Seth Set(h)s the Tone

The always insightful Seth Godin on the state of the music “industry”. Seth NAILS it on the head when he says “People who want to invent a whole new set of rules, a new paradigm, can’t believe their good fortune and how lucky they are that the people in the industry aren’t noticing an opportunity…”

I couldn’t agree more, and now that I’ve got this site up and running, I’ll be writing more along these lines.
Let’s do this!

http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2009/02/music-vs-the-music-industry.html

In Golf I Trust

Golf is my teacher, my meditation, my compass, my punching bag, my fortuneteller, my escape, and my mirror. It has been called everything from “the perfect asana” to “a good walk spoiled”. I prefer the former.

For many, golf is an “activity” for lazy, fat, rich, white men. Thankfully, Tiger Woods came along 10 years ago and uprooted that with his pure mental and physical domination of the game. I like Tiger. He’s a performer and winner, yet he grasps the nature that golf is a pursuit to be continuously explored, studied, and mastered, yet will never be conquered. He’s traditionally dodged any questions pertaining to the “deeper pursuits” of golf, despite the fact that his mother is Buddhist, however I sense a deeper connection to the game beyond his physical and mental fascination.

Golf, and more precisely the golf swing, tells me a lot about what is going on in my life. I’m open to the possibility that it’s all projection; but that still leaves the beauty that the swing is an echo of what’s happening in the moment. By the way, Michael Murphy wrote the seminal work

on the subject of golf = life = spiritual expression, so if it peaks your interest – start here.

For simplicity’s sake, let’s just accept that the golf swing includes 5 parts: the grip, the setup, the backswing, the downswing (pre and post contact), and the follow through. I find that as my life goes through stages of development, both as a whole, and in parts of everything from relationships to projects, aspects of struggle and success manifest in my golf swing accordingly. For instance, the last few years I was “coincidentally” working on reconstructing my setup and backswing (preparation) as I was developing and creating new projects in my work life.

After several years of preparation on both fronts, I realized I was in a perfect position “at the top” (the moment the backswing ends and downswing begins), however the contact and follow through fell apart. What was going on in my life? I was spending an immense amount of time sculpting and perfecting recordings and albums, however when it came time to launch, the records fell flat.

I assumed that the publicity and release of the record (much like the “release” of the club) was someone else’s responsibility. I spent months creating a fantastic album, and then waited for someone to send me a royalty check. And while the latter stages weren’t my responsibility, they were responsible for me not garnering success from all of the work I had done. In short, who cared how great the production of the album was if I DIDN’T HIT THE BALL AND FOLLOW THROUGH.

Since that period in my life, I have worked more on personally escorting projects as far as I can. Concurrently, my golf swing’s impact position and after became the point of study. I began to experience the feeling of compacting the ball, releasing the club, and finishing balanced and complete. Because in the end, that’s all we can do. Make a full swing with complete intention and connection and trust the results…

But today I worked on my grip. I’ve felt a reboot coming in my life for a while and it turns out my golf grip is a little off. My hands are unconsciously separating during the backswing, and consequently are hopelessly disconnected by impact. On the range, I realized that the more my grip is off in the beginning, the less of a chance anything after that has of being effective. As I drove home I wondered, what is the essential reboot in my life that wants to happen?

Pulled Pork

“I’ll have a pulled pork sandwich, two-fisted, dressed as a portly woman.”

Was the last line of my dream.
Apparently, from the restaurant menu, that means a pork sandwich, with two helpings of ground pork.

and then I woke up.

The Sensitive Terrorist

I was going through the security checkpoint at the Raleigh airport. Considering it was the holidays, it was pretty slow. Until, the slow drawed, slow moving security guard watching his favorite show on the X-Ray asked me to open my backpack.
Ugh, I thought.
“Is this your 4 ounces of Sensodyne toothpaste?”
“Um, yes it is.” I answered, slightly embarrassed by my sensitivity.
“Are you aware that any liquids or gels over three and a half ounces need to be in a plastic bag, or checked?”
“Um, well, I, um…Yes, I guess I was but…”
“I’m going to have to throw this in the trash.”

Really?
You’re going to confiscate my Sensodyne toothpaste? I’m mean, I kind of get the theory about using gels as explosive materials, and maybe I can excuse the level of ridiculousness that the TSA has taken this liquid witch hunt to, but…
Sensodyne?!

“Hey Musharraf! Are you ready to take down capitalism in the name of Allah?!”
“Yes!”
“Are you ready to give your life as a commitment to this cause?!”
“Yes! Absolutely! I’m in! But wait! Hold on a second, these sensitive teeth are killing me! I mean really, I’ve got to get a hold of some very gentle and delicate pain-relieving toothpaste that can help rebuild the enamel on my teeth over time. I realize I might be dead in a matter of days, but certainly I can go pain free in the mean time.”

Dream Journal, cont’d.

Music is a sheet of ice that extends across the ocean. Several people are chipping away with the back side of hammer to split and sever the ice. These are the remixers. Their clinking will travel across the ocean.
But then, the ice cracks and a huge hole opens up. I fall through the ice into an underwater river that is carrying me to the far east. The water is cold, but I’m not cold.
The flow carries me to China, where I am still underwater, but looking down upon a nativity scene. However, the lead character (Jesus?) has been replaced by a metal Ankh,
without
the horizontal crossbar*. This is the drama of the play. Who kidnapped Jesus and replaced him with this ornament wearing a robe?
Now, there is someone following me…
Suddenly, I have the urge to call Saul Williams. “Is your email still the same?” “I should call you.” I say to him, just after I call him.

 

*This is fascinating. After I wrote this, I had to do some research to figure out what this symbol is called. I found:

The ankh is a combination of two symbols, a circle, and a the
Tau cross. The circle represents perfection, the spiritual world or
Eternity. The cross represents Spirit incarnated or the Manifested
World. It’s the combination of the vertical line and the horizontal line.
The horizontal line is yin. Yin is the place where life can take place.
The vertical line is Yang, like a Solar Ray coming down. In order to
have life you have to have those two things, you have to have a womb,
Mother Earth, where life can take place and you have to have an impulse
of life.

The horizontal line is like the surface of the sea

and
the vertical line is like a lightening bolt. These two combine to form the
cross, or in the case of the ankh, the Tau, on which the circle sits.

Truly Timeless Art

Often, I hear the word “timeless” as a positive review of a piece of art. Most of the time, I think the meaning of this phrase is used incorrectly. For instance, let’s say we are talking about a recording of a song. Generally, by issuing the phrase “timeless” the reviewer is inferring that the recording itself could be played at any period in time and would have the same relevance – sonically, emotionally, politically, etc. “That Creedence song sounds as good today as it did 30 years ago! It’s timeless!”

That’s not what the phrase means to me. A truly “timeless” piece of art is one that puts YOU, the “experiencer”, in a space without time. There is nothing else but the moment you are in right now. It actually removes past and present and envelopes you in the moment of the piece as it unfolds.

Of course, time is taking place while you experience the art present itself, but the duration is at the mercy of the piece.

Those are the pieces of art that I’m drawn to. There’s nothing to intellectualize about the creation. Is it a good piece? Is it a bad piece? Do I like the singer? Is the protagonist brave enough? Is there too much red?

I am IN the work or I’m not. And I FEEL it. I EXPERIENCE it. There are no judgments during, if the piece is capturing me.

Have you ever noticed that sometimes you watch a film and as soon as you leave the theater, or perhaps the next day, you have so many questions? Well, why did he leave her? I wonder where the butler went? How did she know he would be there?

That’s because that silly, part of our mind that thinks it has all the answers, the part that is so insecure without it’s meddling, the part that can be so interruptive, has been quelled. Your deeper self’s thorough enjoyment of the piece has issued an involuntary “sshhhhhh…..”

I can tell that a piece of art is timeless by the reaction of my body. It actually slows down and is quieted. The belly relaxes, and creates a softness to absorb what’s surrounding me. I might be inspired and the creative part of me is spinning, but there is nothing hesitant or judgmental about the thought patterns. Only forward “yes”es. I’m immersed in the moment.

The next time you are listening to your favorite song, or reading a book, or watching a film, or standing with tired legs in front of the Raft of the Medusa after running around Paris all day – take a moment to feel into your body and notice how immersed you are.

Hopefully, if the art is for you, your experience will be similar to my friend T.D. Lind’s hopes, as he sings these encouraging words to his lover: “Let’s get lost.”

The Extraordinary Non-Event

Nothing happened. Really. And yet…
No, really. Nothing happened.

I always considered the possibility that I would write a book. It could happen, I thought. If some compelling event transpired, such as a survived catastrophe, a fantastic metamorphosis, or even a tragedy – yes, especially a tragedy. Because that’s what people want to read about – a meaningful experience that concludes with a significant result. Emotional, transcendent.

Most would consider their own existence, both inaccurately and accurately, as mundane. Of course “Lord of the Rings” is so popular – nothing like that is EVER going to happen to me. Right? Maybe it could?! Well, in the mean time, I’ll sublimate experience and growth through another protagonist. Besides, I have things to do in the morning. If we start the movie now, I can still get 8 hours of sleep. That will certainly help with all the things I need to do tomorrow.

What’s that? You wrote a story about a guy that lives a life of “relative” insignificance? No tragedy? No winning the gold, preventing mass destruction, no saving the world? Sounds like one of those shoe-gazing “Slacker” films. Sounds boring. Those always have a limited life span.

Well then, we agree. I’m inspired by depth, power, and radical transformations in consciousness too! And of course, those processes mostly occur in finite, gradual steps taking years. Way to long and seemingly innocuous for your typical blockbuster. So, what’s the story look like?

Let’s take a tangent first.

Significant.

That’s the key word for me. It’s the oasis, the cloud, and the handcuffs. I want to BE significant. I want to leave something meaningful. Do something meaningful. Be remembered. Respected. Revered.

And it’s ALL external.

Even as I write these words. A blog of absolution. Fundamental, egoic absolution. This tiny, auto-transformative blog, one among billions of other voices, I fantasize of being found. Recognized. A simple typing meditation that I perceive and judge as heroic and pathetic, suddenly feels so foreign-

No responsibility to be Significant.

…Ahhh…. That feels so liberating. No longer bound by this personal responsibility to matter, my options just became infinite. I can live a life of anonymity, beauty, and clarity. Nice…

Hmmm… 60 seconds of freedom and it’s starting to feel empty. As if there’s no purpose, no goal, no reason – REASON! A ha! Just as I typed that dreadfully heady word, and it snapped! What’s a reason!? Blah! Where’s does that motivation coming from?! Whose reason?

All right, I think we’re getting somewhere. Let’s differentiate.

When I think of significance as an external motivator, the vision becomes cloudy. When I embody significance as an internal signifier, I become aligned. It doesn’t even matter what I “do” at that point. If I’m connected, I’m clear. The Latin word significantia is defined as “meaning, force, energy”. Working from that momentousness feels much cleaner to me.

It’s not that I don’t want to be significant, it’s that I want to be significant as a matter of force and energy. Sustainable and direct.

Ok, what’s the story look like now?

Better, but it still needs work. Freeing myself of external attachments doesn’t relieve me of my “duty” to tell an interesting story!

Sincere Saturday

My fiancée and I are continuing a thread we started last year. Once a week, we attempt to go an entire day without using sarcasm. Seems innocuous at first, possibly a bit silly, and certainly not hard. Well, it turns out only one of those things is true, it is silly, but definitely not easy.

I realize how much of the way we (as a generation) communicate via sarcasm. For the first half of the day, I have to be so careful to speak truthfully, I end up sounding like English is my 2nd language.
“Honey? These… eggs are… a little on the cold side for me. I prefer to eat eggs… when they are still… hot.”
Or
“I think it’s time for me to take a shower. I do not smell good. I smell bad.”

As the day goes on, several things start to happen. First of all, the words start to flow more smoothly, style moves in, and complete conversations happen without too much self-checking. Ahhhh…

Second, another level of trust exposes itself. I’m not talking about the deep heart-felt sense of trust that hopefully is present in any committed relationship. I’m speaking of a subtle layer of trust that escorts every conversation you have during any day of the week with anyone. Sarcasm is the gentle form of protection we use in each engagement to insure that we aren’t to exposed or vulnerable during the conversation. After all, THE LAST thing we want is to look stupid. Even in a trusting relationship there can sometimes be a veil of protection up during the playful, teasing moments. Saturday is a prime candidate for those moments. In a nutshell, we’ve noticed that we trust each other a “little” more throughout the day.

Third, and this one I can only speak for myself, is that I notice how many things I say during the day that ARE truthful, but I use the tone of sarcasm. Effectively, the tone will almost always overrule the meaning. What do they say? “90% of communication is non-verbal.”

For instance, my girl was leaving for this fancy coffee shop down the street. I noticed she had a hole in her jeans and was wearing a cute little t-shirt. As she was walking out, I (almost) said in a playful voice, “YOU look HIP.” Of course, she both laughed it off and said “hey!” thinking that my sarcastic tone implied that she in fact, didn’t look hip – the last thing she wanted to hear before she walked into the trendy coffee shop. Ironically, I REALLY did think she looked “hip”. I wasn’t making fun of her at all, but I was using a playful/ironic voice to tell her I was attracted to her without exposing myself too greatly in that moment.

I’m gonna get off track here for a second, but why would I do that? I mean, I have no problem at all telling her straight to her face that I think she is fantastically gorgeous and I’m overwhelmingly attracted her. In fact, I do it all the time – and she believes me. So why the sarcasm?

Well, I’m slowly getting back to the beginning here, but I think it’s as simple as sarcasm is deeply engrained in our generations’ communication, and it takes a conscious effort to speak without it and still feel “cool”.
The other side of the coin is the obvious, simple fact that sarcasm is one of the oldest forms of HUMOR. “Why” it is such an effective kind of humor is for another conversation, but the simple answer is that it’s funny. And while we like to BE in trusting relationships (deep and subtle,) we also enjoy laughter.

So where does that leave this conversation? The short answer is that most deeply trusting relationships can endure and enjoy sarcasm as a source of humor and not feel threatened. Most surface engagements between friends and colleagues can do the same, as there’s not much at stake, and after all, humor IS a prime spark for joy. But, sarcasm is also a form of defensiveness and that barrier prevents true connection, both on the surface and at the core.

Funny how I just wanted to try the no-sarcasm game just to see if I could do it, and it led to all this. Maybe try the game for a day and see what it opens for you.