That which seems small

When I got home tonight, I went to turn on the TV and I stumbled upon this book I made for my Grandma last year. I re-read a good portion of it and leafed through the photos. The book is titled "My Life, My Family." See, Grandma wrote up her 'bio' for her church group book club because they asked her to share her life story and she entrusted me with her short, hand written notes. She said she knew I would keep it safe.

Instantaneously I knew I wanted to make it into something, but I tucked it away for a time. Coming back to it later, I emailed the fam and asked them to write their favorite stories or whatever about Grandma and I would make it into a memorable book for her.

It took several months to get everyone's stuff and photos together and to create it. I found this awesome online book publisher called The Book Patch and ordered up a few copies intending to give it to her on Christmas day.

When they arrived I was shocked at how well it turned out. A full color, soft cover book (much like a Berenstein bears book...) was under $10 a piece. Crazy, I know!! Anyhow, when I presented Grandma with her Christmas gift, she cried and so did I. She could hardly believe that this effort was made on her behalf and she was so proud. She would thank me over and over when I saw her for it, for almost a whole year ahead.

Anyways, when I look back at it now I think that was the smallest but biggest thing I did that entire year. I took an idea and made it something so valuable to a very important person in my life and I'm so glad I didn't dilly dally and forget about it.

All this to say (like I always say, but usually in a more ambiguous way) there's magic in the small things, you just have to find it.

Peace out. Love you Grandma!

The Humor in it

Sometimes I like to watch the creatures of the world in the morning. So busy at work, spinning webs, collecting sand, sparring over the last few seeds in the feeders. A universe full of tiny worlds inside of bigger worlds.

The tiny worlds mimic the human world, with their hierarchy, status in the food chain and again, that general busyness. It's in these moments where unity is so present in my mind, I cannot fathom the want for ill manners and disregard for all that lives...

There is so much vulnerability in simply being and still that same vulnerability appears to be somehow lesser to the drama of humor and story telling. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a jolly good time as much as the next person, but to me there is this discrepancy in value. In order to be considered interesting or well-liked, one needs to possess this rambunctious quality of entertainment, where the more introspective persona is 'too serious' or 'boring.'

I tend to disagree. I find tender people, who put their hearts on the line really refreshing. To me, they are raw and real.

As that introspective vulnerable individual, it's easy to get lost in the sea of laughing drunken faces. Faces that on occasion become almost demonic in their lack of integral quality. Not all the time, but at times, I prefer the busy spider. He/She has a purpose in each action and literally lives inside a state of susceptibility. There's no covering, no mask, just acting out the mission it serves inside the giant world. Is that mirror there for a reason? Is it our function to simply be mused and amusing? I tend to think not, but who am I to say.

Maybe there's a balance to all of it, for there is an underlying truth in every joke, as much as there is a lonely sadness beneath the one telling countless egotistical tales from the past to any open (or closed for that matter) ear. And so the cycle competes itself, no not completes, that was intentional. One side covers for the other, while the other uncovers.

And that's all I have to say right now.

It reminds me of...

Chris Cornell might beg to differ in all his liking of things that don't remind him of anything. That said, many years ago I used to frequent a karaoke bar called The Otter. A tiny, kitchy little place with odd memorabilia, sayings and a tremendous painted mural on the outside street wall.

Inside was nearly always packed with hipster type locals being stars. The acoustics were foul, the beer was chilled but not cold, and fun times were never far. Hanging from the ceiling is an antique style car with two dolls in the front seat that match the era. The old woman with gray hair is wearing glasses and a flowery dress, the gentleman a gray suit (at least that's how I remember it...) It took me a few years to even notice it was there.

I said to the gentleman I was talking with that it reminded me of this poem I read in English lit. It was about a very old couple, who loved each other very much but they were done with life. One Sunday afternoon, they dressed up, went to Church and took a drive that ended in their successful, albeit peaceful, suicide. They died holding hands in their Sunday best in what I imagine was their most prized possession, their antique car.

I searched for the poem/story, but was too impatient to wait to write this. But, what I wanted to say is a story can be found in every space, every person, every inch of this world and it subjects us to more meaningful thought.

How was the story meaningful? I suppose for me it painted a romanticized vision around something I definitely resonated with during that class. It represented a love bond that did not want to be broken. A reverse Romeo and Juliet, if you will. Fiction is as fiction does. Draws us into corridors we can't experience in the drudgery of mundane existence. And that is where creation begins. We are born creators, without imagination we are simply mortal beings existing to exist.

In summary, surround yourself with others who paint a vision around what they see, sense and experience. Logic is for work and necessity, but vision makes the Earth spin and is also how we find out anything and everything.

The tiny monster

It was a gorgeous day in Minnesota today. I sat outside catching up on some phone calls and I kept hearing this noise underneath my front deck. My imagination envisioned a giant snake or alien out of a movie creeping towards me and the extreme reaction following its exposure.

As I stood up to go inside, I discovered the tiniest of birds about 24 inches from where my foot was. It was down a step, so I didn't see it. This tiny bird scarcely moved. I'm terrified of birds, so I spoke to it ever so gently as I backed away slowly. "Hello. Are you all right? Are you injured?" I said, as though it could hear me.

I walked indoors, nonetheless, and thought I'd check on it in a bit. Alas, the symbolism wasn't lost on me, nor is it an uncommon message. But, I'm always glad to hear from the Universe. To me, it's a clearer message in symbol form. Aside from being a firm believer in the 'still small voice,' I often find it difficult to hear... Or so I think.

I poured a new cup of coffee and turned to the door, walked out and the bird was gone. And I'm left to wonder.

I'm going to spell this out because people tend to say I'm too vague.

A. The imagination blows up the unknown into things that are scary.
B. Most often things aren't as big and scary as you think.
C. If it involves somebody else, maybe the big scary thing is a result of their injury or insecurity.
D. Maybe it's just a bird and means nothing. (If you don't believe in messages from the environment...)

Well friends. I do believe in messages from the environment, I do believe in symbolism and I do believe my brain is frightened enough to envision my worst nightmares out of the tiniest of things. And if it does involve somebody else, they probably don't mean me any harm. Just like the tiny bird.

Ironically, I was still a bit frightened of the tiny bird, but I persevered in engaging with him/her. I was so afraid it was injured and I didn't want to leave it alone to die. And that's another message from the Universe about me. I care, even when scared.

And then you take these messages and you run ahead into life. Sometimes you tip toe, sometimes you hide, others you strut like a mo-fo. But, you do it with the awareness to hear what's meant for you to know so you can know you like never before and impact change in yourself and change in the world around you. And nothing and everything more.

Peace and light. Forever shameless.

Pink Full Moon in Scorpio

We are never strangers. We've met many times before. With each 'new' relationship we find a version of ourselves reborn. Who are you, that is also me?

When I saw the light in your eyes, it shone upon my face and I was renewed. The darkness did follow with the unfolding of each layer you saw in the me, that is also you...

This is the theme. Scorpio transformation comes from the deep feelings we have in relating with others in a non-superficial way. Following the sign of Libra where relationships are give, take, friendly and diplomatic partnerships we find what is raw. All the hurt, joy and lust swell and collapse inside us, if we see it that way. But more often than not we displace it onto the beloved (or hated) other.

It's hard to know thyself through another. When we're tangled up far inside, it stings (Scorpions tail) when they (we) are let down. It's incredibly personal, this betrayal that comes from the super high experienced in the new. There is no room for detachment. The feels are all or none.

To know that your ghost knows their ghost. And senses are far more than words. That is the Scorpio energy. Nothing is lost in the energetic ether, we can feel it pumping blood to our veins.

A beautiful dance within the matrix. Do I take the blue pill or the red pill? Who should I become is the decision we're truly making. When we decide to commit to another person, we're also committing to loving and being the part of ourselves that they've drawn to the surface.

Did you draw on my domesticity and desire for security? Or did you breathe life into the creative child who lives inside? Do I begin to question everything I know because of you? 

So on this day, be inside of this. See who it is that you are in your most precious relationships. Is this the part of you that you love, or are you performing a dance because it felt good on the ego? Scorpio doesn't like that. She doesn't give two shits about your security. She'll draw someone into your life to destroy that security if she vows another part of you is ready for fecundity.

And this is where life beings. With desire so strong it won't be denied by even the most tenable. 

invincible heart

I was thinking about heart break a little bit this evening. For whatever reason, I had this vision of a cartoon drawing of a heart. Although he/she held no swords, there were millions of battles behind him/her. He was sweaty and bleeding, but held an enormous toothy grin on his face and surrendered forward forever more.

It is from this vision that I realize heartache can be a choice. When we say, "I don't want to get hurt." or "I don't want to hurt you." We are being fearful. What if heart was built fearless, like the tarot card the fool and continuously battled his/her way through life with that youthful virility that left him always hopeful and never sterile?

I have no answers, of course. But this vision did make me smile nonetheless. I tend to be that super naive person who enters things like said heart, but mind intervenes and tells me I'm a stupid dumb ass.

So heart sets forward with this enormous shield and ends up deflecting the very things it needs for the foolhardy journey.

Is that ironic? No. I think it's just a progressive lifestyle. Progressive in the irritating traditional sense. And due to life experience, we're unable to maintain the trusting naivete of formative years, before the battering and bruising turned mind into parent over heart.

But one question still remains. Is that progressive? Seriously, is it progressive to build walls that prevent an incredible unfolding journey, in favor of some serious stability?

Maybe, if our values are distinctly conventional. And this brings me to another 'point.' Perhaps collectively we could move in a new direction, or maybe generation millennial already is! One that is less fearful because it isn't always tempting dogma, but rather respecting it for something long gone by? Or is the attempt to escape dogma and convention a mechanism to avoid moral dilemma? Kind of like escaping the law. But isn't the justice system corrupt? Too many questions.

And in this backwards, roundabout way (as usual) I'm attempting discovery of that middle ground, where heart and mind work together to scale the mountain. Even when they are back to back... Who will win? Aspiration: no one, or better yet both.

And that's all the rambling I have for now.

Personal is best

Charles Bukowski, famous poet always stood on the ground that personal is best. And I could not agree more. There's something magical about those who face vulnerability in their lives through art, music, writing, or just character. It is this vulnerability that connects humans to other humans.

If this is true, why is it so hard to be real? Living in a world where we're told that we need this, that or the other thing in order to be happy changes us. We've grown up at the very center of it. I remember reading stupid teen magazines as a young teenager and plotting my way to an unobtainable body, instead of being told about the magic of giving freely of yourself, despite the outcome.

For some, it takes a lifetime to simply say "I love you." Is it because of the fear of rejection, do they simply not love themselves, or maybe a combination of both. That said, how liberating is it to put yourself on the line with the internal knowledge that you're okay either way.

I started this blog years ago, with that exact sentiment. See Butter is as Butter does if you're new here. And although I don't have a ton of followers, or even comments in many cases, it is liberating to put your own rare meat on the page in a shout or a whisper, without remorse.

In short, if you ever doubt being real, don't. The fake stuff doesn't carry a tune into the heart of another. Just like you wouldn't put I can't believe it's not butter on lobster (AT LEAST I FUCKING HOPE NOT!) other souls don't want those raunchy chemicals either.

Thank you Charles Bukowski for teaching this lesson through your outrageous, often disgusting tales of your real life.

If you're loved

"If you're loved by someone you're never rejected. Decide what to be and go be it." - The Avett Brothers, Head Full of Doubt

The driving force behind the desire to be loved is to be accepted, unconditionally.  

There exists innumerable amounts and types of love in the Universe. I see it as the little things. Small gestures of random kindness given freely without request. When your own cup is full, it naturally fills others.

Love is fluid like water. It isn't the rapid thunder pounding chest. It's a restless tide that files neatly into gaps. It's an old couple sitting on a bench on a sunny afternoon, silently holding hands. It's Mother holding baby and snuggling its' tiny face. A dog nestled up behind your knees. Easy, without resistance or rejection.

Why love? Well it's February 14th of course, a Holiday I've vehemently rejected most of my adult life. I don't enjoy being told what to do or how to love. I find it irritating that the heart is able to learn loneliness from the succubus that is Valentine's Day. Who cares if you aren't coupled or have a date for a made up holiday?!!

What I have to say is you're never alone. Love exists in all places, all things and in you. When you learn to laugh when you're by yourself, you've found love.

And when the natural way you show love jives with someone else's, that's more than a chemistry experiment. It's that simplicity, inside jokes and knowing smiles. That's love. 

Short and Sweet. You are love. Be love in your own way, and hey if you like chocolate covered hearts bestowed on you, cool beans. Just let it be what you like for real, not years of rampant conditioning.

Peace out. Happy Love Day.

The Real Deal

As the title suggests, this is the real deal. I recently went through an experience from top to bottom in a very small amount of time. One of those things that leads you to the point of now or never. I'll spare the gory details, but after accepting what appeared to be an amazing job offer, I ended up leaving that job for reasons of personal value and integrity.

The truth is I felt beyond repair. Despite knowing I did the right thing, I went from feeling the most abundant I ever had to glowing ashes inside the Earth. Now? I'm unemployed for the first time in 22 years and I've been bouncing back and forth on the daily from gratitude and trusting to undiluted depression and horror.

Having so much time to occupy ranges from:

• Extreme motivation
• Endless ideas
• Watching YouTube videos on techniques for business start ups
• Running on my treadmill in my basement
• Going to the gym if I feel brave enough to see other humans
• Counting down the weeks until I can't pay the bills anymore
• Attempting to estimate my tax return in my head

The stream of endless ideas, coupled with an intense desire not to work for 'the man' anymore has done nothing more than drain mental energy and cause a feeling of incompetence. In short, I accomplish something and run into a roadblock. Start something else, yep, roadblock. See JaySeas Tees for example.

Well after dinner with Grandma and watching a Hallmark movie called Love Locks, I stumbled upon a Jim Carrey article about depression. The article linked to the Elephant Journal, which lead me to a writing sample submission form. I went looping through my blog and decided upon The Heart is a Muscle. Reading through the posts on this blog turned a screw inside my brain and here's the real deal.

All of the posts on this blog are straight from internal source. There is no marketing strategy. There is no desire to write to a specific audience. There is nothing formulated about it. It's straight from the moment and direct from the heart. And I realize, that is how I want to live my life. These roadblocks aren't there to trip me up, I AM the roadblock by way of being incapable of the inauthentic performance the YouTubers want me to be.

Although this doesn't solve the dilemma, it's a little like being handed a garage door opener when you've lost your house keys. It reminded me that although I am naive and I DO NOT live in reality very often, I can't lose that. It's the most important thing about me and I don't need to pretend to be somebody else to be successful, I simply just need to be my weirdo self.

And so, I'm back and forever shameless. I hope you derived something of value from this post. Peace, Heart and Soul to all my peeps.