This is a longish article, but well worth a read. And then, another read.

Yep, this is sometimes good advice. Take it from Rev. Steve…

Inspiration is innovation, and innovation is inspiration.

You always hear stories of someone losing a ring, then later, finding it again.

If you lose something, you can always, somehow, some way, find it.

There are times when I wonder how much I can give. I want my roots to go deep, but can I go down where they are? Then, I get the answer.

Stop. Stop where you are. Whatever you’re doing, put it done. Sit up. Close your eyes. Breathe in deeply. Exhale fully. Where are you?

There’s a group–duo–called the Karminsky Experience, and on one of their songs, “Exploration,” they sample an astronaut with this 60s backbeat/Indian-inspired song from Les Baxter. Here’s what the astronaut says…

“Well, I look at it myself as the beginning really, of an exploration. That’s the reason we are exploring; you don’t know what you’ll run in to on an exploration… what the sky looks like, what the stars look like… will they still twinkle, or are they a steady light when you get outside the atmosphere…”

Some updates made to the tumblelog, including…

• how to find stillness
• how to be resilient
• how to be good to yourself
• how to be good to your ears

There is so much to say, and so much to do, and so much to learn. To not say, to not do, to not learn, leaves a hole.

Five years ago, I saw Herbie Hancock in Brussels. He and his band were on tour in Europe, promoting his Future 2 Future album. It was one of the better shows I’ve seen, and not just because I was stand about 20 feet from him. I loved the album, loved its vibe. I especially loved the song, “Be Still.” On the album (but not at the concert), it was sung by Imani Uzuri, who has such a lustrous and wonderful voice. I had seen her a couple of years before, and was taken by how rich her voice was. This song, which I’m listening to now, always, always gives me goosebumps. (“Be still, and know, that I am”). The ending of the song moves me, now more than ever. It’s a Zen saying…

From the withered tree, a flower blooms, now I can see more clearly.

I love this video. This came out the way they it, right? Chalk one up for our old friend, perseverance.

Just because you haven’t sent up flares, flags, or send morse code, doesn’t mean that you don’t think of, care for, worry about, or love someone. You do. They stir.

There is something that, while not visible, is present. A pull. Toward something. The pull leaves me sad, but it wraps around me like a warm blanket on a chilly morning. Such is the nature of life? I don’t know.

Tonight, I sat quietly for a few minutes, eyes closed. Just sitting, not trying to accomplish anything. I allow thoughts that floated in my head to just float. Images of beauty and tranquility came, and went. Questions and answers, too. Enjoyed the silence of a fall evening, pierced only by the whistle of a train or the bark of a dog. And, for a precious moment, I lost track, sense of time. I didn’t fall asleep (though I ‘m tired), but it was as if for a too-short while, I left. So, I’m back now.

Here is a famous parable. You can find various forms of it on the Web…

A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor’s cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. “It’s overfull! No more will go in!” the professor blurted. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.”

To receive, you have to be empty. I want to remain empty enough so that the lessons of life have a place to go.

I decided Friday not to blog this past weekend. This is the first time I’ve touched my blog since then. I stopped (mostly) from checking email, RSS feeds, IM, and the news. They got backed up, but I can live with it. I wanted to fast, give up some things for awhile.

Why did I do this? I wanted to rest. My meditation on passion was more than a list. I wanted to see what was inside of me, draw it out. I’ve seen it. There’s more around, but it’s out there now. Now, it’s what’s next. Next, a respite. Drawing everything inside me: the happiness, the joy, the pain, the suffering–drawing them in me, and releasing them. Like a breath–inhaling, then exhaling. Becoming my breath, becoming me.

Why fast? It is a cleansing of the spirit, an opening of the spirit, to receive more. It is looking inside, to see what is there and what remains to be gathered. To go down inside, to come back out again.

I don’t what to be selfish in the things I do in life, but here, at least, I want to and need to be. This has been for me, and me alone. If others take something useful from it, all the better.

I rested to give myself a breather. To rest my fingers. To rest my head and recharge it. I wanted my thoughts and feelings to float, stir, marinate, appear, disappear, reappear. Just be. Roam, play, wander, without having to go anywhere. Ask questions without worrying about answers. Get answers, and not care about where the questions came from. Give up writing–for awhile–and pick it up again. So this may ramble a bit.

My body was tired from a long workweek. My soul and spirit needed a rest. I gave all of them what they wanted and needed.

Fasting takes faith. Faith in yourself to keep the promise you made to yourself. That in itself is a test. Sometimes a blog, or email, or RSS feeds can be distracting from yourself. The noise of everyday life can be overwhelming, to the point where you lose sight of yourself and where you are and who you can be. This weekend helped bring me back to center.

Questions come up without those distractions. Questions of passion, love, faith, hope, sacrifice, friendship, pride, manhood. What lessons remain for me to learn? Is the journey hard on purpose, to see what we are made of? What forms does love take? What sacrifices must I make to be happy? Why do I have to ask so many questions?

Fasting is not a place for self-pity or wallowing. It is a place for reflection. To plumb the depths of your soul. Root around, to see your strengths, and to polish what has become dull, darkened. Fasting is a workout, a spiritual one, to build muscles there, but sometimes not seen.

I’ve realized over the past few weeks that while my spirit can be knocked about, it is ultimately indomitable. I want what is best for me, and I am trying to achieve it. That is part of the journey I am embarking on. I’ve been down many roads, but not this one. I know the ultimate destination, but I don’t have a map. The routes are foreign. The road not smooth. I wonder can I make this endeavor. What will be there for me at the end? Am I even in the right place?

I have talked a little bit about stereotypes before. Is it arrogance to not what to be like everyone else, to know what you have already? I hope not. I am a black male. Society thinks I need to be certain things, most of which I have little use for. The roles and the values I seek and want are much stronger and deeper than that. I understand what manhood is, true manhood; it’s not what is shown on a video. It is so much more, so much deeper, than that. I tend to march to my own drummer. Which makes me different, gives me another perspective on life. Am I less of a man to have embarked upon this journey? No, to be a man, to be a human, you have to face moments like this. Moments where it is you and you alone. And move ahead.

Love. I have been asking myself what is love, and what love can be. Love is compassion. Love is selfless. To give and give until I can’t give anymore. And then, give more. It’s not about control. I can’t control anyone. Sometimes, I’ve had to let love go, and it hurt deeply. Especially when the person gave freely as much as I gave. I have to give the full measure of myself in everything I do. If I can’t, I tend to walk away. I will be hurt, and the other person will be hurt, but I don’t know how to be there less than fully. It is something I haven’t learned yet. Maybe this journey will teach me that. Maybe this journey will teach me more about love than I think I already know. If I hang on, linger, it’s not because of clinginess, or desperation. Only because it’s good. I want to pass on the goodness that has been given to me, let it flow back to that source. Allow it to flow. When I have reached inside of me lately, I have not found anger, I have only found love. True and deep. Even if it has meant separating myself, walking away from something I value deeply. Walking away is difficult. I should empty my cup.

What about friendship? Can friendship co-exist if desire exists on one side, and not the other? Is true friendship true love? Can friends remain friends after tumult? How does the nature of friendship change after that tumult? How deep are the roots of friendship? How strong can friendship be? This I can say–friendship is compassion. I am grateful to have seen this, to be awakened to it.

And back to love–is one kind of love more worthy, more special than another? Simply, I don’t know. And that is fine. I have to find out. Again, questions.

The heart is a glorious device, physically and emotionally. It gets stressed, strained, broken, but it can repair itself. Mine is repaired, and stands ready.

I have let go of control. I have let things be. Let things go. Breathe them in, then exhale. Let go of my ego. Relaxed my grip.

Is love in places unseen? Are we awake to see these places?

I wanted to be empty this weekend. Empty of thoughts and feelings, even if it was only for seconds at a time. Most people are scared of emptiness, stillness. We feel a constant need to be going, going, going. We are not the Energizer Bunny. We need a recharge. To be still, and for even a few moments have nothing stirring inside, even as the world churns, bringing perspective. It makes you ready for the world again.

Sunday morning, I meditated. I just decided to lie down flat, palms outstretched, eyes closed, and just lie there. Allow thoughts and feelings to come inside, and then flow out. To breathe in, and breathe out, in silence. The music that usually plays in my head was stilled. It was a relevatory experience. At one point, I crossed my hands on my chest, feeling my heart beat, and feeling the blood, life, coursing through me. Some questions were asked, and a few answered. Some were not. And that is fine. Everything can’t be answered in 40 minutes. It was good to find a place of peace.

Life is a journey of discovery. There are aspects you want to see, and aspects you wish you didn’t. But you learn along the way. And, consciously or subconsciously, we help each other discover. We take, and we give, and vice versa. To be aware and awake. It’s hard to find out that you really don’t know as much as you thought you did. That’s why you have to keep learning.

Life is a wondrous thing. Sometimes you try so hard to give someone what you hope, pray, they want and deserve. Sometimes, you fail. But sometimes, in the bargain, you give something wholly unexpected. And it works in reverse. Someone gives you more than they ever expected.

Life sometimes is not linear. Sometimes, it looks more like a child’s first attempt at drawing. A mash, mess of squiggles that at first blush looks like nothing. But it is an attempt to experiment, to see what can happen. And to keep trying.

I feel that my roots are deepening. The foundation is becoming stronger. I want my roots to spread, and never stop growing. I want, and need, rain, metaphorical rain, to continue to grow. I want to always feel my soul, I want it to be ever-present, never go away.

I have fasted, I think, to prepare for this journey. To where, I have to put my canoe into deep water.

I am grateful for this journey. It won’t be a walk in the park. I am grateful to be tested like this. It sounds odd, but unless you get tested every so often, how do you know what you have?

To be naked in the world is difficult. Again, this has been solely for me. Even saying this, I want to release the I and me. And try try try.

If anyone takes anything positive from all this, I will be glad.

I am traveling on a journey, to a place where I’ve never been. Will I make it?

Passion is a test, and a journey.

Passion is…friendship.

This road of discovery is one where I want to continue on. Not knowing where it will lead. I’m scared, but hopeful.

Passion is saying I’m sorry.

Passion is…frozen grapes.

Passion is …

• stillness.a door.tears welling up in the middle of the day.opposites.wanting to be in a million other places than this one.feeling young, even when you're old.your heart in your throat.letting someone know, you remain in the hearta heart stirring.a protector.wanting to be there.music in your head.

‘Nite

Passion is a goodnight kiss–that lasts for a hour, and makes the neighobrs envious.

Tug

A smell

Stay

Passion is wishing somone didn’t have to go anywhere.

So near, so far

Passion is face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lips-to-lips, hand-in-hand.

Passion is commitment–spoken, and unspoken.

Passion is surprise. Gentle, spectacular–and everything in between.

Passion is standing in front of a window, watching the rain fall down. With a woman in your arms.

Passion is memories of what happened, thoughts of tomorrow, longing for what should have been.

Passion is selflessness.

I’ve had at least three epiphanies in life, moments where the clouds parted and everything–everything–was clear. Epiphanies are glimpses into how life can be. One was of an intimate nature–no need to discuss it here. The other was in Paris…

One night, I was coming of le Franc Pinot, a jazz club on the Ile St. Louis, in the middle of the Seine. It is this great, small basement club–very intimate and classically Paris. Instead of taking the shorter route to the next club, I decided to walk through the island. It was a cold night, the lights washing over the narrow street. Then, I noticed something falling from the sky. I looked closer into the light–it was snow. Falling gently, until the entire street, quiet, hushed in the late night, was illuminated in flakes. I stopped to survey the scene, take it in. And thought, this is the way that life can be. The peace I felt in that moment was something I’ve rarely felt.

The other? If I spend time with someone, I usually feel this urge, pull for away time, for me to be alone. This year, one time, I stayed. I didn’t feel like going. I wanted to stay.

Passion is a security guard tapping on your window, telling you and your lady friend to move along. As soon as the windows clear.

Passion is not selling short anything. Or anyone.

Passion is goodness.

Preternatural calm never precludes passion.

Passion is saying, good night.

Passion is a warm bed, and a warm body waiting for you.

Four years, I was back home, a little dejected about the coming change in my life. I was scouting around for job prospects, in a hotel, and watching ESPN. They were showing repeats of the World Series of Poker. I thought, you must be kidding–who the hell is going to watch guys sitting around a table playing cards? But sit in front of the TV for a few minutes, and it’s mesmerizing. All these people feeding off the table, and playing independently, banking on their skill, but hoping for a little luck. It was fascinating to watch the back-and-forth.

Zen has fascinated me for a while, its tenets of calm and peace, its universality. Meshing the two makes for something special. Larry W. Phillips wrote two books on the subjects, tying together two things that don’t seem easily bound. I loaned out Zen, but still have the Tao. Either book is great for a quick lesson in how to be a card sharp, or to find a missing piece of life’s puzzle. Turn to any page, and you’ll find a nugget, a gem, to carry. Such as in Tao…

“When the opponent expands, I contract; and when he contracts, I expand. And when there is an opportunity, I do not hit, it hits all by itself.“–Bruce Lee

or

“Throughout your life advance daily, becoming more skillful than yesterday, more skillful than today. This is never-ending.”–Hagekure, by Tsunetomo

These are applicable everywhere. Seriously. At home, or in the casino.

Passion is dancing around the apartment, listening to this, this and this. And breaking a sweat doing it.

I love sports. Especially one team in particular. But if there is anything I disclose about sports is that the pregame shows and the hype surrounding it drives me bananas. I know you have to set the table for the World Series-fine, no complaints there. But slice the pregame in half and start the game earlier. And leave the radar reports to the experts.

Passion is fear. And letting go of it.

Passion is watching blue-gray storm clouds hovering over the horizon, with someone in your lap.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been pumping out a lot of words here. I’m feeling a lot of things lately, and they have to be out. It’s been a prolific month. I write mainly for me, but put things out into the world. I hope people take something from this, but you never know. I’d love to hit a home run with a post, watch lightning strike. In the end, it’s me and my thoughts. Naked. Mostly…

Passion is a hot shower for two.

Passion is a whisper in the ear. Then the wet sensation of a tongue, searching for something.

Passion isn't running away. Passion is there, even if it's at arm's length.

Passion is a dinner party, where the police bang on your door and tell you to stop dancing so loudly. At 3:30 in the morning.