The Waiting

Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting...oops...out of time...

I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night

Although it sounds rather absurd to say so, I've been dreaming to much lately.

The dreams are too close to waking and often very intense and rich with images, mostly quite surreal.

I wake and still feel tired, as if I've lived a whole day in the matter of a few minutes.

Which I suppose I have done.

The Mars Volta - De-Loused in the Comatorium - A Review

Having heard about The Mars Volta on a few prog related sites, the name of the band had me thinking that I was about to be assailed by an Italian prog band that had taken all the wrong elements from the early 70’s. Flowing capes, synthesizer scale runs up and down, up and down (and so on) the keyboard and incomprehensible lyrics about obscure subjects married to some sort of emo punk/rap hybrid to make it slightly more relevant. The song titles and few lyrics printed on the sleeve then made me think I had made a serious purchasing error as the Italian prog band became a Spanish group with serious dictionary and/or thesaurus problems. Sample title: Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of). I don’t know what it means either.

Then I listened to the music.

They’ve been called a punk Yes, a weird blend of Zeppelin, Santana, early Floyd and Iggy Pop. All true, yet they blend these elements and come up with an infectious sound that grows on each listening. There is a density of music going on and it is fun to pick out the references, a little Whole Lotta Love hi-hat in Son et Lumiere, a little latin rock groove in Drunkship of Lanterns, but references alone do not make a good album.

The style of music shifts from track to track but the band doesn’t lose sight of melody and even in the heaviest moments, courtesy of buzz saw guitar and manic, propulsive drumming, you can sense a yearning and beauty in the vocals. The lyrics don't make much sense to me but they work quite well if you take them just another instrument. Some of the spacier moments tend to feel slightly overlong, but that’s only because there has been so much music preceding the quiet parts that they don’t quite work as a respite and can sound slightly disjointed.

One song where it does work is in the above mentioned Roulette Dares, the strongest track. With a wailing lead vocal that resembles a seriously pissed off Geddy Lee, the guitar break before the chorus played at loud volumes will have you playing air guitar while jogging in the park. Recommended.

Stop

A day spent relaxing in the true sense of the word.

I closed my mind to external issues and reflected upon myself.

Then I stopped doing that as well.

Dancing About Architecture

I like music. That must be pretty clear to anyone just by looking at the titles to most of my posts.

One of my strongest early memories is of music.

I must have been about seven or eight years old and I was playing at my aunt and uncle's house while my parents were away for the evening. My aunt was getting my little cousins ready for bed and I was looking through her record collection. She had a stack of 45's by the stereo and I was intrigued by some of the titles and names of bands. The Beach Boys and Petula Clark and The Monkees. Heroes and Villains with its bright orange label and a horde of shiny black disks with titles like Delilah, I'm A Believer and Good Vibrations.

I asked if I could play some of these records and my aunt, bless her soul forever, said yes. I picked out one by a group called The Beatles which intrigued me. I don't recall being conscious of music before that time but I remember asking myself, what kind of music would someone calling themselves after bugs make anyway?

The moment, the very instant that I heard I Want to Hold Your Hand, I knew that I had stumbled upon something astounding, amazing, astonishing and so on down the alphabet. I played this tune over and over again probably twenty times. I had simply never heard anything like this before. My life as they say in clichés, changed. It spoke to me somehow. It seemed to be what I later found out was an “aha” moment, a satori maybe; not quite a deeper understanding of reality but an awareness that there was a reality and it was not what I was used to seeing every day. The closest I can find for expressing what happened is - something opened up for me. I realize that it is very difficult to use words for this type of experience; there simply are no words for this deeply felt, almost spiritual episode.

Over the years I had similar sensations when listening to music on my stereo or at live shows. A Midnight Oil show on a hot summer evening in a small club in 1984. The Mahavishnu Orchestra's first album, The Inner Mounting Flame in 1986. The Tragically Hip in a sweaty university cafeteria in 1985. Yes' Fragile album in 1979, Queen's You're My Best Friend in 1978, Keith Jarrett's Koln concert, Husker Du...

Never with the same intensity as the first time but “aha” moments none the less.

There is always only one first time.




This post is...for absent friends...

Dream - 1

The beginning is lost to me now so I'll start from where my memory plays true...

There are two groups of people dancing to music. I'm in one group but I can't see who they are as I'm facing the other group. I sense that the people behind me are in a circle but I think I am not quite part of it. The ones I'm facing are in a semi-circle and are clapping while they sway. I recognize the one at the end. It looks like Robert Fripp. Why I'm dreaming of him I have no idea and the shock almost wakes me. He is swaying and clapping his hands as well but his feet are not moving. I can't recognize the music but it sounds like I should.

The music stops and he nods at me and gestures that I should follow him. Suddenly we are outside walking by immense buildings of great age. They seem to be a mix of medieval and renaissance construction. Fripp gives me the names of each as we pass them by and it seems we're searching for a particular structure.

Finally we stop at the largest building. It is clearly old and resembles a museum that may have been used for other purposes in the past. its colour is also different from the others. It has a yellowish cast to it and its age shows in the cracks and pits upon its surface.

We go in and start to walk down a hallway. I know we're searching for something now but not quite sure what. It might be a room or something in a room. We walk down many hallways, each smaller then the last. There are no other people in the building but at some point in time a young boy has joined us and is walking just ahead, as if leading. He appears to be about six or seven years old. The hallways we are walking through are getting smaller and smaller. At first they were as wide as ballrooms but now are simple corridors. They are getting smaller and now we're walking in single file. I’m bringing up the rear. Smaller, and now I have to bend as my head scrapes the ceiling. Smaller now and I'm on my hands and feet, crawling forward. Smaller and smaller. We come to a turning and the ceiling is so low and the sides have pressed into me that I can't even crawl through, the fit is too tight. For some reason Fripp has turned into a young girl, the same age as the boy. I call to them and say that I can't go any further. They turn back to me, holding hands, and say it's all right, we'll go ahead.

I wake.

Happy Holydays!

The kids are finally asleep.

The presents are wrapped and the tree is lit up and sparkling.

It's peaceful.

Happy holydays everyone!

Shhh...

So Lonely

The one thing I don't like about blogs, especially my own, is that by its very nature there is no discussion, no give and take. It is a very solitary undertaking, and I grieve for the sharing of ideas and laughs that a discussion group has.

Blogs seem to contribute to the estrangement of people. Here we are in our own private worlds and private headspace, sending messages out into the aether but not receiving another point of view to balance our own.

Just another way to enclose ourselves.

Ironic, in that we're using the greatest mass information and communication device invented so far.

State of Grace

Driving home this evening I was listening to the Keith Jarrett Trio (yet again). This time it was Live at the Blue Note, June 4th, 1994, 1st set.

The music is powerful and mesmerizing. My wife, after a trio performance we attended years ago, called the music sensual. It certainly drew me in then and now.

This recording has some wonderful minimalist sections especially during 'Autumn Leaves' where Jarrett jams on a nice blues motif but keeps it simple and clean. As 'You Don't Know What Love Is / Muezzin' starts off, Jarrett begins his (infamous) cries of ecstasy a few seconds into the track and the trio maintins an amazing, almost hypnotic feel throughout. Jarrett and Peacock play this standard fairly straight but DeJohnette keeps trying to pull them into a middle-eastern feel. Piano and bass resist for a few minutes, keeping to the tune, but eventually join the drums and turn the song into a sacred call, hence the title. Beautiful.

Jarrett has often been criticized for his ecstatic cries during sections of tunes. He has commented that these verbal outpourings are indicative of a "state of grace" that he attains during live performances.

I have noticed two types of singing-along.

The first is when after a particulary tasty run he lets out a gasp that punctuates the moment.

The second occurs while he is playing with his right hand and generally corresponds to the notes he is playing. I believe that during these moments he is listening to a whole orchestra in his head.

The power in the performance is that these excellent musicians, masters of their respective instruments, are able to drag me right into the music.

For a moment I'm right there with them at the Blue Note...

People Are People

"Don't you know what fanatacism is? It is overcompensation for doubt."

The Manticore (The Deptford Trilogy) by Robertson Davies - p. 435 - Penguin Books 1990, 14th printing.

A lesson that needs to be learned on both sides of ocean and desert.

Right Here, Right Now

My daughter taught me a lesson on being in and enjoying the present moment this morning.

She was getting ready to brush her teeth and the toothpaste tube was just about finished, so she was twisting and squeezing until she finally spread some paste on her toothbrush.

She was so happy, she ran to me and proudly and excitedly described what she had done.

I tried to be as joyful as she was but couldn't as the normal everyday worries kept crowding my mind and forcing the fun out.

I realized that unless I made a serious attempt to stop the incoming thoughts and analyses and intrusions, I wouldn't be able to be as happy as I should for her.

And that was the point. I should have shared in her joy because together we would have created this wonderful...thing...that would have kept us both energized for the day.

It's too bad that as adults we lose or forget the ability to live in the present moment.

Got to get it back.

Feelings, whoa-whoa-whoa (I couldn't resist)

Are you feeling better today - the answer is relative, better than yesterday but not as good as the day before so what is happiness anyway. Is it as finite and fleeting as any other feeling? Then why are we so attached to it? Happiness comes and goes, so shouldn't we de-attach ourselves?

But damn, I like feeling happy.

Jeez, now I have to ponder the words "like" and "feeling" and...

Silence

After the past few days' negativity (on my part) perhaps it's better to say nothing at all today.

I'm So Glad

What is missing in life today is the freedom to create.

I’m listening to Keith Jarrett’s European Quartet. The live CD, Nude Ants to be exact. I’m struck by the absolute joy there is in the improvised sections of the songs. The concentration and sheer exhilaration in the spontaneous creation comes through clearly, even on my crappy computer speakers. The quartet is exultant.

When a job is completed in every day life there is also happiness and satisfaction but nothing as intense as what I’m sensing from these players.

It’s the closest these men will ever get to giving birth.

This will sound strange as this concert happened over 25 years ago but...I am happy for them. Somehow over the years, over the artificial processes of listening to this music, I am happy for them.

Patience, Patience

Someone pissed me off today. Severely.

I voiced my displeasure at something this person had written that concerned me. I actually took some time to calm down, understand why I was angry, put myself in the other persons' shoes and re-read the comments to try to understand the intention before I voiced my displeasure. I addressed the facts and the issues and did my best to keep emotion out of it. I wasn't entirely succesful but I tried very hard.

Now the person who pissed me off is trying to extend some sort of weird olive branch and I'm not sure I want to clasp it. Weird because it is extended with wrong assumptions and a lack of understanding of the real issues.

I am tired of turning the other cheek to this person. In a previous post I mentioned the corporate type that when they are called or challenged on an issue always try to CYA with various tactics. When all else fails they resort to the "I have personal issues that are affecting me, it's not my fault" retort. This is what is happening yet again with this person.

The question I have been thus far unable to answer is: How do I give up this unwillingness to turn the other cheek when the same situation with the same person keeps happening over and over? When can I stop trying to be "the bigger person", "the nice guy", "the peacemaker"?

I am seriously pissed off. Can you tell?

Today's listening need to try to get me to calm down: Miles Davis - Kind Of Blue

Suspicious Minds

Endemic in the business world is the idea of CYA or cover your ass. Anything that may possibly go wrong should be blamed on someone else or at least you should obfuscate facts, lie and twist words, confuse the issues by bringing in irrelevant items and when all else fails, play the old this really hurts, how could you do this to me it’s so unfair, don’t you know the pressure I’m under and I’ve got soooo much work cards.

Today I received one e-mail from a colleague that demonstrated all of the above items. I think there was a record set here.

Another problem with the corporate world is the hidden agenda and the “what’s in it for me” (or my department or division etc.) attitude.

I go through this with every damn project I’ve ever worked on in my work-life.

Of course it is all utter bullshit.

It is difficult to find someone in the corporate world who is transparent. A simple this is what I’m trying to achieve, why I’m trying to achieve it and how I will go about achieving it and the help I’ll need from your department.

And even when you act in this clear and clean way, the doubtful and dubious minds will try to uncover your hidden agenda or expose whatever falsehoods you’ve surely strewn about.

They must transfer their own failings and miserable attitudes onto everyone they meet.

Gad, I’m sick of work today.

There I go, projecting again.

Do That Thing You Do

Very, very low energy level today.

Repurcussions from past actions or lack of breakfast this morning?

Probably a combination of both.

To follow along from yesterday's theme:

The more I notice that there is a relationship between what I do and both the intended and unintended consequences of what I do, the more I need to understand what I do and why I do it.

Police On My Back

For just about every action one takes there is a price to be paid.

The bill may not come due today or tomorrow but it will come. And in a different manner that one might expect. And in a different currency.

Take a Bow

I attended a play recently that got me thinking about the relationship between the performer and the audience. I must admit that this had been on my mind as I had often read Robert Fripp’s remarks on live performance and was wondering if the ideas he had expounded held true for theatre. For more on this issue please see just about any of his diary entries from the past few tours with King Crimson.

The lead character was played by an old high school chum, which was the principal reason I went. I had a fairly good seat, about third row, stage right. The play started and the opening main character monologue had my friend positioned directly in front of me. The scene calls for the actor to engage the audience and my friend looked directly at me as he was talking and our eyes locked for a few seconds.

I felt a palpable sense of energy flow for the brief seconds we stared at each other. The flow seemed to be one-sided in that I felt a fierce, supportive energy from my self to him but nothing back. It was only when he looked away at another audience member and the flow diminished that I noticed something curious. I had expected to feel somewhat depleted after the brief exchange yet was still full of vigor. My attention was still riveted and focused on him and I felt that I had an almost limitless amount of energy to offer.

This energy flow waxed and waned throughout the performance and occurred with all the actors in various degrees, yet at no time did I feel empty.

After the play ended and I reflected upon what had happened I realized that there was a subtle energy flow emanating from all the performers, but because it had to be spread among the audience (and it was a full house) it was easily overlooked. The essence of the energy seemed different as well. Where mine felt as if I were, and I’m grasping for words here, sustaining the performers in some way, the energy I received back acted more like a conduit that allowed me to glimpse some essential human characteristic.

An opportunity was given to all of us in the audience to reflect upon ourselves and I was delighted to realize that both the audience and the performers had a role to play in this creation.

I hope I was worthy of that responsibility.

Today's listening pleasure: The Mars Volta

Albert Camus, Where Are You?

So here I was shoveling fresh snow out of my driveway at midnight. The weather forecast called for 15 to 20 centimeters of snow overnight (just over half a foot), mixed in with some freezing rain, ice pellets and flying monkeys. I wanted to get a head start on the work as about five or six centimeters had fallen already and I would have less to do tomorrow morning when I needed to leave the house.

As I was nearing the end of my driveway a young man on a bicycle pedaled by and laughed at me. My first thought was, “I’m gonna pummel him with this shovel right now.” Ok, it wasn’t quite a laugh, more of a chuckle, but I’d been working for 45 minutes already and was not in the mood.

I stopped shoveling and watched him struggle away on the bike. Taking my own dictum from a few days ago, I stopped to think about why he had laughed.

I was wearing a winter jacket, baseball hat and my glasses were covered in wet streaks, shoveling my driveway in the middle of the night, in the middle of the storm. Nothing funny there.

Had he laughed because of the Sisyphean nature of my task? My driveway runs upwards from the garage by the way…it’s not such a stretch. I looked behind me and sure enough a fresh layer of snow was rapidly filling the previously cleared area. Absurd, yes, but still no laughing matter.

Was it a nervous chuckle, the kind that some people use as a defense mechanism when faced with tragedy? Ah, that must be it. He could see that we were both just another Joseph K., knocking on door upon door, never getting to the end of whatever search we both were on. The young man laboring through the blizzard on his two wheels, dodging cars and monkeys, and I, clearing the never-ending snow had just shared a moment of clarity.

So I threw down my shovel, stuck my tongue out and caught snowflakes for a few seconds before making a snowball and hurling it at the bicycle. I missed but that’s beside the point.

Energy Generator Needed, Apply Within

A little tired today.

Wondering if the attachment to both the sadness and happiness earlier in the week has sapped my energy.

With no attachment or no focus on the fleeting part of sadness and happiness there should be more get-up-and-go.

Perhaps I'm just getting older.

Yeah, that's it.

My Aim is True

As I read over some of my writings, I feel the need to add an un-acknowledged aim to the list.

There is the aim of discovering and understanding the steps of this journey back to myself.

Today's listening pleasure (is there a theme here?): Elvis Costello - My Aim Is True

Waiting on a Miracle

I have a relative who works with very young children that have been diagnosed with autism. This relative told me of one particular child who had never developed speech. The child would communicate through non-verbal cues such as grunts, pointing and sometimes violent behaviors. The parents were quite despairing of ever having a child that could function within society without constant attention.

After three years of intense therapy (speech, music and others types of therapy) and education, the parents were overjoyed to hear their child say “Mama”.

I indicated that this was a rather sad thing as after all this time and effort, all the child could do was say one word.

My relative gently chided me and said that this one small miracle was certainly enough for the parents and teachers to appreciate that the struggle was worth it.

So, recognize the small miracles and if you add them all up, no matter who they occur to and when, they seem to combine almost exponentially to create something much bigger than the sum.

Today's listening pleasure (of course): Bruce Cockburn - Singles

Einstein's Theory of Time at Work

Doing a job promptly and well has a satisfaction that, unfortunately, has only come to me late in life.

In school, I would delay projects as much as possible and, in a mad rush, finish them literally minutes before they were due. At work I would put off as much as possible in the hopes that requests would be forgotten or do them at the last second when the boss came sniffing around. This was in order to get to the “fun stuff” in life more often. The work I did undertake was often rushed, sloppy and lacking depth.

I’ve slowly come to realize that I actually have more time for and enjoy the “fun stuff” a lot more if I simply do what I’m supposed to be doing in the first place.

My perception of time is that it actually lengthens even though I’m much busier.

The next step: Lengthen time so much that I live forever in just one day.

Oh yeah, and re-define "fun stuff".

Today's listening (and guilty) pleasure: Linkin Park

Breaking the Habit

A couple of times in the last few days an interesting experience has occurred. I have deliberately faced difficult or stressful situations with an extremely positive outlook and something marvelous has happened.

For example, I had to prepare the goals and objectives for my department for the upcoming year. A presentation was then to be given to the President and VP’s of the company I work for. Although I have no issues with public speaking, the senior members of my company are, to put it mildly, spectacularly proficient at smelling fear and quite efficient at destroying egos. I was naturally apprehensive in relation to this meeting.

I made a decision though, to face this fear with nothing but positive emotions. I went into the conference room with the determination to embrace the suffering I was sure to receive at the hands of these corporate sharks.

I was happy to be in the midst of the chum.

Then the marvelous something happened.

The meeting was cancelled.

This changing of events has been happening with regularity since I’ve adopted this positive outlook. All sorts of stressful or annoying situations have miraculously turned positive in some way.

So I’m left with some questions. Am I changing the outcome of events with this new-found power? That would be very cool and appeals to the fan-boy inside me. Am I only suppressing these stressful feelings and generating ulcers and migraines that will assail me in the near future? I dunno, I feel pretty good right about now.

There is a Buddhist notion that states: adopting a positive attitude in the face of difficulty prevents worse consequences down the line or harmful karma. If I can equate karma to habit perhaps what is going on is that these cool things happen all the time but I am only noticing them now because I’m no longer focusing on the negatives that brought me there. Breaking the habit so to speak.

Or just coincidence. Either way, I’m still feeling pretty damn good.

Today's listening pleasure: Keith Jarrett Trio - Whisper Not

2 + 2 = 5

The equation goes something like this:

Transgression + Repentance + Forgiveness = Hope

And with Hope everything is possible.

Living Colour

Sometimes the grey outside matches the grey inside.

Yet, I wonder if we often allow the grey outside to influence the potential for colours inside.

And, just as we shout at the world when we are bright red or yellow or purple, I wonder if we wish to wallow in the grey inside if only to scream to the world, look at me, I'm grey today.

So, if we can allow the outside to influence the inside can the opposite be true?

Transform the grey inside to bright red, yellow or purple and change the grey outside as well.

Embrace uncertainty, fear and suffering and face them with the certainty that things can only get better or worse but certainly will change.

It is in how you face the change that your authentic nature is revealed.

I Get Up, I Get Down

And then it all comes crashing down once more...

We need an easy to remember motto on this path, like we had when we were kids and somehow set ourselves on fire. Stop, Drop and Roll. Stop, Drop and Roll.

How about Stop, Think and Shut the Fuck Up.

Game, Set and Match

I am always astounded by the creativity and innovations children are capable of and that most adults have lost.

My son and I played a game this morning that he invented and is based on chess. He added two more pawns and a new piece that emulates the queen and the knight. He also took away one bishop and replaced it with a piece that has the same moves but can only go forward. He then replaced one rook with a piece that can only be moved side to side. He’s also said that the only way to win is to capture all the other players’ pieces.

My favourite part though is that we play on the living room floor so the “board” is only limited by furniture and walls.

It certainly makes for a slightly more physical game as we are moving around the floor and contorting ourselves to reach distant pieces.

And a really cool part is that it forces us to expand our thinking and vision as we have pieces with new skills to use and keep an eye on.

I give thanks that there are still artists and musicians, writers and sculptors that can still tap into this ability and I wish I could still be this creative.

Today’s listening pleasure: Handel's Messiah

An Eye for an Eye

Reflecting upon the notion that violence hurts both the victim and the perpetrator, I couldn’t help but remember my reaction when my son told me about being roughed up by an older boy on the school bus.

His mother and I had always tried to convey the idea that violence is not an answer to violence and although I was proud of him when he told me he had not fought back, a part of me felt that it was slightly unfair that the other boy didn’t get a chance to feel the same physical pain that he had inflicted upon my son. Right away.

The reaction was automatic and came from some core place within me.

Contrast this to when I read about some form of violence taking place in the world and I am able to contemplate these actions in an objective way. I focus on the karmic nature of all violence and feel quite smug in my supposed enlightened thought process.

How to be able to put aside the usual reactions when the violence hits so close to home is something I’ve been striving to reach.

Possible answers that deserve further reflection:

Identifying with the other boy. I have no idea of what past torments this boy has endured. Nor do I have any knowledge of what future mistakes he will make that will cause him harm.

Analyzing the habitual reaction. These feelings of vengeance only caused the spiral of violence to continue because at that moment, I was only hurting myself.

Focusing on the positive feelings. The pride I felt was replaced rather quickly by anger and fear but if I could have allowed the positive feelings more time, perhaps the negative ones would have had less power.

Perhaps.

First Things First

Why a blog? There are thousands, if not millions out there already, covering just about every view point, idea and philosophy from Anarchy to Zoroastrianism. Why add another one to the glut?

Well, this is not about those other blogs. It’s about my blog.

So, to paraphrase Robert Fripp, define the personal aim and we may get some answers to the why. And, if I define the aim first, maybe I won’t have to write anything because I won’t want or need to. Heh, heh!

So again, why? What are my aims? Well I’m not entirely sure.

There is the setting of a personal task and sticking to it for a particular length of time to build discipline. This seems to be common in many religious orders, especially from a get away from every-day life and become a monk aspect but I don’t want to become a monk or hermit for that matter. Then again this particular personal task is difficult for me and takes me out of my comfort zone and daily habits so it could act like a monk’s vow of silence for example.

There is also the act of forcing myself to write daily to develop my craft. I could do that in private of course but simultaneously allowing myself to be held up to public ridicule if anyone actually reads this, operates like a sort of Buddhist pointed stick to wake me up from the mundane or habit forming or just plain bad writing. I see that I’ve used a few clichés or stock phrases already, but hey, I’m just starting out. Have pity. Please.

This is also a way of organizing my thoughts to help me organize my thoughts.

Now that the aims are out of the way…how the heck do I accomplish them…how the heck do I do this blog thing?

Man, this is going to be hard…