As of late, old and new friends have been suggesting that I share some of my life experiences through writing and other means, and to even write a book! What? little ol' me? I say that in jest, but all of us have a story that could fill a book. We've all experienced pain and joy, have interesting ancestry, people that we love and mentors that have inspired us. I feel in my particular case that the reason they've been prodding me to do this is because they have witnessed something, some kind of transformation but can't quite place what it is. I'm now at a place in my life where I can confidently acknowledge that maybe I can help others heal through sharing my experience, or at least point them toward the signposts on the path that worked for me.
I am very aware that writing a book is an involved process wherein certain literary tools should be employed to make the prose cohesive and retain the reader's interest, etc., which can take a while. So, at the behest of my friends and at the risk of winning and losing some of them, I'll begin practicing by boldly blogging here.
Since I am no longer an adjunct professor, I can now be more open about my journey and share some things that, in certain circles, I was unable to before. Ex students of mine can testify that I would often spend more time focusing on emotions, breathing, awareness, the creative process, and the mind itself in our music classes rather than historical facts, figures, theory, technique etc. This was happening more often than not towards the end of my 12 year teaching tenure.
I view teaching as a calling, not a job, and believe some things are more important and practical to convey than just holding to fixed curriculums and standards, and in the college & university systems, retain numbers (revenue). Although I was employed an "educator", I've never really believed in the standardized education system, and as a youth I rebelled heavily against it. I still feel it is ridiculous to fill children with mass amounts of information for 12 to 20 years, most of which they never use after they "graduate"... to fit into an extremely hedonistic and numbed out society. After 8 hours a day of information input, children are sent home with more of it (do you enjoy taking your job home with you?) then to escape they sit in front of one of the various fantasy boxes available today that feed on their insecurities and fears, and then, this may be the worst of all, on top of all that we fill them full of our own fears & convoluted ideas about life which came from all that. With all the insanity, destruction and suffering in the world... this is the best we could come up with and our still holding fast to this outmoded system. Then we wonder why their best achievements posted on their facebook page is the "girl's night out" photo album, replete with drinks in hand and the unknown guy dancing more than suggestive fashion from behind... You can almost hear the house bass pounding: "don't think, don't think, don't think..." and electronic hi-hat: "numb-numb-numb-numb" Of course I know this is generalizing and oversimplifying, and sounds pessimistic, but... Imagine if some aliens from a highly advanced society were sent here to objectively observe and not intrude in our affairs here. They'd definitely think most of what we do is completely insane and makes no sense at all (I'm including myslef in this). All the above may be labeled as pure opinion and pointless banter but, it's an unarguable truth that very rarely is a child's individual intelligence & creativity cultivated and nurtured so that they may tap into his/her own Intuitive, or Spirit (insert your own word here) Self. If they are, it's on behalf of some very conscious parents, and/or teachers.
I believe that latent Creativity and Divinity dwells within the hearts of all human beings. It just needs to be awakened... desperately. At times cold water is much more effective at waking a person than gently shaking and whispering in their ear for fear of hurting their feelings.
During my teaching tenure at various colleges, the main one being in South East L.A., I had witnessed many kids (and adults) dealing with the same societal conditioning and blocks to their creativity & expression that I grew up with. I feel I was doing them more good by teaching them to look at what's going on inside, rather than "learn this, your scores will posted next week" (of course I always made it fit into the topic at hand) In my own artistic journey it took many years for me to be comfortable being me... to simply allow myself to just "be" as an artist. During the roughly 15-20 years of my playing career there were many times I'd be on the stage performing or recording and was not truly being "creative", let alone happy. The style, so called difficulty and "sophistication" of the music or art form has nothing to do with it, it is a state of Being. I can honestly say without hesitation that, as result of all the hard work and self inquiry I've done, I am free today.
I started by sharing this because I know ex students of mine will read my posts. I may share some things that may be shocking or inspiring to them, or not... depending on the consciousness of the individual.
If you would have known me at seven years old you would never have imagined that I would end up where I ended up in just a few short years. I was considered a gifted, as well as a problem child. I could sit for hours and draw, read books, and play in the garden outside my mama's kitchen. Yet the environment I came up in was not exactly the most ideal place for a creative child, either at home, school, and especially not the neighborhood we lived in. This place was made famous by Luis Rodriguez' book "Always Running", although if you go there now, the racial demographic has completely changed and it's nothing like it was from the late 1960's to mid 90's... especially the 1970's. Drugs, violence, racial tension & gang activity hung thick in the air. I think my parents may have been oblivious as to just how bad things really were at the time. I could go on and on about some of things that I'd witnessed. As I am writing this, I just closed my eyes and counted 2 people that I personally knew that were murdered, and 7 that died a drug related deaths and could probably think of more (some were killed by their own friends, one by his girlfriend during sex, and it was premeditated!) I used to ride bikes and fly kites and play football with these people. Some of my dear childhood friends are still riding the revolving door of prison life and a few are currently serving life sentences. Although I am now far removed the lifestyle for some reason I still feel a deep love for them to this day.
Starting at tender the age of 10 (Yes, 10...maybe 11) I embarked on a steady crescendo of drug and alcohol abuse. I had been "asked to leave" from 3 schools (2 of them Catholic, a story in itself) not allowed to walk for graduation at a public junior high after being there for only a semester, and was not even considered for entry into one of the reputedly worst local public high schools upon meeting with the dean. At twenty one years "old" I found myself strung out on heroin (although I was using whatever I could get my hands on) had spent cumulatively just under 2 years in incarceration, and had a beautiful little girl whom her mother and I were about to lose custody of... for obvious reasons.
The year I could finally "legally" drink, I was faced with some choices, and through a rapid series of miracles (i.e. coincidences) I found myself in a recovery program. I have been clean & sober since the first day I landed in that program. As of this writing have been clean & sober for almost 23 years. At 25, after gaining custody of my little girl, I became a single father while earning 2 degrees (I'm eternally grateful for my parent's help during those years, I don't think I could have done it without them) I have been able to travel the world and performed on some of the most famous stages with well known artists, some of whom I'd actually listened to on the radio growing up...
"what a long strange trip it's been"
If you haven't already fallen asleep by now or went off to something else thank you! I wrote that second section not to earn kudos or a pat on the back but to share a backdrop for what I've been truly compelled to share about in upcoming posts. Really, I'm no one special. Everyone's life is a book or screenplay waiting to be sold. At least I would hope so. If you don't think yours is, then brush yourself off, get up off your ass and live before you die. Because, I'd hate to break the news to you, it WILL happen. The reason I feel people have been telling me to write & share is, apart from the external accomplishments, the ones that know me well can sense that something has happened in me. Maybe they can't quite place it, but they know something has gone on.
All the internal as well external transformation that has taken place on my life has come about only via Spirituality: e.g. surrender, cathartic processes, forgiveness, contemplation, awareness, and diligent self-inquiry: "Who am I?" What is this all about?" sometimes even "What's the point of even trying? We're all going to die anyways"... even "Maybe all this Truth I'm seeking is all just a big lie"... and then, possibly sinking down the rabbit hole into a void so deep that you don't even know what's real any more.
Then one day comes an experience so tangible and real that one cannot deny that there is something beyond what we can see touch or feel with the body's senses... and cannot be conveyed through words... and all the turning over the many stones has been more than worth the effort.
When I look back on my life (I wish there was a way to write without saying I, me or mine so much), I can see there was a common thread and even in the depths of my addictions and darkest depressions I was yearning for something... maybe Nirvana or Samadhi perhaps or the elusive Kingdom of God. After years of fire & brimstone and being verbally stoned and flogged in public I knew that I (what's in a name?) sure as hell wouldn't find my I.D. number written in THAT eternal yacht club membership book (of life). I knew God was out to get my ass, and if I ever saw him coming, I'd better run! The worthy take door #2 to the "up" escalator, the rest get on the freight elevator going straight down, to the lake of fire, with no dinner, and no you cannot go outside and play with your friends.
Well, I'd promised I'd share about actual experiences, so, avoiding intellectual diatribes, insights and circular philosophies I'll give a couple.
So, at 21 years old, I found myself in recovery program. The first month in the program I had lived my life with so much fear, paranoia and distrust I was like a chicken embryo coming out of the egg, first trying to open the eyes little by little, then wiping off all that icky stuff from the past, learning to move the wings little by little (forget flying for now). That place was so weird to me. People I didn't know would be coming up and hugging me smiling for no reason. By that time in my “career” there wasn't much to smile about. I usually smiled at the expense of someone else. Definitely not out of joy. haha That literally makes me laugh but it's very hard to convey the weight of that last statement. Unless you've actually experienced that low, there's no way to convey the feeling. After a while I began to have some hope that maybe, just maybe I could live life without imbibing something to deal with the pain... and boredom. By now I had constructed an identity in response to my environment lifestyle, and our imaginary identities are never easy to let go of. Then one day there came a day of reckoning.
At 30 or 60 days we were allowed to make personal phone calls. I called my ex girlfriend who told me that this neighbor of mine that I had introduced to the intravenious satori had come across $10,000.00 dollars, and was looking for me. He would look for me whenever he wanted to get high because he was a rookie and didn't know how to do the "process" himself. Any self centered self obsessed addict knows that you never show a person how to do it themselves, this would be tomfoolery. They would then no longer depend on you. I had to hang up quickly but the idea was planted. I had a very hard time sleeping that night. I was not committed to being there by law, I was bound only by my commitment to my little girl and my mother mother whom I heard cry "I'm tired of you hurting me" while I was shooting dope in her restroom. That evening I knew the game was over, yet I still didn't know how to stop on my own.
The entire next day I had become very withdrawn, like I used to feel when I smoked just a little too much weed... like I was "different" from these people: "They can get this clean & sober thing, but not me. They had no idea what I grew up with, plus, I'm crazy right? That's what they've been telling me all these years". My hands were cold and clammy, underarm perspiration showing through my shirt. I could just walk out and no one would stop me, and I could go into that self induced state of counterfeit serenity for weeks.
Now, I'm going to say some pretty bold statements here. Bear in mind, I'm doing out of my commitment to possibly avert others from experience the pain I'd put myself through for so long. I slo have nothing to hide. Who is this "I" that I would be protecting anyhow?
Politicians, preachers and charlatans can go on portraying their false external images, while hiding and repressing their false internal image. I no longer have time for that.
Who We Really Are is beyond any personality we try to portray, achievements that win applause, approval, and awards and any good deeds & intentions you can possibly fathom. There is nothing one needs to be, do, think, have, prove or attain in order to establish your self worth. There mere fact that you exist and you came from that Source that created Everything in Existence establishes your worth beyond measure. If the possibility existed that Source could create something of little or no worth, this would render God powerless, or rather...
non-omnipotent.
Read that last sentence a few times before fighting with it.
Hmm maybe I should hold back... if one speaks too much truth there's the possibility of being stoned in public, crucified, shot on a hotel balcony in Tennessee or imprisoned on hearsay without evidence... for 53 days.
Of all the forced "physical" experiences that the ego indulges in in this world (including sex) nothing beats the opiate rush.. particularly heroin. Yet, as with all types of addictions (relationships, food, etc.) there is the come down, or hangover, and the waking up to the emptiness and the racket of the mind once again.
I have had an experience, more than once which topped this but I would not define them as "physical"... and when it seems to slip away there is no hangover, in fact it never really goes away, it only expands, and afterward one can never really go back totally to viewing life as "pain" ever again... 3 years ago I had extremely profound experience, but I'll get to that later.
The stillness of that void we're trying to fill is the exact place we can turn to find Peace.
So, we're sitting in our morning 12 step meeting and my heart is racing... The rays of the warm sun on this nice spring day were shining in through the door that was open to the street outside. I could hear the cars and people go by and I was looking at the door... I could just walk out, and no one would stop me... and all my homeboys would be at the park where they always were... and they'd welcome me back, and the first one is always free. Then I'd go to my friend's house who had that bankroll. Then a friend of mine shared an experience in the midst of all this tumultuous mind chatter that shattered and derailed the whole train of thought. Actually, I would say that the Divine worked through my friend and abruptly interrupted my internal dialogue out concern for my well being.
That evening, as we were lining up to get into the buses to go to our outside meeting,
I couldn't take it any more... I was going crazy I rushed into the nearest bathroom and got down on my knees and... I actually couldn't think of anything. The prayers I'd learned in school seemed completely pointless, even addressing whatever was "up there" as a name, gender or even a "personality" was ridiculous at this point. No deal making, no "get me out of this", no please forgive me for I fall short … I think I said simply "help me"... I could not take dealing with my own mind any more and was willing to give it all up... I think I may have cried.
I stood up, washed my face and within minutes, maybe even seconds an indescribable feeling descended upon me. I say descended because that's exactly what it felt like, like it started from the the top part of my body before. It may have even started at the top of the head (this did happen at another time) This "feeling" or aura almost floated through and within my body, yet it was simultaneously welling up from within. It was a warm feeling of well being, almost like a gentle loving whisper in the ear "everything is going to be alright"... it was almost as if it had a personality, but not personality in the sense that we know it with character traits and mannerisms, but more like an essence, or "being"... oh man, words. They never do justice to an experience.
... and it was not separate from 'me'
As we boarded the vans to go to our meeting I began to smile, and couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the evening...actually, this smile drifted over into the next few days. There was this sense that everything was exactly is it should be in the Universe, that none of those traumatic experiences that happened to me really mattered, there was nothing needed to be fixed or changed about you, or me, or anyone else or any thing in God's world for that matter. At the meeting that were people that would wear on my nerves just a few days before, and that night, they were also OK exactly as they were... in fact, there was light shining from within them.
Since that day in 1988 I have not had the obsession to use any form of mind altering substance. The obsession has completely disappeared.
Oh, my friend that morning had been sharing about surrender that morning.
Whew, now that I've started writing, I realize that I actually could fill a book, there were so many things I could have expanded upon... but geez, this is time consuming... mainly because I type like a neanderthal (not to disrespect any neanderthals that may be reading this) Does anyone know a good stenographer by chance? :o)
Next up:
"Why India?"...
“Don't ignore the Landmarks”
Followed by a rendition of the Cole Porter Classic: "What is this thing called Samadhi?"
Stay tuned...
