I suppose I have to credit this entry to a song by a man named Dobie Gray.
And in a minute, the world could strike a chord and the music could change speed.
So be ready to dance. That’s what I say.
I think there are a few details which should be included in our life. We have to eat a little and talk a little. We have to dance as much as we can and we need to sing as often as possible.
We need to find our way out of this craziness and to drift away, like Dobie says.
We must find whatever it is, in whichever way possible, and yes; by any means necessary – we have to do whatever it takes to stay sane in this crazy world. Yes, the world is crazy.
So am I, for that matter. And I assume I can say the same thing for you as well.
Everyone is crazy in their own, crazy little way.
Some are more up front about this and outwardly about their craziness. Some are more closeted about their crazy ideas. And some never dare to be crazy at all – how boring they are, is what I say.
Hence, this is life and here we are . . .
Nothing is a guarantee. Not later. Not tomorrow or anything other than this moment right here and right now. This is all we have because it is true – life is fleeting.
Moments can peel away like days from the calendar and you can make a bet, right now, if we are not careful, we can spend nearly all of our lives, wasting too much time and investing in all of our trivial or silly little chaos.
Do you know what this is called?
It’s called bullshit!
We can miss moments or minutes at a time, and then this adds up or combines and turn into hours or days. Then yes – we can miss weeks and months and maybe even years, all because we did nothing but invest in our times of crisis or chaos.
See what I mean when I say this is all bullshit?
It is far too easy to go emotionally blind. It is easy to lose time or misplace our true priorities.
This happens far too often and yes, it’s easier than you think.
If you don’t believe me – think about all of the wishes you have. Think about all of your dreams, which have either been lost, forgotten or simply been differed because they lost their priority – or hence, since you allowed yourself to lose priority and somehow lost your place in line, think about the life you have as compared to the life you want. Think about the skin you want and the skin you’re in.
Is this a match? Are the two examples of life a match?
The skin I want. The skin I’m in.
The life I want. The life I live . . .
And if the two are not identical, then what would have to happen to make the life you have become the life you’ve always wanted?
I ask this yet as simple as the question is, I often hear people remark, “I don’t know,” when it comes to question like this. But I have news.
The truth is everybody knows the answer to this.
It’s not the answer that’s the problem. No, it’s the dedication to the effort and the work it takes to make this so, which is what intimidates people the most.
Remember?
Faith without works is dead –
and so are the dreams we have.
Dead before dawn.
However, it is morning now. I write to you at the start of a new day. I am writing to you from a place which is not typical nor is this a place where I am usually am, so I offer you this remotely, of course with my love in my hands and my hopes and my heart full with desire. I am elsewhere for the moment but still with you and perhaps this is more physically so now than ever before.
I am not in my so-called workshop or the laboratory or the writing room, which I have built in my mind – I am offsite, so-to-speak, and at the same time, I am here, which is exactly where I have always been
Right here
And I come to this –
I need to find peace. Just like the rest of the world.
I need a break from the tension. I need a beautiful eruption to take place, which is not only a loving rebellion from within; but more, I have decided to further my life and revolutionize my peace by making this my priority.
No more senseless arguments.
No more fights or wars because of all things I have learned, fights and wars are more costly and the damages are truly expensive as well as irreplaceable or unfixable (at times).
No more internal battles with the inner whispers unless, of course, those whispers are chants to lead me towards my new mantras of peace and happiness.
I’m not asking for the world. And to be clear, neither are you.
I suppose neither is anyone because, after all, the only thing that anybody really wants is their own place in the sun, their own spot in the shade, a place to be themselves, a place to sing or dance or to draw or paint or to find a way to express themselves; whether through art or some kind of outwardly expression – we are all in need of a healthy (or even not-so-healthy) outlet.
We all need to find a way to drift away.
(Thank you Mr. Dobie Gray)
I have told you this in journals before about my dreams of driving away in a red convertible, with the top down, and the wind is blowing through my hair.
Well, this is not a possibility for me to do right now, at least not today. But in preparation, I have decided to let my hair grow out – so the wind can blow through it.
I am in search of that perfect bowl of soup and hoping to drive through New Mexico and find one hell of an amazing peach cobbler and to drive through a small, lazy little town where everyone says hello – and on our way to Santa Fe, I want to think about the fact that it has taken me decades to get where I am, which means that everything from this point onward is immeasurable in value and yes, time is truly irreplaceable and precious.
Do I want peace?
You bet your ass I do.
I want this more than I want to pull off my trick or find that old sense of fashion and pull of a look, like the one which I have in my mind. This is an outfit with a shirt and tie and a me in a vest and this is when I stood in front of one of the largest companies in the world and presented a wellness and mental health recovery program – I did this to humanize and normalize the fact that everyone is recovering from something and especially in the post-shutdown world, we are all people; we are all alive and perhaps not equally well – but still, we all have to find our way on this big rock, called a planet.
We must find whatever it takes to bring us a sense of peace or, at minimum; just to stay sane, we have to find our way to the place in our hearts, in our minds, and to find that center in the world or that little corner of Earth and a place beneath the sun so that whenever we choose, we can either howl or scream or dance or sing.
The choice is ours to make because this place is ours to have.
If it were true that all of our fears were as real as the floor we walk upon, then yes, I say be mindful of the trapdoor because we can fall through this at any time. And yes, the sky could fall.
We could miss our targets or hit the wall. We can go crazy, but not in the good way.
So in the case of our fights against chaos and peace – let this be our final battle.
To hell with the doom and gloom.
To hell with impending bullshit or the battles we have to face.
To hell with the wars and our so-called enemies because to them, our suffering and our anxious anticipation is their victories.
It’s not about win or lose for me anymore because if that were true, and if everything was really about win or lose, then I would still be behind enemy lines and fighting every unneeded or unnecessary battle known to mankind.
I think I’ll have to go with the lyrics of a song by Dobie Gray –
“Give me the beat boys and free my soul.
I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away.”
Our time is too precious.
There are only so many times when you and I will have the chance to walk beneath the quarter moon and find the time to enjoy the scene of say, a street artist, or hear a saxophone player in front of Little Havana, down by Lincoln.
Time to let my hair grow long.
Time to make my dreams in the Motherland become a reality – and as for the Mothership – she is out there too.
Waiting . . .
God, I love the dreams in my head.
I almost love them as much as I love sharing a meal with you, or say, having an espresso or having a taster’s test of different cheeses, or finding a little place out of nowhere, to which maybe it’s them – maybe they have the best bowl of soup or the best peach cobbler.
And if it is –
Then fine.
Maybe we can find a place where they serve the best apple pie or the world’s best cup of coffee – somewhere in Sonoma, or in Paradise, or maybe we can find a street artist, undiscovered by the commercial world who could master the true forms of sunlight on a canvas and who puts Kinkade to shame.
My hair isn’t long enough yet – but I’m doing my best to grow it out and getting ready to find my red convertible.
That is, if you’re up for the ride
of course . . . .
The Written Addiction 