Skyday

I had an amazing sky day today. I was blown away every time I looked up. It started off with this amazing full moon first thing in the monring on the way to work.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame

The clouds we floating and breaking apart in front of my eyes at lunch.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame 

Later they were holding court at the pagoda.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame 

There was a massive full rainbow on the way home from dinner.

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame

Thank you sky for the show.

Tapped for Greatness

A friend of mine is going through a difficult time and asked me for some advice. I hope he/she doesn't mind that I am responding publicly. I chose to share my response on this blog for two reasons: I am hoping that others will be able to help us and offer advice in the comments. Secondly, perhaps other people are suffering from a similar problem,  and this post and subsequent comments may help them as well.

My friend has been dealing with a lingering state of depression and anxiety. He/she was able to pinpoint some of the causes of this condition in an email:

How can I hold my head up high even though I am talentless? I walk around and see so many people who are so good at so many things, and then I say to myself, "Did you ever stop and think to yourself that you have no talents that rise above the mediocre?" Then I feel bad about myself. Why shouldn't this make me feel bad? I need to know how other people exist in the world, once they realize they aren't "tapped for greatness" or "masterly in X"? I'm not extremely good at anything, so what right do I have to feel extremely good?

Wooh! Deep breath. I want to write a thoughtful, understanding and tender post. I have been thinking about little else  today, but as I sit to actually scribe the half baked ideas I have been carrying around all I day, I am drawing a blank. The place most of my ideas began today were with my daughter. You see, she is not really really good at anything yet. She is five and a half. Most of the students I teach are not really, really good at anything either.

The question I kept asking myself is- what would I say to her or them, if they came to me with the same problem? I would probably say that labels like good and bad are arbitrary markers we place on skills and talents and processes and products. They are as useless as terms like success and failure. We should judge our skills by how they enrich our lives and the lives of others. 

I have never been a big proponent of the concept of talent. The idea that some people are born inherently "good" at something rubs me the wrong way. We are as "good" as the amount of time and energy we put toward said skill. Yes, I know the Mozart argument, and I am sure there are some freak genius who are simply born with "it." But their inborn talent should not make the rest of us doubt or question the value are own attempts make. We can either choose to shoot 100 free throws before going home or we don't, but the level of success with any given skill has to be proportional to the amount of time we invest in said skill. Having said that, maybe we don't all need to be Michael Jordan. This concept of being the best is very American, and I one I have discarded long ago. I don't need to be the best. I am fine just doing.

I am a big fan of the amateur.  I am mediocre at many of things: I can take decent photos, I have been playing guitar for twenty years but can't carry a tune, people say they enjoy my writing, but it is riddled with grammatical mistakes and is often too raw. I would not say I am a good photographer, guitar player or writer. I struggle with being a dad, son, friend, and teacher. I can't cook. I am not athletic at all. What I am trying to say, is that if I did an inventory of the things I feel I am "good" at, it woulnd't be very long.

So why am I not mired in anxiety and depression? The answer: the things I am not good at bring me joy. I do not see the guitar as a ladder to climb. Sure I would like to get better. Yes, I enjoy playing on stage. I wish I could be on stage more often. Hell, I wouldn't mind being Eddie Vedder, but I do not play the guitar to be good. I play because it brings me joy. Alone in my room, fingers on strings, voice barely audible. I take photos and hammer the keys on this blog because it makes me happy. There will always be better photographers, better writers, better people, but I cannot concern myself with what other people do. I need to keep moving at my pace on my path.

I know it may be too simplistic and perhaps the whole life journey Zen path thing has grown tiresome, but I see it all as a journey. We are here for eighty years then poof! Gone. That's it. I have no time to waste worrying about why I am not good enough on some imaginary scale. I want to learn and grow and explore and find people, places and things that excite me. I will fail. I will succeed that is fine. It's all I got. I do not compare myself to others or try to compete. I simply do. I am.

So if Kaia came to me and said that she isn't good enough at anything, I would tell her to forget about trying to be good and just find things that make her happy. Do what you love and don't worry about whether or not you are good at it. Maybe you will find a talent and maybe you won't, but you cannot stop because of some arbitrary evaluation. Find a batch of things and people that make you happy and nurture them.

Saw this video from one of the comments and seemed very relevant:

The irony is that this friend is talented in so many fields. I just hope that he/she can begin to see that and understand how much joy and inspiration his/her work and ideas bring to all of me....Maybe the rest of this post should be in an email.



What advice do you have? Please leave some comments. I am sure you can help.

Welcome To My Show

I said welcome to my show
It's just a-you and me baby
We got the whole damn night to go

You're holding out on me, while I'm on fire ...

This post is for Shruti.

It is 1983 I am nine years old. One of my most impressive skills is playing air guitar on the couch when no one is home. I grab scarves from my mom's closet, (shhh yes I sometimes put on some eye liner and taste the lipstick.) I have tight leather pants, not sure where those came from, and a sleeveless fishnet shirt.

The broom is my guitar. Pyromania my anthem. I snarl at the crowd. Throw my head back. Strut. Jump kick. Bang head. I am a rock star and of this fact there is no doubt. I will be alone until my parents come home from after work. I am alone a lot. The music is my babysitter, my best friend, hell Def leopard might as well be my parents.

I know every song, every windmill guitar riff, every drum solo. I see the mobs of fans. I smell the smoke. Feel the hot lights. I play the record over and over...It is all so important so serious so real. I tell these stories, sing these songs all by myself and as the  arena pulsates at the feet of the couch.

Quantify

tell me what kind of gauge
can quantify elation?
what kind of equation
could i possibly employ?

Ani Difranco

I get in these moods, left over from my angst filled drinking days I suppose- these bouts with an unnameable loneliness, an unpalatable malaise that can barely be assuaged by low hanging E minor chord or a thick bass line. Marinated in a blues yet to be discovered, I wallow in a state of morbid funk that oddly resembles joy. Knowing I am a wilting flower waiting again to bloom. I bow my head and patiently wait.

cc licensed ( BY NC SD ) flickr photo shared by sleepinyourhat 

I burn with the desire to create, but opt out and allow apathy to man the jukebox. Long dirges fill my ears as I ignore the words I could be writing. This garden is sown with boredom and rarely blooms, but it is a field to which I have grown accustomed. I first laid roots at the age of eight and have tended and watered the muddy field ever since. It is home. Comfortable. Familiar.

I am not unhappy here. Not by any means. The sick part is that it is in this very depression that I often find the simplest mirth. I play my sad songs...gone is the wine, the air clear of smoke, a beautiful wife to my side, a growing family upstairs, and me and my state.

Words help. The strum of a guitar. Lost in a book. A few hours of sleep. In the end, I know that this is where I will always return. 

Both Pools

Thought that I'd been on a boat
'Til that single word you wrote
That single word it landlocked me
Turned the masts to cedar trees
And the winds to gravel roads

It is no secret to people who know me, that I can be weirdly stubborn and obstinate about a great variety of things, only to become obsessive with the very things I was apathetic about a short time before. Let me give you an example- My friend Ari over at We Buy Balloons, was in love with Josh Ritter. he implored me to check him out, and although I had heard and loved Long Shadows from Bored to Death, and in spite the fact that I had downloaded several of Ritter's CD's I was still lukewarm about his music.

Every few weeks Ari would ask if I had listened to this or that song and I would reply with an tepid shrug of my shoulders. Somehow, somewhere Bryan Jackson sent me a cover of Girl In The World, and my curiosity was ignited. I have another terrible habit of needing more than one person in my life to love something before I get into it. This drives my wife crazy, but where was I....oh yeah my sudden obsession with Josh Ritter.

I began to listen to everything. His songs were like photographs, no like films. Stories? Plays? They were simply perfect snippets of art that told tender tales of being human. I became lost in the simple yet beautiful harmonies. I was  engrossed with the prose of his lyrics.

That was several months ago, and since that day, Josh Ritter is played in my house at least once a day. You can imagine how excited I was when I found out that he has written his first novel Bright's Passage. It was difficult for me to find it here in Jakarta, so I bought a ciy when I was in NYC. I just finished it today.

Bright's Passage is a simple, well written, and perfectly paced debut novel, by a talented songwriter and observant storyteller. Reading like many of Ritter's songs, it is a story of survival in the face of war and destruction. A master of obscure and bizarre situations, Ritter places us in the hills of Virgina at the end of WWI. A small band of shallow characters are brought to life by his lyrical prose. You can read a much better review and synopsis here.

I simply wanted to take this time, use this space to share this delightful little book. This is the kind of novel that makes us aspiring writers think, "I can do that." But on closer inspection, one realizes that it reads so easily, because it is so carefully written. With an astoundingly economical prose and poetic flair, Ritter does what we all want to do- he turns a simple song into a timeless novel. If you don't know Josh Ritter as writer or songwriter, I suggest you jump in both pools.

Pretty cool to see Ritter himself respond on Twitter:

cc licensed ( BY NC ) flickr photo shared by Intrepid Flame

Celebration Not Deprivation

When I first quit drinking nearly seven years ago, going to bars and being social was very difficult for me. I had built my identity by being "that guy," at the bar. I was fun, loud, and I often drank more than anyone. After I quit, I became the quiet one who would nervously watch everyone else. I hoped that the real me was still worth hanging out with, but I wasn't really sure. This social anxiety coupled with my strong physical need to drink, and the missing longing for nursing a drink or slamming a shot made bars not so much fun. So for the most part, I stopped going.

But then, I decided to take control of my life and my addiction. I wasn't going to allow alcohol, or in this case the lack of it, dictate how I socialized. I brainwashed myself to thinking that I was going to be okay. I decided to place greater value on a clean cold glass of water.

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo shared by Oliver Degabriele

Amidst the smoke and grime and stink of booze, whenever I felt wanting, I would focus on the crispness and the clarity of the water. It was a metaphor of sorts for my mental change as well a physical affirmation of my choice. I would sip the water and really feel and taste it going down my throat. Every glass was a cleansing of sorts.

I am sharing this story, because I am using the same technique with my attempt at going vegan. This time I have substituted the booze for dairy, and the water with clean crisp vegetables. I am hoping that instead of trying to find complex recipes that try to substitute things that cannot be replaced, I am going to focus on the perfect flavor of a raw cucumber with salt. Or raisins with shaved carrots. Maybe some garbanzo beans and mint.

I want to simply enjoy the flavor of food in general, but particularly vegetables. My goal is not to deprive myself of anything, but to celebrate the things I love, mainly fruits and vegetables. Of course I still miss a great glass of wine and no glass of water will ever be a tumbler of scotch, but we make choices to help clarify our lives, and this choice for me is just that. I want to remind myself how good fresh, well-cooked and simple vegetable dishes can be.

Food like all things in life is a habit (addiction) so if we want to change old habits, we need new ones.
I had a great dinner tonight. One that I made up on the spot and pieced together with what we had in the house. Nothing fancy, but it was tasty. I am full. I enjoyed it. Just like a clean glass of water in the midst of a bar. Day one...so far so good.

Butter bean, garbanzo bean, and edamame salad with bean sprouts and golden raisins. Just a regular green salad, toast and corn. I am looking forward to payday, so I can play with some herbs and other fresh flavors.
 

Those Who Don't

I am not big on New Year’s resolutions. I deal with enough self-imposed guilt on a daily basis, so that I don’t need to burden myself with additional goals I will not achieve. I see my entire life as an evolutionary marathon. I know where I want to end up, who I want to become.  I have known who I want to be since I was about eight. I know I am on the right track. The twenty year old me would be shocked and amazed that we made it this far, but we are chugging along. I am content. I am pleased. I am proud. I do not need a list of targets to remind me of where I am deficient.

Having said that, you knew there would be a but, right? I have two things on my plate this year that have been waiting in the wings for some time, and it is time to give them some attention. The first is a left-over from last year- I swore last January that I would complete a first draft 50,000 personal memoir book project by the summer. I got to about 44,000 words and lost steam. I had started a new position at my school and never really caught my breath. One goal remains the same, I want to write  at least 50,000 words, although I may up the wordage a bit in the spring if I am on track, by summer.

My book, however,  is not what this post is about. After years of being a pretty devout and loyal vegetarian, I am finally ready to give veganism a try. I have been making excuses for years:

• Too hard with a family
• I love cheese and ice cream
• Where will I get protein
• Too expensive
• Too time consuming
• What will I eat.....

I am now ready to try it. At least for a month, though I think/hope that I can make it permanent. The impetus has been Brighde, a new teacher at my school, who has about thirty people on our staff excited and motivated to give veganism a go by participating in a 30 day plan-based-diet challenge. I am so inspired by her passion and knowledge that I couldn’t live with myself, if after so many years of wanting to try it, I passed up this opportunity. When else will I have a coach and mentor, in addition to  a supportive group of peers to help me find my plant-based-diet feet.

Brighde has asked that we share some reasons for why we have chosen to give her challenge a shot; this post is my testimony. I have written about my vegetarianism before, and I try not to be a guilt pusher when it comes to my not eating meat. People ask me all the time, why I choose not to eat meat, and honestly my reasons have changed over the years: a dedication to Zen practice, wanting to rid my life of violence, environmental concerns, love of animals and more... but honestly the reason is pretty simple.

cc licensed ( BY NC SD ) flickr photo shared by _Loaf_

I find the act of eating flesh grotesque. The act of killing another living being for my own sustenance seems wrong. There are people who kill and those who don’t. There are people who fight and those who don’t. There are people who hate and those who don’t. I simply want to be the kind of person who chooses love, life, peace. Being a vegetarian is a simple act of love for the planet and the beings that inhabitant it. Too hippy-dippy for you? Sorry, but it is the truth. Remember the evolutionary marathon? I am on my path and of course I still feel hatred and anger and violence, but not eating meat, at least for me, takes me closer to the person I want to be. It is a spiritual choice for me. There are so many choices I make that I am not proud of. There is so much consumption and consumerism I cannot free myself from, but not eating flesh is easy for me. I never feel I am missing anything.

The problem for me, over the last few years has been, justifying how I can participate in the dairy industry, feeling the way I feel and knowing what I know about where our dairy comes from. I simply cannot believe the things I do and say what I just said, and still eat dairy. But like all creatures of habit, I have found my comfort zone and stuck with a vegetarianism that works for me. This challenge is an opportunity for me to force myself into a state of disequilibrium to see where I stand morally.

cc licensed ( BY NC ND ) flickr photo shared by andjames26 

I am not sure how “militant” I am going to get. Milk, no problem. I hate it and think the concept of drinking the milk from a cow is revolting. I rarely (never) drink it now, so no worries. Eggs...meh. Not a huge fan, rarely eat them on their own. No problem. Cheese and Ice Cream will be tough. but they are luxury items and I think I will be fine. I plan on learning to make vegan ice cream and cheese...well sometimes we just don't do what we like in an effort to  better ourselves. Hell, I gave up drinking six years ago and haven’t looked back.

I am not a big fan of substituting items to try and fill the hole of meat and dairy. I choose not to eat those things because I don’t like them. I don’t want fake meat. I prefer a salad. Brighde is an amazing cook and is spending a lot of time informing us on how to supplement our diets, and I will do my best to find my comfort zone, but I want to focus on simple vegetables and grains. Roasted veggies, rice, fruits, salads, nuts.The hard part for me will be things like pasta, baked goods, cake, desserts etc....My plan is to take it slow and see how I feel day by day. 

Another reason, I am doing this is because I am so disconnected from my food. My wife, bless her, does most of the shopping and cooking. We have fallen into a habit, and it is just easier. We have about ten meals we rotate  and life is easy. With kids, after a long day at work, dinner just needs to be on the table...but I am hoping that I can reconnect with my body,  my food, and my tastes. I don’t see myself stocking the cupboards with all of the things that Brighde is recommending; I just want to focus on simple food, with simple flavor. 

We start next week and I am very excited. I have wanted to try this for a long time and I think this is a great time in my life to do this. The only obstacle I foresee is that my having a different menu will make shopping and dinner time at our house too complicated.

Are you a vegan, vegetarian, carnivore...what are your thoughts on all this? Suggestions? Advice?