Three stories, three guys. Two names are changed to protect the innocent. All have a connection.

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I have a buddy living in a foreign city, a place where the world is his oyster. He moved from a place that was in between two big cities, a place he hated. But he made choices there–he limited his mobility, and his chances to explore the place. He moved, hoping to open up again. Instead, he chose to live far away from the city center. It’s a chore to get there and back, and he doesn’t enjoy the activities the city offers. He’s isolated himself.

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A family member I love nearly ended it all. Not by some spectacular method, but by slowing wasting away. He lost his job, had trouble finding another, and he was losing his sense of worth and value. His reason to live. He had grown so weak from lack of nourishment that his brother and sister had to bathe him. When I saw him over Christmas, he wasn’t the same guy with the sly smile. His hair was much grayer, and his walk was slow and gingerly. Looking at him, I knew he felt isolated.

• ****

And there’s me.

My heart yearns to be open. I want it to be open to receive all the goodness it can, and to heal itself if it’s hurt. My friend and my kin isolated themselves. I don’t want to be so isolated. Even if my heart hurts, it has to stay open, whole.

• ****

Sometimes I do things on instinct. Not necessarily physical things, but emotionally and spiritually. My reaction to something earlier this year, I think, was an innate reaction to seeing my kin. In a way, my kin was saying to me, be open, live, keep your heart whole. Be whole. Give that wholeness. Even if you stumble, give, and live.

Namaste

April is National Poetry Month in the U.S., and to acknowledge it, I want to try to write as much of this blog in poetry as I can. I may not be totally successful, but I can try. For me, writing is a release, a mirror, an escape, a way to stand up. There are many forms, so for the next month, I’ll try to stretch my creativity. I have no idea what the result will be, and frankly I don’t care. Just write, he says.

I’ve said before that it seems like I dream just about every night. Most I don’t remember (supposedly this is true for men).

But last night I was on the same bridge to home I tend to dream about. As usual I was heading in the direction of home. And this time, I was crawling along the deck of the bridge.

So where is home? And how do I get there? Am I already there?

Something in this article on the G20 really caught my eye…

“I want to try and get journalists to think about the fact that they make reality; they don’t just report on it,” he explained.

I know a few journalists, and I’m not sure they would agree. I think they would feel like they report on what is taking place in the world. Their reportage can certainly move people to act and react, but in the end, I think most journalists would say that ultimately their readers/viewers/listeners create their own reality. That’s not absolving journalists, but the reader is not a passive actor in this.

Next week could be a big week.

Or maybe not.

With the economic crisis still going, you get a sense that people are fed up, or getting there. From bonuses to job losses to homelessness, the anger seems to be building. And some of that vitriol may reach the surface at next week’s G20 meeting in London. Bankers in the City (the financial district) are being told to wear jeans into work, lest they become targets.

I am in no way advocating violence. This global bad hair day will pass and things will be back to normal–whatever passes for normal. But something in this article on London caught my eye. It’s amazing how certain phrases can be turned into something that is good or ill, happy or sinister. It depends a lot on your outlook.

Welcome to the revolution

Some think the revolution is here. But let’s turn the idea on its head. Like we have before.

Revolutions can wither it you’re not careful and patience. Like a great marathoner, pace is key.

Welcome to the revolution.

I am here on this earth (or think the reason I’m here) is to do, to give, to be. To do valuable things and to do worthy things. To give valuable things and to give worthy things. To be of value and to be of worth. To take advantage of that from me, is to diminish and erode what I can give, do, and be. The game I am playing is to enhance and thrive my value and worth, to give be and do for others. It is a process that doesn’t really end, and I stumble occasionally. But the direction is one of enhancement, not diminishment.

While writing about John Hope Franklin, I remembered a couple of things from a pair of professors I had. I remember the quotes, but little else from the classes…

From an American History prof…What we need aren’t better leaders, but better citizens.

And from a graphic design professor…Everything depends on everything else.

A great historian, John Hope Franklin, has passed away. He wrote one of the definitive works on the history of blacks in the U.S., “From Slavery to Freedom,” changing the way a people saw itself, and the way a nation saw its people. Dr. Franklin was a keen observer of people, and the country…

“One might argue the historian is the conscience of the nation, if honesty and consistency are factors that nurture the conscience.”
Race and History: Selected Essays, 1938-1988

He, like Albert Murray, was clear-eyed about life, America, and its people. There is a stoutness, a forthrightness in the way they approach their fields, and their lives. They are examples to emulate, even in this fast-paced, modern life we all lead.

Thank you, Prof. Franklin.

I just thought–this is going to be a year of huge change for me. Then I thought–isn’t every year one of huge change? I hope so–I want to be evolving, not devolving.

Sam Cooke sang “A Change Is Gonna Come.” Always, yep.

The president is a very different guy.

Have any questions for POTUS? Go here. I like this idea of opening the White House to questions and concerns, and hope this is just the start.

I turn 37 next Friday. A friend of mine in England just turned 35. I told her…

It’s not the age, it’s the attitude that counts.

Tie-back to Nibblets 2 and 3 from Murray…

The jazz musician is the questing hero of melodrama, who crafts a sword, his chops, his technique, to slay the dragon of the blues. But the entire blues statement is a farce, a recognition that you can establish order but it always reverts to chaos. The blues will be back tomorrow!

The struggle, the path, the journey knows no end…

I have a friend who doesn’t like jazz. She thinks it’s boring.

I like jazz. I love the way the group interacts, the music lively and passionate. And on a deeper level, it can make me feel human again. Murray:

Jazz is only possible in a climate of freedom.

one of the reasons totalitarian governments hated jazz was because good jazz is hard to script, do by rote. Those governments wanted things done right down the line. No improvisation allowed. Jazz is great when jazz throws off the rule, and doesn’t do as it’s told.

One of the things I like about Albert Murray is his attitude that infuses all of his writings. It’s put best here (which may be a repeat):

It’s an attitude of affirmation in the face of difficulty, of improvisation in the face of challenge. It means you acknowledge that life is a low-down dirty shame yet confront that fact with perseverance, with humor, and, above all, with elegance.

Some will argue that life isn’t a low-down, dirty shame, and that his outlook is negative. That’s hardly the case, in fact his outlook is ultimately positive. Murray is realistic about life–it is no cakewalk. Instead of allowing life and its storms to leave you wind-whipped, stay strong and stay light. Murray again:

The blues is not the creation of a crushed-spirited people; it’s the product of a forward-looking, upward-striving people.

I’ll be nibbling from this story for a while–first thought: how do I respond to adversity? It might seem like I’m hiding, running away. It’s a natural response, most of us do it. Again, as I’ve said before, I’m retreating–to advance. To a better, stronger place.

“Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.” ~Walt Whitman

(a big, big hat tip–do yourself a favor and read this, it’s a beautiful way to see yourself)

While I was working in the coffee shop this evening, I heard this song come over the speakers. Never heard of Loreena McKennitt before, but I love, love this song, “Marco Polo.”

As stillness descends
Upon the evening
The presence of a friend
Distant, but close
Remains strong
Good words keep alive
What should be flowing
Words to shine a light
Words to give life
Words for a friend

I got two packages overnight.

One said, yes to my questions. But I can’t rest on my laurels. I have to continue to improve.

The second came via a dream. I was at a party, walking around and talking to folks. Then I saw a long lost friend head to another room. I caught up and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, eyes bugged out, and we embraced. Then we chatted for a while.

I am consciously making a choice–not to be toxic to a very close friend. But be giving, even at a distance.

Is it possible to be a friend in silence?

Can I be a good friend?

Am I am good friend?

Can I be energy-giving and not toxic?

A question I’ll dive into more later–what kind of friend am I?

Of all the people in the world, this man should know better than to make a statement like this. Because it opens up a Pandora’s box where people will blithely drop n-bombs on him as he blithely makes dumb Special Olympics cracks.

Being a black man, he should know that the expectations for him–upside and downside–are insane. A man like him should display more savviness and shrewdness. I want him to be as cool as everyone believes him to be.

He needs to think a little bit harder. He can handle it.

Who doesn’t like surprises? It’s the first day of spring, the birds are chirping–as it’s snowing. Ah, nature.

I saw this link this morning, and it really resonated with me.

More that a year ago, we had a situation at the office that had people up in arms and tearing their collective hair out. Then one day, someone had the bright idea to put up a poster with these words:

Keep calm and carry on.

You may think that means passivity, passionless. No, not really…

“It is a quiet, calm, authoritative, no-bullshit voice of reason,”

Steady Freddy….

Some notions should be seen as guides, not hard and fast rules. Like these. A great dozen rules for everyone to follow, not just men.

Whatever troubles I have in life seem small compared with what many, many people have to go through in this world.

There is a coup/takeover/what-have-you in Madagascar, and Foreign Policy has some compelling photos of the situation. I especially love the third shot–even in the face of a frightening situation, peace can still be found.

I ask myself where I want to be. Brussels? Rio De Janeiro? Paris? Of course. But the place I truly need to be is a place or a state of becoming. Becoming what I can be and mastering who I am.

When heard the president say this…

The president said he has asked Geithner to “pursue every single legal avenue to block these bonuses and make the American taxpayers whole.”

That resonated with me–in more ways than one.

Being whole is the name of the game.

Winter here is gone. Save a pile of darkened snow left over from an early March storm, the old man’s calling cards are gone. The air, unusually chilly for most of the season, is clawing its way to something close to respectable warmth. Meaning it’s time to break out the bike. It’s a little dusty, from sitting cooped up in an apartment for months, but I was glad to get out and feel the wind rush past me. It was good to move again, use my own power to get somewhere.

I treat bike riding like walking: dual purposes. For the exercise, of course, but a chance to meditate, to be in nature and gather its signals. And one way to do it, at least for me, is to ride and allow things to just be. When I allow things to just be, I can see clearly, into my heart and soul and see what is truly there.

He lives at a little distance from his body.–James Joyce

Through travail and fire
I seek the center of the storm
Howling wind
And fierce rain
Attempt to take me off course
The fire and storm
Serve to keep me balanced
I stride confidently
Through the flames
Knowing they can’t burn me
But give me strength

My mom’s birthday was Friday. I talked to her that morning and she was fine–had just gotten back from the hairdresser. I’m happy my mom’s happy and healthy. I’m glad my mom is my mom. She’s put up with some of the boneheaded things a boy gets into when he’s growing up.

One of the things I learned from her is a sense of goodness. She taught me to always be good. Even if someone, especially someone I care about deeply, hasn’t been good to me. Remember the Lord’s Prayer?

…And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…

Forgiveness, compassion. Not hate, grudges, meanness. Forgiveness, compassion, even in seeming silence.

Namaste

Google’s mantra is “Don’t be evil.”

Let’s turn that around, hijack it, and say, “Be good.”

I am sometimes absent-minded. I have so much going on and rolling around in my head, that I get scared I will miss something important. But like a crocus shooting through the snow, or a lotus fighting through the mud, a thought comes up…

My people haven’t gotten to where they are by merely and quietly accepting roles that others have defined for them. We are pathfinders, trailblazers, explorers.

There is much that I can be as a man, and as a person.

As the journey of mastery continues, follow me.

Is it the loving to do something, or not to do something?

Yes.

The toughest fight you’ll ever have to fight is with yourself. Not your friend, sibling, parent, spouse. You. They say that it is one thing to master a game, something else to master yourself. The game, objective, quest, path, journey is to master yourself. And don’t be a fool to think once you master yourself, that’s it–the work is over. The process is continuing, evolving, changing. You will always have to master yourself. That never changes, that never goes away. As long as you draw breath, you’ll have to master yourself.

Namaste

There Are Hundreds Of Paths Up The Mountain

There are hundreds of paths up the mountain,
all leading in the same direction,
so it doesn’t matter which path you take.
The only one wasting time is the one
who runs around and around the mountain,
telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.

Hindu teaching

(hat tip)