Man.Kind

YOU DON'T KNOW UNTIL YOU GET THERE...

2011-05-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

I have learned that there often is a big difference between what we say we want, and what we actually may want. And, it's often not that we are not clear. Or not sure. Or, on the surface not honest. It's simply that we just don't know how we will feel about almost anything until we get (t)here. About a person, a situation, a dream, a notion. To a certain degree, it's at the foundation of be careful for what you wish for. "I am ready for a committed relationship with someone I adore." "THAT would be the perfect job for me." "I want to live in the country." Whatever is the stated ideal, we can have beliefs and hopes and expectations about what we (say we) want, yet my realization and truth is that we just don't know until we arrive in the moment. When the future idea turns in to the present "reality" (thank you Eckhart Tolle in A New Earth for helping me to deepen my "getting" that the future only happens in the moment). When we get to actually see what is, not what "isn't" or imagined. When we are presented with what, or whom, we have been asking for...imagining...hoping for...the sometimes jarring (to ourselves) response is often, "no thank you." Or "not ready" Or "MAYBE not." Our pre-existing clarity can implode with insane speed. And, that's OK. Because as long as we are being honest in an inthemoment kind of way, particularly with ourselves first, and then with others who may be involved, we are dealing with the reality of being here now. In our feelings, in our emotions, in our truths. Keeping it here and not somewhere out there gives us the ongoing opportunity to actually peel back our own layers and get to what is is that we REALLY do want. Which we can only know when it arrives, and our eyes are open. Here and now.

5-11

2011-05-11T09:15:00.000-07:00

Today would have been by Mom's 87th birthday. Each year (39 and counting) since we last spoke, I wonder what it would have been like if she had been around for even a it longer. What it would have been to have that "go-to" person in my life, how many "things" - relationships, situations, character, choices - would have been so different. It's not a mind game I play often, and it IS something that's very real. It's a reminder (to me at least) to stay centered within, to continue to unpeel the layers so that I can be the best go-to person for me and, as a result, those whom I love, those who flow in and through me...to let in the love, and let it flow outward...

Happy Birthday, Mom...

PROPORTIONS...

2011-05-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

When Caren Ellis Fried eulogized her father more than a week ago, she talked about how Mike Ellis taught her something along the lines of, "God gave you two ears and one mouth, so use them in that proportion." I knew I had heard some version of this before, that Mike wasn't the first one to verbalize this concept (it seems as though the Greek philosopher, Epictetus, may have been the first to go on the record with this notion, allegedly saying, "We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak."), and it doesn't matter. Mike was my messenger this time...as always, when the student's ready, the teacher shows up. I may have heard something a million times before, a concept that (I think) I get, and then one day...WOWZA! "It" suddenly goes from being a miniphany to a full-out epiphany. It's as if I/we are getting it for the first time, simply because the essence of the info, beyond the words, finds a new place inside...because the "all steps lead to now" truth suddenly has guided us to a new place (of wisdom, understanding, belief, knowledge) where the "Oh, I heard that before" words are felt and experienced in a completely new light. As someone who certainly likes to talk AND listen, I am still learning about how to find the right watermark - for me - in those talking/listening proportions. To listen better and better, more and more...another part of, and mirror for, this continuing lesson to allow more, "try" less. Two ears and one mouth, use them in that proportion...two ears and one mouth, use them in that proportion...two ears and one...

LOVE AND MIKE ELLIS...

2011-05-06T07:26:00.000-07:00

A week ago I was sitting at the funeral of Mike Ellis, the father of my dear friend, Caren Ellis. Mike died at the age of 83, while doing his morning exercise ritual, he went out on his own terms, and lived live with passion like few whom I have ever met or known. Maybe like no other. I could write a dozen pieces inspired by what I learned from, and about Mike, I hunch that this is only the first. The story of Mike Ellis - who he iswas - and what, and whom, he put forth in the world, immediately found a special place in all of me - brain, heart, soul - as soon as I met him a little over a year ago. I first shook Mike Ellis' hand when Caren brought him to Romemu one Shabbat evening, but it wasn't until I sat right across from him, and his amazing wife, Honey, at the Ellis family Seder at the home of Caren's brother, Mark, last year. An incredible experience for me, the only person at the table who was not a direct descendant of Mike Ellis, or married to his kids. Three generations of the extended Ellis family, none of whom would be if Mike hadn't the balls, the faith, the courage and the wisdom as a boy to jump from the window of a train speeding at 70MPH to Auschwitz. That's just one of the stories, and the lessons to share, that I Got From Mike.

That one will be for another day. Because today, I am writing about Love. The love that fills me up more than ever before. The love that I've had to learn through my life what it could even mean. The kind of love that Mike Ellis understood. And emanated and inspired in others. You see, as I sat across from Mike in that Spring of 2000, an only child suddenly embraced for even more than that one night as a "member" of that family, I felt the love. I got it. I understood it. All of it. I wanted to make a movie about that family. A sort of how-to kind of movie, simply letting the people, their stories, their experiences show and tell everything and anything that any and all of us need to know. That love creates love. Begets love. Passes it on and hands it down and shows others the way. I was so moved by what I experienced that night - from Mike and Honey, and their Machatunim (the parents' of their kid's spouse), straight through the lineage to ALL of their incredible grandkids. I told Caren I wanted to make a movie about her family, called, simply, The Love Family. Because that's who they are. From wherever and whomever it started, somehow people spread the word. Held on to the notion and put it into form. Out of peoples' darkness came the light. I saw that night a 3-D manifestation of love in a way that I never had before, certainly not within my own family, or those whom I came to know. No judgment on anyone else, this Ellis thing was something special. I'm just sayin'. It wasn't that 3 generations were together, it was HOW they were together. Connected, Supportive. Interested. Engaged. Kibbitzing and loving. Pissers, not a wallflower among them. I saw what happens when you grow up with that kind of unconditional love (regardless of whatever mishigas there may be in any family) and SEE it, and are TAUGHT IT BY EXAMPLE. Experientially. Not by mere words or just concepts. The essence of what I keep aspiring for in my creative work - to "show, not tell." It hit me why so many of us fall into unfulfilled relationships that end up not really being love, despite what we may have hoped for, and WANTED to see. Wanted to have. Because for many of us, as I can tell, grew up not EXPERIENCING a kind of healthy vision of love, one that would be held up for ourselves as a high-bar that we would know it when we saw it. Felt it. Were ONLY willing to have some form of THAT. And we would find potential partners who understood from the inside-out, naturally, what that kind of unconditionality, what that type of family connection, means - first-hand. Or, for those of us who are willing to do the work to UNlearn and UNweave the firsthand lessons notions that kept prompting people like me to look for something from the outside, or in the wrong "places". How can we "look for" something that we don't KNOW what it is? Beyond the word, and what we might read about it...there's a kid's book called "Are You My Mother?", written by P.D. Eastman and published by Random House in 1960. Here's part of the Wikipedia synopsis: "Are You My Mother?" is the story about a hatching bird. His mother, thinking her egg will stay in her nest where she left it, leaves her egg alone and flies off to find food. The baby chick hatches. He does not understand where his mother is so he goes to look for her. In his search, he asks a kitten, a hen, a dog, and a cow if they are his mother. They each say, "No." I won't giveaway the ending, you'll have to go out and get it. I wanted to do a sort-of heartfelt spoof, for adults, something that might be called "Are You My [Partner/SoulMate/Honey, etc.]?" I think it would be a hit. For us to be able to create love, it has to start within. For us to "teach" love to others, it has to start with ourselves. We can't teach what we don't know. What, when it comes to matters of the heart and soul, can only really be experienced, not "taught" with words. So, I started on my path a good dozen years ago to unlearn and rise up, and fall down, and keep rising. To peel back those layers and, as in my fave parable about Michelangelo and his creation of the David, chip away to expose the David that was inside that hunk of marble. I am so grateful to have learned so much from Mike Ellis, who helped me learn to keep the bar high. I am so grateful to be right here.

A QUIETER MIND (WHETHER BEAUTIFUL, OR NOT)...

2011-05-04T11:03:00.000-07:00

I grew up being anxious, at least starting at a certain age, for a great part of my life. A low level kind of thing, most of the time, just enough to be vibrating, certainly pervasively. A low hum, on the inside. Never requiring, or crying out for me to get, meds. Just enough, though, to be a conscious part of my reality. As I got older I often wondered, given how busy and "productive" (not necessarily equating with "successful" or fulfilled) I was, how much more productive AND successful AND fulfilled I might/could/would be if I could quiet the mind a bit. Reduce the noise. More. Get out of my way. Better. I've worked diligently on that these last few years, committedly embracing ways to quiet the revving inside, bathe in the pauses, embrace and celebrate the unknown, deepen my trust and faith. This process has allowed me to need less, and thus receive more. I am feeling the wonder of harvesting - the results of the plantings and waterings, and especially the weedings and the waitings and the (apparent) disappointments. All of it. I've never felt more comfy in my skin. Or quieter (Hey, everything's relative!) in my mind. And more open and vibrant in my heart. Or clear about my purpose. And gifts. And, all I can say is, I'm thrilled to be here.

"YOU'RE ALL OVER THE PLACE"

2011-04-25T05:13:00.000-07:00

So many times in my life, in my professional life, I have heard this phrase directed at me. Along with "just focus." I am pretty tired of it. Because I always feel the need to have to defend myself, to show that I can focus as well as anyone, on ONE thing, on ONE project, if and when I need to...when it's called for. And when my brain and spirit have the opportunity to travel, to run free, to explore, to be drawn to a variety of sparks and inspirations, I like to allow them to do that. For me, that's where the creative and personal magic emanate from. The openness to see opportunities, and passions, almost anywhere. I certainly understand that it takes focus to manifest anything, to take it from an idea to a 3-dimensional reality. I am all about that, too. Yet I have come to realize that when people "suggest" that I am "all over the place", it is about there stuff...the limitations that can often arise from being, possibly, TOO focused, or playing in a sandbox in their lives that may be more limiting than they would like. It's so easy to happen. Work, life, family, any or all the above provide their own realities and boundaries. Yet it's up to us, for ourselves, to bring in as many of the 64 colors (or is it 128) from the Crayola Box as we want. To me, that's where the rich texture of life comes in, the fabric of my existence. Asking me why I don't "just" work on one thing is like asking a farmer with vibrant fields of many vegetables why he doesn't grow "just" lettuce...or someone with an exquisite garden, billowing with 20 different annuals and perennials why "just" roses are not enough. Our lives become the products of what we plant, and water, seed and nourish. I appreciate productivity and the outgrowth of manifesting results. And I long for even more in my life. I will, however, never lose my deep appreciation for all the gifts that come my way from living a life of passion and diversity on many levels. It keeps my brain, my body and my soul humming...all the time. I am blessed.

"I WAS OLDER THEN..."

2011-04-22T04:27:00.000-07:00

"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."

-Bob Dylan, "My Back Pages"

I was at a meeting the other day with someone whom I had just met, and a photo of the kids and me slipped out of my book. Taken on a Jersey Shore beach, the three of us enmeshed together, it's one of my favorite family pictures and it became the first holiday card I ever created. As Anna picked it up from the ground, she looked at it - seeing for the first time both my kids and me from another (recent) time in my life. "Wow, your children look beautiful. How long ago was this?" I told her it was 11 or 2 years ago. "You look so much younger now. Your wrinkles, your worry lines, seem to have disappeared." I closed my eyes and breathed her words in.

You see, I often feel exactly like that. Younger. Not Benjamin Button younger, but sort of something like that. Certainly wiser. And less smart. A very special man in my life, coming out of the heartbreak of losing a son in a car accident many years ago, said to me, "Be wise, not smart." It was the first time I had really given conscious thought to the difference between the two. I immediately embraced this notion, realizing how much being smart is a function, I feel, of the brain. Often of the ego. Having kids often is a great reminder of that. "I knew that first," one might say to the other. Or in school, relating how another student had come to the same (correct) answer, although much more quickly, "She must be smarter." As if that was really true, or if any of this actually matters. I actually like feeling less "smart" than I used to feel the need to be. Because at the same time, I cherish being wiser, for me it is reflective of, and more connected to, my heart and my soul, the parts of me that I have chosen to become closer to, to emBODY more, the pieces of myself that take me to a deeper place between me and me, and then to me and others. The more authentic self. To "feel" more than simply to "know."

Anna's comment had no agenda, her words reflected her visceral and spontaneous experience. She was seeing what I feel, and know to be true. That by releasing myself from toxicity in whatever form they may (have) take(n) - in relationships, emotional and professional paradigms, personal belief systems - even gradually, in steps, I have created for myself what feels like a real anti-aging formula. Not the external kinds I see hocked in every form of media. The inside-out kind. The bi-product of what happens when who we are and what we do feel integrated. When we are living passionately, authentically, emanating from within the essence of who we are. The manifestation of what happens when we say "yes" to ourselves first, and not compromise on our personal and emotional non-negotiables. When we continue to pick ourselves up even when we fall down, even if it's every day, because we are willing to be as good a friend to ourselves, and offer the best part of our wisdom to ourselves, as we would do our most loved ones. There's a breeze that blows through me now that never existed before, at least in this way, or as often as it seems to. And I am grateful for the opportunity to keep getting younger.

"127 HOURS"

2010-12-27T11:04:00.000-08:00

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??!!

2010-12-06T06:37:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-11-29T09:15:00.000-08:00

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..."

2010-11-28T07:05:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-11-23T14:50:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-11-04T04:17:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-10-28T09:32:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-10-26T10:45:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-09-16T17:22:00.000-07:00

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,

"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...

2010-05-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-04-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-04-23T05:29:00.000-07:00

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!!!)...

2010-04-12T09:52:00.000-07:00

"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...

2010-04-07T18:31:00.000-07:00

"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"

2010-04-06T11:55:00.000-07:00

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...

2010-03-17T19:58:00.000-07:00

"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...

2010-03-16T09:44:00.000-07:00

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....

2010-03-13T20:12:00.000-08:00

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...

2010-03-13T13:22:00.000-08:00

"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...

2010-03-10T15:35:00.000-08:00

"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...

2010-03-04T07:48:00.000-08:00

"'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

2010-02-26T14:01:00.000-08:00

"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.

WALKING THE TALK...

2010-02-25T04:00:00.000-08:00

"Everything happens for a reason...

GRRRRRR...

xgzyjqucxcr....

ewwcxc...

GRRRR"

- Jonathan Pillot, February 25, 2010, 6:15AM

There are those moments, small as they may be, when we are tested...to see if we REALLY believe what we are saying. I do believe that everything does happen for a reason. And, as a spiritual guide of mine reminded me of a few years ago, it's not just a pick-and-choose kind of belief. Aligning with that when we like the results. The facts. I woke up this morning at 4:30, no alarm, just fully awake. Inspired to write. It flowed and flowed, the words, the thoughts, the feelings. For more than an hour. I was having trouble saving it, something was glitchy on this site. It kept SAYING it was saving. As I was finishing up the piece, the computer just shut down, on its own. When I rebooted, and went back to the blog, nothing was there, except the first paragraph I had started last night. I just looked at the screen, kind of blown away...felt like lost moments...maybe just lost words...lost? I don't know. Definitely not sure where/what the lesson is right here...a practical one? Like, next time write in Word, then cut and paste here? Or, simply more ephemeral. Ego reminders? Attachment smackers? Who knows...I'll get it back...or something else...xbvertxuyrrtxvxGRRRRR....

And then, 30 seconds after hitting "Send", I got this in an email from dear Marion (thank you!):

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each gues honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

---Jelaluddin Rumi

translation by Coleman Barks

"SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE A MOTHERLESS CHILD"

2010-02-12T05:24:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes I feel like a motherless child, Sometimes I feel like a motherless child, So far away."

-"Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child, Harry Thacker Burleigh (1866-1949)

When I restarted this blog a few weeks ago, I wanted to try and write every day...as an outlet for writing, as an exercise for my revised book proposal. And, I was all over it, every M-F day, loving it. And then I began this piece on my Mother one morning about a week ago. I wrote until I had to leave the house, and then for the next at least 7 days, it just sat there. Unfinished. And I started to notice that each day the Pink Elephant kept getting pinker. The rationale more confused. Why wasn't I justg finishing it? I couldn't figure out why. What was catching-in my throat, what was getting in my way, inside me...I'm still not sure, maybe it's what/who I was writing about, or maybe it was the door through which I was entering this musing that, once I paused, felt somewhat unnerving. You see, I'm not much into "what-if" stories at this point i n my life. Maybe at another time, it would have been somewhat satisfying. The story. Any story. Now, I really don't care as much. About my own story. Must be why one of my newest favorite phrases is "It is what it is." Plain and simple. VERY short story. Helps me to focus on what is, not on what isn't. Definitely cuts down on the drama. Less frustration. Less disappointment. And, I have been craving less drama (and frustration and disappointment), and I knew that it had to start with me. So, maybe I just got entangled inside with this "what-if," the deeper sadness, and I just didn't want to go there...because it's so vast...the notion of how one's life would be unrecognizable if someone elemental to one's life, a parent in this case, had not had the life that they did...because it really doesn't matter...since I began this piece, something shifted inside, even slightly, and I just wasn't compelled to follow that thread...at least for these days...I knew I had to finish though, some moment would just find me "here", inspired, once I hit the metaphorical "send," to simply move on...the following is what I had written...I'm just leaving it alone...for now...

My Mom died when I was 18. What really struck me again recently was that, to a great degree, I kind of lost her, big parts of her, when she first got breast cancer ten years before when she was 38. In those days, long before Betty Ford and other pioneers who shined lights in dark corners and brought the disease out of the closet, and provided women with an ability to be open, a sense of community, Marilyn Pillot kind of checked out in certain ways. As a Mom, a wife, a woman. She felt very much alone. Probably not just with her illness, with this horrible disease and the facing of her own mortality, but surely in her life, in her marriage. 38. Like a kid...relatively speaking. Two radical mastectomies by 39. Then 48 rolled around. Incredible to me how young that can seem, or be. The age that has nothing to do with the number. Particularly when you really never had the chance to get into second or third gear. I remember the day when I became older than she ever was...48 years, six months, 11 days. It didn't "make sense," me still feeling like a babe in the woods...she now the young one, frozen in time.

These days, what constantly comes up for me, as the son of this mother, isn't the sadness per se, or the fact that she hasn't been in my life for way longer than she was (physically), it's this unreconcileable, unanswerable notion of what my life would have been like if she hadn't been sick, if she hadn't died. What would life have been like if I "had a Mom," that constant presence, in a more ongoing way. While I always think of the life altering sliding door moments that often can be the smallest, most seemingly inconsequential choices or decisions made in real time, without forethought (walk on one side of the street versus the other, and your life can be changed), the bigger what-if's are there too. The ones that you had no choice in effecting. This is not a pityparty exercise, or an oh poor me sensibility. Losing my Mom as I did, dealing with what was before me at an early age, finding my way through and surviving as I did, certainly contributed as much to who I became, as a male, as a male who appreciates and respects and loves women, as anything else that is in my life stew. People have had it way worse than I have...and, that's not what I am focusing in on here. It is simply that occasionally gnawing what-if. What would it had been like having a go-to person, at the seemingly inconsequential moments, as much as for the biggies. "Hi, Mom, what did you think?" Or, maybe, "Mom, did you like her?" Those kinds of things. I know it's a ridiculous game, it has no end, no resolution. Given that life is a chain series of events, each one and the collective of all that have come before having an effect on the next choices, what comes next. If Mom isn't sick, if she lives a full life, then everything would have been different, where I went to college, whom I met, whom I married. My kids would not be my kids. I get all that, the circular game that has no end. And, it's simply human nature to wonder. Particularly because as I look around and listen to my friends discuss their relationships with parents both alive and dead, the conversations, whether they be the most loving, or still challenged, the underlying theme is the same. One's love of a parent.

ALLOWING...

2010-02-11T06:02:00.000-08:00

"The Warrior of Light needs time to himself. And he uses that time for rest, contemplation, and contact with the Soul of the World. Even in the middle of a battle, he manages to meditate. Occasionally, the Warrior sits down, relaxes, and lets everything that is happening around him continue to happen. He looks at the world as a spectator, he does not try to add to it or take away from it, he merely surrenders unresistingly to the movement of life. Little by little, everything that seemed complicated begins to become simple. And the Warrior is glad."

- Paulo Coelho, Warrior Of The Light

I've been meditating on and off since my mid 20's. Mostly off. Started out going to a Transcendental Meditation (TM) class with some friends, got my mantra, and started TRYING to meditate. Always somehow felt like an effort, I could rarely "transcend", get myself to a place where my mind felt still, where I would come out of the sitting and feel refreshed, still. No matter how many times I would hear that it was OK to have thoughts come up, I could so rarely ever be in that place where the chatter while I was meditating was any less than it was at any other point in the day. I'd start reading more and more books, some even called "Quiet Your Mind," or some such thing, and it seemed to create more THINKING, more TRYING. More internal clutter. Reminded me of something that used to challenge me when I was married to X. She was, pretty much, a slob. A pack rat, nothing really ever got put away, so that all that clutter around, just would plug into the clutter in my own head. I would suggest ( I am sure each time with less patience than before) new ways of her dealing with it, my ideas generally being met with digging-in, and the purchase of a new book on dealing with clutter. One day I looked up, and there were 10 unread, certainly under-utilized books about clutter, cluttering around our house. Not sure I actually laughed at the time. But the lesson, the mirror, is clear. Other's teachings, or suggestions, are helpful to get started...ultimately, one doesn't need all that stuff, all that external info, the real answers are within us...if we stay open to feeling and seeing what works.

A few months ago, I started taking a Tuesday 5:30PM meditation class with Cyndi Lee at Om Yoga (http://www.omyoga.com/). A half hour of group meditation, which really amounts to about 20-25 minutes of actual meditation, because Cyndi starts this class with a personal story that always resonates for me in a profound way. Takes the pressure off, allows me to simply to connect with whatever is up at the moment. Cyndi's amazing gifts, as a teacher, is her humanness, her unholier than thou approach, to yoga, meditation, spirituality. And, her style of meditation, and her approach - to life, not just meditation - has helped me enormously. I have learned to "accept" my mind, how it works, how it is firing all the time, unless it's not...instead of having eyes firmly closed, TRYING to get to someplace else, this form of meditation, has eyes mostly closed, partially open....focusing on a space let's say 10 feet in front...looking, as Cyndi says, from "the back of your eyes"...it has been transformative. I could rarely sit for even 10 minutes, eyes closed, fighting with whatever came up...now, 25 minutes flies by, often twice a day, mind wandering constantly, I just come back to the breath...it is a way that allows me to have meditation be part of my life, not separate from it. A real life experience, not something to fully step into or away from. Like when I meditate in motion when running, somehow I have found a way(s) to be quieter than when I am efforting to make that happen. As someone who has so often carried those metaphorical boulders uphill or swam against the current, it feels so much better to find what actually works, for me, and simply flow downhill, more so than ever.

INNOCENCE....

2010-02-10T09:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I will read something and it speaks to me in ways that cause me to feel that the author is talking to me...or reaching into my head, or heart, and knowing what is there at that very moment...the following is one of those times. It's snowy here, I'm feeling very mellow, and why not share a sensibility and personal truth and belief that someone else has already captured, far better than I ever could. The concept of being willing, a willingness, is something that I think about often. What was I/he/she/they willing to do? Under any corcumstance. It's one of those "objective" words, the answer to the question is just a fact, not a judgment (unless we choose to take that judgment on). Really simple. Was I willing to do something or not. Any unwillingness to do something, at any moment, really doesn't mean anything other than I was not willing to do it. Then. Maybe would have later. Or not. It has no greater significance, without any story around it. My degree of willingness doesn't make me good or bad, what I did right or wrong (necessarily). It's a "just is." So, in a world where opinions and judgments, flowing in and out, are a less than a dime a dozen, "willing" for me is a comforting Switzerland. Even though this exceprt from Ganjali's book seems to be more about "innocence", the two words, and concepts, are clearly intertwined.

Thanks to Leslie Asch for turning me on to these words....

-JP

"True innocence is the capacity to directly experience what is here right now, without any demands that it look, act, or feel differently.

Innocence is openness, the willingness to see and to trust, even if what appears seems absolutely untrustworthy. True innocence is naivete, nor is it delusion. However, it involves vulnerability. The willingness to be hurt. This willingness to be vulnerable is what the term "spiritual warrior" really means. Vulnerability takes more courage than being cynical, strong, or powerful. It takes courage to be open, innocent and willing to be hurt.

Because of the nature of extremely close relationships, especially between parents, children, lovers, and partners, hurt is often experienced. So what? Hurt may feel like the end of the world, but it's not. Hurt hurts. The degree to which you are willing to be hurt, not wanting to be hurt but willing to be hurt, is the degree to which you are willing to love, be loved and be taught by love. Love can be your teacher, though it never teaches withdrawal from experiencing hurt. Other people are not the source of your hurt; the source of hurt is the fact that you love. Trust the love. If the love is to hurt you, then let it hurt you fully. Let it annihilate you. Let your heart break open so that an even deeper love can be revealed.

Most everything we do is to avoid vulnerability. We dress up in grown-up clothes, and play at doing grown-up work, in an attempt to escape the defenseless innocence associated with childhood. But innocence is not limited to children. It is possible for you as an adult to be consciously vulnerable and innocent. You can consciously hurt. You can consciously suffer. When you suffer consciously, suffering is revealed not to be what you thought. In conscious suffering, you are no longer fighting the suffering. You are consciously present in it. Then suffering itself reveals the Buddha, Christ's heart, God revealing Itself to you on the mountain. If suffering is met as it appears, then suffering is discovered not to be suffering. But the intention is not to meet suffering to get rid of it. The innocent intention is to meet suffering as it is, even if it means feeling hurt.

Most people are more afraid of having their feelings hurt than they are of having their bodies hurt. But the willingness to be hurt is crucial. Without the willingness to be hurt, there is no willingness to be hurt, there is no willingness to love, no willingness to die, no willingness to live, no willingness to be.

It is easy to see from your own life experience that no matter how much you try and run away from hurt, you still experience it. To stop the running, to turn and experience what is chasing you, open and unprotected, you have to be willing to be free. Are you willing to be free?

You can examine your life and see for yourself what you are running from, what you are trying to escape. It may be very subtle. But just in the seeing of it, there is the possibility of a deeper opening."

The Diamond In Your Pocket, by Ganjali

SIMPLICITY...

2010-02-08T14:23:00.000-08:00

"...the more hurriedly and desperately we search for happiness and meaning the faster we stir up a whirlwind of spiritual thought energy which will only lead to discontent, want and ignorance. It we become softer and slow our rush, the fear of desperation will fall away and we can then hear the tender voice of pure thought energy wishing only to guide us. Make things simple in your life. Let your life become simple in its actions, communicate simply and let your love be simple, for then it will be profound. Cultivate your integrity and inner balance and you will find your centre of pure thought energy. It will flow into your life, bringing you all that you need. In your own time you will come to see the simple truth, that the world is a perpetual wonder, created instant by instant by thought energies and that the universe is expressed in all our thoughts, in the spaces between moments and in the sparks of time."

- Christopher Hansard, The Tibetan Art of Positive Thinking

By the way, "The Tibetan Art of Positive Thinking" is the real shit. It's The Secret, yet instead of new age jargon, it's grounded in thousands of years of Tibetan thought and spiritual practice. At times it may be a tad dense, yet Hansard makes the exercises, and the basis for them, very accessible. And, the whole time, I couldn't help realize that this is an actual genesis of the Laws of Attraction...not the market for pop culture and quick fixes...the kind that I know I have been grasping at for for far too long. The grabbing. The looking at success from the outside, wanting that, craving it, and not at all for the reasons that would really fill me up. And, a big fat fucking "duh"...because it is, at the heart of it, clearly to me the reason that I hadn't/haven't yet achieved the level of "success" that I aspired to (even the notion of success that that was inside-out, that felt right from the core)...that I was looking for it externally and what I had been "doing" was not in alignment with who I am...and that disconnect, short-circuited me all the time. That congruence may not be a requirement for many, I have no idea...maybe others can tough it out, and block it out...it really doesn't matter, this is true for me, and I finally get it...or maybe it's the notion that I might be thought of as being "selfish" ("Who the hell are you to love what you do"? or, my personal favorite "Why you?"), I am not sure. In the end, to me, it doesn't matter. I found that every time I went against my gut, or felt that certain pang of (deep) dissonance inside, and ignored it, something definitely went awry...yeah, I may have gotten stuff "done" or looked like I had succeeded ("wow, you Executive Produced a studio movie", or "how great that a film you produced turned into a TV series"), far too many of my projects were, as dear, wise, amazing, honest friend, MarionLoGuidice (http://www.marionsmusic.com/) said to me a few years ago, with clarity and, thankfully, no irony, "stillborn"...she nailed it, with one word that can, and did, literally, send shudders through my soul...the fact that it reflected the truth, made it even more chilling. And when I finally felt - deeply in that way that one's head shakes about yourself, upon the moment of realization - and not see, that "it" all started with my personal disconnect from me, from my core, from my principles, every time the gut said nay, and the head countered with yay. For the first time in my life I am experiencing what it is like, in 4-D, to feel the interweaving and friendship - actually more like a love affair - between the who and the what. The being and the doing. The understanding that whether you know who Ram Dass or Eckhart Tolle is, it doesn't matter. Once one gets that the words "be here now", or understands what really is "the power of now", are way more than simply catchy popculture phrases or book titles, and an ignition key to the kingdom, a shift within is really possible. So I am learning, and loving it. That doesn't mean I am "good" at it or fully comfortable in a new emotional wardrobe. It IS that I have worked hard to get to a place where I have the OPPORTUNITY to take it on, and simply look at every day, and every moment, as the only place to be. It really is only happening here. Really. Just right here. It seems to be a fact, not an opinion. And, I am going with it. I'm liking these clothes, I am not returning them.

And, I digress. That simplicity directive, made sense to me, maybe for the first time in my life. Drama? I don't want it any more...and, I know that's an expectation, or at least a hope, that is impossible to have met. You know what I mean...I surely want less, of what is outside of me, for sure. And instead of seeing those situations, or energies that didn't feel right as being outside of myself, it's a big "yuck" when I saw that it started with me...within me. And, that outside condition is, I have been taught, a reflection of what's going on with me. So, simplicity is a place to start, so that I can see what a new lens on that might be about. It no longer has to equate with "boring". It hit me the other day that I've never been that happy when the answer to the question of "what do you do?" was simple. When it could be answered in two words. Or One. Lawyer. Entertainment attorney. Producer. Production Manager. I always seemed to be more fulfilled when the "story" had lots of tentacles. When I couldn't be placed in one box. When it was along the lines of "sometimes I am this, and sometimes I do that, and I used to do this and that, and..." It hit me then. Immediately and shake headedly. For the first time in my "professional" (as opposed to, I guess, when I was an "amateur" ) life, I have arrived at a place where the story is at its most simple. The short story. And, I am pretty joyful about it. It clicked my awareness into a new place, that next rock crossing the river, when I started saying "no" more, and "yes" less. No more (at least willingly!) to that rub, to that disconnect. Yes to honoring who I really am, and even more so, who I aspire to be. And what I do, emanating from that grounded core, come from a place of newfound respect for myself, in this moment. Not at some time in the future. I consciously chose to give to me, the best of what I have formerly given to others. Professionally and personally. Doesn't mean that others aren't getting the good stuff any more. I just get to have first dibs. And by doing so, it seems to flow out pretty freely. I like that I can now answer "Writer". And, I like, "I have an idea incubation company." That sounds right. Because it's true. And simple.

"SLIDING DOORS"..."PAY IT FORWARD"

2010-02-04T16:12:00.000-08:00

"Dear Jonathan: ...I was going through my files the other day and ran across your name and some paperwork from the [ ] Movie and it got me thinking that my behavior was not okay towards you and I am sorry about the way I acted towards the end of production and after. I worked my ass off to prove myself and let others (who I discovered the hard way are opportunistic in their manipulating and selective in their memory) skew my view of you. This is probably a bit late and I don't want anything from you - I just wanted to say that I am sorry. The bottom line is that I should have come to you instead of listening to others' bullshit. I should have been more loyal to you. I hope there are no more hard feelings anymore between us. I'm sure that you haven't given me a second thought but I wanted to get this off my chest...Take care, "Malia" (Image from http://www.payitforwardinstitute.co.nz/)

This note came to me as an email in the middle of the night, about 2 weeks ago. "Malia" is someone with whom I had not spoken in probably 5 years. I had gotten her a gig, her first "real" job in the entertainment business, on a project that I was producing. She begged me to get on the film. I fought for her, I advocated for a position for her when no one yet believed in her and her extraordinary work ethic that was so apparent to me, she clearly was the kind of person would blow down doors to make stuff happen, to what it takes to get the job done. An absolute female warrior, at least one in waiting or training. What "happened," the specifics of it, are not that important. Suffice it to say that, as often can happen, things went awry. Eager beavers often can get seduced, ans lose their way, by so many things - ambition, promises, narcissists, who knows what else - even those with the best intentions, we all have our own poison. Our own Achilles heels. And they can appear, or shift, so suddenly. Malia, as she noted, went astray, surely from her own values, having less to do with the specifics of how that played out with me. And I allowed that riptide, the undertow that it left, not with Malia per se, but the kind of toxic and endemic behavior that can spread within a group, particularly when precipitated from those that are in charge, to pull me away from my center. A center that was still not clear or formed. And it sat there, acidic, on some level, somewhat, but not fully, dissipated.

So it's not just that this was my emotional backdrop against which I got Malia's email...it's that I was also consciously letting go, and resolving for myself, the lessons of this whole kit and kaboodle, these years later. Malia was quite incorrect that I hadn't given her a "second thought." Maybe the second millionth thought. A metaphor for many things, including the story of the story of the story. Which I no longer wanted to carry around (at least for much longer!!). Malia's willingness to come clean - to own her shit, to not just think it and feel it but to address it directly with the person whom she felt she had wronged - was, and is, the best of what we, as humans, can do...to err, and ask for "forgiveness", and even better, for me, to forgive. Happily. To allow the lessons to come full circle. Because the best part of all of this for me is what happened next, what quickly ensued. A reminder that every day, magic can happen.

Within seconds of getting Malia's email, I forwarded it to Gia, a mutual friend from the Film, who had been VERY upset that Malia had participated in some significant under-the-bus-throwing. I hadn't spoken to her in months. I could have simply responded to Malia (which I did, and we have broken bread and healed eye-to-eye), but I wanted Gia to know, first-hand, about Malia, about her essence, where she had traveled to, and how she had come back. Within moments after getting the email, Gia got back to me, and was so moved my what had unfolded, the payoff from one person's willingness to look inside. She kept talking about the lessons, what she said were my principles that were "validated," how it felt so right. And then she started to cry. Gia had unbeknownst to me, left NYC 3 months ago, partially running away from here, looking to create a new life in LA. And that city I know so well, that used to (but no longer) depress me the moment I got off the plane, every time for years, at LAX within a matter of seconds, was eating her alive. Dragging her to her knees, as only LA can do to someone with no job, no posse, no community, no godfathermother, and in the end, no money. The nice weather doesn't seem to matter, when you're sitting in your apartment, alone in the Valley, with no one returning your job-seeking calls. She was days away from driving to Chicago, to move back in with her mother, ready to cry uncle. "Send me your CV and recommendations, I will put it out there. Let's see what happens."

I am known as a linker, a connector, a hookerupper...it is who I am, I love doing it, more so than ever. Maybe it's because more of us need help, need support, and it's become increasingly clear to more than just a few that it's a gift AND a necessity for us to elevate and nurture each other. I'm not sure why, and it doesn't matter. I sent a glowing email about Gia to 12 people, communicating my love for her, my utmost respect for her work. The open spirit of my intentions definitely was fueling my actions. Within (I kid you not) 2 minutes, an email came back from one of the 12 (no one else responded then, or since)...interested in Gia, at least for part time work...I shook my head. She was the one "quasi-celebrity" in the group, a huge author and global thought leader. The one who I had added last to my reach out, a "what the hell" action on my part, because I had assumed she wouldn't be in the employment market. Well, within two days, Gia had the 20 hours a week, and three days after starting, she was hired fulltime, at a salary that exceeded what she had been seeking. And, when she called me, my tears came immediately. Not just because I had, in one moment, transformed the life of a friend, a person about whom I care deeply. It was the interrelationship of lives, the connective tissue between apparently "random" actions that are NOT disconnected, that are NOT random. It was that familiar realization that "just" one action taken, or not, makes a huge difference. The Sliding Door piece. Malia could have emailed me, and I could have simply made my peace with her. Directly. Just the two of us. And if I don't choose to (pay it) forward it to Gia, and reconnect with her, she doesn't get the chance to re-honor Malia...and, she's probably falling further down the hole in LA...and now the wonderful author has a crack assistant, who will fill what had been the gaps in her work life, allowing her to be even more productive and effective, and transform more lives. And, yes, Gia gets to wake up every day with the HUGEST gratitude, not to me, but to the whatever universal flow showed up bigtime. And, I smile, from my toes, pleased as punch that it's working.

CRUMBS

2010-02-02T21:25:00.001-08:00

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous. Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciounsly give other poeple permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

- Marianne Williamson, from "A Return to Love; Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles" (sometimes wrongly attributed to Nelson Mandela and his Inaugural Speech)

I am really not a dessert person. I would choose another order of mashed potatoes over a piece of cake (almost) every/any day of the week. Lunch or dinner.

On those rare occasions when Mr. Mashed is asked what IS my favorite dessert, there is, and always has been, only one answer. Blueberry crumb pie. A la mode or no la Mode, it doesn't matter (the best that I ever had outside of the one my kids and X made me many years ago, is from Moody's Diner in Waldoboro, Maine - www.moodysdiner.com. Incredible.). So, even though I love blueberries, what REALLY draws me to that pie, my occasional craving for it is fueled by the fruit and jelly's dance with the crumbs. It's that topping. The topper. What's on top. What gets infused with the fruit when you take that bite. Really yummy. Those crumbs.

And there I was, this morning, realizing that it's usually, if not always, about perspective. They is is rarely about the "what," it's the how (how we hold something, how we look at it, how we feel about something when we are doing/being something, etc.) that really matters. The context together with the content. Sometimes all it takes is a small shifting of the lens, zoom in a little, pull back slightly. An adjustment. And there it was right before me, an early AM opportunity to shift perspective. Crumbs. The word was in my head. For some reason I was thinking about Blueberry Crumb Pie, and right there, crumbs are, and feel welcoming, rich, something that kind of makes my throat have that purring feeling. And yet for so many years, the word "crumbs" attached itself, like that smelly blanket in the hands of a kid who won't let go, to my "story" about me (not who I am), how I came to look at parts of myself, what I seemed to be willing to accept, what I was willing to not let go of. How I was too willing at key points in my life to "accept the crumbs," not go for the main course. Even though I knew that the real light was in the letting go, I still was holding on. To that old REALLY smelly blanket that I knew, and came to attach to as truth, as emotional, spiritual DNA. And, it's not. It is fiction, and only "fact" when we make it that way. When we convince ourselves that the stories and tapes are truth, and we ignore our intuition and what we know. What we know and feel as truth. The brain and the ego aren't interested in that. The stories, and drama, seem more interesting. And at our core, we know that's the ultimate fiction and nonsense and crimes we commit against ourselves. How we can allow ourselves to accept less than we deserve, if we're not being our best friends.

I am embracing my new POV on crumbs. It was part of an extraordinary continuum of energy this week that started with Rabbi David's deeply moving look into last week's Torah portion, the story of Exodus. The Red Sea has parted, God is looking at Moses and saying, something like, "Hey, Moses, why are you screaming at me? Go talk to the Israelites. They/you know what to do." My brain laughed and my soul cried. Together. Because David and God and everyone else who has been on my side, who has my back, and SEES me, was speaking, in that one moment, through those words and powerful energy, to me. "Take the leap," David says. And I have. Another huge step this week, some fellow members of a tribe I have no idea what it is, willing to shine lights in MY dark corners, and share what they see. All of it. They showed a willingness to scream it to me, what they say, what they felt, what they GOT. That deeply loud and powerful reminder to not just acknowledge my power, but to step INTO IT, into my truth (what I know and have seen, and what I have shosen to ignore). To celebrate it in any and all ways that I need to. In order to feel fulfilled, inside and out. To embrace the power and not just accept crumbs anymore. Those crumbs. And, while it's still like a relatively new pair of favorite shoes that we first put on, it's not YET the smoothest of fits. it's an ongoing process to wear them until they BECOME natural parts of ourselves. It just has to start with the lens. The perspective. Because I can tell you, I love THOSE crumbs. And, I intend to eat alot of them.

OPENNESS...

2010-02-02T11:12:00.000-08:00

"I want to know if you can live with failure,

yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair,

weary and bruised to the bone,

and do what needs to be done to feed the children."

- Excerpts from "The Invitation," by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

I never really had, or learned or wanted to develop, a certain kind of filter that most guys have been brought up to see as being part of what it takes to "act like a man." That, "hey, everything's fabulous" that gets verbally communicated outwardly, while the circumstances of one's life may not be truly reflecting such story. A few years ago I ran into a then friend (let's call him Arthur) and business colleague, and when I asked him how he was doing, he said, "Great, great." When he asked me, I simply told him that I was really struggling, at that time some personal/family issues really bringing me almost to my knees." To which Arthur said, "yeah, me too." YEAH ME, TOO???!!! What happened to "great, great"? Yet there wasn't much to wonder about. So many people are afraid to ante up first, to be honest, to be open, as if that vulnerability feels like they are truly at risk. I often say, no one ever died from ego death. Yet what happened with Arthur transcended just him. It reflected how so many of us (feel that they) need that protective mask, because it's part of the dance we often do with each other. One that keeps the "others" in a conversation, in a friendship, feeling like just that. Disconnected. And, as Arthur, now empowered, having gotten "permission" from me to be truthful, continued to talk about his personal challenges, it struck me that even though we may avoid, or be almost afraid of the realness, we do ned it, and crave it when it's not there. Because having our egos be the basis for our connections or friendships, takes us so far away from what we can make happen, with each other.

I am noticing, very clearly, that more and more people these days are being open that they are struggling, whether that be emotionally, professionally, financially, spiritually. Whether it's about our kids, our health, Haiti, the Supreme Court, the War in Iraq, the economy, the environment, our personal crises or our global challenges. People. In all walks of life. Lawyers, businesspeople, photographers, writers, mothers, fathers, farmers, Presidents. And, even though the circumstances are so challenging, in a multitude of ways, there is also something profoundly powerful about this level of honesty that appears to be sitting right there, and which is getting shared. It is, among other things, an opportunity for building compassion, for seeing connections not differences, for fomenting our sense of what IS really important. For putting away, or at least even momentarily dropping, our masks. For being more real, with ourselves, before we can even do that with each other. You see, I am one of those people who actually misses the way "we" were here in New York City in the days and weeks after the horror of 9/11. Those moments in time when people were right (t)here, in their spirits, caught in an unexpected eye-to-eye with who they are and what they believe in. What moves them. What is essential to them. Like those people who grab their photo albums when leaving their burning home, not other "stuff". The irreplaceables. The non-negotiables. In September and October of 2001, walking with my kids through the streets of New York, we could all look into people's eyes, the eye contact so real and open, the eyes most truly serving as windows to the soul. People not hiding out or holding back. Those who obviously needed a hug, at that moment, from a "stranger," received one. We were, and are, all in this together. If we'd only keep remembering. Because as months turned into years, as we distanced ourselves in time from the visceral feelings we had, not just from the events, I could feel the openness melting, shrinking, evaporating. The "I know now what's important" seemed to transform, or go back, too often, to "I need a new [ ]", or "I just made alot of money in the market" or "I just have to get into the real estate market, even if I'm overpaying" or or or...so when those intervening years heated up not only the real estate market, or the stock market, it also reignited, and/or redirected, people's desires, or greed or focus or values, and we seemed to be back where we were, at least to me. Too much grasping, too much looking outside of ourselves. For the answer, for the balm, the salve. We had had all the reminders anyone could ever need, as we often do. So when the crash came more than a year ago, there was something that felt even worse, about where we had been, how much we had ignored, how deeply the collective we, around the world, had missed the opportunity. I remember sitting with Ariel Rosen Ingber on the morning of Obama's Inauguration, on the Upper Westside, waiting to watch it on a huge screen with a thousand other dreamers and rebels and lefties and hopers, and Ariel and I realizing that we were both members of a certain tribe...those who actually think that the crash, in the big picture, was a good thing, could be exactly what the world needed. Not because of the individual devastation, and horrors that have befallen people, each of us, people we know, people we care about. But because of another chance to rise up, and be more real, with substance, and clarity, and more selectivity, and patience, and faith. To use who we are, more than what we have, to make a difference. To cut to the chase, to connect from our guts. To be inclusive, not exclusive. To understand that we are all one degree from each other, what affects you, affects me. Maybe in ways that are not apparent on the surface, yet invariably, if we are looking, the lessons do become revealed. I always wondered why so many people, particularly men, so often engaged in various levels of puffing, posturing, layering...salesmanship. Because, in my experience, it is when we drop it, drop them, when we pull back our respective layers of "clothing" to allow us to connect with each other more openly and honestly and nakedly, and we acknowledge and celebrate that, regardless of the circumstances, we are all in this together, we create such foundations for supporting each other, loving each other, seeing that even in a time of "less" we are truly blessed and have so much for which to be grateful, we can come from a place of abundance (win-win) not a paradigm of scarcity (win-lose). Out of the darkness does come the light, we often just don't see it when we are in the midst. Let's just keep reminding and supporting each other in seeing the best of who we are, every day, and helping to set each other free to manifest our dreams. Be open. Stay open. Please.

I DID IT "ON PURPOSE"

2010-01-31T02:30:00.000-08:00

"Many years ago, as a result of a strong inner impulse, I walked out of an academic career that the world would have called "promising," stepping into complete uncertainty; and out of that, after several years, emerged my new incarnation as a spiritual teacher. Much later, something similar happened again. The impulse came to give up my home in England and move to the West Coast of North America. I obeyed the impulse, although I didn't know the reason for it. Out of that move into uncertainty came The Power of Now, most of which was written in California and British Columbia while I didn't have a home of my own. I had virtually no income and lived on my savings, which were quickly running out. In fact everything fell into place beautifully. I ran out of money just as I was getting close to finish writing. I bought a lottery ticket and won $1,000, which kept me going for another month."

-Eckhart Tolle, "A New Earth"

As I ran out of the apartment yesterday, I grabbed my copy of A New Earth for the subway ride uptown. I've read it through once, and portions of it many times. Tolle speaks to me, in this book, in ways that no author ever has...he synthesizes concepts, puts a framework around feelings, and notions, that cut to my emotional core. I can, and did, read/hear "be in the moment" or "be here now" or "there is no such thing as the past or future" a million times, and even read portions of The Power of Now, before finding my way to A New Earth for the first time. And, suddenly, it all made sense in a way, in a specific moment, that - literally - took my breath away. It's more than simply that when the student's ready, the teacher shows up. It is his wisdom, his simplicity, that suddenly creeped into my soul, that infiltrated my core. It's not that I live every moment, in those moments. It's still somewhat of a new musculature for me. What is most profound is that, for the first time in my life, I realize that I CAN. And that is a beautiful thing.

And, I digress (wow, how unusual!)...the reason I specifically was drawn to A New Earth yesterday was that lately I have been thinking so much about - actually deeply feeling - what it is to find, or have, or live, one's "life purpose." Something that was just a faraway concept, or merely words, in the not too distant past. And, I realize, a notion that has been percolating within me seemingly forever. Without a framework around what it is, it is, in part, what drove me away from practicing law. And, being married, at least in that dynamic, or to someone I felt never "believed" in anything. In that faith (not religious) kind of way. Faith as the oppositional teammate of fear. I used to feel these guttural movements inside me, these feelings that I couldn't shake, nor could I concretely identify them. In some rare moments, all I could think of when I was lawyering was that I didn't feel like I was doing anything meaningful with my life, that something had to get out. Yes, I was providing a "service," but not one that resonated with me. A service that one could get anywhere. Work that was not using much of my (crying) heart and (waiting to burst) soul. Mix that with being in a relationship with someone where clearly the dynamic was not one of mutual support, and I had my own prescription for disaster. Certainly not one that was unique to me, yet that notion of aloneness could not be shaken. So, somehow, that knowing that there HAD TO BE another way, of living, of being, wouldn't shut up, wouldn't let me go. What was that? The same still, small voices that spoke to me at 8, on the stoop, when my mom was upstairs depressed and sick? Probably. God? Angels? Spirit guides? I certainly have no idea. And, instead of ignoring that feeling that was searing my insides, I felt like, truly, I had no other choice but to head out, and not only save my life, but my kids' lives as well...to teach them also about choices, and aiming high, and being true to oneself, and to see that the seeking joy, even more than "happiness", even if the destination is unknown, was worth the effort. And, to, as a biproduct, to try and put an end to the generations-old paradigm that seemed to befall so many, if not all, of the men on both sides of my family, who kind of just gave away their power, and subsumed who they were, or at least could be,
to the wishes of others. It wasn't an external torch I was carrying, it surely was not THE motivational force, yet on some level I knew that if not me, then who. Who was going to live a life of intention, and not purely of obligation, a vision born from the inside-out, not the outside-in.

So that guy, that father and guilt-ridden son, and yes, that man-in-training even in his 40's, who X never thought would actually have the balls or strength to actually walk away, particularly when looked upon by others as an abandoner, set-out on that road that was not only less traveled, I had no flashlight or walking shoes or known tools of the trade, or surely any guide to ask. Just an openness to put one foot in front of the other and (try and) follow the light. Even if it was fleeting, or flickering, or ended up being a mirage. Because on this roadtrip, one falls down alot, or gets in fender benders or larger crashes. And, it's not always easy to have the perspective to not see ANY of it as "mistakes." And, it's pretty obvious why Tolle's personal experience above resonates with me so profoundly. Because, it was exactly that impulse, that intuitive feeling inside, that voice from within that wouldn't allow anything else (even understanding the as-yet consequences that my actions would have on my beloved kids - regardless of whether my choice would, I envisioned, ultimately be better for them) to even be an option, once my heart and soul and spirit opened up and listened. Really listened to what was true. For me. That willingness to live in the unknown was, and remains, so key, every day. That faith and trust in what truly is a sense of being guided by something OTHER than one's brain, the player of all those "tapes" and voices that look at why not, instead of being connected to one's core. And, 11 years later, it surely has not been easy, and it's impossible to know if I HAD known the challenges of the journey, would I have done it. Yet living here, now, I can without a doubt say that it has been the most extraordinary path of growth, and opening and faith, even at those more than a few dark nights of the soul. Because, for the first time in my life, who I am, and what I am doing does seem to be in a rhythmic dance, the music and the lyrics working together in a way that, while not always in synch by any means, certainly makes for more harmony and love and openness, inside me, and projected outward, than I have ever been able to experience. And, the irony isn't lost on me that while in so many ways I have so much "less" of the stuff, certainly less than I have ever had before, I have never had more of what I can finally identify as what really fuels me, or felt more confident, or creative, or powerful, or faithful. I can't explain it. I just know that I want to keep doing it - being it - on purpose.

Monday, Monday...so good to me...(John Phillips)

"THAT'S LIFE"

2010-01-28T03:21:00.000-08:00

I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,

A poet, a pawn and a king.

I've been up and down and over and out
And I know one thing:

Each time I find myself, flat on my face,

I pick myself up and get back in the race.

That's life

I tell ya, I can't deny it

I thought of quitting baby,

By my heart just ain't gonna buy it.

And if I didn't think it was worth one single try,

I'd jump right on a big bird and then I'd fly.

-Old Blue Eyes..."That's Life"

Ever since I started to go to Romemu (http://www.romemu.org/) a few years ago, I often find myself walking down streets singing....actually, in most cases, it's chanting more than singing...the amazing melodies that get reignited each Friday night, that plug into my soul, that connect me with parts of me that I am still exploring. The other day, though, there I was channeling Frank with the chorus of "That's Life", the words following me home until I looked up the lyrics, I needed to see them. Read them...all of them. And, while that chorus is what is embedded in me from the car radio as a kid, I could have pasted any snippet here, because ALL of that song so rings true. Because in addition to being about a personal truth, it's beyond that and even the general human condition. Frank, and anyone else crooning these words, is singing about faith, plain and simple. A faith that is, as I look out at the state of my fellow (wo)man, more essential, and more craved, and also often more challenged, by more people than I can ever remember, certainly even more than when I posted my last entry here, on the heels of Obama's election 14 months ago. And hearing him last night in the State of the Union address, I did feel somewhat re-connected to his humanity, his vulnerability, his attempt at honesty in the midst of a political paradigm that is so adverse to real transformation. So, I am re-inspired to write. Not just in my black books as I do every day, but here. For whatever reasons, both internal and externally driven, they may be. It's been too long.

My friend, Marilyn Horowitz (http://www.marilynhorowitz.com/), posed on her blog, and on Facebook, the question to writers about why they write, and so many of the people who responded answered, in some form or another, because they have to. And, I feel the same way. It took me a lifetime to finally call myself a "writer", as opposed to someone who writes. As if I was waiting to have someone grant me a degree, or provide some validation. So, regardless of whatever talent I may have, or whether I get paid for it, writing is now way beyond what I do, it's who I am. From the deepest parts in me, from my most open, and most questioning and most hopeful places inside. And as friends and colleagues have consistently nudged and encouraged me to do so, and while I knew that I had things to share, that others seemingly wanted to know and hear about, and while my book proposal laid there for too long, vibrating every day and waiting for the rewrite, I hadn't really thought about my "why". What really moves me to do it, to expose those parts of me, as I do. And, I guess it is, at its core, about making sense of life, not just mine, but my connection with others, with the universe, my relationship with that "OneNess" that connects us all. And in fighting what occasionally feels to me must be (although may not be) a somewhat narcissistic motivation that sparks that need to write, I really do know that the greater part is to inspire, to open others, to all of what burns, or at least flickers, inside them. Us. That by me looking at the synchronicities and serendipities and daily circumstances that show up every day, and/or whether I am looking at parenting or childing, or love or work, creativity or loss, sadness or passion, sex or sensibility, or regardless of whether I can only see my own smallness, or have the opportunity to be moved by someone else's bigness, I know that by shining a light in the often darker corners, I am holding a mirror up to me, and hopefully for others. To support, and inspire, each other, to plug into the best parts of what we have to offer, to ourselves and those with whom we engage. India.Arie reminds me that "Strength, Courage and Wisdom", are certainly some of my elemental needs and aspirations, and I know that I need constant reminders and nurturing to stay faithful.

So, I hope that you will engage with me, and pass this on to anyone who you think may want a dose of whatever I am, and will be, doing here. The more we connect the dots, the more available we become to ourselves, and each other.

Peace, JP

BARACK, DAVID AND JP

2008-11-14T10:30:00.000-08:00

It was a little after midnight on Election Night. I was standing downstairs at the Paris Commune restaurant in the Village, surrounded by people who were there to both watch the Presidential returns and share in the spirit and work that My First Vote propelled. And, despite the surroundings, the optimism that was crackling all around, the champagne that was flowing, I felt somewhat in my own “bubble”, trying to keep my “what if it doesn’t happen” uneasiness at bay…I had been SO anxious and wary all day…all night…all week. The extraordinary experience of being out there, on the road, with great people, in and of itself was life transforming…add to that the very real feeling that I had been given such a gift of passion and spirit and hope and wonder from each person, each student, who had touched me every day, I had found myself in somewhat of an “altered state” in the 10 days since we returned – personally a bit more fragile, while maintaining hope about the possibility of profound change in this country. At a touch before 11PM, as Obama’s Electoral Count stood at 205 with the entire far West Coast Blue States about to close their polls, I still couldn’t totally shake my unease and believe what everyone was telling me was now in the bag…the incredible inevitable of this new dawn in America. And as, moments later, the Audacity of Hope transformed into the Tears of Joy and Wonder, I was both overwhelmed and numb…my usual Geminiacal dichotomy of emotions and reflection…and release…

It was profoundly clear to me on November 4 that the change that I have been feeling brewing for quite some time, the rumblings from within and the visible signs from without, are deeper and more widespread than is simply manifested in the election of Barack Obama as President. And, while it is probably true that if Bush hadn’t been such an abomination – as a leader, as a reflection of who we are as a country – if the times were/are not as challenging as they are, Americans may well have elected John McCain, as much out of a fear (of change), as anything else. It had to get pretty dark to be able to see, or find, the light…and the light switch that will, I feel, allow us to see ourselves, and each other, in a new way, with a clearer lens. What I am struck by is what Barack Obama represents to us on many different levels – as a father, as a husband, as a leader…as a Man. A Kind Man. A Compassionate Man. A Strong Man. There is an amazing shift going on right now with the traditional male paradigm, part of a continuum that had already been well in motion, and now which seems to be more fully, and openly, ready to truly blossom.

Two days before Election Day, I went to the wedding of my extraordinary Rabbi, David Ingber, and his wonderful (now) wife, and partner, Ariel Rosen. Spouses and partners. Those two words and roles and concepts, unfortunately are not always joined together at all, let alone seamlessly, congruently, elevationally. Ariel is David’s partner in the vision to manifest David’s vision for Romemu (www.romemu.org) to its full possibility, and in the full-on experience of their lives – individually and together. How clearly that is evident to all whom they touch, and was experienced by everyone who was blessed to bask in the glow of their love at their wedding ceremony. I stood in the back of the synagogue, and breathed in so deeply the life force and love and energy that they created together, each component of their connection embodied in every aspect of the who, what, why, when and how of their wedding. I really can’t underscore that enough – I have never experienced anything like that in my life, regardless of the beauty and wonder of ceremonies, rituals and people who have previously touched me. As I wrote to them the next day, “it was so completely congruent with who you are, individually and as partners, it is hard to describe to others...the level of your love, consciousness, mutual support, joy and wisdom permeated each component of your wedding...the abundance swirling around, and through, you is so uplifting to those who were there, all of those whom you touch. Listening to one of the Rabbis who married them say how it takes an integration of one's inner and outer lives to feel fully whole, in both individuals to be able to show up fully for themselves, and then for and with another, is so true, something that I think about so often...and, I have seen first-hand how that has been embodied in you both since you have evolved together. By simply your presence and willingness to share who you are so deeply with others, you have set the "bar" wonderfully high, as a three-dimensional example of what is possible when deep love, between two people, is open and present.” Standing in the back, able to move about and watch everyone in the circle that surrounded David and Ariel watching them, I couldn’t help but look under the chuppa, at my Rabbi and friend, and fellow Peaceful Warrior, David…and feel such pride to be an open man, by feeling his love, and the love of the “brothers” (and sisters) who can embrace open, caring, emotional men…the kind of men who are ready, willing and able to be true life partners because of their ability to embrace, and share, all sides of themselves…to allow the yin and the yang to work together, to not shy away from pieces of themselves that may be perceived to be “soft” or “sensitive” (as if that’s a bad thing)…to “be a man” in all respects, including as a confidante and lover and friend. As I have been steadily developing different projects over the last few years around the male-female connection, as I have been exploring ways to help explode (or at least shift) the framework and shape of the traditional male paradigm, I have continuously asked both men and women who they see as the “role models” for the 21st Century man…there have been so many female breakthroughers and leaders (intended or otherwise) and mirrors from whom women can see, and then derive, that self-motivational spark to push their own envelope…regardless of where one might sit on the spectrum. And, who are the comparable reflectors and guides for men? We may know some personally, yet who are the more public figures who could be held up as representatives of a new way of “acting like a man”? As an example, men who might put family first (at least equal), while also (not instead of) maintaining their own sense of self, and their personal dreams…men who might see compassion as a neither male nor female quality, and who can partner-up with strong women while both not fear losing themselves in a relationship AND celebrate who these women are…inside. So, after this last week, I do have renewed and increasing hope about that “State of Man”, and what is possible…as much about the men as about the women who, hopefully, do indeed celebrate these ever evolving men…guys who embrace the journey as opposed to being merely focused on some destination…men who can honor those parts of themselves that may be still considered, in the lexicon of sexual identity, “female”…as I looked at David Ingber and Ariel Rosen look at each other, as I see photos and video of Barack Obama being with his beloved Michelle and their kids, I experience the kind of devotional love that a man can ONLY have by celebrating all parts of who he is, and what is possible…it’s a great thing.

MY BIRTHDAY GUN...

2008-10-28T07:32:00.001-07:00

We had spent our last night before heading home in Wheeling, West Virginia, and as we headed back home, we stopped at Cabela’s, a chain of the largest sporting goods stores in the country. Huge physical spaces, almost like Costco’s. And, for someone who thinks of Paragon as “sporting goods”, a place that has equipment or clothing for SPORTS - tennis or baseball or swimming or golf, I was quite struck by what I saw when I entered Cabela’s. None of THOSE sports, for sure. A kind of Disney meets The Museum of Natural History meets Stew Leonard’s meets Patagonia meets the NRA. Camping and fishing and hunting and hunting and hunting. Oh yeah, hunting, too. Exhibitions and dioramas and interactive exhibits and everything and anything you could (well, I could not) think of relating to the “outdoors” (I like to play sports outdoors...)…two floors, a café, helpful sales people and as we wound through the last part of the store we had not yet seen, more guns and rifles and bullets and knives and stuff to kill (animals/people?) with than one (I) could ever imagine. Behind the long counter, in the main part of this particular wing of Cabela’s was a well populated exhibit that would certainly make any museum proud. Filled with deer, a taxidermist’s heaven. Each one marked with a calligraphied sign that indicated the type of deer each one was, and when, and by whom, it had been “taken.” Not “killed.” Taken. There was something about this word that blew me away. Why not just come out and say what happened. Is that a word choice of “sport”? Certainly makes the whole concept appear more palatable, less jarring...and, I am sure, helps in the whole indoctrination of new, younger and better hunters…"I took that deer." Almost has a sexual connotation to it. Yanni had actually done some editing for a local NY-based rifle manufacturer a year ago…a nice family business. So we were all standing there gazing at the wares – from rifles to handguns to assault weapons, when a very friendly salesman, Greg – 44, stocky, moustache, matted down hair as if he just came back from the woods - asked us if we needed any assistance. Yanni asked about the make of rifle from the company he had worked for, and Greg assured us that they make very good rifles. “In fact,” said Greg, “that’s my birthday rifle. Got it for my birthday last year.” And then he proceeded to show us his “Christmas gun” and so on, until he moved down behind the counter, sharing with us the wonderful attributes of much smaller rifles, in different colors like pink and blue, for kids. From a mechanical design perspective, they were certainly noticeable with their long lines, and open handles, seemingly carved from a master. From a cultural perspective, I just stood there taking it in, feeling disconnected from my then reality. At one point I looked up and saw the section behind Greg filled with assault weapons – AK-47’s and their brethren and cousins and friends. Seeing one first hand made me understand more viscerally the power of these weapons, and the ways that they have been used, in this country, as real weapons of mass destruction. When one of us asked why one would use a weapon like that, Greg said that he has one…and, he uses it for “Plankin’”. Now, it was early, and I couldn’t really hear him well, and it surely sounded like something I had heard of before, although it didn’t make sense why one would need an assault weapon to have anything to do with boiled beef....even killing it…lots of people have killed a good pioece of meat - in the oven...but I asked, nonetheless. “Flanken?” No, he said. “Plankin’…shooting across a back yard into wood planks…target practice.” That’s all it''s for? “Well,” he added, “also in case they come and invade us.” I continued to the checkout counter and paid for a yellow shirt that was on sale for $5.80...down from $35.00...always the bargain hunter...and, there was an addeds store promotional discount (maybe because it was the Cabela brand of shirt) for an additionbal 20%...cost me less than the Burt's Bees lip block...

I didn’t even want to stay around and find out who is the "they" that Greg noted...feeling way more uneasy about some of the threats of within…and, this feels even more relevant this morning, reading about the Feds stymieing an alleged plot by two skinhead neo-Nazis to kill blacks students and go after Obama. The kind of news that so many have been thinking, fewer willing to voice…and, the reality of what we know is going on in the minds of too many. We asked, on our Tour, at least 50% of the kids about whether they think that racism has had a role in this election. Blacks and whites. And, the responses were always honestly felt, and most reflected that while it did not affect THEIR decision, they know that it has been a factor with so many, and how they have heard about people not voting for Obama because he is biracial. And, on the other hand, many young people, whites too, who believe that it would be the greatest of moments for this country to elect a Black man, to reflect back to the world where we have gone, how we have moved…even more than who Obama is, what he REPRESENTS for us at this critical time in the world…and, when friends email me and tell me that Obama has it in the bag, I get very direct with them about NEVER letting any complacency enter into this process…the notion that ANYONE might stay home and not vote because they think it’s a done deal…as Obama said recently, we all need to go forth with the passion and commitment as if he is 20 points behind in the polls…

Unrelated random word/phrase thought: “settling down”…as someone who thinks about the power of words, and what they convey, I have always been struck by the “settle” in settling down…I know that’s not what most people think of when they say they are settling down…probably more akin to placing down roots…and, to me, settling really doesn’t have an aspirational quality to it, nor would it be to most, I believe…“I settled for that” doesn’t make me want to jump on and scream “yay”, even more so when combined with another word that is the opposite of reaching UP…I wonder what the concept really means, what’s in people’s hearts when they feel that they are “settling down”…

YA' DIG…?

2008-10-24T13:49:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, in its own nutshell, was completely reflective of the entire weeklong experience. Started out in the morning roaming, and filming students, at the University of Pittsburgh (“Pitt”), a large private university in the middle of the city…gorgeous buildings, open city campus…I can’t say enough about how nice everyone was in Pittsburgh, it seems so “livable” there (I was joking that while most people I know say they want to move to Bali, or Hawaii, or someplace exotic, Pittsburgh seems like a good place to me!)…Rust Belt meets edge of Midwest meets edge of East Coast…incredible architecture…way cooler than Cleveland, not as northeast of a vibe as Philly…

Anyway, we moved from there, heading west to Ohio…our interim stops were to interview two first-time voters who live in a town about ½ hour outside of Pittsburgh called Donora…I had been introduced via email to two people who had never voted before (because they had never registered in previous years) by Tina Jones, a woman whom I emailed after having googled “Obama and Pittsburgh” a few weeks ago, and got her phone number and email address…amazing how technology has played such a part in what My First Vote is doing, I cannot even imagine what we would be doing…and, “how?”…these two fellow church members of Tina turned out to be two African-Americans, Nycole Wilkins, 30 years old, and Joe Williams, 54. We first visited Joe in his apartment in Donora, a town with no one on the streets at Noon on a weekday, except for 3 residents of an assisted living home for mentally challenged people down the street…as we were crossing the river to Donora, I had to call Joe for alternative directions because our Bus was too high to fit under the bridge overhang…within his first five words, Joe would say to/ask me, as a connective point of understanding, “Ya’ dig?”…I was suddenly in a jazz riff with him…the conversation for directions was peppered throughout with “ya’ dig?”, as Joe got us through to an alternative route…Joe’s walk-up apartment, in classic Midwest style 3 story housing, was sparsely furnished, and the warmth from Joe, his openness, filled the room. Joe is about 5’6”, maybe 200 pounds, gold loops in each ear. As it turns out, Joe had never voted before because he was a felon in the penitentiary for many years, now a recovering drug addict, admitting to being addicted to drugs for more than half his life. People had told him that he couldn’t vote, so he never bothered to check it out. Leaning down against his kitchen sink, Joe told us that he was “saved” five years ago, embracing full-on his Christianity…he has turned his life around completely, and is so excited to now vote, loving that there is a Black man running for President, humbled to be able to engage in the kinds of citizenship that “regular people” can. Joyous to be part of the process. And (literally), every third word/phrase throughout the 10-minute conversation was “ya’ dig?”…Joe had his own unique rhythm, and the depth of his most pure of sentiments was truly humbling….I felt as though if any eligible voter, of ANY age, saw a snippet of Joe’s clarity, the sense of importance in what he is about to do for the first time, they would have no choice but to cast their vote on Election Day…they couldn’t come away and say “my vote deson’t matter”, or “what’s the big deal?”…it IS a big deal…

We then drove to meet up with Nycole, a very attractive mulatto-skinned woman, who got pregnant at 15…had a daughter at 16 who is now 14. Blew my mind that Nycole and I have kids the same age, Nycole herself being old enough to be my daughter. We visited with her outside of her place of employment, a Rehab Center, where she is a social worker, kind of in the middle of “nowhere” in Western PA…at her Church one day there was a voter registration drive, with Tina heading it up…her daughter told Tina that her mom was not registered to vote…Nycole said her kid “shamed her into it”, she just never had given voting much thought…and then, once she was registered, she felt a part of being a citizen in a different way…I often am shocked when who I think someone may be does not link up with actually who they are…I would have, just by the way she looked (half-Black, young, kind of sexy) assumed that she would be voting for Obama…and, as soon as she answered the question, “what are the isues that are most important to you in this election?”, with “as a Christian,…”, I knew that Obama didn’t have Nycole Wilkins’ vote. The candidates’ stance on the right to an abortion is the single most important issue for her…her position on that issue seemingly having been formed as a young mother who chose to keep her unexpected child, even after considering having an abortion...firmly believing that the right for a woman to choose abortion as an option should not exist…I again thought, as I have so many times over the years, that it feels wrong that the people who want to deny women the right to choose are called “pro-life”…as if those of us who are PRO-CHOICE are against life…and, regardless of anything else, I was so honored to be in the presence of someone who wanted to share their story with us, their viewpoint, a piece of their soul…Nycole and her clarity, and her willingness to investigate the issues, and her wonderful sense of self (with her daughter telling her to vote for Obama) moved me so much…I feel that I have become more open this week, at least about the bigger view into the variety of points of view, where people come from…at least when those opinions are coming from one’s personal value systems, and not simply motivated by ignorance, hate, or other foundations of divisiveness that I have seen so prevalent as well…watching TV for a brief moment in the motel lobby the other morning, there was a pro-McCain ad that was paid for by a fear-mongering private organization that can stay outside of the rules that still somewhat limit the bullshit that candidates can say about each other…it was incredible..we never see this stuff in New York…out here, in the Purple states, where many people still wavering on their choice, where fear is powerful, where issues of race are like a heated skillet, some people will do or say anything to stay in power…and, support the old paradigm…to not give up the mantle…to perpetuate ways that are not working…we have no idea what will happen in the next couple of weeks…what will be thrown out there…

We drove to Ohio, and went to the Parking Lot at the WalMart in Mt. Vernon, Ohio, the next town to Gambier, Ohio, home of Kenyon College, in Gambier, Ohio, the place that had originally been Maia’s first choice college…where she and I had visited in the Spring…we got there after nightfall, and interviewed a first time voter, Jeff, a local kid from Mt. Vernon...we were all freezing outside, the temperature had dropped drastically in those few hours we had been driving…Jeff is a McCain supporter…the issues important to him? Abortion, the War, Gun Control…

It may only be 5 minutes from WalMart to Kenyon, but it might as well have been the distance (in miles and politics) between Alaska and Greenwich Village…it’s not just that the physical campus at Kenyon is extraordinarily beautiful, the place where HARRY POTTER was going to be filmed if they had elected to shoot in the States…it’s the student body itself…mostly white, privileged, incredibly well informed and engaged…and, surely, so many are sheltered from some of the economic issues and immediate consequences that are sitting there on the dinner table in Mt. Vernon, or Donora or so many of the places that we have seen…it’s all interesting, to me…and, according to every Kenyon student we talked to, one more engaged than the next, EVERY student there is voting for Obama…and, I could not help but feel at that moment that regardless of the difference in opportunities, or possibilities, or religions or hometowns or political views or degrees of being informed, every person we talk(ed) to does ultimately want the same thing…a life that feels meaningful to them (even if they don’t even ask themselves what that might even mean) or, at the very least, one filled with hope for them and their families…the OneNess of us all has been hitting us every day…

Here are some pieces that we posted yesterday/today...the first one is Joe, the second and third a troupe of musicians/folk-singers (the blonde woman, Colleen Kattau, has been called a female Pete Seeger) who are traveling through the Purple States performing in an effort to get the youth vote out...I encountered them yesterday at Ohio State, stopped them, and asked them to perform impromptu...their are a group of them traveling, maybe 10 in all, they have been organized by the folk singer, Holly Near...

http://www.myfirstvote.tv/video/73/wake-up-tour-ya-dig

http://www.myfirstvote.tv/video/71/wake-up-tour-sing-out-the-vote

http://www.myfirstvote.tv/video/70/wake-up-tour-sing-out-the-vote-only-1

Ya dig?

FAITH, FEAR AND A FALSE GOD

2008-10-22T05:23:00.001-07:00

Yesterday our team was at Slippery Rock State University, one hour from Pitssburgh, to speak with students there, in a working class town in Western PA, one hour from Pittsburgh…a different environment than many of the campuses we had visited this trip…generally, more blue collar, loess elite (even at some of the larger State schools, a tad more rarified air)…the kids at Slippery Rock were SOOOO wonderful, in certain ways more passionate and engaging than they have been in certain other places…maybe because there is less between their lives and “out there”…they feel what’s going on in the world profoundly, and it seems to an extent, have been for longer…less posturing, more right here...because, without question, at this school whose student body is pretty much exclusively made up of kids from families from Main Street, there are no Wall Street descendants there…their answers and goals and desires at Slippery Rock so direct and incisive…the kind of people who have learned experientially, who have seen so much, with their eyes, not just in the news…

I got to thinking, while driving through the hills here (I have always wanted to visit Pittsburgh…and, I now know why friends have recommended it…it has a great energy, the architecture is fabulous, the Three Rivers surrounding it make for amazing views and bridges, the people are that unique combo of Rust Belt, East, Midwest), it struck me right between my eyes how so many people really struggle during tough economic times because they have worshipped the “False God of $”...believing that wealth and possessions, and “success” would take them through, carry them over, shield them from the pains and feelings and full-bodied experience of life...and, when THAT God, that idol (yes, an "American Idol"...maybe the world's Idol), falls away, when one can’t rely on what one has grown up to understand to be a measuring stick, what is it that gets me/you/us through...what have any of us developed to fall back on, if not faith...one needs to believe in SOMETHING...so many people elected to invest that energy and hope and attachment to money, success, wealth, accumulation...often at the expense of other values...so, now, we see so many of our fellow citizens freaking out, people having no choice (I think) but to have to re-examine where they had allocated their emotional, personal resources for so many years...for what end game...they look at their “bank accounts” and see less there than had been there a day before…how to make sense out of what happened…

So, that is why this has shook people to their core, because the confluence of events have shocked the foundation of their, and society’s, belief system...the values that we have all been programmed, generally to believe in…if you take a money focus out of the equation, what are you left with? Each person has their own definition of what that means, how it impacts one’s lives. What to do, how to be, how to have “faith” (as differentiated from fear) if you don’t have something to really hold to inside – within - something to keep oneself solidified in times of stress, or when we are “shaken”…in simple mathematics language (I know, me with a math metaphor?...so weird!), “life” minus “success” (or money, or whatever or however one may externally determine, not personally define, senses of what that actually means, individually) equals what? What is often left is so much emptiness, a free fall…fear.

What does one replace that with? If one hasn’t really exercised that “muscle”, how can we be strong for ourselves…and, thus, for our kids and loved ones? It seems to me that for myself, it has had to be opening up to something of sustenance, and sustainability, to help me dig in and transcend the tough times, the fear-based messages that are incessantly thrown at us by society and individuals and perpetuated by the media…as someone who grew up, as so many of us, in fear-based households, it has been a long journey, one that is forever evolving, deepening and often… it’s one thing when we “adults” may not have the grist inside to draw on…however, it can certainly be even more frightening for kids, who don’t have the breadth of life experiences, and the life lessons that can be found in picking oneself up after getting knocked down, to learn that the REAL manna from heaven is inside of us, not on the outside…that is where the substantive nurturing and inner peace comes from, as I see it…

So, it is for that reason, among many, that I feel we really need to develop these skill sets, to help young people learn that value of aspirations that touch on a congruent life…to be successful in understanding the wonderful possibilities in creating our own senses of a successful life, integrating celebrations of mind, body and spirit…

In talking to a multitude of kids from all types of family backgrounds, who have grown up in all types of communities, one of the things that really strikes me, that saddens AND pisses me off so much, is how the last 8 years have really ripped out the innocence of youth... the world of being an “adult” has so dramatically, and seemingly suddenly, infiltrated their lives…earlier than they expected…certainly they are not the only generation to feel it, and they are surely experiencing it now, all of them… I see it in so many kids, in their eyes...in their questions…wondering if there will be jobs for them, wondering if there will be student loans and affordable education and healthcare…their focus on economic conditions, the disquiet they are reading and hearing about constantly, has been profound…and, whether their friends, who are in Iraq, will come back…and, come back OK…their neighbors and siblings and classmates…

Obviously, 9/11 affected, and affects, us all…and, those of us who lived in NYC felt that horror in different ways, in ways that touched us more directly and experientially than those who lived elsewhere…for these kids, who are now at least a third of their lives older than in 2001, the “world economic crisis” (as most call it verbatim) is the most pervasively impactful events that they have lived through…I remember Cooper (then almost 7), on 9/13/01, asking questions to Maia and me as we walked down Macdougal Street, the smell of the Towers still so very full in the air…and, Maia, then 11, saying to him, “usually kids look to their parents for answers to make it OK…Cooper, now is a time when parents don’t have the answers.” I remember being blown away by that comment…how absolutely right she was, and how that is certainly true today (one could replace “parents” with “experts” or “government” or “business”, and it would be true as well)…we need to help our kids develop values that will aid them in holding themselves up, in addition to also appreciating the wonder that comes from helping and supporting each other…sustainability…for ourselves, so essential, I feel, at a time when people in general are feeling insecure, unsafe, on all levels…the grounding has to start inside, for it to be really impactful…

My friend, and colleague, Bob Ciosek, has done substantive market research, on a very complex level...for major companies and entities, including in media and entertainment and politics...in his political research 4 years ago, it was clear to him that people do not generally, deeply, vote about the "issues" first, it is generally about something more subtle...

UNLESS...

“it” impacts them personally...and, there are daily reminders at this place, at this time in history, that what is going on impacts everyone...PARTICULARLY the youth, who are now conscious that they will be paying for their elder's allocations or resources and their government's "mistakes"...they see the priorities of this country, and that war and banking take precedence over education and healthcare...the cost of a semester in college...the ability to gain student loans...very real shit, my friends, that is not just words in a newspaper column...the girl at Penn State who noted that her parent’s annuities (a word I didn’t even know at 19) had lost half their value in the last month…oh yeah, she is voting for John McCain because she doesn’t want her father, who has worked hard, to pay for lazy people and to suffer as a result of what Democrats will do with taxes…

There is no escaping the reality…and, as my friend Susan Epstein said to me in an email a week ago, "I'm still waiting for people to talk seriously about changing our lifestyles and the system of consumption on which the world economy is unsustainably built, but I think the shit is going to have to really hit the fan in the guise of lots of hungry, unemployed and perhaps homeless Americans bringing that reality home. Denial is a powerful thing and human beings are so incredibly resistant to change...we do what we can and hope for the best..." How much loss or pain are we, as a society, going to have to bear before we listen and make substantive transformations…

I was thinking about this Bus Tour (while rolling through PA) and realized that “everything starts with nothing”…every great project or opportunity started just with the spark of thought in someone’s head…nothing more…the coming together of My First Vote certainly reinforces that to me…

A sidebar: this trip has been what I have called either “The IntuitionTour”…we have bee in synch, and have all witnessed first hand that thoughts do become things…early yesterday morning, I was carrying the computer early through the “oliday Inn”….saying to my colleagues, outloud, that today feels like it’s going to be a good media day…I had gotten some emails that just felt good..5 hours later, I got a call from a producer at Good Morning America telling me that they found our site (through googling around), loved what we are doing, LOVE the site, and that they want to use pieces of our footage on a piece about youth voters..this morning…it took my breath away…we worked late into last night picking clips and uploading them (the whole technology aspect of what we are doing is such a trip, editing in the back of an RV, and sending videos and documents from the road, without wires)…anyway, it was suppose to run this morning, it didn’t, and regardless, ABC wants to use us in other pieces, they say…we will see…and, certainly hope so…in the end, it was such a wonderful reinforcement for us, of what we are doing…and, we will for the next few days continue to do our version of “synchronized swimming”…on the road…

MORGANTOWN, WEST VIRGINIA, SUNDAY 4AM

2008-10-20T07:03:00.000-07:00

We pulled into the EconoLodge in Morgantown a few minutes ago, after a long, and extraordinarily productive and moving, day. As I opened the door to Room 132, the invisible wave of inhaled (and exhaled) Marlboro’s, Lucky’s, Camels, Tareyton’s from years of consumption here in 132 shot up through my entire being. A nasal salute. Looking down and seeing the burns on the “motelmoldgreen” carpet, from stamped out butts, told me all that I needed to know. I went back to speak to Violet at the front desk, (ageless at somewhere in the 62, 72, 82 year old range, with the most mind-blowing high-hair wig I have ever seen, made Sarah Palin seem like she had shaved her head) about getting a “nonsmoking” room…I learned that we had taken the last 2 rooms available…the welcoming beckoning of a bed, after our third post-2AM wrap in a row, reinforced how grateful I was to just be here, at rest…even with it being 27 degrees outside, the AC would have to keep me company during the night for some semblance of air purifying.

There are so many stories and people to talk about, I can’t even keep up with them in my head…someone asked me the other day how I know the people I am traveling with, my fellow teammates on this road trip – they are part Willbury’s, already part family, certainly part colleagues, absolutely all wonderful. It would be impossible to truly get a feel for what we are doing, whom we are touching, and what the experience is like together, without having some sense for who they, and thus we, are…the dynamics of the people and the mechanics of the environment certainly flow from there.

Menna and Yanni. Soon after EUE agreed to partner up with me on My First Vote, we needed to bring in someone to work with us to produce and edit the film productions, but coordinate the overall logistics of our initiative. I knew that I had the right people in Menna Olvera, and her husband Yanni Feder, a wonderful artist/filmmaker/editor…I knew who they ARE, the quality of them as people on top of the committed nature of their work ethic…Yanni, with his Zen-like spirit and Menna with her equanimity, openness and beingness as a “Passionate Yogini”…kind of like the female Peaceful Warrior… I laughed on the bus as I recalled how I had originally met Menna. Like so many elemental relationships, it all grew out of the “random serendipity” this one because of my interest in women’s lingerie. A few years ago, I had been given a ticket to the Lingerie trade show (what a trip that was) in my search for potential partners for the online women’s channel I have been developing. I started a conversation with Stacey Blume, the founder of Blumegirl (http://www.blumegirl.com/), at her booth, just because she seemed open, smart and wise…I could see it in her eyes. After Stacey heard what I was doing, she thought that I should meet Menna because of similarities in our spiritual outlook… and, once I met her and Yanni, I knew they were “lifers”…MFV could not have unfolded and materialized as it has without their unwavering commitment, both professionally and personally. They just jumped-in - head/spirit/body first…for all the right reasons.

Ollie. Ollie is our cameraman and young buck…24…funny, wise and a great combination of Midwest (Cincinatti) homespun with New York acerbia…the kids we interview surely connect in with him, and he’s already turned me on to one of the best sandwiches I have ever made at a chain called Jimmy Johns that is, apparently, only in cities/towns with large state Universities…like a drummer with a wonderful back beat….

Mike and Debbie. When EUE committed to backing the Bus Tour, we decided to start it off in Wilmington, North Carolina, where they own the largest movie studios east of the Mississippi…ironically, it’s where we produced ALAN AND NAOMI the Summer that Maia was born…anyway, I looked up in our meeting and said, “who the hell is going to drive this Purple Bus?” Bill Vassar, who runs those Wilmington studios, recommended to Chris Cooney, a local guy, Mike Hewitt, the top location scout down there and an all around production ace and problem solver. We had some production/logistic conference calls with Mike before we headed down, seemed like a good guy…when Menna, Yanni, Ollie and I arrived in Wilmington, we were met with a message that Mike had been rear-ended on his way to get us, and his wife would be picking is up instead…as it turned out, Mike’s short-term pain and tzuris would become our enormous bonus. Debbie just walked into our lives, and this opportunity, and became such elemental pieces on the team. Mike only suffered some minor back strain, and while Debbie was only supposed to be with us for the one day we were in Wilmington, I turned to Menna that first night and suggested that she come with us…Mike and Debbie are so great, and individually and together they have such a way with people, his resourcefulness in getting us into great and better situations, his unbelievable captainship of the driving, to working out logistical details, Debbie having this uncanny ability to be in “intuitive service…both of them, actually…they are the closest I’ve ever felt to the experience of being in total synch like with the waitstaff the one time I went to the restaurant, Chanterelle…the moment that you think you want or need something they have already intercepted your thought and are there with whatever you dreamed up…completely wild…Debbie is like a human Swiss Army Knife, there's nothing she can't seem to handle, and Mike does things like gets us a perfect spot (even when everyone said it couldn't happen) right by the Homecoming Parade at Penn State... so, I knew that Debbie’s presence would make Mike happy, and an extra pair of hands (to shoot video, drive, photograph, shop, support, produce magic) would be so welcome…and, it has in spades…all of us, barreling down the highway in the middle of the night, in a flow of conversation, camaraderie, mutual support and bonding over creating great work with wonderful people, have become an efficient and congruent team…professionally and personally…the deep conversations, the common wavelengths, the profound connection among a group that ranges from one in his early 20’s, 3 in their 30’s, one in their 40’s, and me, the elder of the group, of this journey…we represent a cross section of not only age, but ethnicities, religious backgrounds, hometowns, musical loves and beyond…as I know only too well, the building of a team on any project can be such a fragile linking…having had more implosions of intended collaborations than I want to remember, more experiences working with unyielding narcissists pretending to be givers than I can even recall, it is such a gift being with truly wonderful people who are there to elevate the dream…

It can be challenging to spend this much time with ANYONE, let alone 4 or 5 other people…none of whom do you know that well (or, at least that long)…all day and, seemingly, most of all night…so much of it in relatively little space, the inside of this RV measuring not more than 7 feet wide and 20 feet long in the main compartment…one couch behind the driver, could seat 3…one swivel chair behind the “stadium” passenger seat…a breakfast-type nook-table, with two benches that come down to form a bed…an oven/stove and refrigerator, I would have loved to cook on the longer trips, yet, the stove is the base now for our printer…the bedroom in the back, with a platform double bed, we took the mattress off, it now supports a portable Mac editing set-up where Yanni works importing the videos, then cutting together pieces for our Channel and iploading off of wireless cel phone cards (the only way to get email access)…at every turn, Mike calls out the direction of the turn, so Yanni knows to prepare the hold on the table and equipment (all secured down, yet you never know)…kind of like the instructions from a guide on a white-water raft…we all taking turns by simply flowing from one seat to another (except for driving, I did take a spin in a parking lot this morning) as feels right, a pretty fluid dance that we have seemed to have executed wordlessly…so, yes, tonight at dinner, the 5 of us (Menna left on Saturday morning to NYC for her yoga teaching intensive weekend, she will meet back with us Monday afternoon in Pittsburgh) commenting on the amount of bound-at-the-hip time that we are spending together, and enjoying the experience massively…being with these young voters – wherever we can find them - is unbelievably inspiring…

I am fading here, so much more to say, stories to tell, kids to talk about, the feelings of joy and connectivity…admiration for their willingness and openness to talk, and share of themselves generously…having their legacies, their voices, hearts and souls recorded, and broadcast on our Channel seems to really do what we wanted to – reinforce for all of them that their opinions count, that there is a platform to communicate their feelings, hopes, and dreams (while also giving them an opportunity to become even more informed), and that this is their first real opportunity to get involved in a passage that, to them, has previously only been done by “adults.” No more. They are now able to exercise a very essential liberty and privilege of American citizenship, and almost everyone, in every state we have traveled, seems to be taking this “voting thing” VERY seriously…seemingly more than ever.

You can’t believe what it feels like to hear several kids at Penn State, looking right at the camera, and saying, “I am a registered Republican, and I am voting for Barack Obama.”…

I really get that I am doing the work that I am supposed to be doing…when I walked away from being a lawyer, one of the voices in my head said (sometimes in a whisper, sometimes screaming), “do something important”…I always felt that yearning, when I was lawyering, for “more”…not for money, but for those moments that make one’s spirit sing, that hold time in a transcendent almost standstill, that give one those sometimes too rare opportunity to feel the integration of all aspects of one’s life…I am blessed….

Been eating at Denny’s more than ever in my life…I feel like I’ve gained 20 pounds….maybe I have...

IT IS THE WORST OF DAYS, IT IS THE BEST OF DAYS"

2008-10-18T06:25:00.000-07:00

As America seems to be burning before our eyes, the foundations of what so many have come to believe in melting on a daily basis, as the news reports incessantly pummel people's psyches with not only "bad news" but fear on all levels, I am having, without question, one of the greatest experiences of my life...I am feeling incredibly fortunate, and grateful, to be able to have these days on the road, to focus in on the wonder of this opportunity and to be touched each day by the passion of America's youth, their hopes and dreams and fears and concerns...and, to so many, they do not see those hopes and dreams becoming closer, and clearer, through the front windshield...they wonder if those desires and intentions are actually somehow receding somehow in the rear view mirror...what is real, they ask, and what is an illusion? Or, is it that "Objects in the rear view mirror may be closer than they appear"? Clearly, time will tell as their personal stories, their life experiences and the future of this country unfold...

It is quite extraordinary that we are here, in the heartland, right on the heels of the deluge of recent events, from the Wall Street meltdown to the end of the Presidential debates...so, for ALL of these young people, the issues are front and center and immediate and more real than they could ever have expected...life seems to be moving so fast for them. And, for me, particularly as the parent of two teenagers, it saddens me that youthful passion and exuberance and hope and spirit is, quite naturally, so tempered by what is going on in the world right now...fear has made a more than usual visit into all of their lives. And, it has occurred to us that the economic crisis in this world is surely fueling what appears to be Obama's passionate and overwhelming appeal to the youth voters...yes, we have spoken to McCain supporters, we have even sought more out...and, young people OVERWHELMINGLY appear to be committed to Obama...and, if they are telling the truth, and in deed the ones who say they are registered really are...and, if the ones who say they are voting really do (which is - literally - 100% of the students we've talked to), then this election should have an incredibly large turnout...it seems to bode well for Obama...

Someone asked me yesterday what are the things that I am most struck by, as we spend time with, and talk to, kids (kids?), this millenial generation, on the road...on campuses...in the streets...I would say that the primary thought is how incredibly thoughtful and informed most of them are...not only aware, they are deeply immersed in what is going on, so much more so than I would have thought...engaging with them spontaneously energizes me beyond words, gives me hope that we can shift the priorities of this country. Another thing that strikes me so profoundly is the focus that they have on the economic issues facing them and all of us...the Iraq War is huge, health care, etc., all play a part...and, economics - from the cost of student loans, to education expenses to their having to quite clearly pay the "price" for the bailout and the war and social security andandand is what is so present on their minds...it is the Big Kahuna, and not the Pink Elephant as everyone is talking about it...and, so touchingly, many talk about how they worry about how the economic issues affect their parents, and their parents' well-being and future...how their parents can't relax as they had hoped...and, of course, so many worried about themselves and their future EXCLUSIVELY...makes total sense......they seem to get it...

We were at Penn State last evening for Homecoming, the Parade was incredible, unlike nothing I have ever witnessed (other than the Rose Bowl Parade 20 years ago)...the school spirit, the floats, the small town love...we are back today, tailgating before the Michigan-Penn State game, the energy should be wild...

Thank you to all who have encouraged me to write about this road trip, and who have been so supportive of me doing this and the nature of the work we are all doing together...in a simple way, it does feel like we are doing "god's work", connecting deeply with kids and reinforcing the deep rotted feeling that WE all have (even if they don't) that their voices and opinions matter...that their vote counts, as much as their parents and their grandparents...they seem to get it...I have so many stories from the last few days, kids who touched me especially...I had hoped to get this up sooner, so I will keep posting as they strike me and inspire me...we had a great time in North Carolina, my compatriots on this bus are a wonderful group, we have developed a great camaraderie...I haven't spent more than a week straight with ANYONE other than my kids, in the last 10 years, so it's been very cool just experiencing multihuman dynamics....more about everyone later...

With gratitude,

Jonathan