I had a bit of a reaction (which is probably good, because it means my immune system is working), but  the double dose of VAX and the allergies, laid me out, another example of losing my space.

Basically I had a bad case of the heebie-jeebies for a few days. I also accidentally put my phone thru a full wash-cycle,  resulting in a very clean and very dead phone. Another instance where I lost my space, suddenly I was profoundly incommunicado. It is amazing how our phones are now the most important social connector, without a phone, you are adrift, alone.

This morning the calm after the storm. Calm, cool, collected. My companion told me, "gentle," is the new password. Ok, yes, gentle, with myself and the world. Breathing free and clear. Oh yeah, ordered a new phone, it should arrive this morning. Luckily I still use a cheap, flip-phone, so easily replaced, not too painful on the pocketbook.

The a.m soundtrack? "Elvis: 30 #1 Hits" (2002). Yes. The Great American White Whale of Pop Culture. The King. Some of these songs song like stone cold classics ("Heartbreak Hotel"), but lots of hokum too.  "Suspicious Minds" always sounds totally fabulous. All of it pretty much undeniable stuff. A short history of a certain America.

Tiny Steps...

One thing goes wrong, and then all hell breaks loose. 

If the apocalypse comes, it will come in tiny steps. It's been that kind of extended weekend. I entered a vortex of hell. A downward spiral of fucked-up-ness. Started with three friendly beasts, ended up with me destroying my phone, nearly falling down a steep staircase, being awoken every two hours by blood-curdling barking, and lots of whimpering and yelping. Needy, needy beasts. Oh yeah, plus dealing with the blowback from a couple vaccine shots on Saturday. The power flickered on and off a few times too this morning, threatening, the very important daily ritual: brewing the morning coffee. Luckily the power came back on. So, yes, well, it's melt-down Monday, but you know, I am already pre-melted, no more melting to be had! 

Hair. Hair. Hair.

Not to be overly dramatic, (okay, why not?) "Living with Dogs," (see previous post), can be an occupational hazard. One dog? Fine. Two dogs? Got it covered. Three dogs? Yikes. Holy Mother of Jesus. That just might be one dog over the line.

Turns out this place I am staying at is "Dog-Hair Central." Hair. Hair. Hair. Everywhere. Every room. Every chair and couch, every rug and carpet. 3 happy little furry creatures, shedding hair like it's going out of style. Those happy little critters follow me everywhere. Turns out it's all a bit toxic to my system.

Makes me dream of some kind of hazmat suit. A new twist on the day, no doubt.  

Living with Dogs x Infinity...

Living with dogs. A big old house. 3 furry little critters.

Hair

Barking

Farting

Snoring

Feed them

Give them treats

walk them

talk to them

They will follow you everywhere

They will be your friends for life

Transactional

You give to them = they give back to you

It's that kind of relationship

Still, you must remember that they are unique individuals

Oddities

Quirks

Eccentricities

This one only has one eye

This one has epilepsy

This one had a rough childhood

You must listen, observe, always be careful & kind

Simple lessons, a way forward, a way to live.

Hard Things First...

Sometimes you just have to step up. You find yourself having to do things you don't really want to do. And still, you must do them. I'm being a bit sketchy here, don't want to harm the innocent or out the guilty.

When I was younger, I'd pout, I'd rant, I would be super-recalcitrant, I would put off, I would procrastinate, I would go down kicking and screaming. Often, I'd end up having to do what I didn't want to do, but I would do it badly, or I'd end up doing whatever I had to do, and it would all go better than expected.

At the end of day, lots of wasted time, emotion, effort.

Those days are over. I live by a new code: Do the the hard things first. Just do the damn things you have to do. Don't think about it. Don't hesitate. Just jump in without a second thought. And, yes, tackle the hard thing first, when you have the most energy to do what you have to do.  

Embrace your responsibilities. Meet the day. Gladly. If need be: Fake it to make. Yes. Just do it.

For me, it is going to be that kind of day.

Cosmic...

It's funny. Something has shifted over here. Still feeling a bit detached, and still have a bit of a chip on my shoulder. Experiencing moments of the day, not exactly judging them. What is, is what is. Back home briefly, and then off to another assignment at another location tomorrow. Maybe this moving around, this migratory existence, living in other places, has opened a new vista in my consciousness?

It is all a subtle, delicate thing. Living. We had a fabulous rehearsal with a couple members of our band yesterday. Just two voices, a guitar, a violin and a percussionist equipped with conga, doumbek, and cajon. So thrilling and validating. We live for that kind of session, that kind of collaboration and communication.

Exquisite and life-affirming.

The news of the day sort of flies by. I latch onto nothing. Let it fly. Happy. Healthy. Wondering what's next.  Lately on the CD player lots of Alice Coltrane & The Flying Burrito Brothers. I love that dichotomy. Hard to categorize. You know, not exactly JAZZ, not exactly COUNTRY.  As Gram Parsons so eloquently dubbed it "Cosmic American Music."

Yes. Indeed. Cosmic.

is it a ...

Is it a ...

test

journey

adventure

contest

cluster-fuck

ordeal

dream

wonder

or something else?

A Gentle Chip...

Sometimes (maybe not often enough), you wake up, and you are just happy to be alive. Breathing. Walking. Talking. Thinking. Blue sky and puffy cumulus clouds in your dreams. You meet the day as an equal. 

Maybe still feeling a bit detached, dislocated. You are in the world but not of it, or maybe it's the other way around, you are of the world, but not in it. Or, maybe it's both (or neither), at the same time.

You can count on being confused, and tricky. Even to yourself.

Lately I have been feeling detached, and I have bit of chip on my shoulder. My friend tells me it's best to meet the day with a gentle demeanor, so let's say that this chip on my shoulder is a gentle chip.

So, yeah, but, anyway, happy. Alive. Happy to be alive. And still....

Detached...

Missed blogging the last two days. It's rare for me.  I just happened to find myself unconnected from the web. Staying at an undisclosed location. Radio silence. Incommunicado.  A forced silence.

It's been a bit refreshing. Letting the world pass me by without a word. I mean, of course, my head was swimming with words, my body was flooded with emotions, but I pretty much kept it all to myself. Feeling a bit detached. Not alienated. Just detached.  

I sat in a backyard garden space yesterday afternoon. Someone's else's little secret garden. Sunshine pouring down. Tall green grass. Big, looming trees, lots of greenery all around. Quiet. Hushed.

A big, majestic hawk sat up in tree; he seemed to be looking down at me. He then lofted himself upward, and floated over to another tree;  his awesome wings glinting, flashing in the sunlight, and then, mysteriously, he vanished. Later I discovered a bloodied rabbit, dead in tall grass. The hawk must have chased him down, killed him and feasted on him. Poor little rabbit, blood and life dribbling out, dead and gone.

Sun, greenery, silence, swift action, beak, claw, blood and death.  A glimpse of the story. Complete.

Sometimes Pop is Not Wrong...

Yeah. Feels a bit weird to like what everyone else likes (see previous post). But, you know, there is something to be said about theater or music that appeals to pretty much everyone. I was staying at someone else's magnificent mansion on the lake, living a completely different life for a few days. Let's just say, "lap of luxury, & unimaginable wealth." Yes, I was the migratory worker posing as the Lord of the Mansion, tending to a little happy, furry creature.

Watching "Hamilton" on Disney + and listening to Sting's "Brand New Day" (1999), on the CD player was pretty damn eye & ear-opening, inspiring and thrilling.  Both works made me realize I'm a bit of an underachiever when it comes to art. Amazing works, both of them, no doubt.

Voices. I think of the voices, the production, the energy, the wonderful realization of the work. One can see why these particular works resonate with lots of people. Sometimes Pop Culture is not wrong.  Sometimes it truly is  Supreme Pop & Supreme Culture combined.

Expectations & Hopes...

Low expectations. High hopes. Maybe, I don't know, maybe that's a formula for better living? Expect nothing, or okay, that's too draconian, expect little, but carry a slight bubble of hope in your heart and head.

This morning, the sun is shining, the coffee is excellent, the music on the box (Sting's "Brand New Day," really, who knew?!) sounds amazing. Perfect.

Makes me wonder if maybe today can be a fabulous adventure. Even if it's basically me walking around the neighborhood on my appointed rounds. Sometimes just being alive is pretty damn cool.

Yesterday, my companion and I watched "Hamilton," on a big-screen TV. Usually theater recorded, seems to lose something, and I can imagine being in the theater live with the cast would be even more freaking amazing, but even on TV "Hamilton" is a thing of joyous wonder. Tears of joy came to our eyes. To see a work of human imagination so perfectly realized. It's an improbable, mind-expanding trip.

Yes. Life-affirming. Sometimes human beings can be pretty damn impressive. The best of us usually emerges in the creative arts. It's the soul work, the spirit conjuring work. Like I said, sometimes you can be greatly rewarded when you come to meet the day with low expectations, and those sneaky little high hopes.

Migratory Existence...

Different day. Different place. I live a sort of migratory existence. I often find myself staying at other people's places. Usually taking care of little furry friends. It's an interesting life. A weird way to make a buck, but no one is shooting at me, and usually I stay at amazing places. Everything is a bit different. Bigger, plusher, more comfortable, but not my place. Everything is a bit slightly off. I bring my stuff. The absolute essential things I need for a good day.

What is essential?

My coffee-maker. My coffee beans. My grinder. My coffee cup. I find it's best to bring my own. Don't mess with the owner's stuff. Be a bit self-efficient, pull myself up by my own bootstraps. Be a bit plucky!

I also have to bring my Walkman, Audio-Techinca Hi-Fi Headphones, and my latest musical obsessions, CDs, I love those spinning silver discs, which includes, live Grateful Dead concerts, (spanning 1967 - 1978, you know pretty much the golden era), and lately Alice Coltrane. What took me so long? What a fabulous, inspiring, spiritual music maker. A creator of beautiful vibes, unlike any other.

I bring some potions and pills. Everything herbal, "alternative" medicine. Nothing too medical. I am a big fan and believer in Arnica gel for aches and pains. I sometimes bring my guitar, but often I stay at places where guitars are resident. Here there is a nice mahogany Martin, small-bodied acoustic. Easy to play, nicely resonant. A real-deal American original guitar. Can't go wrong with a Martin.

I was strumming that guitar last night, playing songs from the Great American Songbook. "In the Pines" made famous by Kurt Cobain on MTV Unplugged. It sounded nice and mournful in this big old empty mansion. 

This morning, I type into a laptop as a "Guest." Yes. I am just a guest here. A traveler. A migratory worker. A dog-whisperer. A friendly handler of pretty little creatures. Sipping my coffee brew. I combined two varieties of beans so, my morning brew is "Mind, Body, Soul, Love Buzz."

It's doing the trick. I wonder what today will bring?

Cloud of Unknowing...

Sometimes, maybe often, the right answer should be, "I just don't rightly know."

Maybe it doesn't feel right. You are exposing yourself, admitting you aren't sure about things. Especially when everyone around you is loud, proud, big, bold, confident, willing to smack you over the head with their opinions.

Human Beings hate MYSTERY. But, of course, MYSTERY is everywhere.

If you look hard enough, the loudest opinion-wielders are usually the ones who know the least. That is some rule right there. Loudest talker, more sure opinion-maker is almost for sure the one who really has no idea what they are talking about.

Good rule of thumb: You don't have to know everything. And if you think you do know everything, you almost for sure are full of B.S. Yes. Indeed.

"True Dat!"

The Mix...

It is all chemistry. The mix. It's true for your head, your body, your spirit. The right elements in the right proportion. And it's a crap-shoot, an experiment, an on-going process. And what works today, might not work tomorrow. And you may have no idea what's missing, what's required, what should be eliminated. There is no rule-book or guide-book. You are on your own, you are your own laboratory.

What food? What liquids? Which vitamins? What images, thoughts, dreams? What to do, what to think? What not to do, what not to think? Is it an "Anything Goes Universe?"

You have to be on constant alert. What's happening RIGHT NOW? How do you feel? Is everything working efficiently? What is the weather-pattern inside your body? Do you have a hurricane in your solar plexus? Are there dark clouds in your cranium? Is your intestinal tract a roiling, boiling mess?

Feeling up, sideways, down?

Yesterday, I reached for the heavy medicine. Dark chocolate and guitars. Primo mood alteration methods. A few squares of that dark, rich power food. And getting myself situated on the bed, sitting cross-legged like a Buddha, strumming an old guitar.  

My experience? This combo never fails to transform a gloomy, up and down Monday into a vibrant, rollicking journey of discovery. The right mix. No doubt.

Go to the Wonder...

Maybe just best to go to the Wonder. The wonder of it all. How did we get here? What are we supposed be doing here?  Where are we going? What's it all about?

"I don't rightly know..."

I wonder.