Which downfield receiver to hit?

In football, the quarterback has two types of receivers, a primary and a secondary. He wants to hit the primary first, and if the play breaks down, he can throw to the secondary. Now, I'm taking a nutritional program, and one of the things she talks about is primary and secondary foods. Secondaries are what you stuff in your mouth. I'm becoming smarter about that. The primaries are a different kind of nourishment. Those are your friends, exercise, writing, hobbies, music--activities that feed your other insides. Of course, you have to rely on the secondaries, but the key is (I think) to rely less on them when you're not feeling your best. Like tonight for instance. I was feeling a little down. So I took a drive to clear my head. (good) But I stopped on the way back for a couple of cheeseburgers and fries. (not good). Now I'm still a little down and guilty about the food. (but that's ok--I'm conscious of what's going on). I'm home, eating, and thinking I gotta climb out of this. I fire up iTunes, and click in TSF jazz in Paris. Here's a good primary food--great music from a fantastic city. A couple of songs later, I'm feeling better (hearing "Politely" by Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers helps.) Then I start to think about the primaries and secondaries. And here I am writing. The primaries, to me, seem to be about action. Doing something constructive and moving forward, instead of dwelling on negatives and stuffing your gullet. Tonight was a good lesson in how to recover from feeling down and blue.

It's not a small world after all

Growing up in a small town, you tend not to realize the greater world around you. Bu as you get older, you start to figure out there's more to life than just the six square miles you call home. Riding the bike around town, you know innately there's more there. Then you move away to the big city. There it is--the melange, the hurly-burly, the bustle of different people from different places. It's like a pool. And you want to dive in and swim. And keep swimming and meeting new people, experience new things. You have to keep swimming.

Enlightenment

Is it ok to be selfish? Not in the raging, I-gotta-get-mine-screw-everybody-else vein, but knowing what you want and your willingness to achieve it? I don't think so. I think we need to be more attuned to what we truly want, and not be afraid to take steps in that direction. For whatever reason--mostly connected to ego or fear--we don't. But if you have a clear picture of your dreams, why not move boldly toward them? Because others may not understand? Or may try to dissuade you? If your sights are clear, they should understand. And give you an assist.

Ready for takeoff

I went out on my walk this morning. Usually I'm up and on my way within 20 minutes, but for some reason, I took my sweet time getting going. The walks are good for my body and my soul. One question that popped in my head was--am I ready to go? Go where? Go to the places I want to go. Not the physical places, but the spiritual places. Am I ready to be happy? Am I ready to do the things I want to do to achieve it? Yes, and yes.

Still pursuing...

There's nothing like a shower to trigger the old theta waves...

If everybody's in pursuit of happiness, shouldn't I be too? I am, but I need to be more aware of the pursuit. What is it that I'm chasing and how am I achieving it. That simple...right?

The pursuit of happyness

One of the hardest classes I took in college was philosophy. It was such an almighty struggle to pull a C there. The first day, the professor asked what people wanted most from life. Houses, cars, money, relationships all came up. He said we were on the right path, but not quite there. We're all looking for happiness. We just want to be happy. And all the things we do are in pursuit of that. We chase the material goods thinking they will give us the happiness we seek. The material comes and goes. The happiness we seek, and have, within ourselves, stays. That should be the quest. Not the hot new iPhone.

Digging in the dirt

A friend passed along a newsletter from here yesterday. It contained a great story called "The Aquifer". There was a settlement by a creek, and every year, the creek ran more and more dry, leading to much fighting among the people. Eventually, the settlement was abandoned, only to be found later by explorers. They wondered why there was no one left, especially since the settlement sat over an aquifer. All the people had to do was dig a well, tap the aquifer, and their water problems would have been solved.

The reservoirs of talent, passion, desire, happiness all reside inside of us. We need to know that it exists. It's there. There's no fear in abundance. But how do you tap into that reservoir? The newsletter suggests prayer, meditation. A quiet place, a quiet moment. And you'll sink into yourself, down the well, and into the aquifer. Then you can have, or begin to have, what you truly desire.

The strangest thing....

This happened nearly 24 hours ago...

On my commute this morning, as I was coming out of the subway station, the song "It's a wonderful world" played in my iPod. I marveled at the irony of it while i dived into the river of humanity heading to their cubicles in the sky. Then I felt this wave of tears starting to come over me. i don't know where it came from. If I had been alone, I surely would have cried my eyes out.

I still have no idea where that came from or what it means. The signal of the start of something good, profound? What?

Less is more

Lately, I'm doing less and less of the thing that I've been doing for decades. It feels different, I feel a little lighter. I don't know where this aspect of things is going. Psychically, it's a load off my mind. I think I can keep this up.

Sound retreat?

Whenever I have something big to do, I have this habit of retreating, crawling back into my cave. Maybe I'm trying to save my strength for the battle ahead. But it's a really nice day out. I've been out and about already, but it looks awfully tempting out there. I'll go out later today. I'm trying to fight the urge for a nap.

The things you love...

Is it possible for something you love to hurt you? I'm not talking about the love between people (another topic for another time). A job, a hobby, a car, whatever. Something more inanimate. You sink everything you have into it, make sacrifices for it, to the point it becomes part of you. But somewhere down the line, you realize there's something amiss. You're having trouble pinpointing it, but there's something that's wearing on you, and you can't seem to find it. Then you step away from what you love for awhile. And your weariness lifts away. You wonder, was the thing I love making me weary? How can it be? How can what I enjoyed be causing me grief? Something has been, and maybe you've found it. Now what? can you really, seriously step completely away from the thing you love? Or is there a way to come to terms with it, so you can move forward?

Sweet torture

I had to go to bed early last night--another early day in the city. I'm lying in bed about 9.30, and I smell something. Not sinister, but still familiar. What is that? It smells like...somebody grilling cheeseburgers outside on the gazebo. And not sharing. That's so cruel.

Head games

The news I referred to earlier has returned. My response? The song "I Should Care," sung by Jane Monheit, pops in my head. Hilarious. I love the way my brain works. Should I care? I should take solace in the fact that my head automatically kicked over to that song. It's trying to tell me something. But what?

I'm fighting the urge to be nervous. That's natural--nerves come. You have to let them come, do their thing, and watch them move on. They always do.

I've kicked over to 'Maiden Voyage' now. See, my brain is working a different, funky (!) way. My synapses are looking for the eye of the storm, a safe harbor in the middle of the storm.

So maybe today was a perfect day after all.

A reprise of a perfect day?

Perfection doesn't have to be this grand, huge concept. It can be small and significant. Moments in time, where everything seems to align, can be perfection. When it gets no better.

About a year ago, I had what I consider the perfect day. There were no fireworks, no cymbals crashing, no parades. Just two things, two bookends--that's all that was required.

I woke up earlier than normal that morning. The sun was pouring through my window, and it was already getting hot. I had the radio on, set to a great jazz station. They usually play some good, soft songs before switching over to classical. Groggy, I rolled over, and heard this beautiful, lilting song. I laid in bed, just dreamily listening to Herbie Hancock's Maiden Voyage. It's quiet, soft--just the way to start a day.

Work was, well, work. Nothing remarkable.

But a friend was gathering some friends for a drink at a rooftop bar in New York. Sometimes, I head to the city after work, and figured that night would be good to catch up with some folks. Caught the train, made my way to the bar. When I got to the deck, 25 stories up--wow. Right there, looking north, was the Empire State Building. So close, you could touch it. The sun was beginning to set, a warm breeze blew in. It was still warm--the kind of warm that comes at the end of the day that feels like a nice blanket around you in the winter. You just want to stay, drink, talk, laugh, let the view sink in. The conviviality of the night was the perfect compliment to hearing Maiden Voyage in the morning. I left the bar, feeling like I was walking on air. Again, New York has that effect on me.

I thought about that day this morning because I woke up, turned on the radio, and heard--Maiden Voyage. Now, it's raining, and I have my early commute to the city tomorrow. But will today be perfect? In its own way, yes.

A moment so close

Last night, before I went to bed, I went to close the patio door, and noticed how quiet it was. It was so still, barely a breeze blowing. I stared out, and just envelope me. It was a strange, good feeling, one of comfort. I feel like, slowly, slowly, I'm changing. In what direction, is still to be determined.

Peace in the oddest places

I did my deed today. Waking up much too early, but it was good to have the highway pretty much to myself. I got to my parking space early, so I took a little walk to a pier overlooking the city. A few men were out with their fishing poles looking for a bite. A radio was blaring Latino music. And even with the music going, there was still peace to be had. Bright sun, a light haze over the city. The wind was still, the water calm. I felt safe, at peace. In a place, a region that defines hurly-burly, it is possible to find a place, a moment where everything can be, and is, still. Even in a hurricane, there is a calm eye to find. And keep inside.

Livin' free, that's my callin'

There's a cloud hanging over my head. Not a dark cloud, per se. But one that's more annoying than anything. I have to work early tomorrow in the city--meaning I have to go to bed early. Meaning that my Saturday night is quite constricted. Not that I had anything hot planned. But it puts a damper on my mood. I like my freedom. Of thought, of movement, of being. Knowing that I have to do something that will be a chore tends to be a weight on me. It's gotta be done, but it'll be hard to do cheerfully. There's a feeling of constriction that dampens my mood, making it more of a chore. So, how can I be cheerful when I have to perform this chore? Hmmm.....

Playing catch up

I've been saddled for the past few days with computer problems, so I haven't blogged much. I'm still figuring out how to recover after getting knocked off my moorings. I can know and anticipate the storm (no matter how small) but once the storm passes, then what? How do I return to normal? It must be the good habits that you build that you can fall back on. The eating, the writing, the music, the meditation. All of those things are a good foundation. I just need to be aware that they are present.

I can't get you out of my head

For whatever reason, I can't get the song 'China Grove' by the Doobie Brothers out of my head. Usually the soundtrack that flows all day in my head changes tracks. Today, no changes, only that song, and that group. Weird...

Woke up this morning

You can't always get what you want...

People are still up in arms about the ending of the Sopranos on HBO, one of the best series on TV. I didn't see it (!), but from what I've heard, it was pitch-perfect. The creator of the series trafficked in the morally ambiguous, the unconventional, the murky. That's what made the show great; that's why fans loved it. And now they're angry because they didn't get what they want? The creator, David Chase, never gave into convention. Why start now with something derivative? And, life is messy. Nothing's rarely settled. It's a cycle, continuous, flowing. And hardly comes with a nice bow with which to neatly wrap things up.