The Best Days of our Lives:
And why remembering them is such a big problem

We've all said it before, while looking back on the days we've been through. Everyone, at some point or another has uttered the phrase "those were the best days of my life" or "those were the days." It's something we all say with nostalgia, fondly looking back on the memories and places we've been. It's an ingrained pattern that most of us were even hammered with all throughout our childhoods We were told  those days were the good it was ever going to get, and it's my general thinking that that was a horrible thing to lay on a blossoming population.

We're always taught to look back on the past, to learn from it, but when we're ingrained with the 'knowledge' that those were 'the good old days', how are we supposed to look at them objectively? How can we learn from our shortcomings and missteps if we're always looking through the rose tinted lens of the fun-house looking glass? I've seen too many casualties as a result of this, constant, backwards, looking. I've seen too many people who're too distracted by what's passed them by to ever notice what's in front of them until it is behind them too.

When one spends their entire life remembering a single, past, relationship, they will forever only deepen the wound. Combine that with constantly staring at, and examining, what went wrong and every relationship that follows will only infected. Looking back at years you spent working, or the people you used to know, and more people will slip through your fingers. The message is simple: spend your whole life looking at your of things you "could have, should have, would have" done, and your promise yourself only one thing one thing - that list will get a whole lot longer.

I challenge this notion with the thinking that every, single, day you're alive is part of the best days of your life.  There were never any "good old days", simply "good days". Now is a good time, so was then, and so too is that. These are the days of wild living and laughter. These are the days of high prices and indulged vices. These are the days of running wild with the wind in your hair and, as long as you can run, today will always be one of those days. It's constantly keeping your eyes on the rear-view that promises you'll only miss out on them.

These days, no matter how violent, stormy, or dissident the world may seem, are the best days. They're the days in which you're living, the days in which you have the power to touch and shape the world in any way you choose. These are the days where you can throw wild parties, howl at the moon, or sit under the stars. These are the days you can share good beer with good people or take midnight phone calls to give emergency council. These are the days where you can fall in love, ride the high wave, eat good food, devour the good life, and let nothing slow you down.

To be real, at least for a moment, there will be days when you could make a comparison and find the past to be a happier place than the present. The problem is having that comparison be constant, or constantly staring at the past as a means to gather a perspective for the future. Look at where you've been, see the roots that tripped you up, but then stop. They'll be out there in front of you, maybe a different color from a different tree, but they'll be out there. They're insidious, numerous, and clever and, if you don't stop looking over your shoulder, they're going to get you.

Where you've been may have been happy, it may have been sad, it may have been "the best", but what's stopping you from applying all of that to right now? Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero - because tomorrow, like yesterday, isn't happening. It's not where you are, it's not where you need to be, and if you don't grab for it now, it'll be out of reach tomorrow. Put your foot on the pedal, burn your fuel, and feel the wind in your hair. Enjoy the burn of a strong drink, smoke cigarettes and talk to fireflies, have a snowball fight, play your favorite album at loud volumes - just live now.

"There were never any good old days, they are today, they are tomorrow. It's a stupid thing we say, cursing tomorrow with sorrow."

-Gogol Bordello:  From the song: Ultimate, from the album Super Taranta.

The Inalienable Right to be Unhappy

The Inalienable Right to be Unhappy:
and the desire to make a better world.

We, as a species, have lived for a long while in a world where everything is attainable, in a world where we can have anything if only we provide something of fair and equal trade in return for it. If we desire something, we're work for what is required of us in order to achieve the things we want. We're told that anything is possible and that nothing should, within the rights of personal freedoms, be denied to us, so long as it doesn’t infringe on the rights of another.

 I've lived in a society where it's is the supposed right of anyone and everyone to live and let live, but what has time done to both of these rights? In times past, these rights were enacted upon the world with a general sense of compassion; people were willing to take up arms and go to war against an unjust and tyrannical machine, they were willing to gather together and stand up to lend unified voices to a committed cause of just and fairness, to a cause of equality, for everyone.

There are, of course, issues like race, religion, political or financial station, sexual orientation, and these things have always been issues that have divided people. They are issues of change that cause discomfort due to personal opinion, or even the direct fear of change. These are issues that everyone is entitled to have a view on, but is it not the desire and right of everyone to have a view? Is it not the right of everyone to be who they want to be, so long as they are not willing to trample those underfoot to see that idea become a realization? Time, it seems, would disagree.

Throughout time, in every corner of the world, in every walk of life, there have been those who would speak up to strike a blow to that, basic, human, right. Over time, the ability to be who we wish to be has been subversively perverted. It has been abused to no end. It has been shaped, at least in the American context, to be something entirely monetary, to be something equated with possession and financial gain. It has become a line in the sand that separates those who are right from those who are wrong, and we have very recently found a large voice to cry out against it. I petition the idea that this is not enough.

In just the last few years we’ve seen change and revolution sweeping the globe. We’ve seen dictators fall, we’ve seen monsters defeated, and we’ve seen a global cry for change take the shape of riots and protest. We’ve cried out for fairness, for equality, for a better way of life than what has been offered to us, and we have taken action to see our voices heard. We’re standing up as separate entities to change the world, but I’m forced to ask the question: Why?

Why is it enough to stand up as separate peoples of the same Earth? Why is it that we’re willing to cry out for our rights as nations and not our rights as a unified people? These are, and should not be, cries for comfort. These should be simple cries for equal station, for the right to all have the same things, but rather for the cries for a wholesome equality to all people. Is that not something everyone can agree they deserve?

There will always be things that make some of us uncomfortable about others. Some will want to be gay, others will want twelve wives, others will find your views on spirituality to be misguided, but these are personal choices. These aren’t things that should bring about judgments from anyone, to anyone, under any circumstance. We’re all born with the basic right to feel. We’re all, again, born with the supposed right to be who we are, to indulge whatever pleasures we want, to drink, fuck, and be merry – so long as we’re not stepping on anyone else’s right to do the same, but it goes just one more step beyond.

We all have the inalienable right to be unhappy and, with that, the right to speak out for change. This is a statement that is universal and applies to everyone. We all have the right to ask for change; however none of us have the right to force it.

This applies to everyone, again, regardless of who they are, what they think, how much money they make, where they live, what they do for work, what God they opt to follow – or not as the case may be – or who they want to love. Everyone has the right to be unhappy, and why wouldn’t they be? In a world where policies and ideals are often forced on others, doesn’t it make sense that there would be endless hordes of downtrodden?

That, however, does not give anyone else the right to decide what is right or wrong for anyone else. While we may feel beaten and disrespect does not give us the right to force our views on anyone. We have the right to speak and be heard, we have the right to shout against injustices we feel are being perpetrated against us as a collective body of citizens, but we do not have the right to make choices for anyone but ourselves.

 America does not have the right to decide that another country’s social practices are wrong, as long as they’re not forced on anyone. No religious practitioner has the right to say that another is wrong, no matter how vehemently they may disagree. No one has the right to say that a man cannot love another man or a woman love another woman.

These are not advocates for taking advantage of others either. That’s the key point behind equality – everyone has to be equal. Everyone has to have the same rights. Everyone has to be able to be respected, everyone has to agree not to seek to do them harm in any sense, that no one shall strive to take advantage of them, or to abuse them. No one has that right. No one has the right to dilute or corrupt another. Everyone has the right to choose and everyone has the right to stand up and, very simply, say “No.”

That, to me, is what the world is now saying. It’s not just about America, or the Middle East, or India, or China. It’s everywhere. Everyone seems to agree that, finally, enough is enough. We’ve built a world more connected than at any other point in history. We share ideas across the globe with strangers in an instant; we watch the events of the rest of the world and, one would hope, share a genuine sentiment of feeling with our fellow human when he, or she, cries out against something that is being done wrong against them.

We’re standing up to try and make a better world for ourselves. We’re exercising our human right to be unhappy, to ask for change. We’re showing a unified body of humanity no longer willing to accept the face of greed or power. We’re showing we’re no longer willing to be bribed with creature comforts or distracted by reality television. We’re taking to the streets to make our faces known.

We are a public and global face, staring into the heart of the world and saying that we have had enough of its cruelty and inequality, that we’ve had enough of separation and dividing lines. We’re saying no. While everyone might not have the same principles on what they’re saying it to, everyone agrees that something is, universally, wrong. We are shouting loud enough for anyone willing to listen, and the louder we shout, the more people are listening.

Like the Savage in Aldous Huxley’s ‘Brave New World’ we are claiming the right to be unhappy and we’re saying, in a single, loud, voice, that we do not have to be unhappy. We have the right to try and make the world better, to wake up the hearts of all our fellow humans to the ideas of fairness, love, and equality.

Long have I spoken out against the things I see that I disagree with in the world and, for the first time in a long time, humans are making me proud to be a member of humanity.

Isn't it a little odd to see a Kangaroo in the Northern California Forest:

Isn't it a little odd to see a Kangaroo
in the Northern California Forest?

  

"I've spent most of my life avoiding jail time and criminal trouble. I've gotten pretty good at it, and been cheered and supported by most of my friends who've done the same. What makes no sense to me is, when someone is caught for a crime where we all want to find a guilty party, why are there mobs screaming the cry of injustice when no real case can be found for conviction?

If you're going to scream and cry for the not guilty to be found guilty, or for the mismanagement of case evidence, or shoddy police work, then may no one sit to listen to you whine the next time you're sobering up in a drunk tank for having one beer too many." 

It's one of the only, real, things I've written in months as I chase around this wild jackrabbit of life. Everyone always expects something these days.. Frankly, I don't see anything wrong with this plan -- I've always been exceptionally good at responding to spontaneous stimuli --  but what troubles me is that service seems to be needed at all; as if, somehow, all the sails and winds of life have been snatched up and stolen away, leaving an ocean of motionless sails and dehydrated sailors.

I've never understood why this service is in such short supply, or why the ability itself is so stunted. I've wasted many hours, postulating by 'old timey', as the locals call them, drinks -- the kind of thing you add a dash of bitters to and have taste like nothing but juice when they'll get you fully loaded --just trying to figure out what the problem is and why it's so bad. I thought, maybe, it was television, perhaps the news, or even a fear of one's own mortality that had blindly herded us into patterns of sedition from our own roots, but none of that made sense. After months of searching, I've come no closer to finding an answer and I'm not sure I ever will either.

I've never been one of those people, the kind who can't seem to make rhyme or reason out of existence or respond positively to the random happenstance that really makes up life. It's the things you never expect that have the greatest potential to motivate you -- even if they lead you down a road of damnation, to a place where paranoia sometimes runs rampant and you're left looking over you shoulder looking for some rabid, wandering, marsupial that is hell bent on consuming your very existence.

This is, fundamentally, why I want to visit Australia. It's a metaphorical embodiment of a lifestyle that is impossible to capture any other way. It's harsh, unforgiving, completely unpredictable, but absolutely beautiful.  It's raw in its form, but poetic in execution. It's one of the only places left on the planet where you can find a co-mingling of tribal roots and modern urban excess. It's not the kind of cheap, trumped up, theatrics you'd expect to see on a Vegas stage either, oh no, this is the real stuff. It's where life is life and the strong get eaten by hordes of the week, where new inventions rot the old, social, customs, and where all crime is punished by severe lashings with a sea salted whip. 

All of this is just fine with me, honestly. They say the road from hell -- and I honestly don't know what else you could consider this representational world we live in -- is anything but short and easy, and I've always been okay with that. I've found nothing in life where the reward hasn't been directly proportionate to the investment -- if not the risk. It's why I've always gone for the big money. I have no time to nickel and dime bet my way through life. I'll play big, win big and-- as long as my credit's good -- play with as many chips as I can borrow, beg, or steal. It's why I've always respected the game of high stakes poker. Play Big, or go home.

Life doesn't award us any other luxury odd. Everything's a once in a lifetime chance, and each and every one of them is worth being taken. It's one of those high stakes tables, filled with every manner of random drunk and fool who's struck it big in the most recent turns, ready to lose it all with one bad throw of the dice. It's the lonesome drifters, those wayward, quiet, souls rolling in for one last toss of the dice, hoping to land the last, great, score before turning their cowboy boots toes up in the sand.

It's an addictive, harrowing, ride and it'll leave you aged, like leather left out for years in the hot, Nevada, sun. Imagine a lifetime of desert driving, top down, head shaved, living on the borrowed promise of loud music and sunscreen free thinking; it's just this kind of life that will turn your skin to aged, brown, paper and leave all your wild ideas like faded articles to a, long forgotten, constitutional right to dream. After all, it's your right to dream of motor cars and high wages, to dream of a social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, to dream of being recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position -- even if that means being recognized for stealing words written by someone else, or being recognized as an absolute scavenger of the human condition.

It'll get weird at times too, you can be sure of that. There will be moments where the ride will pick you upside down and shake you until your insides are on your outside. It's not even a living thing -- despite how it sometimes might appear -- so don't rightly expect to be able to rely on compassion to save you either. It does as it does and nothing more. It'll toss you around like a rag doll, it'll make sure you land on your feet, it'll steal the gas from your tank and infest your house with fleas. Life will randomly keep the skies sunny at your party, tear your favorite jacket, and lace your brain with enough liquor to keep you quiet and content -- which helps everyone else sleep at night. However, no matter how strange or intense it gets, there's one thing to remember: These is absolutely no excuse to not remain in control of it at all times.

This kind of exposure to the harsh reality of the world is never easy -- but necessary. It's like the Tal Ben-Shahar quote: "I don't believe that things happen for the best, but I do believe in making the best of things that happen" We're never actually in control of what's going to happen to us, and it would be foolish to think anything else. We might be responsible -- which we almost always are -- for what happens to us, but in terms of the cards we're dealt? It's all random. We've just got to make the best plays can we have with what we've been given and, if the cards are shit, hope we can bluff well enough to convince the rest of the world we're sitting on gold. I have no doubt this is why Texas Hold 'Em poker has gotten so popular among the working crowd in the last few years.

So just remember, there are few facts in life that always seemed relevant, living, but the most pertinent one of all always seemed to remain 'Isn't it a little odd to see a Kangaroo?'. That one, above all, will always stand with you. No matter how weird it gets, or how strange everything seems, as long as you're not seeing Kangaroos in the California forest? You'll be all right.

Use that wisdom to sedate the noxious anxiety and dam up the endless flow of questions in your mind. Carry a coin in your pocket and flip it, once a day, to make a decision for you. Stick with the flow, and let life be what life is good at being. Find a way to enjoy the days it rains on your parade, chews on your soul, curdles your soup, or shatters your favorite bottle of spirits. Life has got a way of taking one raw turn after another lately for a lot of people, and it's getting harder and harder to stay on top of that wave. If, even for a moment, you can take home a small victory -- like Australia in Risk -- you defend the hell out of it and hang onto it with everything you've got.

Stop screaming at the Television, stop screaming at the headline, stop shouting at the internet chat room, be weary of Kangaroos in a forest where they don't belong, and be careful you're not chasing black rabbits when you're looking for life. Hold onto who you are and what you love when the waves get rough, never think you'll land on the shore, but always hope you're lucky enough to make it, never give up dreaming, never stop risking something. Understand you deserve it all only if you earn it all, work hard for what you want, play harder for what you demand. Take no prisoners and give no quarter to the desert and never leave home without some water and a towel.

Don't panic -- everything is, as always, going to be all right.

The problem with looking for signs of life: And not actually living it.

The problem with looking for signs of life:
And not actually living it.

I haven’t written much in damn near over a month, as I’m sure some of you have noticed. I took a hiatus – or something like that anyway – and just decided to get away from it all. Life had become a thing I spent too much time looking at and nowhere near enough time living, and that’s no way to go about your days. Life, in all its wretched splendor and unimaginable glory, isn’t something that should always be examined through a microscope. It’s not designed to be watched or experienced strictly vicariously – no matter the medium in which you do so. Life’s designed to be taken, hands on, no holds barred, with nothing held back. It’s not golf, we can’t take a mulligan on a shitty shot, though sometimes, wouldn’t it be nice if we could?

The point stands, however, that we can’t. We’re not given the luxury of remakes and we’ve certainly not figured out the mechanics of time travel – thank god – so we’re stuck with what we do, and what we’ve got. Isn’t that a real good, God Damned, incentive, to get out there and do something?

That’s exactly what I’ve been doing, really living. It’s been fly-by-night, spontaneous as anything, and has taken place from sunrise to sunset and, sometimes, back again. I’ve been filling the last 30 days with all manner of revelry and good times, things that genuinely enrich the value of life, and I’ve left no quarter to sedentary ideas nor spared any time for sitting still. There’s been a bit of everything, high powered intoxication, music making, travel, the ocean, hobo clowns, gypsies, art making and shows, extravagant food for any and every course of the day, parties, theater shows, acting, burning Christmas trees, – the works. There’s no plan to slow it down, not just yet, either but it has shown me something that I’ve found pertinent.

Don’t hold your breath, waiting for the moment to come to you, and then ponder over what to do. It’s like that, often abridged, Horace line: “Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero – seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future.” Everyone knows the value of ‘Seizing the day’, but what’s often over looked is the moment.

Moments come frequently but are never, ever, duplicated. You will never have another, exact, chance for an experience that’s set in front of you, it doesn’t matter the moment. If you see someone sitting on the side of the road playing the banjo and waiting for a ride, and you love the banjo? Stop and have a conversation, petition them to play a song, maybe even give them a ride. If you see someone sobbing and down on their luck, don’t pass them by in the barren hope that someone else will tend the slack. If there’s a sunrise and you have nowhere to be? Stop and enjoy it. You never know what life will bring to your doorstep, but none of it matters if all you do is look at it through a peephole, safe on the other side.

There’s only so much living that can be done vicariously. Televisions don’t give you all the facts, nor cover all the right camera angles and even the most well written book will be skewed from the perspective of a conquering, or failing, protagonist.  Life is something that is designed to be experienced first hand and shared thereafter. Write a story, sit around the campfire and regale your comrades, keep a journal for people to find when you die, make tape and video recordings, whatever you want to do – but do first, because otherwise you’ve got nothing to share -- save maybe bunch of hand me down experiences that were never really yours.

So enjoy the river, swim in the waters, take risks – even calculated ones – step outside yourself, outside what’s normal, what’s comfortable, and just make the most of the winds that blow your way. Take advantage of the good fortune when they’re at your back and let them push you in all kinds of new directions. It’s this kind of, haphazard, new, and spontaneous, experience that could show you a whole new way to use your eyes – never mind all the other, slightly more important, parts of yourself.

Time is precious and everything about life is a one time offer. Nothing that happens in one moment will ever be the same, even if you’re one of the lucky few who have been offered a second chance at it. Make the most of every, single, day you have, doing whatever it is you have the chance to do. Talk to strangers, make a song, paint a picture, take a wild ride into the night, swim in the ocean, get out of the zoo, whatever you want to do – and can do without fucking anyone else over in the process – do it. Besides, you never know when there might be Chinese people in your future, just waiting to carve you up and make into the day’s ‘Chef Special’.

Never regret, just learn and grow. Never look back with disdain, just remember not to do it again. Never neglect today because of what might, or might not, happen tomorrow. Don’t save just for rainy days, and take the words of Horace to heart – and not just the parts that have become pop culture phrases in our every day language.

Original usage from Odes 1.11 –for the sake of perspective:

“Don't ask, it's forbidden to know, what end.
Don't play with Babylonia fortune-telling either.

How much better it is to endure whatever will be!

Whether Jupiter has allotted to you many more winters or this final one:

Which even now wears out the Tyrrhenian sea on the rocks placed opposite

be wise, strain the wine, and scale back your long hopes to a short period.

While we speak, envious time will have already fled.

Seize the day, trusting as little as possible in the future.”

Take the heart of the matter, the whole damn thing, and ride it off into whatever sunset you choose. Just don’t miss out on it because you’re lazy. Ride the wind, climb the wave, enjoy the ride, let it go where it will, but don’t expect it to do all the work for you. Memento mori – because you only get one chance to do as much as you can and anything worth doing is worth doing right.

How to Handle an Egg:

How to Handle an Egg:
Also know as: How not to handle a Human.

Eggshells are fragile and delicate things, things I'm sure we've all dropped and stepped on before. Expressions like these exist because, sooner or later, everyone ends up with the insides all over our faces and frying them up under the intense heat of social confusions that follow. We've all been taught to handle eggs with great care, to check them in the carton, from under the chicken, and never, ever, drop one on the ground. They're fragile, precious, and should be handled with gloves. There are cases, none of which are few and far between, that this sort of training is actually useful -- and then there are the times where it's a downright hindrance to value of honest words and a taxing, dishonest, stain on otherwise useful endeavors. 

Humans are, in a lot of ways, like eggs. We're occasionally rotten and smelly, we've got tougher exteriors than interiors, we come in all kinds of shapes, spots, and colors, we all like to get laid -- nobody can deny that -- and we do break when dropped. One of the key differences though is that, unlike eggs, our fractures aren't permanent or wasteful -- given the proper motivation. Sure, we're easily broken by harsh words and the insincere actions of others, but our shells do regrow. They fortify in places they're weak, and stretch in places where, perhaps, they're too thick. However, it's only in testing these shells that anything about them can really be determined. It's for this reason that handling a human being like an egg is, in fact, quite detrimental to their growth process.

For example. When attempting to spare the feelings out of "kindness", and the word should be used quite loosely here, and offer a half truth, I caution you to think just how much good you're actually doing for that person. You're letting them continue on under a forged banner of insincere praise and carry on looking like a fool, and yet this is something we're taught is the 'right' way to behave? Another example would be "sparing" someone say, the pain of rejection, but disguising the truth of disinterest under a gentle banner of simple reasoning that provides no room for discussion? It's not like we're stupid people, it's not like we're not able to see through the lies and, eventually, when the truth hits the light, you've ended up sinking the Titanic all on your own but only putting half your ice above the water mark.

So why? Why disrespect those we claim to respect out of a twisted and whoreish sense of being kind and considerate? These actions and their ilk are not the hallmarks of kind people at all. This kind of back water thinking is just the type of behavior that is often entitled serpentine; honey coated notes coming forth from the Devil's violin, tempting the well meaning seeker into a hailstorm of confusion and loss. When you're pretty sure everyone around you is too afraid to tell you the truth, how can you ever really know where to turn? It's just these kind of questions that turn the nutrition of the yoke into a green, sulfurous, stench of rot and decay. All other options are exhausted and all validations are to be questioned; hang the bastards quickly and get out of town before anybody sees you -- because you just can't be sure how you're being seen.

So take everything you know about handling eggs and, quite literally, throw it out the window when you're dealing with people. It's why we're all so fucked and deluded on our own megalomania. We've been raised to believe that contradiction and reality checking people is rude and possibly damaging and, in all truth, it absolutely can be just that. At the same time? We have the ability to heal from such slanderous attacks, even more so if we have the good fortune of being pre-exposed to them. It's the people who aren't taught that this kind of thing is actually good for you to hear, that end up losing their free ride into heaven -- where ever the fuck that is these days.

Be honest, always, with everyone. Even if you come across as the most inconsiderate fuck in the room at least you can do it with your dignity and self respect in tact. If you don't like someone, say so, and tell them why. Don't make up cheap, watered down, excuses. Your words will taste too sweet and the experienced drinker will always be more offended at the lack of alcohol burn when they swallow. If you don't think someone looks good in something and they ask you? Consider yourself obligated to tell the truth, no matter how excited they may seem about it. You're being asked because your opinion is respected and trusted. Anyone who abuses this position deserves only the harshest of "interrogations", to borrow a term from American Media, until they're convinced their ways are both ill and bankrupt.

Also? Never think you got away with sparing the shell. Eggs are a lot smarter than you think.

The Taste of Shoe Leather

The Taste of Shoe Leather:

And all other forms of shit you step in

Last night, I managed to make a, well meaning, ass of myself. In an attempt to sort through a cycle of rumors that had been running rampant in certain circles I know and just generally get to the bottom of things, I managed to go about being generally very offensive and sticking my nose in a place it had no, real, business. It wasn't comical, or even at all intentionally, and it's one of the few times I've ever offered up a genuine apology for something I've said. Being a man of many words I rarely make mistakes in how I use them, but this strategy was absolutely dreadful, horrible in fact. It had all the grand wisdom of a German invasion of Russia and fighting a multi-fronted war mixed in with the creationist dogma of back berg Sunday school teachings, and just the right dash of ignorant zealousness that you'd come to expect from a family of inbred picketing soldiers funerals like they were some form of a parade.

It got me thinking though, after the fact, of just how often this kind of things happens. We're only humans after all, nobody's perfect, and we often blunder through situations with all the care and grace of an Elephant stoned on a mixture of sedatives and several troughs of cocktails. I can't think of a single person who's said something, be it true or otherwise, who could say they've never been in this situation. Miscommunications do happen, no matter how hard we try an avoid them, but what do we do about them? Do we simply apologize and hope that the catch phrase is taken as sincere, even if maybe we don't mean it that way? Do we try and explain, or reiterate out points with less offensive clarity? 

To the first point, I say this: Apologize, only if you feel what you said was inaccurate, misplaced, or taken out of context. Apologies are like expressions of love, they're not designed to be thrown around like devalued American currency. They're precious and should be treated as such; rare jewels of retraction to be given out only when the payment is deserving of it. If you said something that you is an honest opinion, why apologize? It's not like you really mean it anyway, you're just sorry that your standards have, in some measure, offended someone. They're your opinions though aren't they, so why should you be sorry for having them? They're part of what defines you and should be stated, ready to be defended, whenever you feel the need -- just be ready for people to disagree with you, and to extend them that same soapbox when you're finished with it. If you can't do that, you should probably keep your mouth shut.

The same principle applies to truths as well. A truth is something that, for better or worse, should never be censored or withheld. We all have actions in our pasts -- it's a safe guess I'm no saint -- that we would rather not have be drudged up into the public light. When it happens though, what can we do but stand up and take account of the things we've done? That's the whole point of this entire post. I did something, to which I am to be held accountable. Do I regret what I said? No. I've no time for regrets. Would I have handled the situation differently, knowing the fallout? Probably, yes, but only because the incident was a genuine accident of oversight and poor observation. Does that mean I'm not sorry? Absolutely not. I'm horribly, genuinely, apologetic for what happened, and I should be. I communicated, again quite poorly, something that shouldn't have been a big deal if I'd handled it properly.

Everyone is capable of making a mistake, overlooking a fact, or just plain dropping egg on the carpet. We all know what it's like to have that slop on your face and the awful taste of old leather and shit digging into the back of your throat. Owning up to it is all that can be done, really. Saying: "Yes, I did this" is the only humane route left at that point. If you meant what you said? Take some semblance of pride in it -- again, be ready to defend your position and try not to do it with a shovel -- and stand tall behind your statements. If you didn't mean what you said, however, don't be so caught up in pride that you can't lower your own head and attempt to make the best of the shit pile you dug for yourself.

To the second point? Trying to re-explain the situation is noble, but don't think of that as excusing yourself from the obligation of accountability. Even if you do -- and it's not small feat -- manage to backtrack your words to a point that your intended perspective is more clearly seen, the initial statement still demands that attention be paid to it. It's all well and good to try and clear the fog around your words but that doesn't change the fact that you still said them. This process, it should also be pointed out, should fall under the same principles and pretexts of apologies. Don't try and weasel your way into a hole just because something you said, and meant, was inflammatory. 

Not everything you say will be agreed to by everyone you say it to, that's simple probability, and it shouldn't be either. If everyone all thought and felt the same, by in large, this would would be pretty well fucked. Diversity of thought is what promotes the higher learning, and it's the taste of feet and soot that reminds us "Well fuck...we're not always right." I don't think these things are ever bad, and too often is the trend seeming to be that we fall into a pattern of flight and hollow, flat, apologies for things that, at the end of the day, we want to know about -- and should. It's the conviction of passion that drives humans to greater heights of knowledge, even if we have to pursue it to beat someone else over the head with it later (to which they might not even notice).

So if you feel the need to jam your foot in your mouth? Do it. Don't even be ashamed of it, but think about it before you suck down all the nasty grime you drag your feet through. Do you really feel bad about what you said, thought, or expressed? If you do, ask yourself why you do. Sit down and think about what your motivations, debate your own perceptions, and come to an understanding on your own first. If you're still finding yourself in the wrong then, by all means, chew on your canvas sneaker -- but only after you've first accepted what you did to all those involved. Ownership is what gives words value and sincere expression is the only way to keep the inflation within any kind of acceptable parameters.

Words are precious, precious, things. They're the paint which you use to color your whole world, they're just how you show it off to those around you. Words are the currency of interaction, the key chemical component in all manners of love and relationships, the way we weave our soul into brightly colored tapestries of sound and song -- words are full of promise so, when you use them? Make sure you're not pissing all over yourself, your soul, and everything else in your world.

Spotlights

The Things Spotlights Show Us:

An how it's not always something we like

We're all actors on a stage these days whether we like it or not. From the every day actions we do without thinking; things like brushing our teeth, going to work, the coffees most of us drink and the morning rituals we all follow. Everyone has their schedule and it's what helps us all follow through the steps we need to get the energy to get through the day. The problem with being such a methodical actor is that we there's the matter of the spotlight to consider. It's that bright, vibrant, light that is often difficult to avoid; shining down on all the things about ourselves we'd rather hide -- and it always seems most present at the absolute worst of times.

The problem with seeing the worst of what you are is that you're forced to, then, become aware of it. It's a very common place event, but it can go all manner of ways. Some of handle the process remarkably well, braving the horror show of all our abilities with a sense of balanced understanding. There are those of us though who lose all sense of coordination in these moment, who get blinded by the bright light and then promptly bitter by the fangs of the beast we just couldn't see. Then, still, there's those who are content to remain staring into the light, using the stage for all it can be used for, but never really understanding just who they're acting for -- or why.

We're being who have the potential for limitless kindness to other while, at the same time, perpetrating unscrupulous evils onto our own hearts and minds. It's this latter kind of thinking to which we need to be mindful. It's the vicious and terrible thoughts that lurk in the passive and idle mind that stand the potential to do the most harm; the worth we hold to others, second guessing the good we do for the world, the matters of right and wrong, and the impossible pressure to stand up -- in the light -- and do the things that we want to do with a clear and level headed conscience.

The problem comes in over complicating these matters and letting them get bogged down in an endless sea of caution tape and procrastination due to a lack of validating facts. When standing in the spotlight, you will always be the most sound judge of all the unspeakable things you're capable of doing, but does that mean you should hold yourself accountable to them forever? In a sense. Knowing the wrongs we've done is the only real way to transition them into a right, but to hold onto them, to let them become an infectious wound to the soul, is when they're no longer a benefit. 

We're quite capable of countless impossibilities, and this isn't a bad thing. Yes, some of who and what we are comes with the capability for selfishness and greed, but is that bad? We all have things that we want from the world; hopes, dreams, aspirations, but is everyone who has them so willing to run out and trample mindlessly through the fields to have them? No. There's a level of restraint that, at least most of us, apply to it with a very real sense of moral obligation. This same sort of mentality can be applied to all the things we think in those dark moments, as well as the light.

It all becomes about keeping your balance when the light gets blinding and remembering your position on the stage. Your acting doesn't require your sight, just the dedication to the cause of honesty and general perseverance. The light may shine brightly, sometimes too much so, but what's the harm in exposing yourself to the world? If you're not welcomed for all the ways that you are, what's the need to be welcomed at all? Is this to advocate a sense of uncompromising arrogance? Absolutely not. Again, it all becomes about the balance. Understanding the full potential of your capabilities and accepting the positive quirks as well as the nasty demons is absolutely vital to ever going anywhere.

If you don't know what the car can handle, you'll always run the risk of getting stuck somewhere on your way up one of the hills, so why gamble on it? Understand what you can do, decide what you want to do, and make some real, honest, attempt, to do it. Try to go about it rightly, fairly, to those around you; but try for yourself too. Be honest with what you want and how you feel, understand it won't be for everyone -- but nothing ever is or will be either. Do your best to do right by your fellows and pursue the things you want with everything you have to give; be mindful of the toes you might step on, and the dreams of others who might come along with you. You might not always want the same things, but you all have the same rights to chase them wild into the night.

The only sound piece of advice when the light gets blinding is as follows can be summed up in a much wiser man than I. "No reason to get excited, the thief, he kindly spoke. There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke." So, no matter how anxious and nervous you may find yourself when staring into the bright lights on the stage just breathe and relax. Everything will find a way to work itself into something if you just give yourself the time to see it through -- and leaping wildly into the clawed arms of a large, rabid, jungle cat just makes no sense at all. Let your eyes adjust first to what's in front of you, see it, in the light, for what it is, and decide then how to act.

Happy Birthday, by the way -- thanks for all the moments.

Why are we still here

Why are we still here?:

 And other, post-rapture, questions

So, this weekend was, supposedly, the rapture. It came, it went and, aside from Randy Savage (rest his soul), we're all still here. This has left thousands crying in outrage and confusion, evidently the world not ending is a bad thing, but the questions remains; Why? Why are we here? It's a question everyone seems to be asking with, ever increasing, frequency. What is the point of all this time we're spending, of the things we're doing? It goes on, but what disturbs me is that people seem content to just ask questions. Nobody ever seems content with the answers that, by most common accounts, are right there in front of them just waiting to be acknowledged. Why are we here?  

It seems to be the trend, at least among my generation, to not see being alive as a suitable enough reason to be elated. There needs to be something, some sense of accomplishment and finality, in order for it to all make sense; life is a game that is not to be played, but won. It is not a series of exciting moves or moment, but snapshots of obstacles that, in order to achieve, we must overcome. It's this pattern that seems to set in motion the endless cycle of disappointments because the obstacles never end. As time wears on, there seem to be more and more who just want to turn down the difficulty, get to the end of the game, and see those fated words scroll up as they close their eyes. Game. Over.

That seems to be drastically missing the point and yet still, over twenty four hours later, I can still hear the heartbroken cries that the world keeps on spinning. I can understand, and agree, there are those who got the message wrong. It was never asked that we live for the words of God, or Jesus, but rather that we live by their teachings. This kind of confusion and second guessing ones own life can be traumatic, I can understand those howls. It's the angry, furious, screeching that I can't make sense. The hand of God may not have come down from the sky this weekend, but the finger of judgement is being pointed and starting wildfire everywhere and, punctuating the savage cries in the night, is the sound of sins being thrown like stones through the walls of glass houses everywhere.

So, why are we here? Most people would say "To live. To learn. To love." What's missing from these answers that seems to make no one happy with them as they are? The whole damn world, or at least a big portion of it, seemed to go absolutely mad with this coming doomsday, an I couldn't make hide nor hair of the whole damn mess. The only rational conclusion seemed to be that I'd have to find some way to weather this madness. At first, the whole thing seemed like it would be complicated, but soon? It all lined up. I'd shut the doors, keep the lights just right, bring in the best of company and find the most interesting things in the world to indulge in. It was there I'd find those answers, to pull them in beyond any measure of indulgence, and -- with just enough luck -- lead by example.


It all seems to have worked too. I'm still standing, and I've answered the important question with the action of answers. Why are we here? To experience, never to know, but to keep going in the face of all those lacking answers. It's not about the destination, or the even the truth, but about making the absolute most of the moments. The Rapture could have come and gone, honestly, and I don't think there would have been much different -- save maybe less coughing. It has never, ever, been about finding the light at the end of that tunnel, and really, never should be either; it's just about knowing it's there, giving you that notion that it -- that final moment -- is out there somewhere...waiting.


It is too, for everyone. There will, unavoidably, come that moment when the sands run out for all of us; when the tanks run dry and the music gets so quiet you just can't here it anymore. It's then, and only then, that the pale horse and its dark rider will catch up to you on the tail end of the proud highway. The more important question, armed with this kind of knowledge, the important question to ask yourself: "Why am I wasting time asking questions?" The time in the world we all have is limited and to waste it with seemingly pointless questioning? That just doesn't make a whole lot of sense. All this, pre and post, Rapture questioning just seems like time wasting.


So to all this questioning? I feel the need to quote General Anthony McAuliffe: "NUTS!" It's just that kind of white flag surrender that is going to fuck us all over in the end. The point of life? It's to live, not ask why. Find some model that works for you, even if it is Jesus, but don't be afraid to change lanes if it all doesn't seem to be working out for you. Getting angry because the path you were on doesn't pan out like you thought it should, especially when it's about the End of the World, it doesn't make any sense. You're still here, you get to keep going, to do better. If you were waiting in line for a ship that set sail without you? Why the hell are you standing on the shore, cursing and swearing like some rabid barbarian, at the ship that's already well out of reach?

Where we're going is something that should, by its right of existence, have the ability to change. Trains, planes, automobiles, and all other types of forward motion, have the ability to switch where they're going. Why should we be any different? Why should we be locked into some fucking twisted flight plan; are we all some autonomous collection of parts, rolling through the muck on some kind of freaked out autopilot? When the gears get clogged with that kind of thing, system error -- possibly shutdown -- is practically unavoidable. It's all about being adaptable to what's in front of you, being able to follow those strange winds and the sound of music they carry on them. It's, really, the only kind of cause I can see following with the fervent conviction I see applied all around me.

To those afflicted with those, awful, post rapture blues? I strongly suggest getting up off your feet and dusting yourself off. Your truth, which will be different from nearly every other truth, will be out there for you. To really "survive the Rapture" you've got to decide what it is that you can hold onto to pull you through the storm. Whatever you find you had better make sure is solid too, and don't be afraid to leap blindly to find it. Whatever is out there, you've got to be ready for it. It could be faith, or it could be a stretch of twenty four hours filled with all the affection and good movies you can handle. It could be a good drink, an even better smoke, a long conversation, or even the placid calm of serene silence in the company of one of your best friends.

Your savior from "The Rapture" is whatever you want to make of it. It's all about keeping going. Heaven is supposed to be full of all the things we need to be happy and content for the rest of our days, right? Well, fuck contentment. Everything anyone really needs to be blissfully, stupidly, happy is already right here in front of all of us. Why then do we need to die to find it? Why do we need to be reduced to simple souls and carted off to some bleach white, cloudy, landscape where some old father sits on High giving us everything we want? Why can't we simply have it all now? It's right there in front of us, all the time, and waiting for something you feel might be better to come along? Well, if you're angry about that, or even confused, you really have no one to blame but yourself.

So, fuck your rapture. Don't sit about waiting -- and to hell with actual hoping -- for it to happen. The world's not so bad, and the last thing we need is some new doomsday waiting to leap out of us from the shadows. There are plenty of, fire eyed, demons out there in the world; each one with their own unique brand of temptation, each with their own snarling set of fangs and hideous, brimstone, stench. They disguise themselves in ever kind of twisted bummer and letdown -- but they never linger long. Stop hanging on to the idea that life will end; everyone knows it will. The real trick is to hang onto that dream, ride it through this blistering, terrible, nightmare moments, and race on toward that tiny little light at the end of your own, personal, tunnel.

It's out there, that's a promise. It's that moment, at the very end of the road, where we finally come face to face with the terrors of all we are and ever have been. Maybe it's a matter of personal preference -- and should thus be promptly ignored -- but which is worse? Would you rather run into the end of your road and see yourself as some green eyed hustler; someone who cheated themselves out of living with a lifetime of worries and stress that the ride would, eventually be over? Would you rather, instead, be someone who comes to the end of the road to find a character of excess, so worked up and freaked out on an indulgence of life that it stands fifty feet tall, like some kind of trumped out comic book character?

I'd much rather find the end of the road with a full mirror; something I can use to look back down the path I've taken and find some real piece of workable art. What I create, with the fires of my own thoughts and the music of my own feet, I want to be something I can reflect on with a winning smile. Just remember, what you see when you turn around at the end of the road, is the only real measure of "success" in life. So go, live, set the world on fire and swim through the ocean. Drive fast cars, drink good whiskey, keep your loved ones close, never pass up a moment to tell those closest to you you appreciate them, and cling tightly to the great beauty you can only find in lovingly cooked food and a heart to share it with.

With that kind of motivation you're pretty much unstoppable; even Death's best horse would have hard time catching you, so what's to lose?

That thing everyone is doing..

That Thing Everyone is Doing

But nobody ever wants to talk about

That's right, this is going to be an article about Sex. It's that thing we all do and yet it's still something a lot of consider some shameful taboo. It's something most of us have done by time we hid the crossroads of adolescence, and nearly all of us by time we're adults. Yet it's become an ever present trend, at least in America, that we must demonize sex and turn into this vicious, dirty, primitive and unscrupulous act. It's something people only do one way, in the dark, with the lights off, and covered by six blankets. It's done only in the sanctity of heterosexual marriage. Anything else? Well, for the love of all things holy, righteous, and wholesome, you can never ever talk about it. It's the kind of thing that will ruin appetites and get you branded some kind of degenerate before you even realize what you might have said that's so dirty and wrong.

This is a real problem and not just because it somehow mystifies sex to the general public either. Sex has, since well before most of us were born, been a blasphemous topic. Churches outlawed styles and positions, and even the very real discussion of sex was something that could carry harsh punishments in the wrong crowds. Time, it seems, hasn't changed much of this mentality and it's still something only suited for hushed whispers. If it were only a matter of avoiding some people's awkward thoughts on the matter, or embarrassment due to language and terms? That wouldn't be so bad, but that's just not the case. We're teaching about abstinence, like somehow not talking about the forest will somehow save you from anything in it with sharp and nasty teeth. That is the problem.

It's because sex has been shoved into this, generally speaking, shameful light that nobody wants to talk about it; and this fact alone is why we have such a growing epidemic of undiagnosed sexual ramifications. It's because nobody has oral sex; never mind gives a blowjob or eats someone out, because nobody has anal sex, or sticks anything in someone's ass -- at least not in pleasant conversation -- that the problems are as bad as they are these days. Embarrassing as is to say "I caught STD X from having unprotected sex" when is the last time you ever heard anyone say "My partner gave me herpes by going down on me"? You never hear it, at least not in "polite" company, because nobody wants to talk about the fact that these things do happen. The question is though, why? Why is it such a shameful thing to put your mouth on someone else's body, no matter where it is?

Guess what? Sucking dick? Going down on someone? Sticking it in someone's ass? Some people like these things and, more importantly, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. There's also nothing wrong with being gay, a transvestite, a transsexual, being into S&M, or even wearing a fur suit and making barnyard sounds. Are these kinks for everyone? Absolutely not, but there's no reason to make them some kind of awkward taboo -- least of all in conversation. Not everyone is going to like these things, but that's no reason to make them criminal in the bright light. It's just that kind of thinking that gives any credence to the notion that these things are, in any way, dangerous. Frankly, with proper education, there's absolutely nothing dangerous about these things.

It's 2011, we've had the sexual revolutions of the past, homosexuals are coming out in the light with an ever growing frequency, we've brought AIDS and all the other S.T.Ds into at least some kind of public understanding, so isn't it high time we drop the scare tactics about all the other things we all know are going on anyway? Why should we have to take oral sex lessons in dark rooms, hunched over a laptop screen? Why not teach kids about these things in schools? It's not like they're not going to do them anyway, and education is the only we can ever really hope to make them safer. Could any adult, really, in this day and age, say they've never gone down on anyone and be telling the truth, or how about just done it "doggy style"? So why make it so awkward for everyone?

Sex is something everyone has eventually, and in a variety of ways in positions. It's not always going to be safe, but it shouldn't always be terrifying or uncomfortable either. Sex, nudity, sexuality, and all the things that come with it are things we should be being taught, much sooner than we are, to be comfortable with. The sooner we take these things out of the shrouded fog of taboo, the sooner we stop turning them into monstrous acts, and things worthy of damnation, the sooner we can actually worry less about the sexual boogeymen that go bump in the night. So talk, talk about sex, talk about fucking, talk about blowjobs and handjobs, talk about anal sex, and talk about preventative measure you can take to keep these things safe and fun -- because come on, if you try and tell anyone that sex is not fun? Everyone's going to know you're full of shit.

Finally? If anyone you know; kids, friends, family members, complete strangers who just need someone to tell, come out of the closet to you? Don't fucking shun them like some ignorant Neanderthal. There's nothing wrong with being into the same sex, period. If they you're kids and you're not gay? So what? You have the internet, and it's your goddamned job to educate your kids. Google it. Look up how gay couples have sex, encourage your kids to grow and explore who they are -- but to do it safely. If we keep trying to squash sex into this tiny box of shame, everyone loses. We all know better, after all, and if we aren't given the proper lessons on how the game is played? Well, pun not intended but withstanding, fuck it -- we're going to play anyway.

Weaponized Words

The Responsibility of Owning a Weapon:

And other dangers of having a voice

As children, we're all taught the same, relative, things; strangers are scary, there's no such thing as the boogeyman, Santa won't bring you presents if you're naughty, and words are harmless They teach us to be weary of sticks, stones, guns, and fire, but words? We're taught that words, language, is insignificant to emotion, that nothing we hear can ever hurt us, that we're immune from the harsh barbs that can swing in like razors. It's just that kind of dishonest training that gets people thinking they can say whatever they want with no repercussions and the reason why certain, precious, phrases; things such as 'I love you' and 'I'm sorry' have lost most of their emotional value -- at least to most people. They've become things we simply say because the obligation to say them is there. Over an over again is the fact that language is meaningless reinforced and it's high time such a lie is addressed.

Language is a weapon, an it should be considered such. It's not some rubber thing that stings at worst, it's a destructive force the likes of which are completely unparalleled. Shoot or stab someone? They'll heal and, though they may never forget, they will move on. Wound someone with your words? There's a very real chance they may never recover. It's this fact that, it seems, a lot of people are forgetting. It's what's pushing teens across the country to kill themselves or their classmates, it's the plague that's turning our hearts into empty, shells, and our eyes into dry, lifeless, deserts. Language and words carry with them a limitless potential and, because of this, language has always been my favorite tool. 

Yes, it absolutely capable of being a weapon of mass destruction -- there's nothing more destructive than honesty -- but it's also capable of so much more.  Language should never, ever, intentionally be wielded with the intent to harm or maim anyone. If that happens as a result of what is said? Consider your words, consider what you said, and ask yourself if it's really what you believe, and was it worth the cost to say it? Is it worth the knowledge that you may have damaged, if not destroyed, something beautiful? Can you choose to apologize for it, if you feel that the wounding was unjust? If you can't, you should be very careful of how you use the weapons you were born with.

Is it worth it to call someone fat, for example, simply because they're overweight, or short because they're lacking in stature? These are obvious statements to some of us, but what purpose does the poison of malice serve? It's irresponsible serpents like that, who leap about biting babes, that have no business being allowed to keep their fangs. They have no concept of the venom they carry and passing laws to tape their mouths shut isn't something that I imagine would be considered immoral. Speech, like guns, require a certain measure of responsibility when using them. If you go discharging them without this teaching? You're just as likely to kill yourself without ever even realizing it -- and then you're just some toxic zombie, and the world will, eventually, put you down.

It should not go unspoken though that is an inherent danger in using kind words without consideration too. Words of affection, apologies, or even simple statements of praise an admiration? These things are no less dangerous and should be given just as much, if not more, consideration that those weaponized words we could use. Falsehoods, even if coated in honey, are the same noxious kind of poison that can cut the legs out from under anyone. They're the nagging, necrotic, infection that builds up like an invisible parasite, turning our insides to warm mush. It's only when it's too late when we realize that the sweet words we've been told have eaten us away and the solid land we thought we were standing on is a transparent cloud. 

Words are anything but harmless. They're the most harmful and helpful tools we have, they can turn a sky gray with storms, or chase them away and bring out the sun. The power of words is immeasurable. Think about every song, every speech, you've ever heard. In some way, shape, or form, they alter how you feel in those moments; be it violent disagreement, passionate agreement, or everything in between. Every word you speak can make or break entire universes and, what's more, it often will. We have laws in the world that govern the use of firearms and other such weapons.We have penalties for when they're discharged without consideration, but language? It's up to us to establish a method for measuring how we use our words, up to us to be mindful of the damage they can do.

None of us are invulnerable, none of us are immune, and stick and stones may break bones, but words, and only words, have the ability to break spirits. Be responsible with your words, and be aware that the can be wielded against you just as quickly. Shore yourself up for the times when they're slung harshly, but be ready to welcome them when they soothe a savage wound.

Untitled.

[About: Blank]

I think that's as close to a title as this needs now. It's not some speech about the world, or some aggressive pursuit of happy moments and all the best fruits in life. I've written about that over and over again. It seems to be my default topic even, not that I think that's bad. People are scared, they're afraid of what's out in the world, of all the things that can burn them, bite them, scar them, or, even worse, break their hearts. I've climbed some very tall mountains to speak some very loud words on these matters. I've spoken harsh critiques of fear, of how moments in life are all to brief to sit back and drool on yourself well they pass you by, but there's always been more to the story than that. It's never been just about encouraging those of you out there who read and care to listen to what I have to say -- that's small time. The words I scrawl out here, shout out loudly in public, and stomp out under my feet? They're hope, and not just for you, but for me too.

I've lived in that blank, faceless, existence, for a very long time. I've been bludgeoned stupid by the fear of action and fucked -- rather unpleasantly -- by many of the rabid and unscrupulous beasts that roam around the jungles. I've loved and lost, laughed, cried, screamed, shouted, pounded my fists on the walls in rage, howled at indecencies I felt powerless to change, and taken great pride in the little things I've been able to do for the world that seemed, even for just a few minutes, to make it all better -- maybe not for everyone, but at least for someone besides myself. I know, too well, how easy it is to find yourself chased into the darkest corners of your own mind and how closing your heart down to the world can seem like the finest idea you've ever been sold. I know why people can, and would, make those decisions;  but there's never even the rare case where I'd advocate it.

I'm not in the business of lying to anyone. It's a waste of my time, their time, and life in general -- but it hasn't always been that way for me either. I have lived, at various points in my life, a meticulously crafted lie. There have been points where it was stretched thin enough to be transparent, and there were lessons to be learned about just how one paints a picture of a life they want others to see. It was the mystique of illusion that drew people in and, as long as I could keep it up, seemed to fascinate them. Why am I making this, seemingly imprudent, disclosure? I'm making it because it's important. I used to lie, an I used to do it very, very, well. I had to, simply because I couldn't accept what I was being told about the world and what I should expect from it.

It took me a very long time to realize that experience was the best teacher, but you had to really, really, look at the lessons it was teaching you too. Bad things happened, and they happened often. I would lie about them when they did, and make them seem like nothing. It was the expectation I had been taught, through various means and methods. I would never be as good as anyone else, an I should be satisfied with whatever scraps of life I was handed -- and, for a time, I was too. I lied about the bad things, but, what's worse, I lied about the good things too. I had come to believe I was undeserving of good fortunes in life, and I would lie about them whenever I saw them. I would sit back, let them pass me by -- sometimes violently destroying them -- and then claim they'd never come my way at all.

Neither I, nor any part of me, was ready to handle what life actually was, because I hadn't been given the proper tools to appreciate it. I didn't know how to smile, I didn't know how to laugh, an I couldn't let go of that fear of the world. I knew there were things about it that were no good, but I was worse than all of it. Every time I would dare to brave the world beyond the confines of the cage I'd built, I'd retreat. The sun was too bright, the heat was too intense, and the loud noise made my ears want to bleed and my eyes want to explode. So, I stepped back into that dark corner, sat down on the floor, and stayed there. I wandered through life like this for a good number of years, pumping myself full of anything and everything I could find to turn down the brightness of the world, to keep the noise at bay, and to shield myself from the sun.

I offered nothing because I was not in a position to give anything. I had not learned just what it was that I could be or that anything about who I was carried any real value to it at all. I was a broken, useless, insecure, sniveling, cast off of a wretch; unwanted by everyone -- including myself. I couldn't stand who I was, even the facade I had intentionally crafted around me had grown fetid, and everything I saw in the mirror made me ill. This patten went on for longer than I can remember. I burned out my eyes, shut down my brain, fried my nose, and stuck all manner of sharp things under my skin; trying desperately to carve away the filth and slime I saw.

One day, as I sat staring into the abyss I had built for myself, it occurred to me that I was tired. I had exhausted myself battling against myself and now I had nothing left at all. I was weak and starving, ill nourished on my own fruits, gasping for air and retching up the contents of myself all over the floor. I was empty, hollow, and staring down the black rabbit as it rode in on a pale horse. It was in that moment that I decided to pull myself, kicking and screaming, into the sun. Sure, it hurt like hell, but what did I have to lose anyway? I was blank, faceless, without hope, and could feel the thunder of Death's horse rolling in -- I was a child who'd lost nothing, but wasted everything. I'd been surrounded by fear and the walls had been closing in tighter all the time.

It burned like a million suns. The wind whipped across my skin in an unrelenting fury, my ears shrunk down against my head, trying to get into some kind of shelter. My heart felt like it was going to explode, my blood was on fire, and my brain? Well that thing turned to mush and leaked out my head. I remember screaming and crying about it all, about how bad it hurt, about how the pain was like nothing I'd ever imagined. I remember dragging myself along the floor of my prison, pulling myself further and further away from the comfort of everything I knew, leaving behind a trail of ashes in my wake. The next thing I knew I was unconscious and absolutely blind. 

When the color finally came back to my eyes? I was gasping for air. Somehow, I'd survived the ordeal and all the sounds of horse hooves were gone. My heart my was screaming, my ears were ringing, but the strangest thing? It was my skin. The feeling of sensations against my skin was all new and absolutely bizarre. Hot & cold sensations swam over me in a whole new way. I felt wet, sticky, almost sick with everything that was rushing into me. I remember, vividly, coughing and sputtering into my eyes shooting open and a whole new set of colors. No longer was I a blank template, but rather a vessel waiting to be filled with what life had to offer.

The point of this story? No matter how painful and frightening the difference feels like it is, living is always better than being blank faced and closed off in an ever shrinking box. Shutting yourself off from the world is a surefire recipe for stunting yourself and making yourself sick from a poisoning of your own design. It's always better to be yourself than to be blank, it's always better to breathe than to suffocate, it's always better to live than to continue on a path that is little more than a prolonged trip down a trail of chills and death. Trying to continue on with this lie, no matter how good you are at it, is a formula for misery.

Be full, not empty. Be whole, not broken. Keep your eyes open, not closed. Live instead of slowly dying.

The Actuality of the Animals in the Zoo

The Actuality of the Animals in the Zoo
And the present of the present

We all go through life at various speeds and volumes. Everyone has something that 'works' for them; some kind of mentality that gets them through the day. For some, it's a blind optimism to the world, for others it's the cast iron bars, a cage of misfortune and a series of bad events that dictate their entire lot in life. Others still are bound by an endless series of constant self measurement, consistently raising the bar of their own expectations until the possibility of failure is absolute. I've seen, and executed, a lot of these mentalities at various stages of my life, but lately I've noticed a very troubling trend in the pessimism of the present. A lot more people seem all the more content to build boxes around themselves, to lock out the world, and have nothing to do with the music at all. I've asked several of these people: "Why would you do this? To what end does it serve?" They've all come back with the same thing. "There's just no point if all I'm going to do is get bitten."

Everyone seems so ready to quit, to give up, to walk away from all the hustling and bustle of life, but for what? What does it really accomplish to have all the animals decide they want no more part in the Zoo? Sure, we're all born with the inherent, and important, knowledge that we can check out any time we desire but why would we? What is it that's become so bad in the world that it's no longer worth being a part of anymore? Is there anything, anything in life that could be bad enough to actually make a lifetime of self imposed darkness and silence seem better? 

I've long believed that people and life are capable of anything, for better or worse. Every day, it's true, unspeakable horrors come screaming down from the sky at us. They leave us howling in a blind panic, looking for whatever shelter and refuse we can build up to protect ourselves from them. It's natural instinct to want to be safe after all, but what happens when we take it too far? What do we do when we just sit, endlessly, in the shade of safety and security? How long can we really sustain? We're not designed to live in Faraday cages after all, and the longer we sit in them, the weaker we become. So, again, I ask the question of 'Why?' What is it we really gain from this safety of starvation, this masochistic indulgence of always seeing what we want and never giving ourselves enough room to reach out for it?

Fear and Loathing are difficult beasts to master, nobody can argue that, but they're not the only things that run rampant in the wild jungles of life -- it's important to remember that too. Sure, sometimes it storms. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it drops hail from the clouds, sometimes the wind stings and the skies burn. Sometimes the roof leaks, sometimes the power goes out. The only tragedy of this comes on the heels of inaction though, of remaining stationary just because you might get wet or struck by a lightening event. You could argue that it's easier to hate the sky for it's sharp strikes and deafening thunder, but what about the other side of the coin?

What about the moments when the clouds break and the sun comes rolling out? What about the days when the calm seas roll onto the shores of midnight? What about how relaxing the sound of rain can be, or the sharp kick that lightening can deliver when it strikes the heart? What about those moments when, standing ankle deep in the rain, we're reminded of what we are? We're all animals. We're all bound by the same, primitive, thinking. It's hardwired into our DNA that we should preserve ourselves from all the things that mean us harm...but how much of what we're afraid of is just some boogeyman in the night? Is that why we're covering ourselves in steal and turning our most precious of organs into stone?

We've built walls around our zoos, keeping those, precious, animals close to us and safe. We've stunted our own growth by willingly stepping in cages, happy to live on handouts and passerby moments that, if we're lucky, make us smile. We've neglected the gift of the present to be ready for the sun to go down, for the storm to roll in, for the moon to mock us from on high. I'm not saying preparation and precaution are bad -- I've already gone over that -- but what I'm seeing is simple physics being neglected. Yes, the moon will almost always cast foreboding shadows on the most harmless of things and the sun will always chase those monsters away. If the sun were constant and warm, how would we be able to appreciate the stars that us of all the wonderful things that are out there?

The present, remember, is a gift. It's an immediate moment with absolutely limitless possibilities. It could go anywhere and it often goes everywhere, at any given time. It doesn't give warnings, it doesn't hold to the courtesy of informing you of anything and it never will. It's a beautiful thing though. The present is, without a doubt, the greatest present you'll ever be given. There's a catch to it though. In order to really accept it, to have it, you have to turn yourself over to it entirely. You've got to let the strange wind blow you where it will, let the music spill into your feet and carry you forward, you've got to really let yourself go to the moment and understand that yes, it might drop you, but it also might help you fly.

You've got no way of knowing where it will carry you, so why worry about it? If the skies grow dark and the wind picks up? Weather that storm but embrace it for the moment it is too. Let the wind howl, let the rain cry, let the skies roar and the lightening crash, spread your arms out and stare into its eye. If you can't know, then why worry? Slip the bars of your cage and go screaming into the night, find your ship, whatever it is, climb on board, and ride the waves. It's this path that will lead you down the rabbit hole of limitless possibilities. It'll drop you under the Earth and shake off the stones you've swallowed to harden yourself. It's the only way to take the gift.

Gods give nothing without the request of sacrifice. Offer yourself to a moment an it'll take you anywhere -- and being anywhere is better than going nowhere.

The Dangers heart shaped boxes

The Dangers of Heart Shaped Boxes:
And the tragedy of leaving them empty

There are a lot of dangerous things in the world these days; nobody can really argue that point anymore. We've got everything from cancer and diseases that come in mosquito bites, bad food, famine, war, poverty, death -- the works. We've got terrorism and ignorance aplenty, backroom politics that leave as all starving, we've got harsh weather, and, of course, the end of the world to look forward to now too. We've got over sized television, an excess of drunk drivers, even sex is a dangerous thing these days; it can rot your heart, your tongue, and your soul if you're really unlucky -- or at least that's what they'd tell you in abstinence training. There's one thing though that I consider the most dangerous of all the afflictions in the world. It's not hate, it's not dishonesty, it's not ignorance, and it's not even apathy. What I consider to be the most dangerous affliction of the modern era is that of those who have heart shaped boxes, sitting empty, in their chest.

It's these people, the ones who have no passion or, worse still, compassion to really feel something in the depths of who they are, that I think are in the most dire of our social care. What's the point of meandering through an existence without a genuine passion for what you're doing? It's not about a person, or even a hobby, but it's about having a passion for living. A life lived without a love of living just seems so empty and, more and more, I see an army of Tin people; they're all wandering down the streets with wishful hope buried deep behind their eyes, hoping to find a Wizard who can give them that one thing they felt like they lost somewhere along the way. Has it really been lost, or is it more that it's just been forgotten? In the world that we live in, where a general sense of apathy, if not selfishness and an outright demand for instant gratification, it seems to make more sense that people are just starting to drop it somewhere along the path. 

Hearts, and the emotion that comes with them, require a substantial sense of long term investment. To develop a sense of genuine feeling for what's going on around you, you have to be willing to really engross yourself in life. Even the sideline sense of it isn't good enough really; it's just that kind of 'empty box' thinking that leaves stains everything you do with the stink of an empty, rotting, carcass. A carrion heart is no good at all. It doesn't pump blood at the same, fervent, rhythm and it, sure as hell, can't bring a sense of real satisfaction to anything it touches.

Empty hearts lead to empty live because it’s what we fill them with, the moments that define who we are and what we feel, that really bring a sense of fulfillment to a moment. It’s the first wind of summer blowing through a field of flowers that gives up hope, the same as it a genuine sense of heartfelt loss for the old man who has seen his beloved home fall to the ruin of violence and apathy. We have to fill our hearts with feeling to really understand these moments and if we don’t, then what are we really doing? Are we really okay with becoming so disconnected from the plight and smiles of those who surround us on all sides?

It seems, to me, that a better way to live would be to indulge in these things, to fill our boxes with all manner of sours and sweets, and really embrace the variety of emotions that are present in the world around us. It’s through happiness we are able to measure worth, for sure, but it’s the sadness of our world, and the worth of others, that can often provide us with perspective. It seems, to me, to be better to brandish a heart on your sleeve, than lock it up inside an impenetrable box. After all, what are we but the sum of our experiences, and what do our experiences really mean if we were to take the feelings out of them?

What makes a moment memorable? Is it the temperature of the water, or the way it felt  on your felt the first time you stepped in the ocean. Do you remember what you ate on your best birthday, or the way you felt with the people around you? Why then does it seem so sensible to walk through life with an empty, heart, shaped, box? Why walk through the world so empty hearted and apathetic to those around you? Why only feel when the news tells you should, or only donate to the starving children of a third world country? Every day, I can promise you, you walk by dozens of people who are in just as much dire need for your compassion.

So have your moments, and have them daily, but give them too and share them just as often. Stop and consider the feelings of those around you. If you see someone suffering, don’t hesitate to do what you can to alleviate their suffering. If you see someone smiling, stop to at least consider what it is that’s brought them such joy. If you see someone crying, ask them what you can do. If you see someone laughing, join them. If you see a moment that stirs you, embrace it. It doesn’t matter what it is, why it moves you, or even how; have no shame in what it is you feel – and never let anyone take it away from you.

No matter what life throws at you, and it will throw a lot, take it. Take every rainy day, and every bit of sun. Take every nasty storm, every cut, scrape, bruise, and bang on your heart, and never, once, get mad about it. Listen to the sound those things make as they bounce off you, and, if it’s not hollow, it’s okay to smile. Even if it hurts, even if it makes you sad, it's part of being alive, and what’s not to love about that? Learning to love the things that are inside your own heart is the first step to loving the world you’re in, and, no matter what anyone says, the world’s worth feeling – every minute, of every damn day.

“In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life.”  -- Mumford & Sons ‘Awake my Soul’ from the album ‘Sigh no more.’