Easily Slipped & Disappeared...

How to vanquish an existential crisis?

I am actually pretty experienced at doing the vanquishing. I think my first deep, indelible, existential crisis came to me in Kindergarten. I was building a wall with cardboard bricks, probably the foundation for my new fortress, or castle, and another kid came over and knocked it down. I immediately picked up a brick and clobbered him on the head. The teacher sent me to my rug to contemplate my act of violence.

That was probably my first true existential crisis folded into the idea of being "falsely accused." I mean, yes, I did clobber a kid with a cardboard brick, but I felt totally in the right. I rocked and rolled on that little rug with righteous indignation. How dare I be punished for a clearly justified act?

Yep. So there is the initial theme, which has been played over a lifetime: I create or construct something, someone comes along and tears it down, I have been wronged, I react, and get punished. 

How to vanquish an existential crisis? Get out of your head. When I was kid it was jumping on my bike and riding to the open fields in my neighborhood. Long, lazy hours just sinking into the moments of the day.

This extended weekend the antidote was to watch a great film: Licorice Pizza. There is something so satisfying and life-affirming about swimming in great art. Plus, of course, laughter is the perfect crisis-killer. Listen to great music: Steely Dan, The Smiths, Dylan, Mogwai, Modest Mouse. Great music-makers and bands, well-made albums. And to still that internal, infernal monologue. It helps to be busy, delving into other things. Less time thinking. More time playing, playing at whatever. 

In the depths of the crisis it seems there is no way out, but, actually, it's a lie in your space, escaping is easy. Those chains are only chains of the mind. Whatever is "invalidating" you, is your own mad-making mind-set. Easily slipped, and disappeared. You escape the prison of your own mind, by forgetting yourself. You liberate and are liberated; the darkness has lifted and what worried you, no longer does.

Living Eyes Open Or Shut, Not Easy...

"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see…" - J. Lennon.

An indelible line from a great Beatles song, "Strawberry Fields Forever." Poetically beautiful. One of John's greatest songs and vocals. A trippy, cool track too. The Beatles at their psychedelic best.

The first part of the line is most probably NOT true. It isn't easy to live with eyes closed. Not really. All that messy bumping into things. It's not easy to live with eyes open either. You will be overwhelmed by the dreck, the hurly-burly of humanity, and non-stop-eternity, rushing across your eyeballs. 

Living is not easy. Even when you ease into the day, there are the swirling storms in your heart and head. 

The second part of the line is probably, for sure, true. Misunderstanding all you see. Yes, indeed. Our perceptions of the world, are partial, limited, skewed. Paraphrasing Plato we are prisoners of our senses five. Watching those shadows on the walls of the cave and declaring that's life.

We live in the big, puffy, clouds of unknowing. There is a sadness and hope there. We don't really know what's going on. The not-knowing is sort of a liberation. We just have to carry on as best we can. As the great r&r philosopher Tom Petty put it, we must go forth and "Damn the Torpedos."

A Memorial to Breathing...

Ok. Today a bit of air. Air-space. Head-space. A day off. No expectations. Chilling out, and being chill. "Still your warring mind Dear Pilgrim." Tune out the chatter.  You will not solve what you are determined to solve. Solving isn't in your job description. Today is all about the hang, hanging out, being loose, letting the day roll out, and letting it all come to you. Sure, be the Caretaker, but take care of your self too. Whatever is in store, let it come down. Breathing. Today is about breathing. Let's make this day a memorial to breathing, breathing easily & freely, without any ulterior motive, just making it to the next breath, and the one after that too. Etc.

Air/No Air...

Thinking about a comment one of the recording engineers we are working with on new mixes of new songs made during our last session a couple days ago. We were working on a song that is on full-blast for the duration of the song, a little over 5 minutes of maximum r&r. 8 musicians just blazing away. It's one of our most exhilarating numbers. When we play it live the audience always really, really gets into it. We actually can get folks to "dance in the aisles," which frankly, when it first happened, totally surprised us. Anyway, it's a good song, fun to play, and even has cowbell on it. It's a story song about being in the wrong place at the wrong time with dire consequences. Funny, even our most "enjoyable" songs, are saying something, we don't have any throwaway moments. That is kind of our thing. So anyway back to the engineer's comment: "There's not a lot of air on this one." So true. The songs blasts out, sucking the air from the room and it never falters or hesitates. But that is a feature, not a bug. There are other songs on our projected new record that do have plenty of air, and head-space, but this one, is a bit of an outlier. We listened to it in the studio on high-priced, premium studio monitors, and then, the engineer flicked a switch and it was suddenly playing thru a classic old boombox sitting on a shelf. Oh man, did it sound epically cool. Sometimes you want air, and sometimes not. Both ways can be a kick. Air/No Air… yes, indeed, there is a dichotomy there. And sometimes it can be exquisite. We definitely got the vibe of making a well-conceived piece of music, even if it sort of happened kind of accidentally.

Conflicted About The Hustle...

In my own way, I have been always on the hustle: "to obtain by energetic activity." I come from what I think of as a long, unbroken line of hustlers. A line of folks who basically had to hustle their way thru life. A long line of working stiffs. Whatever bounty or $ that came down, appeared out of the ether as a result of back-breaking manual labor, pure luck & pluck, or lots of flailing about, and working up into a lather. Sometimes the "smoke & mirrors" paid off, but that was most likely attributable to the vicissitudes of our ratty "fake empire;" our natty, sprawling, all-consuming capitalistic, culture. If I really apply myself  to skulling it out, I have to come to the realization that I have no clue why some of my ventures payed off, and most didn't. Most folks think I'm chill, and ZEN and the happiest, go luckiest Dude on the planet. That isn't how it goes inside my head. If I simplify, do a simple job for a simple buck, I can get along. But there is a burgeoning ambition swirling in my being. I have bigger dreams, want to accomplish great, sort of sketchy things, want to make things happen. But often I seem to have no hand. Maybe those dreams and ambitions are just hallucinations? Am I really lying to myself? Am I really just a simple being, doing simple things, and that's enough; showing up, doing what I do with very little resonance in the wider world. Maybe the hustle is also a hustle of myself? Not sure. Am I really that person who wants to conquer the world? Nah. I probably just want to live in it, do my creative, flow activities. I am happy sitting in my room listening to music, playing guitar, reading a book, writing a long rant. I might be happiest alone. Sure, I also have a band, write songs, make records, do shows. In the past I wrote plays, put them on, took one on the road to the Edinburgh Fringe Fest, but all my activities seem sort of marginal and ephemeral. I mean super, super marginal, and absolutely, totally ephemeral. Maybe that's just the reality of my life? Go along, and get along, on the margins. Maybe I never really was on the hustle. Maybe just fooling myself? Maybe no one makes anything happen, thing just happen, or not. "Whatever is gonna happen, is gonna happen, whatever isn't gonna happen, isn't gonna happen." Maybe that hustling idea is a lie in my space. One passed down from generations. Maybe best to "Go with the flow, Dude." Let the world come to you, or not. Let it come down, and if it doesn't come, oh, well, I suppose that's life.

Patience, Determination, Perseverance...

We trekked across the city to go to the big-deal recording studio yesterday. We are still mixing songs, listening obsessively to mixes and making small edits and revisions. It is a pain-staking process, one that isn't all that fun, but is essential and necessary. And it is revelatory. It's how you make songs come alive. Small changes are all the difference. There are a million ways to tackle a track. It is an art, and a sonic alchemy. We are looking for the magic, the lightening in a bottle, the perfect formula. At the same time  we are looking to unleash the power and soul of a band playing live in the moment. It is an art with a bit of science too. We have 8 musicians all giving it their heart and souls to 11 songs. How the instruments are arranged and arrayed across the soundstage, the volumes, what is emphasized, what is "taken away" are all critical to the final realization of the songs. These songs are malleable. Nothing is fixed, there isn't one way, there are an uncountable number of choices and aesthetic decisions. Those decisions can radically change the presentation of a song. It all sounds simple, and, you may think obvious, but really, nothing is obvious. One choice then leads to a deep rabbit-hole of choices. Lately I have been listening to a handful of very different bands, none really like our own, but all quite inspiring: Steely Dan (icy perfection), The Smiths (raw r&r guided by Johnny Marr guitar maestro and arranger extraordinaire), The Flaming Lips  (raucous, wildly experimental, layered madness), The Kinks (maximum, r&r).  Listening to these bands everything sounds inevitable, but, for sure, in the making of their songs and albums nothing was inevitable, everything was massaged, sculpted, and created to sound inevitable and indelible. We are nearly done mixing, just a few tracks left. We are working with two very different mixers in two very different studios. It's all a learning process. We are training our ears in new ways. We have been thru this kind of thing before but this time we have expanded the circle, enlisting two recording engineers and mix-masters who bring out different aspects of the songs. We made the decision to have one do the "rockers," and the other to mix the more "ethereal ones." Listening to the results reveals that the tracks are surprisingly cohesive. Maybe it makes sense, it is our band recorded beautifully, playing at peak form. So exciting. So yes, the process requires patience, determination, perseverance, and a lot of concentrated listening. Working on these songs, we are working on ourselves too. The process changes you, and what you touch too. Funny how that works.

Too Many Swears Makes the Baby Go Blind...

Funny…

I am living as a guest at another person's domicile, living on the kindness of acquaintances, logged onto their MacBook as a Guest User. Yesterday's expletive-filled blog post (see previous post), violated someone's community standards, and I am blocked from reading my own post. I don't have permission to change permissions. Like I said, funny. Quite funny. Censored from myself. That is a lesson right there. Be careful and precise with your words dear Pilgrim. Words do matter. They do have consequences, intended or not. This morning I have decided that I am sticking to non-swears. Sure, I am keeping it squeaky-clean.  I say, "Go Forth and Damn the Torpedos." "Damn," is ok, right?!

Nasty, Dirty Words...

Bad language. Science tells us that using curse words is good for us. My partner and I are experts at using "bad" words in normal, daily conversation. We both basically swear like "drunken sailors." It's kind of funny, and just so normal for us. As a young Catholic boy it was so liberating to hear George Carlin do his "seven dirty words" bit. Words not used on the air, words not used in polite conversation. If you were being polite, you just didn't say those nasty words in public. But you know, there is that obvious, "subversive mother-fucking" response: "Fuck That Shit!" Sometimes, for example, "Fuck" is just the perfect word to convey whatever you want to convey. Super-useful. Kind of the Swiss Army Knife of curses. When I was a wee lad  I did have this sneaking suspicion that I was paving a road to Hell, with all my bad language, but, you know, so the fuck what?!

The first time I heard "fucking" used in a song was John Lennon singing "Working Class Hero." It was a bit shocking, but also made me laugh out loud. Lennon telling his truth as plainly as he could imagine doing it. Perfect. Yes. Words. Just words. I have a faith and belief in words, well-chosen, perfectly-placed words. Often those nasty, dirty words are just the ticket. Plain, descriptive speaking. Something to be said for it, for sure. Are those words now over-used? Is it lazy to always be swearing? I don't think so. There is something satisfying about expertly-placed dirty words. They are great vehicles for emoting, and for dealing with all the stupid, fucking shit we have to put up with every fucking day. Just tune into the radio and listen to that Fat Orange-Headed Fuck who has dominated the conversation for way too many fucking years. Swearing at the radio in the morning is sort of liberating and life-affirming. Fuck Yeah!

Sink, Swim, or Float...

Thinking about perseverance:  "continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure, or opposition."

Exactly. Right.

I mean, a life is filled with difficulties, failure, opposition. Have to stick with it. Hang on. Hang in. Keep plugging. I think it helps to approach anything with "beginner's mind,"  the art and practice of Shoshin: "having an attitude of openness, eagerness, and lack of preconceptions when studying, even at an advanced level, just as a beginner would."

Maybe you don't want to reinvent the wheel every time, but it helps to clear your head, drop any preconceived ideas and meet the moment, alive and open. Damn the torpedos, damn the slings and arrows too. You have to live with heart and soul. Jump into the pool and see what happens. Sink or swim. Maybe just float?!

Light & Energy...

The day, a blank page. Waiting to be filled. Blue skies, warmer temps. Being outside in the elements becomes a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The day caresses. The sunlight warms. Energy and life surges from every corner. Worries and doubts vanish. Sitting quietly in the sunlight ; a renewing & refreshing ritual. Slowing down, taking time to smell the lilacs, to notice the greenery, the trees, the birds flitting from branch to branch. I found myself back on the bench yesterday. Another long-time friend stopped by. Noticing and being noticed is part of life. A chat about music, playing in a band, doing the things we love to do, singing, performing, playing music. We share the ambition, the need to create, perform, preparing for the next show. No judgements to render. No decisions to make. Sort of floating on the vibe of the day. A long, meandering day of light & energy, and good cheer.

A More Truthful and Soulful Frequency...

"You are not the main character in the Universe." - Brianna Wu

You know, seems obvious, but lots of us find this idea really hard to take in. If you can take it in, and understand it, truly, madly, deeply, and incorporate it into your being, you will be a "better" version, an improved model, and mode, of a Human Being. 

Sure, I get it, not being the main character in this grand, unfolding saga is kind of a demotion, and a blow to our puffed-up, fragile egos. It is humbling, and maybe a bit frustrating. It's a big fat slap in our narcissistic faces, but it is so obviously true, it's basically undeniable. And being true, if you can ride with it, you will save yourself lots of trauma & mischief, and misunderstanding, and bad blood, and, for sure, you will resonate with the Universe at a better, more truthful and soulful frequency.

And, dare I say, that's what it's all about. I mean, I am just spit-balling here, just another humble pilgrim, a peripheral, marginal, pretty much irrelevant character in a much bigger story. A story I can't even really get my head around. And, well, that's OK. Maybe better than OK. I am just riding a vibe for all it's worth, which might not be much, but is probably, inevitably just enough.

The Bench

The bench. It's actually a number of benches on the lakefront, facing East, like recumbent gods, in attentive postures, watching over Lake Michigan. My partner and I made a daily religious pilgrimage to these benches during the months of lockdown, which now seems like a lifetime ago. We still make the trek, a little less religiously now, but we are often found sitting on one of these benches, staring off into the great distance. It has become one our essential, life-saving, rituals. Which bench? Usually the one closest to a large, looming, tree. Sometimes naked, all gnarly black branches, sometimes in full bloom, with large green leaves drooping, flapping or swaying, depending on if, and which way, the wind blows.  Sometimes we choose to sit in the sunshine, sometimes in the shade, each bench has a little metal medallion, with words of dedication to folks who have either passed away, or who just lent the $ to say a few words of encouragement to future-sitters of the bench.  I found myself on the bench alone yesterday. My partner was busy doing necessary errands. I was free to sit, and watch. Definitely a great way to clear your head-space. I often sit lotus-style on the bench, still limber, and flexible enough, to do it. I imagine myself as some kind of lost, white-boy buddha-wanna-be, running thru my meditations, sometimes silently repeating a mantra, sometimes replaying conversations or things I am going to do or write about. It is best when I just sit and breathe, kind of tune into the waves. But every day, every time you sit on the bench the waves, the light, the moment is different. Never the same way twice. There is a lesson there. I have learned if you sit in one place long enough, the world will come to you. So many friends, distant relations have crossed in front of me while I was being a very still contented energy on the bench. Yesterday a long-ago fellow-traveler stopped by. He said "hello," and sat down next to me. Years ago we studied meditation together. We have so many interconnected instances between us. A long line of mutual acquaintances, and experiences. We ran thru a quick litany of remembrances. Amazing to remember things you didn't know you remembered. It seemed like an important meeting, with a wise soul, who knows me from a long list of past creative adventures, plays, musical performances, art shows. It felt like a meeting of equals, compatriots, co-conspirators. A passing moment. And then we said our "goodbyes" and he moved on. I stayed on the bench for a bit longer. And then I too, headed off to other assignments. The bench. The benches. Sacred markers, places of a certain power, platforms for contemplation, and community. A vortex of energy where life rolls on and rolls out.

The Ties...

Yes. We are connected to everything, and everyone. Paraphrasing a line that I came across this morning:  "We think of ourselves as protagonists, but we are only passing thru someone else's story. Maybe uncounted numbers of someones."

Right. We think we are the main character of our narrative, but that's only in the monologue in our heads. We come from a long line of dead people. An unbroken chain of broken characters. Everyone we know, everyone we have met, everyone passing thru our lives help put the puzzle of us together.

Contrary to some of my New Age Spiritualistic friends, most likely, we didn't choose to be born, we didn't choose our parents or our families, we didn't choose where and when to be born and raised. We inherit so much: genes, emotions, traumas, history, experience.

It's hard to get your sea legs. Hard to keep your shit together. For some reason I thought of this Bruce Springsteen song this morning. It's seems like it's about a very human relationship, maybe a marriage that's gone wrong, but, really, I read it a bit more broadly, like any human relationship:

"You been hurt and you're all cried out you say

You walk down the street pushin' people outta your way

You packed your bags and all alone you want to ride

You don't want nothin', don't need no one by your side

You're walkin' tough baby, but you're walkin' blind

To the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

Cheap romance, it's all just a crutch

You don't want nothin' that anybody can touch

You're so afraid of being somebody's fool

Not walkin' tough baby, not walkin' cool

You walk cool, but darlin', can you walk the line

And face the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

I would rather feel the hurt inside, yes I would darlin'

Than know the emptiness your heart must hide

Yes I would, darlin', yes I would, darlin'

Yes I would, baby

Oh, you sit and wonder just who's gonna stop the rain

Who'll ease the sadness, who's gonna quiet your pain

It's a long dark highway and a thin white line

Connecting baby, your heart to mine

We're runnin' now but darlin' we will stand in time

To face the ties that bind

The ties that bind

Now you can't break the ties that bind

You can't forsake the ties that bind

Oh..." - B. Springsteen

New Tricks...

I am not going expound or expand on this topic this morning, but, let me just say that yes, absolutely, you can teach an old dog new tricks. Really. I can prove it, believe me, even though I am not going into the all grubby details. Just trust me. I mean, hell, it kind of makes sense, that old saying is dead wrong, wrong about dogs & tricks, for sure. There is a general idea and trend that everything is always moving, morphing & changing. That's more like it. Really. I'm not kidding. 

Beauty & Harmony of Opposites...

I've lately tuned-up my being. I seem to be more open to the poetry of Life. Feeling the vibrations and the resonances rising and falling around me. That's a good thing. This morning I stumbled across Wendell Berry's poem "To Know the Dark:" 

To Know the Dark

by Wendell Berry

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Yes. I think of that Yin/Yang idea. 

In the Dark, Light. 

In the Light, Dark. 

Put on those dark feet, and dark wings and go forth into the light. Alternatively, put on those feet and wings of light and go forth into the dark. Experience and revel in the beauty and harmony of opposites. 

A Web of Connection...

Sometimes we feel alone, or lonely, but, it's just not true. Even if you are alone in a room, there are all those others you have encountered in your life who are with you still. None of us are isolated on an island. We are all connected via a wide-ranging web of slender tendrils. We all embody a life of experience and memory.

"I am a part of all that I have met."  - Alfred, Lord Tennyson - 1809-1892

We are lucky to know other people. Some of them are our "better angels," some of them are our "demonic angels."  Most of the us encounter a healthy allotment of each.

There are no "self-made" Human Beings. That is a ridiculous, and frankly pernicious idea. We are all in it together whether we want to acknowledge it, or not. Really, that is just the way a life rolls out. Connected.

Always Be Growing...

 "He not busy being born is busy dying..." - Bob Dylan

"A ghost is born." - Jeff Tweedy/Wilco

We talk about growing up. You know, from child to adult. But really, being alive is a constant process of growing. Never stops. Until it stops.

"...the doom and glory of knowing who you are..." - James Baldwin

Maybe we are here to explore and experience as much as we can?

“... no one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you, must cross the river of life...” - Friedrich Nietzsche

“Self-knowledge… is not an aim in itself, but a means of liberating the forces of spontaneous growth. In this sense, to work at ourselves becomes not only the prime moral obligation, but… the prime moral privilege.” - Karen Horney

Maybe we are here to grow, to unfold, just like that willow tree on the lakefront? We are here to be ourselves to the max, open and alive to the world. Sprouting, bending, swinging, folding, wrapping, infused with life and energy.

Refuse The Bully...

Bullies: "a blustering, browbeating person especially : one who is habitually cruel, insulting, or threatening to others who are weaker, smaller, or in some way vulnerable."

Sounds familiar? 

Seems our culture, society, politics, business world, social media is all about the Bully. There are the famous Bullies dominating the airspace, sucking all the oxygen from the room, and out of our heads. And then there are all those small-minded, heartless, meek and cowardly folks who cheer on the Bully. There are whole elaborate political & social movements based on the love and worship of, and for, the Bully. Authoritarianism & Fascism (see previous post), are obvious manifestations of Bully Culture. 

My first interactions with the Bully happened as a child in Catholic Grade School. Recess was often a free-for-all where the big kids took out their aggression and excess energy on the little kids. I was forced to endure the "pricks & kicks," to eat my fair-share of dirt at the hands of a Fat Bully. 

I remember coming to the aid of a little, fragile, kid with glasses and braces who was bloodied by a couple of tough, mean kids. Blood dripping from his nose, blood on his face & shirt, glasses broken, tears and soft whimpers. I  put my arm around him and helped him to the bathroom to clean up. To this day, I have usually sided with the Underdog. 

I did finally rid myself of my main tormenter, the Fat Bully. Under the usual assault I somehow landed a wild, lucky punch, and bloodied the Bully's nose. Amazing. Totally stunned him and stopped him in his tracks. He melted away, and disappeared, he never bothered me again. Suddenly the neighborhood was a quieter and a bit more sunny place.

I suppose I have carried that lesson with me my whole life. Any authoritarian, any fascist, any dictator, any aggressive individual beating down on those weaker, smaller and more vulnerable, which, really if you think of it describes most of the Human Beings on the planet, evokes a visceral reaction in my being. Deep in my bones, deep in my experience, I just know it is wrong. The Bully is actually a coward, a baby. Someone easily shown up. It just takes a little courage, maybe a bit of luck; folks who stand up for themselves, demand to be counted, and refuse to bow to the loud, blubbering Bully. We must all be ruled by kindness, but the Bully needs to be called out, shown the door, shamed and laughed at. Sure they can be welcomed back into our good graces, if they stop that bullying shit and make amends. Or go quietly into that good night.

It can be done. I can tell the tale...

Over-Active Brain-Boxes!"

Human Beings. Many of us have an "over-active brain-box." A blessing and a curse. Hard to weigh and measure the benefits and the detriments. A hyperventilating brain-box leads to all kinds of mischief, turmoil, adventure, mis-adventure, joy, giddiness, wildness, stupidity, emotional trauma & madness, willful ignorance, blind-sided-ness, self-sabotage, weird-ass-self-awareness, high anxiety, guilt, knuckle-headed-ness, diabolical cruelty, glad-handed-ness, random kindness, grace, stubbornness, super-sensitiveness, numbness, etc. Yikes.

Wings of Light...

Let's just get this out of the way...

Fascism is bad. Know your history. It helps to review the historical record to see all the death and destruction Fascism has unleashed around the world. Think of Fascism as a mind-virus. It's a  really noxious disease in the head, a perniciously toxic and death-conjuring movement. There has always been a Fascist element in America. Sometimes on the wane, sometimes on the rise. Lately it's getting lots of attention and free air time. Not a good look, not a smart play for our Democracy. One of our political parties, the GOP has gone full-Fascist. It's kind of shocking & disturbing. Many of our fellow Americans seem to have given up on Democracy. It is a shame. I truly, madly, deeply think they are out-numbered, but history shows us that a minority-movement can wreck a government, and wreak havoc. Our hopes reside with all the cooler heads, the Democrats, the Young Progressives, the wise old hands, the folks who still believe in good government. All Human Beings are worthy. There are better ideas: inclusion, equality, freedom, diversity, humanity, woman's rights, LGBTQ+ rights, Immigrant Rights, Human Rights for all. We need to stick with the better ideas. Seek out and support the good. Fascism always burns out, after the wreckage, after the bullet in the bunker, after the smoke clears, life emerges out of the ashes. Our Hope rides on the Wings of Light.