Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Don't quit before the miracle

Hi friends, I miss you. I am checking in out of the blue with this short but sweet one...

Several days ago I spotted a rolypoly bug on the bathroom floor on its back wiggling like crazy and unable to get up. I was too tired to deal with it. School is back in session and it is unexplainable how hectic things get when there is a dramatic schedule change and sleep is disturbed with the early call time. Hectic for me and for the kiddos. Way to impossible to describe. Some of you know exactly what I am talking about, the rest must trust. Completely  and utterly unable to help that bug.

Three whole days later I saw it again, in a different part of the room, still on its back struggling like mad, wiggling all those feet, completely helpless, stuck. I happened to have an once of strength and I picked up the poor bastard and threw it out into the yard. Ping! I heard that satisfying sound that meant the bug was not stuck to me but now had hit a leaf and was back in its element.

Alas, the metaphor, I have been that bug, hopeless and fucked. Unable. And out of the blue something changes. Don't quit before the miracle. I write to remind my dear self. See you around. XH

Oh hell yeah, Otis!
http://youtu.be/f8hoAO3jpL0

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Baggage: letting go of hatred brings up vulnerability and so much more




Urg, you know the Ike and Tina version of Proud Mary, “We never ever do anything nice and easy…” welcome to my world. But you read me, so you already know that.

I do not want to post this but I was feeling pretty alone with it so posting helps.  And since you made it past the title, you must need to read this on some level, so here goes.

So I am cutting loose this big heavy fucking suitcase that I have carried around on my back for decades. Put it down, dear girl, put it down. Inside of the ancient bag I found some metaphor for a very sad childhood with trauma. You get the picture. I have worked much of it out, but apparently not all. Hmmmm.

The result of carrying all that weight has been the source of much hatred. That’s how it plays out for me, that was the best I could do with so much pain. I fucking hate. I don’t hate minorities or random folk. My target is just a select few, anyone that has hurt me or hurt someone very very close to me, anyone who gets near my wound. They get it all, all the hate in the world.

Of course they don’t deserve it all. They don’t deserve any of it. Most targets of hate do not deserve the wrath sent their way. Hate is not logical or productive. It does no good, serves no one. But there you have it. That is how I coped. My process leads me to have some empathy for the haters out there that I cannot stand, the haters of women and blacks and the lgbt community and “others”. I get how illogical it is, how deep it runs, how hard it is to reason away, how comforting it feels. But hate hurts everyone, both the hater and the hated. It is our job and responsibility to do better.

I am excited to let it go. It will be a process. It will take time. Still
I am so very uncomfortable with the letting go of what has been my armor. I am not sure what will be there underneath. Uneasy vulnerabity, yes, but what else? There are tons of tears and terror, but that stuff will pass. It is all ok, beautiful in fact. I am contributing to the peace consciousness of the world. Being the change I want to see. Life is mindblowing. Viva la revolutione of the internal kind. All transformation is possible. You know I love you.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

the fall of Saigon

This weekend is the 40th anniversary of the fall of Saigon, or the liberation, depending on context. There is so much sadness and devastation leading up to that moment, I cannot even begin to touch on it. I will just say that the evacuations had begun a month or so prior. President Ford appproved a plan to remove most Americans, leaving only 1250, enough to be evacuated in one day. He spent the rest of the time, until the city was captured, evacuating Vietnamese refugees. American planned to help refugees of war till the last possible minutes, that is amazing. 

I find the history so compelling, because it was so very recent. Only 40 years ago. 

And on another note, it happened DAYS after the first Ramones record came out.

I am having a hard time reconciling this time line. 

Ah, life. Turn, turn, turn.

"Compassion is the understanding of the lack of understanding"


“Compassion is the understanding of the lack of understanding. It takes a tremendous amount of clarity, strength and spiritual maturity to practice genuine compassion.
Love offered from a place of true compassion is not personal; it is transpersonal, non-dual quality that emanates from the depths of one’s being. The spiritually-awakened heart practices unconditional compassion which expresses exactly as it needs to – tough love at times, soothing, comforting love at others. But love is always the view, the motive, the practice.” From the agape website

I read this a week or so ago and then began my week of really big feelings, the kind that rattle every nerve ending till it is raw and fiery, where you whole body is uncomfortable and all you want is a way out because the way though seems unbearable. I wanted to do any thing to relieve me of the ouchy itchy buzzy adrenaline-y, sensations of fear, anger, pain and trauma. Gross. 

I went to 7 eleven, a place I rarely enter, and craved the neon pink doughnuts, the greasy fried crispy sandwiches, the chips, the sugar, the candy, the soda, the shitty chocolate, more chips, and the gambling, anything to fix me, to make me feel better (ha!), to take away my pain. Somehow I walked out with just a one dollar lotto ticket. 

Next I tried obsessive thinking, spinning out on figuring a way out of having to feel anything by fixing everything. Since that is impossible, It did not work it just feel more adrenaline-y and brutal.

Miraculously, after getting some help to ground myself I somehow moved through all of those feelings without stuffing or fixing and got peace in the other side. I’d been wrestling with something for a while and all of a sudden I had clarity and guidance. I was laid up in the fetal position for a bit, recovering from all the popping off of electrical impulses in my body, but I got through. You can too. Why is it so hard to just feel things sometimes?

Anyway, I was left with the answer that the high road is always the way to go, that the low road promises immediate gratification, but often fail to deliver and even if it does give immediate satisfaction, it is never gives long term peace and happiness. And isn’t peace and happiness what we are seeking in the end? I write this to remind myself.

Sometimes it is really hard to get to love, but it is always worth the struggle. 


Thursday, April 28, 2016

40 perfect and yes rare...


The Ramones first record just had its 40th anniversary. Henry Rollins was talking about it today on the radio. It was great to hear those songs. It reminded me why I wanted/want to be in a band. It reminded me why music is amazing. It reminded me of that unnamable feeling/energy of the first time you hear a mind blowing song.

The best part of the article was when Henry mentioned that the record only went gold two years ago, which means that it only sold 500,000 copies as of recently. He spoke about how shocking that was, how he imagined that everyone had that record. I guess I thought that too, but it is so refreshing to hear that not everyone has it, that it really is a privileged bunch who knew about it. Of course I wished the band all the success and exposure and financial gain they deserved, that is besides the point. The point is that not everyone knows about this gem. It really was the sublime magnificent underground, like wearing yellow fishnet stockings with an MC jacket on a freezing night so cold it hurts your nose to breathe and all you care about is the sound and   you feel like you would die for it and you just need to get there and see them and hear them....Despite all the good or bad bands that think they are/were punk and think that punk “broke” the mainstream, some good part never did. Little victory for us with good taste.

btw, LA Peeps, I am playing with my band OSO My Brain, tonight, friday april 29th at Taix 1911 Sunset blvd, in echo park at 10pm. See you there...

Sunday, April 17, 2016

lord i miss you

life is so good. i am so busy. i miss writing everyday and being with you, but i love doing other things and not putting that  pressure on myself right now. i can do it if want to but am taking a break. yum....

anyway, i just saw this film and i t was so awesome and i thought i would tell you about it. it was universal but on a smaller budget than those typical UNIVERSAL themed films. it is just my nature, i am not fan of "too glossy, i get it, the hard work the perfection, the polish, the goal, the box office competition, the pay for the artists, etc, but something always gets lost in the translation for me when you get to the arena level. as for the music metaphor, i hope to never go to an area show again in my life, i only want the small club experience. and yes i mostly avoid that kind of film because it rarely satisfies me.

that being said, i saw this medium sized film, (small to some) and it was so elegantly acted and told, and the metaphor was so big and strong and it was just everything i want in a film, it showed the struggle, the heartbreak, the reality of life, the beauty of family, of relationship, friendship, love. it touched the god place for me.

it reminded me of everything i already knew but always forget.
the struggle is normal. 
we are all connected. 
everything is going to be ok. 
love is stronger than all the stuff. 
love always wins. 
you are given everything you need.
i could go on and on.

oh, the film was called Midnight Special. you may not see it the way i did. expectation often kills it of me.

see you around, kiddos.
looking good, keef...
https://youtu.be/hic-dnps6MU


Monday, April 11, 2016

the greatest water fountain

We used to go to this man made lake in Fair Lawn, New Jersey when I was a kid. Swim, barbeque, play, it was a magical place. I have the fondest memories.  My parents called it Fehlaun, with their heavy new York accents so it was not until I was a grown up that I knew what the place was really called. Anyway, there was a water fountain there that I can still remember today. the fountain and the metal bowl lay on a wooden structure that had been painted white, but was rough and sun baked, faded and chipped. The whole thing smelled like wood that was hot and in the sun all day, like a boardwalk, and the water tasted like the most delicious water in the whole world. still does, in my memory.


No song tonight. in a rush. peace out. xh