Only the Curious Have Something to Find

They say that the superstitions of a child contain the wisdom of the universe. The magical insight that all things are possible when approached with the innocence of belief. Today I was walking along the waterfront, sort of mulling over this past year. I was reflecting on the interactions I'd had with various people and one person in particular. This was someone I'd had trouble communicating with. We never quite got our act together. She tended to leave quotes scattered about as if they were clues to her inner working. And me, I played into it, treating it like it was some sort of game, where, if you guessed the riddle or said the magic word, a prize would drop down from the ceiling and an announcer would suddenly boom out - "Congratulations, you are now going to live happily ever after".

Some of the passages I understood but many were paradoxical in meaning or could be applied across multiple intents. So I was walking along dwelling on a particular quote and the circumstances around it, mostly saying to myself, ok, you've got stop over-thinking about this kind of stuff and really, just move on, when I hear the chorus of a song coming from the outdoor speakers of a cafe I was passing by. The last line in the chorus, literally, is the quote I'm thinking about - "Only the curious have something to find". I kid you not.

How strange is that? Turns out the words I was pondering are from a song by a band called Nickel Creek. Playing at that same moment as I was walking by. The universe is a funny place. Well this took me in a whole different direction.

One of my favorite phrases is from a cult movie called Repo Man. It goes like this

"They don't realize that there's this, like, lattice o' coincidence that lays on top o' everything."

Personally I think this is brilliant just for the juxtaposition of lattice and coincidence. Lattice pertaining to structure and coincidence signifying randomness - structured randomness - the boy physicist in me quivers in delight at this mental maelstrom. Wish I'd written this. More importantly, I believe there's a good deal of truth here.

I tread lightly now, as this is the house of belief. We each have different dwellings but in some fashion they all provide shelter for the soul with the requisite access and egress. We all have rules whether we're conscious of it or not, of the way the universe works. My rules may be different from yours, but neither are right or wrong. Indeed, your rules are, in some fashion, your definition of what the universe is and inherently influence how you perceive events.

I believe, if you'll bear with me, two distinct things. One is that the universe encompasses a guiding force. I'm not sure about the mechanism or the reason but I believe deeply that the universe is a conduit of sacred design in some fashion for all of us. I haven't committed yet to the concept of a higher being or even a greater intelligence, no, I actually believe the word intelligence is not profound enough to describe the process that forges our being. It's more like cosmic river banks. Within these corporeal confines we flow and interact. In our everyday world it is gravity and motion, the basic physics of space and time, that determine the heft and hew of a river's course. In terms of our souls intertwined with fate, these forces, metaphysical in nature, are love and fear, hope and desire and many, many more shapers of our essence, our being. And much like the proverbial river, there are spiritual embankments that guide us while, in turn, it is our actions and interactions that cut anew shoreline, sending us in directions unforeseen.

My second belief pertains to what happened to me today. I believe that the universe is in constant contact with us, which is obvious but not so clear. Further, I think that the universe is continuously trying to communicate with us. Strange as it may seem I trust that it (I know, a little weird here), wants to try to explain itself and more importantly, give us a greater say in the ways things are flowing. I truly feel that one of our reasons for existence, why we cycle through this dance again and again, is to eventually marry our consciousness with this flow and contribute to the guiding nature that is this river.

Stay with me now. Assuming that this is the case, then I propose that the universe has provided us with the greatest gift told. It answers all our questions, all of them, all of the time. What I'm saying is that any and all responses to any question or request we can think of already exists and is, at this moment, fully incorporated into the reality around us. We have all we need to find any truth, sitting right in front of us. The only constraint is in our ability to interpret what the universe is saying, or if I may conjecture further: the only real limitation is our capability to pay attention. Coincidence, superstition, the acts that occur seemingly at random moments should not necessarily be chalked up to the turn of the card, á la Einstein's famous quote, "God does not play dice with the universe".

Often it is the Greater Voice and we should pay heed. However, like the mythological benefactions of ancient Greek gods, interpretation is the dilemma. I can say with certainty, "this means something" but what, what exactly does it mean? Here lies the enigma, the quest for answers. Where is the key that unlocks understanding and offers sustenance for our oft bewildered minds.

I'm betting that it exists within our own being. It is held in the experiences of our life, our past. It is our own self awareness, the steps that define our journey. At that moment of strange attractors, the universe is saying stop, look deep inside, and voilà, another opportunity to study and find reason and purpose based on who we are and who we want to be.

The augurist is indeed a caretaker of the heart.

Until One Is Committed

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness."

This is is the beginning of one my favorite quotes. It is often misattributed to the German poet Goethe. It was actually penned by Scottish climber, W.H. Murray while tackling the peaks in the Himalayas. The last line in the full quote is from Goethe's Faust, hence the misconception. I have a tattered poster of this from my youth that I unfailingly tack up to a wall or refrigerator wherever I may land. It's always puzzled and enticed me, this concept of commitment.

A friend called me brave the other day for some silly reason and my response was that it's only bravery if you understand the danger, otherwise it's just foolishness. I feel much the same way about commitment. It entails a process that is fraught with risk of failure and causes you to reconsider often. If it's easy, comes naturally to you, means little, then I don't consider it a commitment. A commitment has a goal, a destination and the process of fulfilling that quest is, in truth, an act of changing yourself.

A commitment is a journey.

It's not about picking a location, making an itinerary, buying tickets. At this point you can always change your mind, this is just planning. No, it's when you have your butt planted on the plane and the engines are revving for take off, it's when you wake up in a strange room in a new land with sounds and smells tickling your sense of discovery. It's when you look around and realize that hey, I am an adventurer and I'm gathering new and wondrous experiences - here is my growing edge. It takes you to a unique place. It can be as small as losing ten pounds or as momentous as joining in marriage.

A commitment is a journey.

It has a beginning, it has a middle and it has an end. There are high points and low points. You have the opportunity to turn back, quit. It's an undertaking that forces you to take stock of yourself. Who am I, what do I really want, what have I signed up for? It's the emotional turmoil that lends weight to this endeavor, your desire is the fuel, your will the craft that moves you through space and time. This is the magic of commitment, it means that every step along this path contributes to the sculpture that will become a new you.

A commitment is a journey.

Some commitments are transient and relatively benign, a respite from chocolate or an alcohol-less interlude, an opportunity for the body to recover and realign. Some more important, the determination towards health, the intent to foster a relationship. These are deep commitments, life changing campaigns that force you to focus inward and outward, to reevaluate how you relate to that which is important to you. Like any odyssey, it's not only about yourself, it's also the people you meet along the way, your supporters and detractors. It's how you interact with them, allowing them to foster and sustain you or drag you down. The trek is never alone, no mountain ever climbed without a team.

A commitment is a journey.

And in the end, rest, and the contentment of having wandered far yet reaching home once again. The commitment may always remain within but as you internalize it, allowing it to shape itself into a way of life, it becomes as a well worn comforter that you wrap around yourself on a chilly night, tea in your favorite mug, the cat curled in your lap. It is now a part of the sustaining geography of your own locale, familiar routes peopled with old friends and good neighbors. A satisfying confidence that I am a traveler and there is no voyage that I cannot envision undertaking.


Until one is committed
there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back,
always ineffectiveness.
Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation),
there is one elementary truth,
the ignorance of which kills countless ideas
and splendid plans:
that the moment one definitely commits oneself,
then Providence moves too.
All sorts of things occur to help one
that would never otherwise would have occurred.
A whole stream of events issues from the decision,
raising in one's favor all manner
of unforeseen incidents and meetings
and material assistance,
which no man could have dreamt
would come his way.
whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it now.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!

~W.H. Murray

Of Muses and Madness

I believe it was Spinoza, a 17th century philosopher, who told the story of a rock that was picked up and thrown some distance. While this rock was in mid flight it miraculously gained consciousness and looking down at the ground as it sped along said to itself , "Amazing! I can fly!"

I'm reminded of this because it's much the way I feel about writing. It's instinctual and I don't really have a plan or a goal when I sit down and start typing. If I'm lucky there's a line in my head that I put forward and from that the rest flows. Sometimes though I can write for hours and then feel I have to throw it all away. I'm writing this piece because I'm in a self referential mood tonight and this time of year does provoke the change agent in all of us.

Last year I started posting these thoughts and feelings of mine to really only one person. The rest of you are just innocent bystanders. There was someone out there who I wanted to get to know me, see what I had inside. I wanted to share my insights, fears, hopes, dreams, the whole gamut with her. Someone who had become in a fashion, my muse. We could never communicate effectively, she and I, in the real world, our languaging was always overtaken by the walls we created when we got near each other.

I hadn't written in years and it was her light that spurred me on, though in honesty, I don't believe she would have volunteered for the role of muse. She has strong internal conflicts to deal with and my presence was like water on a hot skillet, dancing her emotions in random directions with a sound that demanded attention. In turn, she managed to cut me in many ways. Some muses are gentle sprites, bent over shoulder, whispering into the artist's ear, mine preferred the harshness of promise and denial.

You ask at this point - couldn't you have found a better muse? Well, let's go back to that rock. I'd been emotionally asleep for many years. Right or wrong she woke me up and briefly I was flying - I had wings and the moon was my goal. Sure I could could have wished for the fairy tale but sometimes it's not about the princess being rescued by a knight riding in on a white charger. It's just two people, both sorely flawed and scared at the prospect of someone truly coming to know them. Both deeply fearing the loss of control in a relationship and being disoriented by the incandescence that love sears you with.

I'm able to write this now though because I've found my voice again on the written page and in opening up I've realized that it's not healthy to have a muse that twists your soul. There are more graceful ways to move through life. Perhaps I'll discover another muse or more likely strike out on my own. I enjoy these exercises in rumination and will certainly continue. Thank you for your kind support. I do get a bit wistful thinking that my words, my heart, might have touched her, opened a crack in some wall inside that was erected long ago, but she's never read these stories and probably never will.

Don't Think Twice, It's All Right.

So this is the time of year we give things up. Yup, been planning this for a while haven't we. Gonna throw out the old, clean up the garbage, create a brand spanking new ME or least some token to this effect.

Ever wonder why? Make a plan to lose the weight, turn off the alcohol, stop the puffing - these are body issues. Find a mate, end an unsatisfying relationship, buy a dog - these are heart issues. Save more, earn more, work at a better job - these are lifestyle issues. Why do we have all these issues?

Yeah, it may seem like a big deal but these are only physical undertakings of what you really want to modify. What you're saying when you make these statements is "hey, my view of myself needs to change. I want something different". The heart of the matter is not about making resolutions, it's about lining up your self image with the way you want the world to view you, with the way you want to view yourself. It's about how you look at the mirror and whether or not you're happy with what you see.

I mean, isn't that the ultimate resolution? Saying to yourself: I am becoming who I want to be, who I believe I truly am deep down inside. Every other commitment just folds into this. Be careful about what you tackle if you don't understand this basic issue. Success truly depends on how you align your being with your beliefs. If you don't see yourself as a thinner person then the weight may go but it will come back. If you fear being alone or, on the other hand, are terrified at the prospect of someone really getting to know you, then what does that say about the story you have around who you are in a relationship. Don't repaint the surface when structural work is necessary.

The fact that we constantly seek change for ourselves, yearn for growth in our being, even to the point of making a pro forma yearly ritual out of it leads us to observe something inherent in what it is to be human. We have great faith in our ability to become who we want to be. This is magical. Reach deep inside and savor the gift you have to believe in your own true being. It is not a resolution you seek but a revolution. You are looking to line yourself up with how you want the world to view you and how you view yourself and who you truly are. When these three facets form a linear narrative you become a powerful expression of the here and now and there is nothing you cannot accomplish. The resolutions you choose are ok, they are reminders that you want transformation but until you focus on yourself, your core being, and start that dance, they are but small manifestations of what you want and need. You can change, but make it real change, do the deep work and grow to be everything you want to be - do it now.


"I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind
You could have done better but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right"
~Dylan

Lions, and tigers, and bears! Oh my!

I stopped writing for a bit. These last few months were tough for me in so very many ways. When I did start back in it was more catharsis than craft. Only now do I feel like I'm finding my voice once more. It's a great blessing we have here, this universe, this cycle. The key is to dance it gracefully with joy, charity, love and hope. Most importantly though is to share it, this wonderful life. Nothing is greater than the ability to discover and understand and finally love other people. I'm blessed in this way as I have found, within my yoga community, two beautiful women, in spirit and poise who have become beacons of light in my life. And I, in turn, find I mean a lot to them. The time we spend together is pure magic in terms of coming to understand each others' fears and hopes and who we are as we continue to grow. I am learning from them how to laugh and dance again. They are carving the word Namasté on my soul with a gleeful abandon. I do love them dearly.

When you're walking in the dark wood and the noises surrounding you are unfamiliar and somewhat threatening just remember - reach out to the left and right, grasp your friends' hands firmly and take a little hop. Then a skip, and let out a small whisper - "Lions, and tigers, and bears. Oh my". Work it up into a full blown dance number, singing at the top of your lungs and before you know it, you and your friends are out of the woods, together.

Aeturnum

Of no needs have I, he said,
nor wants, desires, envy.
I'll take my company with the dead
and whither God may send me.

So late the thoughts of you have stayed
to feed my tired dreams.
At night I cry before I pray
to gods I've never seen.

This is a hard time of year for me. Long ago, in another place, I watched someone, whom I loved deeply and fought with voraciously, destroy themselves. Their inner anguish broke through and the years of hidden self loathing had become a bath of despair. Substance abuse was the requisite escape until finally it became, not an alleviation for the pain, but an answer to the problem.

I had done what I could to get her through another tough holiday season. The holidays, with expectations, memories and hauntings were always a dark domain. I left, thinking that we'd made it yet again, perhaps a new year entailed a new hope. When you're drowning, you don't stop to consider what it is that you've grasped with all your might. All you can do is will it to hold you up, to support you, and pray.

The body was in a coma for a week until I made the decision to end its journey; the soul had left long before that, of this I'm sure. I didn't cry then, I couldn't. I could just move and keep moving. I guess I still am.

Is There Balm In Gilead?

There are many kinds of wounds, they scar in different ways. Those of the soul, the psyche, have their own agenda and may last for hours, weeks or even years. The most deadly, most dangerous, are those that we inflict upon ourselves. They have no natural healing rites. In fact we may, in turn, reopen them again and again. There is but one salve for this, that of which artists have discovered to be an elemental truth. Within the congress of creativity lies a purification ritual, cleansing the laceration and sublimating the distress. These acts, endeavors, products of our hope and imagination are the concourse of amelioration.