Friday, March 19, 2004

Guerrilla tactics...

Imagine watching birds circle overhead on a hot and sunny, summer morning...now imagine seeing the same image framed by the bars of your prison cell window. Such is the fate of Sherman Austin, a 20 year-old student of life; not a conformer or a matyr, but a believer. His is the story of stolen youth - of prosecution, litigation, and now, seemingly, persecution. Sherman was only interested in advising against wrongful propaganda, and instead found his rights to "freedom of speech" revoked. If the intelligence of one such as Austin is repressed, then where is the world headed? Austin started a website (www.raisethefist.com), in which his main objective was only to inform, educate, and forewarn the coming of our future; and instead someone found a loophole to squelch his voice. Unknowingly, one of his sponsored links led to another called the "Reclaim Guide", a bible of sorts on how to make rudimentary bombs, and various methods of disrupting protests. This lead the FBI to believe Austin was the author of how to instigate and cause anarchy; that the young man was on a mission and that his goal was to blow up, to dissolve the Utah Winter Olympics...please, are you serious? Did they ever take the time to really listen to his words? I have not even yet as I only learned of his plight as of yesterday. The more I look into it, the wider my eyes grow with disbelief.

The totalitarian regime that is the United States is out of control - the idea of George Orwell's "1984", is coming true to life before our very eyes. We are the "Big Brother", with our 24 hour "total reality" view on modern day life; our ability to gaze into a person's privacy is open for one and all to see on prime-time television. So many people out there are sheep, following the pack with their head down, eyes closed, and content to graze on the controlled means of information. Then, you have someone valiant and ballsy enough as Austin to come along, rock the system a tad, and he is put behind bars; his balls now placed on the cutting block for all to see as an example. Think of Ernesto "Che" Guevara, a doctor, a revolutionist, a man whose patriotism was so strong that they ended in his execution - and after his death the cutting away of his hands and feet as an example, once again. But they could never cut away his voice, and that his words were stronger than their swords. Upon looking for more information on Guevara, I came across his writings, and and...my god, the man was taken from us because he spoke the truth. He sought balance in human life, a sense of individual control over one's ideas, and that education was the key to all locks. These are the people that are put down, silenced, and left to die while they rot away under their chains. But what about the masses? Are we not larger and stronger than the power elite? Are there not a multitude amongst us that believes in fabricating the right path so that others may emulate our lead? Stand up and fight for what is yours; the right to speech, the right to education of the soul, and fight against the mental slavery of the masses. Become a shepherd, and not one of the flock. The revolution has only yet begun is only in its infancy stages, my friends. It is in mine, at the very least, and will only grow from here...Knowledge is the key and now just show me the lock.

"To sum up, the fault of artists and intellectuals lies in their original sin: They are not truly revolutionary. We can try to graft the elm tree so that it will bear pears, but at the same time we must plant pear trees. New generations will come who will be free of the original sin. The probabilities that great artists will appear will be greater to the degree that the field of culture and the possibilities for expression are broadened." - Ernesto "Che" Guevara

Thursday, March 18, 2004

The long walk-about...

Home means so much to every different person, but what does it mean to you? Emotions and feelings are the same for every person, yet on an individual level they are so much more. What is happiness to as compared to me? What makes you sad may not necessarily bring tears to my eyes, right? So why then, do people lump themselves into a big old batch with the rest of the world? We are as opposite from each other in any way possible shape or form...it is the understanding of these ideas that keep us connected. That we all, at various points in our lives, have felt an emotion that rocked us to our very core. We have felt such joy that life has never felt better than it does at that very moment; a contentment in who we are, what we are doing, and, of course, where we are headed. This is the first time in years that I will be in place for longer than a season, for longer than nine months. I called my friend Butta the other day and she apologized for not having called me in a while. In Whistler, time does not exist, my man. You have time for beginning of season, and then you need to figure out what you will do with the time you will have left after season. I am always writing about the anamoly called time, but we all do lose way too many hours debating its meaning. Blah blah blah and some yadda yadda yadda and you may get my drift. I just want to make it home again one day, soar amongst the skies once again, and feel my heart be free from the moorings that so desperately want to keep it tied down. Cut it all free, and throw off your shoes...go for a walk-about on a sunny morning, feel the soft grass under your heels, or maybe a sandy beach - where ever you go, just make sure to pack a light lunch in case you get hungry along the way. You never know how long you might be gone for, right? Or if you even want to return to from whence you came.

"Everyone is kneaded out of the same dough, but not baked in the same oven."
- Yiddish Proverb

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Born before the wind...

Numbness: Emotionally unresponsive; indifferent

I sat and listened to her words last night until the early morning came...At one point she asked me where I was, and when I said I was lying in bed, she told me to get up and go to my front door. When I got there, I saw it was snowing outside, and told her so. She said, "Yeah, Todd, someone shook the bubble." I stood there for a few minutes, my head pressed against the door still, and remembered the days when someone would shake the bubble. I would wake up to the sounds of cannons booming in the not-so-far-distance, and knew it was going to be a great day. They would drop their bombs to loosen snow and make it possible for the riders to lay their fresh lines...You know the people; the ones sitting in the chair lift with you, while you are terrified by the buffeting winds and the ever-so-bitter-cold, wondering why you didn't go to Bali for your vacation this year; and we are the ones next to you hollering and screaming into the wind, full of piss and vinegar, and waiting to go rip up the gnar.

Yet, there I was last night, so removed from that place, and instead, standing inside while looking out at a parking lot slowly fill up with the white fluffy white powder I love so much. She even said as much, that, "I know it makes you happy when it snows, Todd." How does someone come to know you so well when they have only known you for so long? Is it because I put my heart out there too much, too easy, and for the last time? Yes, that's right...for the last time. This man has been through much in too short of time to go through it all again. I say it here, for all to see, that I give up the search and let her return to me. That doesn't mean the one who is now to be leaving in a short time either; for I do not believe she is returning to me after all. I only await her return for she is the safe-keeper of something I have no need of right now, and at least, I know she will keep it in a harbour of safe passage.

I never knew when it would be that I would come to this place. It is horrible, and not so nice, but at least, there is no more sadness involved. Now, I can shut off that which has begged to be closed for so long, and yet in all my selfishness, I could not acquiesce. But now? Now is a different story, as I heard words last night that I was unexpecting to hear, yet knew they would not be far away. Angels fall from the sky all the time, did you know that? They want to know what it feels like to be human, to feel pain, to know sadness; to not be so perfect anymore. For some benign reason, some seem to fall right into this man's lap because this is the second one to fall on me in the last four years. Make sense to me though because who is to say that I have not fallen myself during that same time. Now, I will walk again, go and find who I am again, and finally mend my broken wings. Maybe someday, someone will ask me again what pears taste like to me...and really want to know the answer. Feel the north wind blowing and see me standing strong in its breeze.

"Now the wind it is blowing, blowing leaves from the trees
I have got no use knowing that in time it will ease
I don't know where I'm going
I hope I get there soon
For my soul is as hollow as the sorrowful moon"
- David Gray

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

Irrational Beliefs

What you think you know about yourself, is held tightly in your fist, and you are deathly afraid to open your hand. Inside are all the beliefs you have of who you may think you are: if you are worthy of another's time and affection, if you are ready for life, if you can make it in this life...If, if, if - if only you could see that they are all just irrational beliefs that are so easy to rid yourself of - just open your palm to the wind and let the dusts of time catch them and carry them away from you. It is not so much as letting them go, as it is understanding them and the fact that they have no place in your life, and most definitely have no place in where you are headed. It is that easy and the only hard thing about it is taking the time to listen to your internal wants and know that they are the ones that make sense; they are the ones that push you forward with an intensity to be more...see more, want more, and become more. That is what makes me release my open palm to the wind and let the flow of time take care of the rest. Throughout out it all, I pay attention to the falling sands within the hourglass because no matter how little time I think there is left - I can always see there is more than enough to accomplish what I came for. Yeah baby. Yeah.

"Time is the fire in which we burn." - Gene Roddenberry

Monday, March 15, 2004

What if you only had 24 hours left in this world? How would you spend it? Who would you spend it with and where would you spend it with them? I just finished reading a book that was based on the idea of dying at a certain fixed age, and then awakening at a younger fixed age. This would happen to you over and over...and over again. Just imagine the things you thought you could fix, repair, and completely remodel. A friend of mine gave me that book and said she thought it was the best she had ever read; that is, until she reads my mine - her words and not mine. I mean, I look at the fact that my path was on the same line as the novel; except mine was real and not fictional. I was allowed to wake up with my memories intact, not new ones that are yet to be made. I was also black for 24 hours, and do not remember like almost two days in my life. But you know what? I was surrounded by loved ones who never left my side, and I was in the thoughts of so many others. So remember this when you are out walking, and you think that you are all alone...you are never by yourself when someone else is thinking about you. Even those who only come in for a season mark a strike that forever stays in your memory, right? It just seems that they may be forgotten when suddenly they are out walking alone and in need of a friend. Once again, I always feel that I am always sheltered in that sense as I have people who look at life the way I do, and so we make sure to always be around one another. Not just for 24 hours but a lifetime.

"In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life; It goes on."
- Robert Frost
You know what I really want? Someone who would just rent - or maybe even steal...okay not steal because that might mean jail time with a large man named Bubba - a car with me and just drive. Go down the eastern seaboard coast and make our way across lousy America until we made it to California. There we could stop by my friend's tattoo shop and get some ink drawn in, and just hang out on the beaches drinking tequila until the sun dropped down into the pacific ocean...then - of course my road partner would be female - we would fall asleep on the beach, under the stars, and with only a wool blanket to keep us warm.So, one day I could tell my kids what wild and crazy things their father has done and what he used to think of, and then I sit back and ask this question: so does that mean that age brings wisdom or does wisdom come with age? What about experience and the taking of a chance now and then? Does that not add the element of risk into the formula of life? Man, without those thoughts coming into prevalence, I find that existing is not enough, and that we have to do our own episodic release from the everyday to push the envelope - life is too mundane enough as it is, you know?

But, here is something I can understand...I worked until late the other night, and walked home just for the sake of breathing fresh salt-ocean air - minus the fact that I hate paying a cabbie just to SIT in his car. The night air had been brisk but not cold, and my thoughts were as numb as an inuit in his igloo...ahahaha that was a funny analogy; damn I crack myself up. Anyway, I digress, and return to the fact that the ocean was beautiful that night. The lights on the shore lit up up the breezy waves, and the train roosts were silent in their motions. For a few seconds, I stood still and absorbed my life, and all I could do was laugh; and then smile at what I have to give thanks for. Friends, an amazing woman I call Mom, a future in satori, and the makings of something I have never experienced coming around the corner. It is so big that it cannot be contained in my hopes and dreams; it is that big. It may even be years away for all I know, and for all I know that is okay for this man. This man they call Todd, that is. Carpe diem my friends...carpe diem.

"How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a dreary world." - William Shakespeare

Sunday, March 14, 2004

Nights alone, nights like these, are so important for the soul - nurturing your inner garden, so to speak. I remember a few summers ago, when I was in between Vancouver Island and Lake Louise, living in suburban hell with my Mom - the suburbia was hell and the heaven was the woman I call Gail; an angel in disguise. My brother and I were at odds...not seeing eye to eye and it hurt me so. I thought I was with the woman of my dreams - someone who would listen to my ramblings and add her own thoughts in, but a few months later that would fall apart. Anyway, this is not a story of sadness or regret - since I do not believe in regret - but, instead it is a story of how important solo time is. The moments or hours, even days and weeks of your life when you are on your own without anyone else to invade your space. That summer was a mad-thinking episode for me - actually, every waking second is for this cat - and I would spend my nights hanging out in the hot, dry, sweltering heat just preparing myself for what came next. There was a man-made lake not minutes from my house and I would usually go for a 2 or 3 am early morning saunter around it to clear my thoughts. At one apex of the walk I came across a park, and it was there that I encountered a side of me that most usually consider too childish. In all the calamity of my thoughts and wondering I was able to focus on a set of swings right in front of me, just waiting to be sat on...so I did. I sat there for a few hours, swinging to and fro, the whole time smiling with unfettered happiness that only comes from such an innocent act. I went over where I was from, what I had done, what I had seen, and most importantly, for an hour or so...was not allowed to ponder where I was going. Not to be narcissistic, but I have been told that I have a gift and I wonder, at times like these, if I am using it to its absolute advantage; its absolute meaning. There is something more for me and I was allowed a chance to find it, right? You do not go through what I went through, survive an awakening of that extreme, just to live a life less ordinary, right? Right...and, so from this moment on, I make a conscious decision to make my life in the image I have always spoke of, to make my life as a writer; to make my life worth writing about and to realize what has come before is what makes that which awaits in the future. I am not big on dedicating to many but in this piece I do it for three ladies in my life...the one who has never left my side since the day I was born, and to this very second had always been my biggest supporter. The second is one who has been there for half of my life, had always known I would one day make it as a writer, and will not let me be anything else other that - and has told me in those exact words...my best friend and always will be. The other? Huh...she is heading out on her very own solo walk-about in the not-so-distant-future and when she goes, so goes my heart. Thank you ladies...Carpe diem and never ever let the day seize you.

"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back; a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country." - Anais Nin