an excerpt from a journal

I called the temp agency to let them know I was available to work. They said they could get me in today, just have to fill out some paperwork at the office first, how soon could I be there?
Honestly? Thirty minutes. What I said? Maybe noon (it was 8:45). She said they'll be at lunch, come by at 1:00. I'll do the paperwork, but most likely won't work until tomorrow.
Convenience. Comfort. Whatever fight I have in me is because I see my willingness to bow to these things as a weakness. Not that those things make a person weak, but that I am weak against them. Like smoking & drinking & television as well -- I am wary of anything I can't not do. To be comfortable is not bad. To give in to comfort is. Like any action, its value is determned by the intention behind it. Even now I could shower, leave, be at the temp agency by 9:45. Even now. And now.

I was spoiled as a child. In 4th grade, I wasn't feeling well one day. The teacher asked me "Why don't you call your mom & have her take you home?" I had no idea that was an option. It became an option I exercised often. Once I'm allowed an inch, I'll take it and more. And never let it go. I never skipped school, but I went home early a lot. I allow conflicts and confusions in my relationships to be pacified rather than resolved. I called out of 25% of my shifts at T-Mobile. I work 1% harder than the person in good standing who works least. And even all of that wouldn't seem bad, except for I can see what it cost me. That's why I look at my tendencies like those as weaknesses.
Like the first line in the book Duende says, "Often we end up doing what we almost want to do because we lack the courage to do what we really want to do."
WHEN I make the "better" choice, it's not because I simply have the will to do the hard thing. It is because I have decided to view certain things as costly, and I don't care to pay the price they demand. But still, so often, I do give in.
Even now, I could get to the office by 10:00. But they said 1:00, and my weaker self says, "it's good enough, if not better, to appear willing, rather than to be willing."
And even though I KNOW I can go, and even though I KNOW the cost ($80+) (which is 4x all the money I have now), and even though I have NO reason to want to stay home, here I am.
Why do I settle for this??

It's a matter of separating myself from my choice. As an external force, my will is overpowering. But if I see myself as I actuaally am, empowered with my choice inside of me, this changes.
But, I'm still here. Because if I DON'T welcome that choice into me, if it remains an external force, then I am not accountable. "It's not my fault. I'm broken."
Well, isn't that what "my FAULT" means? It IS my fault.
And thus, "fault" becomes associated with "accountability."
Until I moved to Seattle, I used the name "fracturedguy." hat was how I saw myself. Inherently flawed. "Can you spot the break?"
But then I realized that I was just holding onto that illusion as an excuse. I was maintaining a constant excuse to do things I didn't even care to do.
Today Im not doing that. I have no excuse.

I am VERY good at making excuses, though. That is an almost direct result of going home sick in 4th grade. After so many times, they start to ask, Court, are you REALLY sick? The response? "Yes." Changing your story damages your credibility. Even a 4th grader knows that. But next time I wasn't "sick." I found some other excuse. Be unpredictable, be creative. Once they know one trick, move on to another. (I think you know this, too.)
I knew my weaknesses when I left Tennessee. I was very familiar with them, as I'd been their captive for years. I could anticipate the excuses that I would throw across my path, and I made ready. If I had waited until nearer the end, they would have been prepared for me. I bought my ticket to Hawaii, from Phoenix, for July, in March. I encouraged my roommates to move into a new place that wouldn't have room for me. Once those pieces were in place, quitting my job became the more convenient choice, so I knew I would do it.
I outsmarted myself, that time. I know I can do it.
Sometimes knowing you can do something is an impediment in itself. I know how to manage my weaknesses to get on the road. So, no worries. I'm free as a bird. I can clean this house over a week or months or a year. I can do whatever I want.
So why don't I?

Some of what I know of self-discipline comes from being shy--I learned to watch my mouth, to not act out, and so much more, out of a desire to not be noticed. When I would stay with my aunt Jo, she would spoil me rotten. Her kids would talk about how spoiled I was, so I felt foolish & guilty. So I became quiet, never asking for anything. (Not that that stopped Aunt Jo from spoiling me.)

The next I learned of self-discipline came from taking Tae Kwon Do. I couldn't tell you what I learned, and if it was part of the instruction, I was never aware of it. I found it through the awe and appreciation of motion.
People signing up for a lesson in martial arts expect to learn how to punch & kick, But they already have knowledge of punching and kicking, and apply what they already know to what they are learning. There was much, however, of what was beng taught that could be applied to what we already knew. We were given instruction on what to do, but also how to do it, and why to do it that way. Words and demonstration were only half. The other half came from doing. With the theory my instructor's teacher had established, I could see how the more right the motion, the more right it felt. A right-hand punch has much to do with the muscles on the left side, and we were taught to pay attention to that. We were taught the yin and the yang of every single movement. I could see that I was so much more focused in general after any week in whch I had attended three or more classes. I remember kneeling on the floor, staring at a spot on the wall (this was years before I learned anything about meditation) while others sparred. I remember the moment where I consciously thought, "You are becoming self-disciplined."

In the air again

Here I am at the Killeen airport, about to board a plane for the first time n a couple of years. The keyboard on this netbook is tiny, so expect typos.

This afternoon I'll be n Tennessee for the first time since August 2008. When I left Seattle, this was to be my final destination, so I'm glad I'm making it, I guess.
I feel like I'm going the wrong direction, though.

And... I'm flying. I had every intention of making the entire trip without leaving the ground, but this turned out to be the path of least resistance.
Um, so why am I taking it?

Everything about this feels wrong.
Anybody in the Nashville area up for a road trip?

The Path of Adversity (cue epic soundtrack music)

So, these past two months have been intense, and have made much sense out of the nonsense that my life has been for the past three years.
Like any good American, I have come to enjoy and expect instant gratification. So throughout my time in Seattle, I believed I'd learned why I was there, and built from there. So it took me by surprise to recently learn why I was actually there (and have to admit at this point that the answer to that question may turn out to be grander still).

There was a verse from the Murder By Death song, "A Second Opinion," which I adopted as my theme for moving to Seattle: "I watched you grow. I saw you fall again and again. You'd cut your knee & start to bleed, but wouldn't let the pain in. Let the dogs bite at your ankles. Let the sunshine burn your eyes. But... will you just walk away this time?"

My entire time in Tennessee was defined by taking the easy way out. I had been a spoiled child in Texas, and learned plenty about not working hard, and getting what I wanted. I was aware that this was my past, but I didn't know how to break out of it. Life was too easy, and I'd learned from my few [relatively] difficult times that life had more to teach me when the good times were gone.
I was terribly depressed. The enjoyment I got from hanging out, playing video games & watching television was always undermined by the fact that I could be getting more from life.

I'd been learning that ever since I'd moved to Tennessee, but I was never really aware of it until I met Michael, who felt the same way. He and I would spend day & night & day, at the mall, at Waffle house, and on walks across campus, discussing this very thing.
This perspective on life defined me, was me. I cared little for anything outside of considering, reading, learning about what kind of life could be meaningful to me. The work I did irritated me, the conversations I had with most people disappointed me. Other than Michael, and later Katie, nobody seemed to feel this way about life. I wanted to devote my life to something meaningful to me, and I was fed up with the distractions that seemed to make up 90% of my life. No friends, family, girls, jobs, or anything meant more to me than this devotion, and I was ready to leave them all behind. I was ready for years, before I finally did.

By July 2007, I was jobless and homeless, and completely devoted to what I considered the Path of Adversity. And life was good.
I suffered, but did not feel punished. I think that was the key. I had nothing I felt I needed to atone for. I stopped apologizing to myself for not doing what I felt I should, and just started doing it.

I have photos from Hawai'i, that make record of the beautiful things I saw. You can see me and Jeremy living in a tent on the beach, living on a sailboat, hiking, camping, swimming. On paper, the perfect vacation. But it wasn't a vacation. It was "the first day of the rest of my life" every day. In those pictures, you can see mountains, forests, beaches, but you don't see me curled up in the fetal position in someone's back yard, crying because I believed I would die within weeks, without a job or money.
This was nearer what I felt my life should be, but still too easy. I spent that week thinking I would die, but once I realized the truth of the matter, I was fine, growing comfortable. If there's anything I hate most, it is how I cling to comfort.

I'd taken a course in Social Philosophy in college, and hadn't cared for it. Now that I had a greater sense of "life doesn't have to be like this," I began to think more about how life could be. It didn't require starting from scratch or doing everything differently. I just required reconsidering premises on which things were based.
Reading Daniel Quinn's books helped with that, as did studying Buddhism.
This is what Scott and I would talk about in Murfreesboro, and when he and I moved to Tucson, we pursued these ideas practically. Jobless & effectively squatting, I worked my way into things like having a job and doing household repairs while considering what was behind the actions I took.
Before that, everything had been a matter of spiritual philosophy. I had a strong basis in faith, and wanted to live by it. By the time I'd gotten to Tucson, I was fairly balanced between spiritual and social philosophy. As friends go, I had Leslie and Dawna with me on the one side, and Scott and Adrienne with me on the other.

But as I've learned recently, when I got to Seattle, I essentially bottled up my spiritual side. I would have denied it all the while, and it wasn't completely gone. I'd just applied certain blinders to it. I was a fool, not being suspicious of my sudden change in attitude.
I was still as fully applied to change and growth as I could be. Scott, Adrienne, my father, Jennifer, Anna.... these were the people who I talked with most, and they all wanted to see things change as much as I did. Abhor comfort, go through hard times, live a life that is worth living. We were going to be the Revolution.
Seriously. We hadn't just decided to do something.We had a plan, and it was a simple plan, and it was a somewhat realistic plan, only requiring enough of a leap of faith to satisfy my sense that things shouldn't be too easy. (And, for the record, it was a nice, fun plan, requiring no violence or politics.)
But its time came and passed, and we got bogged down in the mundane details of life. I will not speak for the others, but for my part, I got bogged down in trying to be a normal person. I had a house and a girlfriend and a garden and pets and friends.

I am not a normal fucking person.

I left Seattle thinking of what we could do to change the world. I asked Scott, my primary partner in this crime, what he thought, and he replied:

I am not trying to change the world. I am trying to change myself. Through this maybe I will change my world. That would be okay. And maybe if enough of us engage ourselves thusly the world would be affected as well. But my goal is not to change anything but myself and how I interact personally with my world.

His answer should have been mine too, I realized at the time. By removing myself from my spiritual philosophy, I had become a cypher. My social philosophy had come to consider "The Greater Good" rather than myself. I had forgotten that this path had begun by, and was meant to be centered on, following my heart. Scott's reply brought my attention to this fact, but knowledge of it failed to help me understand what I should do next.

Whether for good reason or not, I am not prepared to blog about what happened over the month after Scott's reply. Maybe you'd think I was crazy, maybe you would think me wicked, but I am neither, and in the end it's none of your business. Suffice it, for now, to say I had spirituality shoved down my throat, and I exercised long atrophied muscles by putting myself to the test and by facing unbearably hard decisions. There were ghosts and fears faced, and there was Recognition. Perhaps most importantly, I again realized and accepted that I want nothing more than to be on the path of adversity.

And so "I walked the road from Tucson to San Antonio, the smell of blood on my breath."

I have more to say on said path, speculation on what it means to travel it, and on what it is at all. But I've already spent two hours writing this, and have so much more to say. But at least this post does what each on this blog ought to -- I've told you where I am, and how it is to be here.
At the moment, I don't feel like I'm "almost there," but I feel like I'm getting there. And it's damned difficult. So, hooray for me.

Wow, I've gotten quite behind on the ol' blog. I mean, I'm usually behind, but I'm also usually not doing a damned thing. But now I have tales of architecture and ghosts and bees and snow and a photo shoot and the cosmos and coincidences.

So, where to begin?

[meh, to be continued... the mead we had tonight made me SLEEPY!]

How will we change the world?

I attract coincidences, as I've recently mentioned. Something that comes out of a lot of my conversations is this admission that I, and also whoever I'm conversing with, has a sincere (albeit vaguely understood) desire to "change" or "save" the world.
And I used to get really excited: I want to do this, and I keep meeting other people who want to do this!!!1!!OM!G!! We can work together and do it! Yay!
And then my friend Anna diffused my glee, seemingly forever, with one word. She and I had been talking about such things, and then I had a great conversation with Charissa. The next time I saw Anna, I was all giddy: "Charissa wants to save the world, too!" And then Anna asked:
"How?"

I was stunned. It was like being excited to reach the edge of the flat world, only to discover there's more world. What, you mean I have to keep going?
I don't think that was a life-changing moment, but it did define certain distinctions in my conversations. I thought the answer was so obvious, until I actually had to come up with an answer. Now the coincidences I experience involve attracting answers to that question: How will we change the world?

Now, there are lots of ways we CAN change the world. Changing the world is, in fact, incredibly easy. But I don't want to change the world just for the sake of change. I want to change it because the world I live in is not, in my opinion, the best world for me to live in.
I still don't have an answer for how to change the world, but I have a far better idea than I did three years ago, or even three months ago.

Here are four people who have had a huge impact on me during this period:

Douglas Rushkoff, on how we can change the world of economics:


Ken Robinson, on how we can change the world of education:


David Platt, on how we can change Christianity (and I believe we can take this to any religion):


Daniel Quinn, on how to challenge our origins:

Life... is good.

Looking at the time, I see that it is precisely two weeks since I got off the train in Tucson. This is hard to believe.

I came to town, spent the night at Age & Valerie's house. I got up the next morning, went to the laundromat, had lunch, went to the library (that's where the DQ blog was posted from), then Leslie and Charles drove me to Casa Grande. You've seen the blog from that weekend, too.
Then Kate & Matt drove me back to Tucson, and I have been here since then. Since ten. Days. Ago.

I have loved this past week and a half. Charles, Leslie and I have done some cool things. They hooked me up with the Rosetta Stone, so I'm learning French: "La fille et la femme mangent du riz." We have consumed much wine. We have sat in the hot tub, and the pool (because it's the freking desert, not Vermont where it's -32 degrees). We are learning about mehndi; its history, production, and application. We have talked about farming, and incorporating some communal living situation.
Their apartment is so chill, at the foothills of the Catalina mountains.

Other things: had brunch with Age, Valerie & Pam (who I'd not seen since she visited Seattle in 2008). There we talked about the political and motivational side of the potential collective. Who are our pioneers, Age asked. Is it even possible, Val asked. I talked to Bob, who pronounced that we could take the farmland and turn it into "Daniel Quinn's faggy little trapeze school." He and I argued about education for a while. I volunteered for an afternoon at Native Seeds SEARCH, and therefore got to spend some time with my great friend Dawna. All in all, I like where things are going, what conversations are happening.

On the downside, the money's going. Not quickly, thanks to Leslie and Charles's generosity, but finding work would offset whatever spending I am doing, not to mention leaving town will require some capital, when that time comes. Especially if Valerie is right, and Costa Rica is my next destination......

a wedding, a beating, and more

Nathaniel's wedding was great. I don't know if I could count on two hands the number of friends' weddings I have missed, so I'm very happy when I manage to attend one. And this was a pretty crazy wedding. The bridal party consisted of over thirty people and, for the reception, they had all learned a dance choreographed by Carmen (the bride)'s niece. It was impressive. And of course, it's going to get loud and fun, when everyone celebrating the marriage is a Mexican, a Native American, or a New York Jew. Lots of great (I'm sorry, I meant GREAT) food, lots of drinking, lots of dancing.
Carmen was beautiful and happy, and Nate looked sharp as hell (and also happy). Their kids were adorable/gorgeous/handsome. John Bob was the photographer, so there should be some great evidence of this floating around soon.

For whatever reason, there were two sheriff's deputies there to keep us all in check. Uncle Eddie had brought along a nice amount of booze, and any time someone would go out to his van to pour a drink, Eddie would approach the deputies and make small talk. I'm sure they knew what we were doing out there, but at least he prevented them from coming over and giving any of us a hard time.

Good speeches were made, and good times were had, and I slipped in some spilled wine and busted the hell out of my chin. Katie gave me some of her mom's pain relievers, and they ended my night real quick. (Nathaniel, I learned, saved me from Desmond drawing on my passed-out face.)

I woke up the next day and could hardly move. I faded in and out of sleep (which is weird; I usually cannot sleep after I've opened my eyes) and had no strength in my arms or legs. Whatever Sarah had that Katie gave me, it was good. Kate and John and I went to Arizona Mills, leaving Kate's boyfriend, Matt, behind with Nathaniel and his friends. I understand they gave him quite an interrogation in our absence, but that was nothing compared to what he and I got when we came back. After the Jets lost (yes, horrible, I know), most of Nate's friends left, and before long it was just Nate, Kate, Matt, me, and Nate's neighbor Kerry hanging out on the patio.
Nathaniel is a correctional officer, Commander of the SORT team at the nearby prison, and Kerry is a Canadian sheriff, so we got to sit around and listen to them swap stories about controlling inmates.
And then they decided to show us how to control inmates. Matt got to play guinea pig to various holds and strikes. He got pinned, he got shoved, and when they gave him a break (a rest, that is), I got to take the hits. Most of what I took were hits to my neck and my right arm (you know, so I understand how they disarm somebody who's attacking them), but they got Matt back up and showed him even more useful things, like how they kick someone's legs out from beneath them, and how they follow that up with an elbow to the face, and how they shove someone's nose into their brain. And how you can disable someone just by pushing on two pressure points just below the jaw. And how it really hurts when you lift someone by those pressure points.

And then the night got weird.
Nathaniel and I had bought cigars the day before, as we were running last-minute bridal errands. So we brought them out. Kerry seemed to really enjoy watching me smoke that cigar, and whenever I wasn't smoking it (which was often, considering I was hardly comfortable under his unblinking stare), he would say to me, "Smoke." Wha... what? "Smoke." Why...? "Smoke."
In mid-conversation, he stood up and interrupted Nate by kissing him on the cheek. While K, N & I were talking, Kerry walked Matt around the corner, appearing to want to tell him something in confidence... but he just grabbed Matt and kissed him on the cheek. He rubbed my thigh. He moved to put out a cigarette on Matt's ankle, but when Matt declined, Kerry put it out on his own ankle. He made a kiss-face at me. He had talked about his wife throughout the night, but wasn't wearing a ring. He talked about his roommate and him, talking about how they might appear to others as "kinda queer."
I don't know how anyone might get that impression....

But all-in-all, it was a wonderful weekend. The wedding was beautiful, and I can see that Nathaniel and Carmen are going to be very happy, and their kids are going to grow up well, and be really good kids, really good people. And I had a great time with a family I haven't gotten to see for a couple of years.