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.