"127 HOURS"

Every winter I dread the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year's, and yet I recently had the miniphany (miNIphany, a "mini epiphany", my favorite of my made-up words) that Winter is when I am at my most creatively charged. And productive. Within the belly of the quietness and inwardliness has lied, for the last few years at least, opportunities for a kind of "pensive directedness." Finding me quieter and more focused. Clearer and more integrated. Creative and wise. It really just hit me a few years ago that this had become my cold weather truth truth. That while I had come to dread the impending season when the darkness arrives earlier and stays longer, I simultaneously found myself also looking forward to whatever magic seems to happen when I am more Yogi Bear than Yogi Berra. When I am indoors, and within, more. How the senses, all of them, are engaged differently in autumnfallwinter. The mind, the body, the spirit. The smells and aromas, the feelings and the touches, the hearing and the listening, the seeing and the watching, the tasting and the savoring, the cooking and the eating. The seeing and the believing. I knew that we were transitioning into this time of year when I bought a serious set of cooking knives in early October at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Went in for one knife, came back with a set. The salesman didn't even need to encourage me, it was the easiest sale he ever made. On the surface, the purchase was simply wanting better tools to work with, better "brushes" to learn to paint with, in the kitchen. A step up. Yet it really was more than that...a preparation for more kitchening, more creating, cooking, feeding, comforting, nurturing. Brainstorming and soulstorming. All from the inside out.

This season's other constant for me, particularly around Christmahanukwanzakah, is going to the movies as often as possible...one of the reasons to get out when the weather might keep me inside. Finally the arrival of the season when, at least for several weeks in a row, there's never a lack in the movie theaters in NYC for something potentially wonderful to see. Indies and studio films, foreigns and even some Americans, the full gamut. Not just the shit that too often makes many of us wonder if there's anything to go see, the answer often being "no." So I have been on this year's movie-going juggernaut these last few weeks. Most of the films definitely fall in the good-to-great zone, one major disappointment (Sofia Coppola's "Somewhere" should be, in my opinion, retitled as "Nowhere"), and two extraordinary films that absolutely blew my mind, "The King's Speech" and "127 Hours." Each one for different reasons, both deep sensory experiences on multiple levels. Not just two of the best films I have seen recently, two of the best I can remember for a LONG time. I have to talk about 127 Hours though...not simply because I saw it yesterday and it's fresh in my mind, but because the film absolutely rocked my being like no film possibly ever has. It hit me deeply, on a very spiritual basis. For several years, my work/creative mantra has been "entertain and elevate", and no film has embodied my version of what I mean more than Danny Boyle's masterpiece (he is also the director of "Slumdog Millionaire," which also transformed the way I looked at the world). On each and every level, 127 Hours is a spiritual experience. Beyond simply its riveting and inexplicable story about one man's enormous spirit, each and every aspect of the film (whether the cinematography, music, editing, acting, design) was apparently championed by a filmmaker in their own right, one who knew how to tell a story, whether with pictures, sound, pacing, visuals...and, the creative alchemy served to mesh with Danny Boyle's directing, and his clear spiritual and creative awareness, to create the most inspirational, and life-affirming masterpiece that I can imagine. What better way to touch many (if one indeed aspires, or has the intention, to touch many) with so much of the good stuff, with the much needed reminder that there is wonder of all aspects of life, than through a "mainstream" film. With a brilliant actor, James Franco, who has consistently been doing powerful work in his films, a man so beautiful on the inside and out. One who, it is very obvious, is deeply in touch with his spiritual side. 127 Hours embodies mastery and vision and passion with a story whose messages grabbed me in the gut, with undying truth - that there is beauty and love everywhere, that there are opportunities for gratitude (almost) all the time, that we are all deeply connected, and we all need help and support...and, that the possibility of having someone love you, in the highest and must fulfilling and affirming way that you could most imagine, is a dream worth aspiring to, and worthy of being kept in your heart. To not lower the bar. On ourselves.

PINBALL WIZARD? OR JUST THE BALL??!!

It's hard to know whom to believe...about what "life" means, what is important...in the end, the truth is, that no one really knows anything. Except one's own core truths. About what speaks to THEM. We are all just trying to figure it out. And we need to. For ourselves. There's so much judgment going on every day, person judging person, and we all do know, deep down, that judging another is really just pure folly. It doesn't work. The other day I was talking to Marion, she was telling me that I am the classic "orphan archetype"...she had mentioned that to me before...and, it just sat there, finding a place from which I could, when the time was right, really feel what that meant. And like an old car battery around which the acid may have expelled and hardened, not allowing the car to start, I needed to soften it, chip away at it, to get my power (back). Having often felt like a pinball in a game where I was just bouncing about, sometimes actually hitting on some big games, yet too often falling into the "Game Over" slot, I want to be the Player, not the ball. To feel in charge. Yet I generally empowered others (whether they knew it or not) to write my rules, to set my standards, to be MY power source. It didn't, and doesn't work. At least for me. And probably for most of us. Maybe all of us. It is, as Marion said to me, an "inside job." Ours to determine - our rules, our notions, our life. And, how we feel about it. We can run from it, or embrace it. Sometimes run from it AND embrace it. All I have come to realize, is that it's ours.

STAYING OUT OF FEAR...

Fear. It is such the killer of life. Of souls. Of dreams. And often, of Dreamers. I remember hearing for the first time many years ago, a comparative juxtaposition of fear with two competing notions. Faith is one of hem. Love is the other. And I get it in my gut. When I am in a fearful place, it's effects can be - are, for me - all permeating. It infuses everything. Both love and faith can trump fear any day, when we breathe through ourselves with those inner, core truths. Of who we are. Even when we are not fully seeing, or feeling, it...ourselves...in our most full. When we are not feeling, as my dear friend, Claudia Handler calls it, "Me at my Me-ist." No matter what, we need to surround ourselves with those who both help us shine a light in all the corners, even the dark ones, who cry out for truth, while also seeing us in our bigness...not big as in famous, big as in who we truly are.

"IT IS WHAT IT IS..."

This has become one of my new favorite expressions...phrases. Reminders. Of truth. In that way that can be both so personal and individual and yet objective and global at the same time. What I mean is that once any of us come to our realization about the way something "is" - a situation, a relationship, a person, etc. - in a way that gives us complete "aha" clarity, on both the smaller and larger scale, "it is what it is." Embracing that phrase has lubricated some of the gears in my inner shifting mechanism. Gotten me, who has too often been drawn to unnecessary drama - both inner and outer - further into simplicity and "truth" (yes, even if that notion of truth is completely mine). Because once I can look at a situation, an experience, a feeling, a set of circumstances, whatever or whomever they may be, from the perspective of "it is what it is", it removes so much of the stories. That drama that is inherent in the "why's" or the "why not's" or the "how come's" or the "I don't understand's" or the inner clamoring that keeps me from what really is, acceptance. Of truth. Often of facts. And it allows me to step further into the breath of the moment, the space of the heart, instead of being ensconced in the noise in my head. At least for awhile. I am learning to feel and see what can and will occupy that space that would otherwise be filled up by my stories. It's a process. Like any new piece of clothing that may reflect a change in style or self-perception, I feel that I am growing into it...getting more comfortable...

MARILYN AND JERRY...

Monday was the 38th anniversary of the death of a woman whom I have come to realize I hardly knew. My mother. It really just hit me. Obviously not the fact that it's been a long time since I looked in her eyes and had a conversation. Or that it wasn't her death, but her getting sick ten years earlier, that was the REAL game changer for me. It was simply looking at facts...circumstances...in a new way. Not emotionally, as much as simply from a "it's just the facts, Jack" perspective. The realization, from a different angle, that Mom was physically well for such a short time in my life, and that her unexpurgated, as my mother, was so fleeting. I don't remember what she was like, unburdened, whether by the anxiety of sickness, the frustrations of life, the fearofdeath at a time when no one talked about it. It simply struck me, as I was riding on the subway, that this force in my life, this person whose presence, as limited, powerful, loving and dark as it sometimes was/is, is someone whom I not only hardly remember, but really have no idea who she was. At her core. At her most open and/or whatever might be the opposite of that for a woman whose life, and that of her only kid, was inexorably jettisoned into an unexpected place on a Spring morning in 1962. When people really didn't talk about this kind of shit. So, in an attempt to connect with the only other person who lived in that house with us, I woke and called my father, to simply connect, to open up the possibility of calling up the memory of a woman about whom he never speaks, at least in an offering. In an attempt to give his son something, from the inside.

"Good morning, Dad, just wanted to connect with you on the anniversary of Mom's death."

"I don't know when it was, Jon, I'm not sure."

BREATH.

"No, Dad, it's today. The same day as JFK. I just felt like talking about her a bit."

"Yeah, I remember it was around Thanksgiving."

BIG PAUSINGSPACE.

"OK, Dad, enjoy the day, I will speak to you during the week."

"OK, Jon. Feel good."

"Love you."

"Love you"

And, I let go. Not in the dramatic tears flooding out of my eyes kindofway...they simply trickled all day. Simply, in a realization that my 91-year old Dad can't give it to me - the perspective, the grounding, the bridge that might provide some granular connective tissue to a place inside that always is longing for that. And while it's easy to say that "he's 91" as a reason for this shallow, yet kindly-intentioned well, the fact, the truth, is that it was, he was, no different at 81 or 71 or whenever. The difference for me, on Monday, as sad as it may be, is that I was able to simply let this/him be. To have it be what it is. Not get caught up in (T)HIStory, or this disappointment. To accept it. To tell the/my truth. To be able to hold the facts and my father in a true place, and not become angry or (re)burdened. To love him and love her, in any ways that I can. Whether I remember or not.

THE OLD YO-YO...

It has struck me recently - and not for the first time - that in those moments in my life when I have elected to explore a singular romantic relationship with a woman, that person has tended to be someone who isn't what I would call "emotionally reliable." It's not about being good or nice or kind or giving. What I am talking about goes to their ability to hold an emotional space with another, starting with their own. It's a "default" position that prompts a visceral withdrawal from emotional vulnerability when the spark of a beginning, the intensity of possibility, the hope in the draw of the "other" inevitably leads to the reality of self. The work and responsibility within that is required when the mirror reflects back with the message that it's about us, not him (or her). Whether its emotional reliability, or consistency, what I have experienced it as is a "yo-yo" effect. The here now, not here now, back here now, maybe I am here now slippery slope that while at times has been painful and challenging, is something that has felt like "home." What I know. In those ways that I wish I didn't and have to admit is true. My natural attraction to women who can withdraw the emotional connection on a dime. Who (say that they) want to be present. And are for a moment. And can't hold on. Whose emotional bowl seems to turn into a colander in a second. And as the water starts flowing out from the bottom, I am there feverishly trying to pour it back in as quickly as possible. Pushing back against the innate understanding that, inevitably, this process cannot, and will not, work. At least in the longer-term. And each time that I have been drawn like a moth to a flame, I know that it's a painful, and slippery slope. That feels too familiar. That "Hey, look at me, I'm great, I'll SHOW you" trying too hard to get something from another that I know can only be substantively provided from within. Yet the second "yo" part of the yo-yo, the push piece of the push-pull, the maybeoutnotsureaboutthein, is something so seemingly DNA-driven, it's taken deep work to learn to nip that process earlier in the bud. To stay away from that drug that inevitably leads me down a well-traveled path to a place from which the recovery is challenging. The irony, of course, is that in my desire to feel "safe" WITH someone, I have often chosen to put myself in the line-of-fire with those with whom I can never GET that...feel that...well, SOMEtimes, yet not consistently. It's not that it's taken me this long to know that it's not what I ultimately want. It is - simply - that now I seem to be able to "just say no"" at an earlier and earlier acknowledgment of that particular feeling in my belly. In my soul. Surely in my heart. And as that opening to a new truth has unfolded, the reason, the story - about the WHY - doesn't really matter as much. To be willing to take a breath, a pause, and say - TO ME first - "No, thank you" is what has made the difference. It's surely an ongoing process, a step along the way. The notion that our shit, our Achilles' heels, simply disappear at some point, just isn't the way it works. I have often thought that a new 12-step program might be AHA...Achilles' Heel(s) Anonymous, because - as I see it - once a vulnerable place, always a place to breathe through when our internal signs go "here we go again." They don't disappear, hopefully we just figure out healthy ways to transcend the autoresponse. Because as I dove in to what was behind it, and very real, I realized that it's not just in romance, it's in biz too. Attracting people to whom I have often given my power away. When I wanted something from them. Maybe not wanted. NEEDED. Well, more accurately, FELT I needed. It's when that paradigm got created - me with another in that way - that the dynamic got created inside me. Feeling like "home" once again. And, as I noted, the story does not matter. It's what we do for ourselves, to first see, or feel, and then tell the truth. Both about whatever IT is, and that IT isn't working for us. That we don't need IT. Anymore. And then to get - stepbystep, littlebylittle, momenttomoment - that as we stretch our "known", when we lift our comfort zone, when we unbox our own box - that we can fill that space with something better for ourselves. Even if that something, is nothing at all. The sitting with IT. The being with it. Not having to DO anything about IT. To be able to be there for ourselves in a new way, coming from a different angle, and allowing us to possibly even create an opportunity to acknowledge the bounty of our personal journey, harvesting some of what came from the emotional seeds we may have planted. To take pride in our process. To take on, and accept, what may actually be pain (the notion of short term pain transforming into longer term pleasure), as opposed to simply being reactive to my most Pavlovian dogmode reactions (short-term comfort seeming to equate to long-term pain, every time).

All I know, at the end of this day, is that I am way more joyful than I have ever been. The comfort in my spirit, in my skin, is reflective of a willingness to steer clear, as often as I feel in charge of me, of those old smelly blankets in which we find comfort, yet which in the end, keep us where we don't really want to be.h

YINYANGDUALITYCONSCIOUSNESS...

On Monday evening, I hosted at my apartment a committee meeting for Romemu, a planning for the Chanukah bash on December 4th. I shopped. Cleaned. Prepared. Displayed and Presented. Fed. Poured. Nurtured. Hosted. In the way that a woman would...well, at least some. I have been invited to homes of women where there was bupkis to eat...nada...not a something. My point is not to be critical of (those particular) women. Or about typical men's consciousness, way too often, about stuff like this, even among some men who I would think would know better. So this is not about female or male...and it's certainly not about needing a "queer eye", because as anyone who knows me, or has been fed at my house, or seen me cluster pictures on a wall, or light hundreds of tea candles to illuminate a party, understands how the societal stereotypes played out in that show TOTALLY piss me off....as if you (a straight man) needs a gay guy to tell you anything about style, or creativity...or connecting with a woman and knowing what is sexy???? REALLY??? Anyway, I digress....

My point IS that it's not just a female trait, this nurturing, hosting thing...yes, it is more typical, for sure...it doesn't HAVE TO be...and, whether it has to do how one's mother "raised" him, or something else, I feel it is so essential for these qualities that are deemed to be traditionally "female" - sensitivity, compassion, kindness (Man.Kind), nurturing, sensual (and on..) - be simply encouraged as part of who we are as humans...not have them be so limiting in ways that keeps all of us from experiencing all of who we are. And want to encourage and experience in others...it is natural for me to nurture and feed and inspire...I love being, at times, a male muse. And, it can get confusing for others, particularly as a father of a male. About 3 or 4 years ago, Cooper and I were walking to school, and he was pissed off at Maia bout something, that had to do with a sense of entitlement. I told Coop that I was writing an essay about that (it was shocking enough for a then middle schooler to hear that his father was choosing to write an essay...about ANYTHING), about how that plays out often in relationships. In his still-pissed-at-Maia state, he looked up at me and in a tone that I can only describe as dazedandexasperated, he said, "Why are you SO interested in the things that women are???!!!" And in the short moment that it took to have a grin responsively appear on my face, and to understand and get deeply what he was asking below the surface, I responded, "Because I'm smart. And wise." That didn't end the conversation with him, and it surely opened my eyes to what I perceive to be the way that a father like me (whatever that means) might be somewhat confusing to my son, as he is starting to figure out (or already has/had), what it means to "be a man". Or simply a male. A straight male. Or whatever it all means. It can be confusing to males when the words that represent qualities that we seem to crave in men (and lament that they too often lack) are more feminine in perception, demeanor and sensibility. We are yin and yang. Earth, wind and fire. All of us. And we all need - male AND female - to embrace the qualities that reflect our favorite parts of ourselves. So that we can learn to nurture. And be nurtured. To give. And to be able to receive (that one took me awhile to learn, and as with everything, it's an ongoing process). I was thinking recently that while I have always been a man who embraced my "female" side from an early age, it wasn't until I FULLY took and and celebrated my testosterone - in MY powerful way, not as a reflection of the typical male imagery and (lack of) consciousness that prompted me to feel, way too often, so ashamed of being a MAN - that I could really step into my own power and feel the congruence and deep interplay of not only our two sides, but everything in between.

What makes someone seem sexy to another? Obviously there are many things, and it's a subjective answer...at it's core, I believe strongly that it has SO MUCH to do with sensing how comfy someone is in their skin...with who they are. From the inside-out, not as a piece of clothing to be worn for a night out. That's hot. To me. And that emanates from congruence within. From accessing all those parts of us, Ladies and Gentle Men...

SHIFTING AND UNFOLDING...

I have been stepping into new aspects of my life recently...situations, incarnations, people...yes, that happens every day, for sure, yet recently the water level seems to be rising. Quickly. In ways of which I take note, yet no longer blow me away in surprise. As my favorite (new) phrase reflects, "it is what it is." Embrace the is-ness. So I have. And my openness to saying "yes" has chicken-or-eggly created more people asking me things to which I actually want to have the answer be "yes". Out of desire and intent. Not out of obligation or some other motivation that isn't driven from within. "Want to co-host a radio show on love with me?" Yes. "Want to be a guest on a show about Tantra, talking about romance from the man's perspective?" Yes. "Want to be here?" Yes. "Want to....?" Yes.

So as this has unfolded, I have decided that this is the best time to apply a subtle yet, to me, profound shift in my writing. Not in its heart, or in my lens, yet in sometimes subject matter, or in its edge. To step a little further. To provoke a little more. To come out more deeply, in that sense of what that means for any/all of us. To step into our truths, if we want to. That kind of coming out. I want to push my own envelope more, it feels like time to do that. To be that. To shine a light, as I am keen on doing, into the darker and often heated-up corners. When Betsy Karp asked me whether I would co-host a radio show on "love" (that I have named InnerSense - http://www.centannibroadcasting.com/) - I said that I would...on one condition. That we could talk about love in all its forms - romantic, emotional, carnal, spiritual, erotic, friendship, parental, familial...dependent, obsessive, healthy, magical and more. Life. As we know it and feel (or don't) it. The love thing. It is what so moves us, in a myriad of forms, every day. So, let's tawk....here...

Over the last 12 years or so, I knew intuitively that I have been a work-in-major-progress. And that so much of the inner shift had to do with letting go of layers of what I may have learned or known, and yet which covered up whatever was underneath. The InnerOnion. So that I could get to what I may actually feel, believe, not be moving around feeling like I was merely a player in someone else's life or rules. To choose, not to simply be chosen. It has taken me awhile to get on the deepest, most profound level that regardless of wherever we are in our lives (me in mine), whatever anyone "did to" us, where we are at is no one else's fault. It is our responsibility. To own it, to have it, to find it - if we want. If we are willing. To live our lives as our own takes courage, because it's too easy to get lost in the rules, judgments, expectations of others. As humans, we are (I know that I have been) susceptible to accepting less of ourselves than we might of others. It is a challenge, and a blessing, to be able to take responsibility for our own lives - from the inside-out. FOR ourselves, not for others. And, it is essential to know, to understand viscerally, that walking the road less traversed takes a willingness to plug into those moments of truth and clarity and not walk away. When you stare into your own eyes and say, "This is MY life." To live intentionally and openly and bravely and faith-ly, to that point when who we are and what we do in our lives, in all aspects, are walking together in harmony...at least more often than not. Where there are minimal silos in our lives, when the open walls within our personal inner home flow together, because our need for hiding out, or separation, or that wacky notion called "control" doesn't need to exist on an ongoing basis. Anymore. When our hands fit together in our own handshake with ourselves. When we breathe in love, and breathe it out towards others as well. When living unreasonably on our own behalf, for the biggest senses of ourselves, is an essential and congruent component of our personal sense of aliveness.

As I think of my kids, I feel so deeply that among the greatest gifts that I can give, or spark in, them is to encourage and inspire them to live passionately and fully and truthfully, with a willingness to step into the unknown. Which is the component of life that IS a truth, a given every day. Whether or not we acknowledge, or see, it, or try to control it. I love that expression - not sure if it's Yiddish, Talmudic as I have a hunch it's in EVERY culture - something along the lines of "People make plans, and God laughs." It says so much, with the sweetest and cleverest of nods and smiles at the truth. I cannot tell anyone else what to do. Over time, I learned to stop listening to the voices of the unknown and unnamed (and, sometimes, known and named) people in my head to whom I had given the power over me...or, at least, too much influence. I had placed them on a power pedestal, whether they had overtly accepted the position, the "job", or not. And, it was, and is, MY JOB to undo that, to put the responsibility and power where it belongs...inside. And, it's been an extraordinary process that finds me breathing more fully every day.

These, Ladies and Gentlemen (Gentle Men), are the times of our lives. You know why? because they are the ONLY times. The ones right now. The ones for us. From which to create a life, not just make a living. If we want to, if that is what we choose. We. You, me, us. Individually. That "choice/choose" word is huge. Because until we see that we have it, the power AND responsibility for ourselves, and make those choices from our guts, so much of life can seem like it's happening TO us. And, for me, one day long (and what doesn't seem so long at the same time), I realized that this former way of operating, felt more like I was a pinball in a game that I hadn't even wanted to play, or be a part of, in the first place. And, that had to shift. I HAD to.

THE DAYS OF AWE...

A few people recently have mentioned to me that they missed my writing...it was very humbling to hear that...and, reminded me how much I have missed it, the/this outlet, having been focused on other things, including writing, just not here...and, it's good to be "back"...particularly as we Jews head into Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, tomorrow at sundown...

What many don't realize is that the eight days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are called the Days of Awe...coming into that imposing YK Day, there is that morethanaweek to reflect, to look within, to use the spark of a "new year" to possibly pay attention to reflect and take stock in a way that surely we can do EVERY day, and often don't...to come to terms with who, and where we are...with ourselves, with each other. A time to be prompted to ask forgiveness, not "from God", but from other people directly. To seek forgiveness directly. As my friend Marion said this morning regarding her work with the Course of Miracles, every day is a day of atonement...that is true, at least can be, for all of us. These days, as Jews, impose their own special opportunity, and I throw myself into the cracks in my being as full-on as I can...part of that openness, that actual LOOKING FORWARD to Yom Kippur (a friend actually laughed on the phone today when I said that!!...she had never heard of anyone feeling that way) arises because I am a member of the coolest shul in the world...Romemu...inclusive, embracing, soulful, spiritual, enlightening, welcoming, musically outrageous, and a bridge between spirituality and religion...I go there as part of my spiritual practice, not because of religion...this ain't your parents' shul or Judaism...this isn't about the God in the sky, or outside of ourselves...this is ALL about the God within...I truly don't know where I would be without having Romemu, and a spiritual leader like David Ingber, in my life these last few years...

On sundown after the first day of Rosh Hashanah, there is a service called Tashlich, where the tradition is to throw bread in a body of water, to cast away one's "sins"...and, to reflect...sitting at the foot of the Hudson River, surrounded by many hundreds of people from all over, it was extremely powerful. Romemu had a handout for the service that I found so moving that I wanted to share it here...it was a writing that I do not know who created...all I know is it moved me deeply...it is below...before that, I simply want to say that ti anyone whom I have touch, if I offended you, or caused you to feel pain, I do ask your forgiveness...I wake up each day with the intention to do "better" than I did, or was, the day before, and sometimes I fall short of my own yardstick...may we all be blessed with days and months and years of health, joy and personal fulfillment, so that we can pay forward our abundant gifts...

Peace, love and light,

JP

"Tashlich offers us a ritual to physically enact the shedding of our "sins" - where we're off-center. Freeing ourselves of the wight of guilt and errors makes us more receptive to light, insight and change - helping us to see the way to Awareness.

What force is it that can free us of the burdensome weight we bear because of the errors we have made, that can strengthen the parts of us that are dear?

A force that is not attached to anger, but yearns for lovingkindness.

Aligning ourselves with the compassionate Force, it is possible to acknowledge and transform our patterns of behavior that lead us to err. And what is beyond our capacity to transform, what is not our responsibility - we send back to the depths of the infinite cosmic ocean.

May we transform that which is truly within our potential to change. May the Force of Grace reconfigure the mistakes beyond our power to heal. The spiritual legacy of our ancestors endows us with knowledge of this Loving Force.

When I feel weighed down, constricted, not with the creative Loving Force - from the depths of my "prison" I can in truth really cry out for help. Then the fullness of the Infinite Power is revealed to me. I know I am a part of the Whole of a loving beautiful Creation. With the awareness of the Unity of God and Creation, there is no place for fear to exist. When I can identify with the Godforce within, I can see all as God. There are no more enemies. Destructive energies are channeled into constructive pathways.

The prison of negativity is vanquished.

It is better that I connect to all of Creation through the unity of the Godspace than through the narrow filter of our human egos. May all humanity meet together at the point of our Unity.

Then no one will hurt another, no out of place destructive forces will remain. Our whole planet will be a "Holy Mountain." Because all of humanity will be aware of the connectedness within the creation. All of humanity will know that the spirit of a loving Creator fills all space and time.

The Fountain of Creation exists beyond Time and Space. God vibrates and the World creates.

May we be graced with loving Awareness so that we naturally act in the wise and loving ways that bring healing and wholeness to ourselves and our world."

LOOSELY WOUND...

I was walking down Macdougal Street tonight at around 7, the air this extraordinary combination of wind and heat...a very luscious combo. I wasn't out of my apartment more than 7 seconds when I heard from behind me, "That looks like Jonathan Pillot." As I turned around, my eyes caught the unusual suspect, an old friend, Harry, whose nuclear family had been friends with ours when I was married. We had met when he and Lucy lived in the city, it was the birth of their second kid, Zoe, that may have prompted their move to the burbs...and there she was, with Harry, now 16, sitting their eating salmon roe at the sushi restaurant a few feet away from my front door. Harry said that he and Zoe had been playing a game saying which people resemble others...and, here I was looking like Jonathan Pillot. Harry, whom I run into maybe once a year (although with fb it almost doesn't seem to matter...I knew Harry had his HS reunion a few weeks ago), looked up from his table and said, "You seem happy...relaxed." And, I said I was. On both counts. More so than ever in my life. "It's funny, Harry. There are people in my life who now think I am the most easygoing, mellow person they know. Blows my mind, given how people who knew me "when" must have experienced me. And Harry turned to Zoe and said what was surely a statement of fact. Certainly my experience of me. Then. "JP was so tightly wound." And, I was. And, it felt SO deeply validating, about this journey with no name, to hear someone who had to have been around far too many marital squabbles between me and X say that he felt me so differently. Saw it in my eyes. In my soul. And it wasn't just the ensuing discussion among Harry, comfy-in-her-skin Zoe and me about what's at the core of such a shift, or a sense of inner joy (Harry's POV was that it's all about the present) that helped to fill my lungs with more open air and breezes, it was simply that inner voice patting me on (the inside of) my back, allowing me to breathe in a deep, rewarding kiss to that road less traveled...the one that has no detailed map, or estimated travel time, or even another guide to help lead the way. It was one of the moments when I could REALLY embrace all that came before...all those bumps and nights of the dark soul...all of which led to those inyourface touchpoints that simply prompt me to close my eyes and gently nod. In gratitude. Because as I said to Harry, we often can't see the progress that we may be making, day-to-day, when we are doing our inner work. It's like watching your kid grow, moment-by-moment, we can't necessarily see the movement, until maybe something specific happens, or we suddenly look with a different lens, and it's as if all of the little steps just clicked in, together, created combustion. And we see that we are miles away from the last time we could see. Truly, one small moment at a time. So, as I bid adieu to Harry and Zoe, I appreciated deeply how the Universe can throw up these reflectors - in people and/or in circumstances - that can be our own, personal measuring stick. For own own process and progress. If we want to see. I don't really give a shit what most people think, and at the same time, I have to say that it felt fab to have been experienced in the way that I was. From someone who had seen enough of my clearly unfulfilled side. So, as I bid adieu to Harry and Zoe, I appreciated deeply how the Universe can throw up these reflectors - in people and/or circumstances - that can be our own, personal measuring stick. For our own progress and process. If we want to see.

Isn't it interesting how the word "wound" has two different pronunciations? And meanings...or, are they more the same than I realize?

WHO THE ^%#@&^%* CARES?

I was walking by the newsstand on Bleecker Street this morning and looked over to see this cover beaming its message like a 2,000 watt bulb...closing my eyes, and shaking my head, couldn't stop the staccato reactions in my head...they were many, and noisy, yet the two common, bottomline notions were, "who the fuck cares" and "does anybody REALLY wonder why this society is so fucked up?" I mean, seriously...Tom Brady and Giselle whateverhername is? Forget the absolute ridiculousness of that kind of money being spent on a home...none of my business, it's their dough, they can do what they want...I am simply talking about a New York major newspaper - allegedly a publication in the area of something formerly known as "journalism", broadcasting absolute nonsense - worthless information - to the world. As if it matters. At a time when the world is (literally, in many ways) on fire, across the vast universe, the issues that need to be addressed, the challenges we face, and the crying out by so many for a world that needs prioritizing of systemic values. And, we get this instead. The fucking guy doesn't even play for a New York team, for God sakes (not that it would change my point). When I was a kid, there must have been at least 7 daily newspapers (and the NY Post was the liberal beacon, mind you), and that was a far cry from the days when there were tons more than that. Now, just walk by those super magazine stores and see what's going on...what the covers are promoting, the gossip and bullshit and celebrity nonsense that underlies a culture that is getting dumber and dumber...at least it seems that way to me...less informed...in a general sense, not the people "we" know...People Magazine may have launched a whole industry, but by comparison, they are the Harvard Review of Books, given what's there at the supermarket...my friend, Tracy, with whom I was on the phone when I walked by the Love Shack cover, remarked that we still need, obviously, more wake up calls...people look, and then take it in (maybe), and then ignore...and the press, what are they doing? Stories - life altering stories and events - like Katrina, and Haiti, and onandon, come in to our lives, and as quickly as they arrive, they disappear...a reflection of our culture's attention span...next blurb, next fiasco, next tag line, next disaster...what is going on? I hope Tom and Giselle are very happy...

(SELF)ESTEEM...

I attended a business conference on Tuesday, called re-Set 2010...all about innovative ways to look at business, in an era when the old paradigms no longer apply. Lots of meat on the bone there, very valuable, smart and open people attended. The 90 minute panel discussion was moderated by Seth Godin, whose new book, Linchpin, is all about making oneself "indispensable". The speakers/panelists included Michael Eisner (whose openness and accessibility were a wonderful surprise to me) and Tom Peters, who co-authored what some believe to be the best business book EVER, In Search of Excellence more than 25 years ago. However, the inspiration for my musing this morning was one of the other panelists, Gary Vaynerchuk, a 33-year old entrepreneur, who has become known as the "Social Media Sommelier" because of his groundbreaking web work around wine, through his video blog, Wine Library TV. Gary's energy explodes off his stool, off the stage, he's quite a "passionista", very inspiring. I am not sure what opened-up the dialogue for him to share this (not that, apparently, Gary needs ANY opening to talk about anything!), but he said that one of the most critical aspects to his phenomenal success - actually the FOUNDATION of it - is that his mother injected him with more self-esteem than "any person should legally be able to have." Everyone laughed (they were already experiencing the results of that momlove), and he went on. "When I used to come out of the hallways of my high school, in 10th, 11, 12th grade, I would walk down the halls and thin, 'No one is better looking than me. No one is smarter than me."

If Gary wasn't so warm, and open, and loving in his desire to inspire others, I am sure more people would have twinged at those statements. Taken it as a ego maniacal trip...which it wasn't. It was a statement, for him, of FACT. Not that he IS the smartest or best looking guy. That he believed it, from an innate place because he had a primary person in his life who filled him up with some powerful beliefs...that, I am sure, must have been less endearing to some at 17 than at 33. It really doesn't matter...his mother imparted in him a level of inner-belief and confidence that Gary clearly bought into, and has taken with him, no matter where he goes, what he is doing, or whom he is with. I reflected back on how I so often felt that I lacked that "gene", that inner message...whether it is because my Geminiacal being often has engaged in a tug of war within me, for so long (the arm wrestle between the parts of me that thought I could do ANYTHING, and that self-questioning soul whose even 5% of doubt could undermine the whole shebang), or other reasons, the why has no bearing. And, at another time in my life, listening to Gary's confidence would have sent me into a (quiet yet burning) inner "jealousy", looking for all the reasons to not like him, or something else that would have created separation between me and another...instead of simply hearing and feeling the connection, the lesson, the opportunity for growth. Because while there may have been just a smidgen of envy on Tuesday, it was a harebreath...his words made me smile, the power and truth of his feelings, for himself, resonating within me...because I felt, as I embrace this period in my life when I am feeling more comfortable in my skin than ever before, that one of the reasons why so many great opportunities and people are magnetizing to me ow, is that I FEEL THE LOVE, and the confidence, within me...that voice of doubt, that constant self-questioning tape in my head, is at such a low volume that it lost its power, its influence. That for the first time in my life, I FEEL things, from the inside-out, that I never have before. They may have been intellectual understandings about being smart or talented or whatever. And, there is a huge difference between thinking, or starting to believe and FEELING it...experientially...at one's core. To take ownership. And, as I have done so, the Universe seems to have responded with an exhaling "finally", and is able to provide so much abundance. In response to my own congruence. That comes from connecting in who I am and what I am doing. Which helps me not to have to try so hard. To allow more, try less. It may have been a long and winding road, one that continues, and as life does constantly, it can ebb and flow. I don't see it as reaching any destination, any place other than here. Yet I can embrace the wonder of a different tonality of "confidence", in a way that I can now embrace. And, reinforcing the lessons and gifts that I hope that I have imparted in my kids, about embracing passion in one's life (which in my family has nothing to do with feeling like you are the smartest or best looking!!!)...

"Success means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be."

- George Sheehan (American physician, author and running enthusiast, 1918-1993)

Now that I think of it, I always had this powerful drive. Always. Was it "ambition"? Maybe. I really have no idea if they were/are one and the same. So, if we are, indeed, born into the parents we choose, to work out our galactical shit in this body, at this time, then one of the constant bumpers in my life has been this drive thing. If it has anything to do with DNA/genetics, then I got it from my mother. Without question. Because as I have long understood and said, my father was the least ambitious (most ambition-less?) Jewish male I may have ever known. Just never seemed to want "more". My mother, who never achieved much in the ways that people often keep score, was, with her highschool education and going to work at 18, somewhat of a force of nature, as I have come to realize. Although basically no one who is a present presence in my life now, other than relatives, met her, anyone who ever did, remembered her. I actually got some reminders recently on Facebook from some old Inwood chums with whom I reconnected virtually about the power of memory. The things we take away from some people. I have no idea whether my mother's desire for "morebetter" was always there, as some kind of lens with which to look forward, to get away from whatever her present moments felt like, of if it was triggered by her getting sick young, and simply wanting my father to want more for and from him. For us. The American Dream. It's hard to get answers because there's really no one to ask. Even Dad, his vision of his wife, the mother of his kid, frozen somewhat in time, and his mind. I don't even want, or need, any answers for me at this point, to "make sense" of anything. It's really only about my recent obsession, in all areas, with context. Because content, without context, doesn't have the same resonance for me. The notions we feel don't just live in silos. I achieved so much, I am told driven by myself, as a young kid, I often had wondered whether it never got any better for me than when I was 12. And, I remember realizing, particularly after my Mom died, whether I was motivated to please her, whether any of the external stuff that seemed important, was HER priorities, not mine. Particularly when my puppetteer went away, laying down the sticks, with the marionette now trying to learn to walk on its own.

So, the drive/ambition piece got confusing because in certain ways, I started to grow up at a time when "men were men and women were women." Except in my house (I know that's not the case, it just felt that way). I witnessed a man constantly being pushed, and reminded. Of what isn't, or what wasn't. Not of what was. And, still is - Jerry Pillot, my father, as a sweet man. The Dad who everyone liked. Yet for whom, as a teen, I felt embarrassed, unsure, disconnected. Not a "male role model", I grew into a man who felt caught between trying to balance being "nice" with the notion of achieving success. I didn't even know what that meant, since all it seemed was a notion that was external and alien. I saw Dad as "weak", and it's now so sad to me that it was, at least in part, because I saw him through my mother's eyes. The power of her suggestion. Her words, I am quite sure. Her energy. Her zest and zetz. It's hard when someone wants more for you than you want for yourself. When they have an attachment to YOUR outcome. Particularly when you (me, we) don't even KNOW what it is that we want. For ourselves. For so many years, the scariest question anyone could ever ask me was, "What do you want?" I had no clue, everything seemingly filtered through something else, making someone else happy, or right. And, when we have not nurtured those muscles inside, the only way we can figure out what it is indeed that we want, at any moment, is to simply go out there, and fall down, and pick ourselves up when we fall down. If we stay in that cocoon of others, we stymie an opportunity to grow, to move, to stand for ourselves. To learn to be able to answer that "what do you want?" question from a place of inner knowing, from the warmth of our hearth.

I'm not sure why I have been thinking about this lately, maybe it has to do with me starting to align with my drive. For the first time from a place of ownership. Because I know that my confusion about what it meant to be successful, and ambitious, got all mucked up in a way that it took awhile to find myself out of the emotional thin ice. How much are we affected by our primary same sex parental role model? I think quite alot. I sense a bit of Cooper's feeling around about the notion of what "being a man" is all about, certainly colored by who HIS father is. I saw success not only as not connected to being a male, I often resented my father for not having "taught" me the basics. And, yes, as it turned out, I have been surely trying to figure it out along the way and have created my own somewhat malereality...my OWN definition. Yet those skill sets that Jerry Pillot had no clue how to impart with me, have often felt like missing links...like the science courses I never took, the lack of direct knowledge bearing on my view of the world. The choices I made. I never FELT successful. Certainly in my marriage, where the reminders were certainly on what I WASN'T doing or achieving, the external pushes on me being about "more" and "better" and "different." When the notion of success was measured by standards that no longer felt right, or when the road to get there was only accepted if someone else's conditions were satisfied. It took a long and winding path to discover that for me, true success could only happen when I am aligned with my purpose, when what I am doing and who I am have a deeper connective tissue. And, as these last years have found me finding that way, being more comfy in my skin than ever before, I am struck by how much I have been healing my relationship with Dad. By accepting him, in ways that Mom never could, apparently. And, it's not lost on me that this woman who so seemed to want what was outside of herself, for whatever reason, never made it past 48 (there are, of course biology at play as well), and that the man with the "whatever the case may be" sensibility that certainly at times felt more emotionally lazy than "really" going with the flow, is still playing golf past 90. There's alot in there to pay attention to...

And that George Sheehan quote at the top? Kind of blew my mind when I saw it., as I have been saying over the last few years that I am finally becoming (starting to become?) the person I always felt I deserve(d) to be...all this stuff surely walks hand-in-hand...

WEDNESDAY...

"Although almost everyone in our world is able to see the physical outer layers of reality, very few can glimpse into the spiritual essence that lies within. And yet God has enabled man to peel back the successive layers of the container to reveal the light."

--Rabbi Simon Jacobson

I was already in a bit of an undefined/notclearofthesource kind of funk this morning when I saw the woman outside my "office" at the W Hotel...the quadriplegic with the SMILIEST of smiles...a seeming outward reflection of an inner vibe. One that, no matter the life lesson before me, I could not fully take in. Oh, I saw it and I knew it, and I even posted on FB about it. All true, what the Universe throws in front of us...easy pathways to get out of our own way. And, like we humans are, it's not always easy to just hop-to emotionally and shift, even in the face of an obvious "what the fuck is wrong with you, Jonathan?" moment. Whether it's brain chemistry or old tapes, or something else or more, it doesn't matter. Emotionally, psychically, I have found that I need to be patient. With myself. Not dwell, not go down too far or too long. Yet look, and allow whatever it is, to rise to the surface and reveal itself. And, thank whatever we call universespiritgod for providing such wonderful reminders and reasons to smile, inside every day. And, what I realized, as I came out of my meditation this evening, is that my trusting of my intuition needs to keep going deeper...it's been my teacher and my guide, and I could not be happier that it continues to unfold. And, over this week, I have found myself, when not listening as well as I may be able to, to me, that when I trample on my own boundaries, I allow others to get into places that might not be great. For me. And as a sometimes energysponge, if I am not centered, I can get pummeled. By me. And, instead of going dark and deep and long, I now take it as a reminder of the continuing rungs of the ladder that I want to climb (or descend from)...I know that this path is right and true. Even on days like today. When it's hot and sunny outside, Detroit in Winter within. I know what I know because of what I see reflected back. Today a friend told me that the last few times she's seen me over the last few months, I have seemed happier, "smilier" than she had ever known me to be. And, just yesterday, someone who I did not expect might really notice, who has known me through some bumps and grinds, commented that I was vibrating from a "very kind place." I like to think that all of that is true. Because for too long, my story ran me. My sadness or anger, my disappointment or my whatever. And, it's good to know that I'm trying to burn that shit down. It never goes away, whatever our Achilles' heels are (I used to want to have a 12-step program called AHA - Achilles' Heels Anonymous...once an Achilles' heel, always an Achilles' heel), yet it's all about how we deal with them. I never knew that this onion had so many layers...

"PUT YOUR OWN OXYGEN MASK ON FIRST"

I've heard it, seemingly, a million times, from flight attendants on airplanes...in case of an emergency, for the parent/adult to put on our mask first, and then place it over our kid's head, giving them what they need. Second. I remember something about the essence of this being jostling to my sensibility, the first times I heard it. "Take care of yourself first," it just wasn't what I was brought up, or grew up, understanding. Experientially. I always said that I would take any bullet for my kids...to take their pain away. And, while I've heard this oxygen mask notion used as a metaphor for "real life", it really wasn't until this past Shabbat at Romemu when something struck me. I don't even think it was anything that Rabbi David said at that moment that hit that spot, it was where my brain (or some part of me) went during a meditative pause. There are these moments when I just plain feel guilty. For some of the choices that I have made. Even if I know that, for me, they were/are the right ones. Of the longterm, journey variety. The ones that might inspire other people, or ex-wives, or in-laws or whomever to wonder things like, "why did he leave his marriage AND his career? At the same time", or "wouldn't it have been so much better for his kids for him to have hung in there and provided "'more'?" Or, "who am I to choose to be an artist, or lead this interesting life of passion from the soul?" Yes, who am I to do that. Or something like that. Any question that starts with "who is he to...?" or "who am I to...?" may be fraught with some hot buttons. Clearly the notions and voices may have come from others at times, yet the residue of that - the voice and old tape of me to me - is still residing somewhere inside. The "shoulda's"...even though I know I did what I had to do...to lead a life (in the fullest sense of the word), not just make a living....

So, there I was at Romemu, and it hit me...to be able to understand (to accept fully?) how I made some of the choices that I made, is to get how I really needed to get my oxygen. First. To get air, to feel alive. First. And then when I can feel somewhat whole, then I can take care of my loved ones. It suddenly made so much sense (in addition to helping me feel a bit "better"), the way that I could be better there for my kids, and others, if I am more available, feeling healthier, inside. I thought of how many times when Maia was really challenged, wrestling with her demons and spirit, how I completely tanked. Could barely move. Breathe. The fear, the anxiety permeated my whole being, in such a way that I - in retrospect - realize that my capacity as a Dad, as HER rock, as her comfort zone, was not fully accessible to her. Because it wasn't available to me. And, even though I tried my best to get out of my own way, anyone who's ever been through that kind of stuff, seeing one's kid, my loved one, suffer, knows that it takes everything and anything to not start rolling downhill. Fast. And, I learned that I need(ed) to. To transform some of the old ways of looking and dealing and (not always) coping. For myself as well as those who are dependent on me. Who need me. Who love me. And, as I came to realize that Maia is on her own path, regardless of the bumps, so am I. And, the only way that I can truly lead, that I can inspire, that I can be an example for my kids to lead a life of choice - to see that there ARE choices no matter the circumstances - is to be there, in the most compelling, congruent and aspirational way for myself. First.

WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE...

"Those who know not how to love their own language are worse than an animal and a smelly fish."

- Jose Rizal, Filipino national hero

"Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow."

- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Words mean so much to me...language...I really have grown to love it. There are times when I am writing something when I am paused and searching not just for a word, but the RIGHT word...I feel myself rubbing my fingers together or waving hands, feeling a way to source, or conjure, the word that just feels perfect...that communicates what I feel, the best way I can, and hopefully sparks the feeling inside - me or someone reading it - that I intend...if I intend anything at all, I guess. Sometimes, it's just a sharing of some wide-open spaces...

I find it interesting that while "actions speak louder than words," words are very powerful. They carry meaning. Intentions. Feelings. X is a writer, yet when I'd be blown away by something very particular that she'd say, or her use of a particular word, she'd say something like, "it's just a word." To me, "just" has no place in that sentence. I was sitting in Dr. S's office soon after I entered SeparationLand, explaining that no matter how I would try to negotiate safe turf with X, or tell her that something she'd done would have its consequences, it never seemed to make a difference. That the only way to get her to understand whatever it was that I was probably feebly attempting to accomplish, was by DOING, not by telling. "She doesn't hear words," I remember him ringing in my ears. "But she's a writer," I meekly responded. "It doesn't fucking matter," was all he could say. "You can't negotiate with some people." I looked at him, I remember, like he was speaking another dialect. It was as if he had given me one of the Basic Truths, and I could not decipher it. And, he was completely right. Sometimes, and/or with certain people, words mean shit...there's no talk to walk...it's all about the action. Because the words have no meaning.

I was recently working with a guy whose entire life was in the world of "transformation"... personal development...came out of deep involvement in programs/trainings such as Lifespring and EST...I have no problem with any of it, I believe they all have (or can have, depending on the person) deep value, if taken as a piece of the puzzle, as a step along the journey. Not as THE puzzle or THE journey. I learned great words and expressions when I took Lifespring in the earlier 80's...the kind of phrases that have stuck with me...ways of expressing feelings, or communicating with another on a deeper level...if/when those words are married to some kind of emotion, intention, feeling...without that, those words, that kind of "processing" is just JARGON...and, that's what it was like with this colleague...30 years of all the right buzz words, but they were like grasping for air...nothing to hold on to. The kind of language that when someone is refusing to take responsibility for their own actions, puts the dialogue on the other person. Call someone like that on their "stuff," and be told you are a complainer. Suddenly the truth teller that he liked, becomes a "complainer" when the willingness to be honest is turned on them. It becomes "just words."

So, I often look at words as such a reflection of how we think and feel, that's why I might dig and get my fingers REALLY dirty in the mud until I find one, when I am feeling wordneedy or stumped...I see how individual words, ones as small as even 3 letters (change "but" to "and" in most sentences, and see how it changes EVERYTHING energetically...not "just" words)...there are four words that I will come to write about soon, because each one pushes a button within me, I have such confused feelings about their meanings, and what they represent...and, here they are (there are, surely, more)....

1. Entitlement (it has such a negative connotation so often, yet there is a positive aspect to it, in a healthy dose...right? is it true?);

2. Success (wow, just wait to get me started on THAT one)...what the hell does it mean...

3. Money (yowza)....

4. Competition...what is "healthy" competition? How do we teach that to our kids (when most adults/parents don't seem to understand the concept)...

Anyway, I love words...probably why sometimes I talk too much...

CONFUSION...

I often feel remorse that I haven't been the best "ex-spouse", in terms of things that I have felt, and I know have said, about X. It feels bad as it relates to what my kids have experienced, felt, even more than heard, from me, knowing and seeing my frustration bubble over at times. I am embarrassed that I allowed my own personal issues to get in my (their) way, and I have done what I can to deal with the kids directly, to make amends, to come clean, to be human and apologize. It's not that I have been an ogre, or have gone out of my way to be mean, or have even been untruthful. I just have been trying to learn to have better boundaries in this area, it's better for my kids. That's all that matters.

At the heart of the matter for me over the years has been X's behavior, or her double standards, that often so baffle me, stop me in my tracks, that I don't know what to do. How to respond. A few days ago, the power went out at home, I wasn't yet back and Cooper arrived to find a dark apartment. When I arrived, my first instinct was to have him call his Mom, so that he could go there and do his homework, after having dinner with me. He called her on her cell, no answer. I texted her with what was going on, and "I hope it's OK for Cooper to be able to come home to you." Two minutes later, she called me, and said that he can't stay over. "I have plans." "Well, can't he come over, even if you have plans, and do his homework?" Her response is where my brain got frazzled. "No. Can't he go to a cafe with wifi and get it done there?" I paused. I decided to respond, not react. "That's OK, X, I will figure it out. Have a good night." Coop looked at me and asked what his Mom said, could he go over there All I could say was, "Sorry, no, Mom has plans." Over the next hour I got Coop settled at his best friend's house, and I made it to the play I was supposed to see at Intermission. I still had X's response ringing in my head. Because, you see, even if she "had company", or even if she was contemplating intended carnal delights, to me, it didn't matter. I KNOW that even if the circumstances had been reversed, nothing would have gotten in the way of me having my kid come home, to do whatever he needed to do. Whether someone else would have had to put clothes on and/or leave, it wouldn't have mattered. And, God knows what X would have said, if I had been the one saying "No." I get confused in these situations, what to say. How to be. How to respond. What to feel. At least, I can now walk away and not spark (more) sturm and drang. Yet I feel bad for my kid, and I guess all I can do there is simply show up, do the best I can, and be real and open. I always call myself a parent. Not just the dad. A huge difference. I was with a wonderful colleague and new friend yesterday, she's 8 months pregnant, the conversation got around to sleeping. She said that mothers often say that once they have children, they never sleep the same way again. She said that her own Mom is always mothering (parenting), always thinking, maybe worrying, even when her kids are grown. Never making it through a night in the same way she did before having kids. I closed my eyes, and tears started to roll down my face. "You OK?" "Yes, it's just so clear to me, again, that it has nothing to do with mothering. Or being a woman. It has to do with nurturing." And, that is genderless, even if women tend to own this more than men. Because in my world, I AM the nurturer, and I am proud of it. And, even though I often tanked, and was probably not at my strongest for Maia during those times, those periods, when she was in her darkest places, my parenting soul was deeply connected to hers. I would have taken on any of it for her if I could have, taken that bullet for your kid as parents would all the time. And, during those same periods, when Maia was living with me pretty much fulltime, when I could hardly breathe, not being able to see barely any light through that darkness, I would watch X, at school, operating with that disconnected smile as if all was hunky dory, putting on that good face for the world, not even being there, in any substantive emotional way for Maia, let alone "co-parenting" with me. And it was just another situation(s) where my own anger and disbelief got intertwined with my sadness for that connection Maia didn't, or couldn't, have with her Mom. So, while I have continued to try and learn and live the truth that it doesn't matter what anyone else does, and we are solely responsible for our own thoughts, feelings and reactions, it IS only human to still have one's buttons pushed. To have confusion about the best way to be for those we love, in the face of that energy that can ignite our own darkest selves.

Celebrate the nurturers within...regardless of whether they are women or men, mothers or fathers, parents or not....

UNENDING LOVE....

We are loved by an unending love.

We are embraced by arms that find us,
even when we are hidden from ourselves.
We are touched by fingers that soothe us,

even when we are too proud for soothing.

We are counseled by voices that guide us,

even when we are too embittered to hear.

We are loved by an unending love.

We are supported by hands that uplift us,

even in the midst of a fall.

We are urged on by eyes that meet us,

even when we are too weak for meeting.

We are loved by an unending love.

Embraced, touched, soothed, and counseled,

Ours are the arms, the fingers, the voices;

Ours are the hands, the eyes, the smiles;

We are loved by an unending love.

(Rabbi Rami Shapiro)

CONGRUENCE...

"Bring the pure wine of
love and freedom.
But sir, a tornado is coming.
More Wine, we'll teach this storm
A thing or two about whirling."

---Rumi



There's so much going on, extraordinary energy around and abounds, so I am writing about that...I have no "agenda" here today, no SPECIFIC place to go...



Let's start with Shabbat...this week's portion, according to Rabbi David, is about what he was referring to as "bi-association"...one's ability to acknowledge, honor, co-exist with one's most (apparently) divergent, conflicting parts. How to have them both be there. How, at one's possible lowest, are we able to also feel and embrace our higher selves. And, while we are celebrating are favorite pieces of ourselves, how can we accept our darkest sides. As always, David hit it on the nose for me, this notion is something that I think about all of the time. Whether it's because I am Geminiacal, and/or have a kid who is (diagnosed) bipolar, or whether I have always simply just been willing and able to try and see both sides now, or as the only child growing up translating around the dinner table, and st times seemingly being the only connective tissue between the 2 "grownups", I understand what it is to often feel split. Why I have often called myself a walking dichotomy. And, I have come to realize that people who are the most congruent, who are able to work with all sides and parts, are the ones feeling most connected. To themselves. Not in denial of any one particular thing...all colors in the Crayola Box are welcome. It always cracks me up when someone, after saying or doing something that doesn't necessarily fit within their own sense of themselves (or within what they perceive to be OTHERS' senses of who they [we] are), says something like, "I don't know...that wasn't me"...as if someone else did/said it. It's that ill-fitting part that we need to embrace. Yet what I feel gets in our way is our struggle to fit them together. Directly. That's not the way it works. It's like California and New York. Part of the same whole...connected with each other...just with some pieces in between. We are all like that. We have the shades between the black and white. Colors AND grays. The puzzle works when we fit together...and, not force it. And, I see that I am forcing less than I ever have. Allowing more, shlepping boulders uphill less. More than "great," it feels "right." Embrace, embrace. Ourselves and each other.



A friend/colleague wrote to me the following: "You challenge me to be open and raw. I hope that I can honor that." Made be pause in my tracks. At first because I didn't realize that I was "challenging" anyone to anything...and, then I realized that, in a way, it's why I do what I do...why I am who I am (whoever the fuck that is)...not because I want to overtly challenge anyone necessarily...because I love holding a mirror up...representationally...because in the end, I need to be my own, and if I can inspire others to do that for themselves, that' a huge "Yay." I want to challenge myself...and, the secondary catalyst benefits aren't bad either...

WE KNOW...

"What I really need is to be clear about what I am to do, not what I must know, except in the way knowledge must precede all action. It is a question of understanding my destiny, of seeing what the Deity really wants me to do; the thing is to find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I am willing to live and die."

--Kierkegaard, 1835

I know that some people think I am ADD...I am not (not said defensively!)...I just have a million things going on, inside my head and out...which (at most times) is how I would prefer it. Rather than having nothing going on. Inside. Me and anyone else, same rules apply. It's why I am drawn to smart people. They turn me on, all over. I like to think that smart is the new sexy, whether you are a woman or a man. The thing is, though, smart alone ain't enough. And we are, in so many ways, encouraging people, our kids for sure at times, to be(come) smart, we value smarts, we hold "it" up as being important. Something to aspire to. What if the goal wasn't to make people "smarter" (i.e., to use their brains more), and instead we encouraged them to be(come) "wiser". To be people of their heart. Or spirit. Or soul. More than their brains. To feel more than just think (I find myself, in writing or speaking, often substituting "I feel" for "I think", and having the whole timbre of a sentence be shifted).

I have been feeling lately that so much that was/is taught, the big lessons, no longer apply. Personally and in business. That can be scary to those among us who don't welcome change. Who may have simply liked the way things were. The old rules don't make no sense no more. Look around the entertainment business, as an example, the old paradigms, the dinosaurs, no longer work in a functioning way...whether it's the record business or advertising, or television, they are not constructs that, even if they exist in some form, hold the same weight that they always have. No wonder everyone is scrambling, no one really knows...anything. In some ways, it's like the Wild West out there. For any of us who are open to trying new ways of doing things, who didn't like the limitations of the "this is the way we have always done it," this can be an exciting time. And, challenging regardless of whether you like it or not because it is basically impossible, every day, not to be touched by someone who feels utterly confused. And/or scared. Because they wonder what IS there to hold on to that is known when it seems like we are often in a new Disney Theme Park, this one called Opposite Land. Paradigms that have been like a ceramic bowl, a secure vessel holding what is (actually, what "has been"), what is known, instantly seem to turn into a colander right before our eyes. All of our attempts to keep pouring water in, to hold the water in there, suddenly are not effective any more. And the efforts to continue to do only what we know, or have known, suddenly can exhaust us. Partly because we realize that something is no longer working. Or, simply, just doesn't make sense any more. And, we don't know where to go for the answer(s).

I remember when X's and my then (ineffectual) shrink (we each saw her individually, and also together, for the better part of 14 years, putting, I am sure, quite a nice addition on her country house, but she never having a substantive material effect on moving our relationship one way or another), said to me, "Love isn't enough." She was referring to the qualities that it takes to have a relationship, a marriage, work. While Shrink C's statement evoked in me a certain, reflexive "wow...holy shit" response, my primary visceral feeling was way more one of, "Yup. I TOTALLY get that." I understood it. Experientially. And why the importance of "liking" (more than simply loving) is so true for me. Because that is the grist that can cut so deep. What Shrink C was saying that stuck with me (cutting through her treading water approach) was that one can't just go along with the myths. The lessons. The playbook. Because blindly continuing to follow them can surely set us up for disappointment (by my definition, the gap in between either expectation or hope, and what is). And, it is so important, when evaluating what works for ourselves, what rules or beliefs or truths feel right to US, that we don't have to throw out the baby with the bath water. Because noting that "love is not enough" doesn't mean that love doesn't matter, or isn't worth having (profoundly and deeply). It is simply that, alone, love may not be sufficient to hold two people together. You may need more. Go deeper. For yourself. Feel. For yourself. Respond to what is real inside (for YOU), not just to the noises or old tapes from either then (past) or in anticipation of then (future) that may not be working any more. For you. I know that throughout my life, when I have tried to fit in, from the outside-in, and/or when I have been willing to subsume my intuition about what felt right to/for me to the (possibly conflicting) wishes and agendas of others, I have never, in the end, felt joyful that I did so. Creating our own playbook, from the inside-out really seems to be the way to go. In order to make a life, not just a living. And, to do that, requires a willingness on our part to bump into the furniture (often) and bruise ourselves because we have moved the furniture, and not yet found the light switch to illuminate our new path. And no matter how many bandages and band aids I may have used - and still need - I am constantly rewarded by an embracing of new possibilities, not a lamenting of what was.

SIMPLE...NOT EASY...

"'Think simple' as my old master used to say - meaning reduce the whole of its parts into the simplest terms, getting back to first principles."

- Frank Lloyd Wright

I am working on an exciting and I feel very

commercial television project, a concept for a series we are calling BODY.BUILT (not sure if the "." thing may seem like a shtick by now!)...The "we," in this case, is the extraordinarily talented photographer and reportageur, Brian Moss - http://www.brianmoss.com/. I first met Brian about 8 years ago because he was looking for some help with a book he wanted to publish...he had photographed many women, and individual body parts of these women (including fingers, legs, mouths, toes, etc.) right before, during, and immediately after, orgasm. Brian went for the details, not the overt...he shot fingers, mouths, toes, hands, eyes...he captured moments in ways that I had never seen done before, with his particular POV...I actually found one major agent who took the book out to some select publishing houses, yet no one was willing to fully buy-in...I wonder if it could find a home now...in the Obama, as opposed to Bush, years...

I recently met the creatives at Original Pictures, the company behind TV series like Miami Ink, LA Ink and Storm Chasers, and learned more about their focus on creating these types of "docusoaps", how they work, what they are. A look into a "world", a lifestyle, seen through the lives of certain people who inhabit that particular world. And, with this type of programming/content, as really in all great projects that revolve around viewers/readers getting invested in story, the key to striking a chord these series is the compelling nature of the characters, more than the nature of the world itself (as an example, Original is also producing a series about competitive barbeque-ers, and the individuals are supposedly amazing). Once I understood this particular idea/project paradigm, I immediately thought of Brian's connection to bodybuilding, and his literal and figurative lenses that look within, and without, at these people who have immersed themselves in this life(style). Brian's singular and innergut connection with the world of bodybuilding is so profound, as a former bodybuilder, gym owner, collector of period "stuff" and now photographer, and one look at his work, it's clear why the idea for BODY.BUILT was a no-brainer...and why Original Pictures is extremely excited about pitching this to the networks.

Brian and I sent out a questionnaire to maybe a dozen or more bodybuilders - women and men - whom he had selected, people that would be compelling to an audience, and asked them to record on camera their answers to what we had posed. Yesterday morning I went out to Brian's incredible home/studio/gym that he created from the shell of a nondescript place in Jersey City. Words can't do justice to what he gave birth to there, all made from love and good taste. We screened the footage of the 8 people who sent him their homemade "audition" tapes, each one opening themselves, emotionally nakedly, personally, it was surprisingly easy to like each man, each woman. "Like" not in its "wishy-washy" use of the word, but in the (my) somewhat ultimate compliment I can say to someone. "I like you." It goes to the essence. I used to say to Maia as we would walk to pre-school, "Honey, I really like you." And she would respond along the lines of, "Daddy, I'm your daughter, of course you like me." And in what seemed as obvious then as it does now, I said to my dear Maia, "No, sweetie, that's why I LOVE you. I LIKE you because I like who you are, who you are inside." That's how I felt about all of every one of this community who were willing to open themselves up. I liked them, not as "bodybuilders, but as fellow dreamers...people of passion...of intention...of inspiration. I might not be able to relate to the specifics of their motivation, or what is that thang that grabs them inside, shakes them up and moves them. What they "do" isn't in my universe. Who they are, each one's heart and spirit, even on these flip cameras, or iphones, found a welcoming, receptive place inside me. As with any group of people, some more than others.

One of the last pieces we screened was made by Tim Dax, a NYC-based bodybuilder whose website makes it clear that he is an "Actor, Model, Muse." Tim's face is almost COMPLETELY tattooed, and his shaved head is COMPLETELY covered, in ink, making him appear that he is wearing a full-on mask at all times. The irony being that he is seemingly as open and kind and supportive and loving as any man out there. No mask. How could I not fall for another male muse. One who is so emotionally generous in his love for his beloved Andrea, who moved here within the last year to be with him here. Their commitment to each other, their clarity in wanting to build a family together, deep and profound. If I encountered Tim on the street, I would be hard pressed to not have some judgement flying across some part of me. Yet looking into his eyes, feeling his words, hearing his heart, he and I are without a doubt members of the same tribe. His interest in inspiring others from within, to have people look at him as a source of a spark, as another committed soul following their dream and wanting others to catch their own wave. Our shared desires to have people carve out their own lives, instead of simply making a living, Tim and I could not be more in alignment about what for me, right now, is essential. And, reasonably simple. To live a life of joy (more than simply "happiness"). To connect with those we love. To do great work with common spirits. To promote love, to share from our hearts. To be emotionally generous. Maybe it's the result of hard work inside, or simply having life wash over me and feeling what it is, so clearly, that needs to stick. I was brought back to a quote that a friend sent me from Temple Grandin, who spoke at the recent TED Conference, where she said, "When I was younger I was looking for this magic meaning of life. It's very simple now. Making the lives of others better, doing something of lasting value, that's the meaning of life, it's that simple." I read, and re-read, this many times when it first hit my inbox. It wasn't just what Temple was sharing, her particular POV, or that it held hands with mine. It was, quite viscerally, the notion of how simple "it" all really seemed (seems) to be...to me... what is "self-evident" even when I am ignoring the messages. That the simpler I can actually make it for myself, the more available I am to me, and others. That "simple" (not to be confused as a synonym for "easy") come from, allows each moment, each choice, to be infused with its own meaning, its own purpose. So Tim Dax, and Temple Grandin, and all of us who crave the simple (and deeply rich) essence, whether we are bodybuilders or are born autistic, need, as I see it, to support each other in peeling back the layers, in getting past the judgements and masks and any other walls that keep us from each other. It's just what I feel, what I believe. And what I am aligning behind. For myself and those who want to share the "simple life."

X

"All the art of living lies in a fine line mingling between letting go and holding on."

---Havelock Ellis

I had an unexpected day today...a Snow Day for Coop in NYC...didn't change my early morning wakeup, it simply created a most fluid mellowdy to the day. A quiet hang with Coop in the morning, a wonderful gift, this Saturday (feeling) on Friday...even more so, the surprise gift...and then he went off to sled with friends in Central Park, leaving me alone...so love that time. How important it is, so many of us don't seem to carve out enough of that. Or maybe they don't need it, I have no idea. What do I know, I am the kid who talked to bathroom vanity mirrors for so many years, ouloud. Hey, everyone needs someone to talk to...who better than Geminiacal me (don't answer that)?

I had to go and pick up Coop's snow boots from his Mom...not someone whom I generally love to see, under any circumstances...and, I had zippity (bad) energy on it...just made it happen. It's interesting that I had seen her already two times this week, at Coop's bball games. Tuesday, I came in a bit late, she was sitting with her Dad...I came over at halftime, gave them both warm greetings, I talked to him about what was going on with me creatively...I have to say, during the marriage, he was always way more encouraging to me about pursuing my dream than she was...he could so relate, the fabulous cartoonist who became the biggest exterminator in NY over the years, the big macher in his field during his career...the excellent provider...and, still, I sense, a bit of the "what if-fer", the artist who now makes his creative peace in other outlets...yesterday, when X came to the game after me, she made no effort to even make eye contact with me...didn't matter, the contrast was notable, the social consciousness way different. So today, when I met up with her on the snowy SW corner of Varick/Houston, we walked two blocks together. X had recently not landed a gig creative job at an agency, not sure why...I looked in her eyes, and said, "Sorry about the job. Clearly not meant to be. There must be something better, next, for you." Those words just rolled off my lips. No brain thought. The compassion came out. No anger. No subtext. No hiding out. X is someone I have tried to create some threads with, teeny even, that would be fine...and, it's always one-sided. Just me doing that. Whenever there's a reasonably open or warm opening paragraph from her in an email, all I have to do is scan down to see what she wants or needs. Effective and accurate market research. 100% of the time. So, I never know whether the two sets of rules are a neon lesson for me to keep going, keep showing up as I would, keep opening up. Or, an opportunity to look at one-sidedness, as some other kind of lesson. To play by her rules? Or as a reflection of some part of me. That must be doing that, otherwise I wouldn't attract that behavior. I don't know. Unless I do. It has to start with me. I can't look to anyone else to make that shift. Because whether or not someone even CAN, doesn't matter. You want it, make it happen. So, I (try to) do what I do, to be who I aspire to be. When I am able. I keep seeing this relationship as a lesson of the ultimate power. God knows it's challenged me in more ways than I can imagine. Truly, I have come to realize that if I can stay as open and NONATTACHED as I can be, wherever that is, whatever that means, in that moment, as each one unfolds, I have a shot to keep going further.

So, it was under that spirit today, that quietness inside, that I rondayvood with X. And as we walked those two blocks until she descended the subway stairs, it FELT different. Maybe in a way that it hasn't for 11 or so dynamically challenged and challenging years. I offered to turn her onto another agency I know in her specialty, and I wished her luck, and walked away. With a shake of my head. This time not because it was a physical reflection of the words in my head or those coming out of my mouth. Because it was a surprise. Like the day in general. Snow Day as a healing day? To see and feel OK with the engagement. And instead of being angry about all the bullshit I have felt over time, all the JP-determined unfairnesses and injustices or broken whatevers, none of it mattered. I laughed and shook because the artist I had met twentysomething years ago had indeed turned into the ad agency talent she clearly had the gifts for, yet ran away from. And, that lawyer she had always wanted me to be, had transformed into the life artist that I had buried inside, the person I dreamed of and finally can acknowledge to be the person I always felt I deserved to be...the person, the dreamer, who scared her, who couldn't (as somehow the "lawyer" might) provide the kind of fencing, picket or otherwise, that she seemed to crave. X seemed more content, less angry at the man who had "fucked up her life", settled into her own skin. In a way that I had never experienced. And, I was happy for her. Almost happy as I was for me. To see and celebrate those unexpected gifts of the soul.