Someone recently said that I was full of ideas and perspectives, but lacked the foundation to make them real. I have the power and passion, the dreams and aspirations, but no roots. One gust of wind and the whole thing just crumbles…
The idea of having ‘strong opinions, loosely held’ sits well with me. Perhaps too well. I am often hesitant to stand my ground, much too quick to surrender. On the rare occasion I do defend myself, I tend to come across as smug, at best, or vindictive and spiteful, at worst. In the end, neither approach honors me or my ideas and ideals, to say nothing of those on the other side…
I was pretty damn clueless after leaving high school, and all throughout Miami University. I didn’t care much for class, but I became a voracious reader in my ‘free time’. One winter break, I devoured The Fountainhead in four days, later Atlas Shrugged in five. (You should be impressed: I doubt I read 2,000 pages in all of high school and college combined!) Late update: those were my mom’s books!
I spent a lot of time at the library after leaving Oxford. I was fortunate to live near the main branch in Columbus and often went just to pore over the architecture hard-covers you weren’t allowed to check out and I couldn’t afford to buy. I was especially fond of S,M,L,XL by Rem Koolhaas, but also any number of books by Daniel Libeskind, Bernard Tschumi, John Hedjuk, and Peter Eisenman. I’ll deny it if you ask me, but I was also known to check out calculus text books ‘just to stay sharp’.
I dipped into philosophy too, attempting to read all of the big pieces by all of the big names, but all of them bored me. Not so with Friedrich Nietzsche. His work sang to me. I read everything I could get my hands on, from the driest science to the densest prose. Later, I diligently read almost every Hermann Hesse book: Narcissus and Goldmund, Demian, Siddhartha, Steppenwolf, The Glass Bead Game, and so many more. The Journey to the East was one of my favorites.
As you might imagine, I thought myself quite wise. In reality I had at best a cursory understanding what I ingested. And now, as I look back on life, I realize how many of my most cherished ideals I based on that child-like wishful thinking.
I didn’t receive my first clue in life until I turned 25. And yes, I finally realized I was completely clueless: I literally did not have a single clue! As I traveled and saw more of the world, I became acutely aware of my woeful (and at times willful) ignorance.
I became cautious and apprehensive. Soon, I developed an unfortunate habit of adding a ‘but what do I know?’ disclaimer to end of everything I said, thereby negating the validity of my statements. That lasted through my late 20s, sad but true, until Abby finally pointed out the absurdity of my behavior…
Point being, I eventually stopped the tic, but I’m not sure I ever fully resolved the underlying assumption. What do i know? What do I believe? I am always bouncing in between bold leaps of self-assurance (or delusion?) and a grounding self-doubt (or reality?).
Vernon had this wonderful Buddhist text on his wall. This isn’t the exact wording (I never wrote his version down, as I thought doing so ran counter to the spirit of its words), but it’s close enough:
The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he is always doing both.
You can imagine this sang to me as well. I quickly adopted this as my own, not without merit, but again perhaps without fully grasping the meaning. It became another way for me to separate myself from everyone else. What could have been healthy, and to be fair was and still is on some levels, became somewhat corrosive…
One of the themes in The Journey to the East is the idea of a shared journey. When this particular journey falls apart with the disappearance of Leo, H. H. and the others quickly lose their way. As individuals, each believes that he and he alone is on the true path. I understood that the journey did not fail, that each man failed the journey, but never applied it to my life.
Damn you, patterns. Yes, I have seen this all before, over and over again, and not just in books. After a while, the notion of it always being someone, or something, else at fault kinda withers away. Or at least it should…
I always hated the saying ‘perception is reality’, yet I have to agree with its meaning and believe in its relevance—after all, modernity is tailor-made for such a convenient philosophy. But step outside of the make-believe and it quickly falls apart in true matters of the heart and soul.
In many ways, the past year of my life has been much like my 25th. What I thought to be true—that I was aware of my spirit, engaged in my world, open to new experiences—now seems a relic of my early 20s. Fact is, I haven’t done the hard work to make it not just possible, but probable. Fact is, I haven’t focused internally in many, many years.
As mentioned previously, after watching Abby see such great results from doing yoga (she looks better than ever), I finally gave it a try. And I did it again today. I am amazed at how refreshing such a timeless pursuit feels in the face of all of our modern intoxications. I am somewhat surprised at how I’ve taken to it, but the combination of breathing calmly (confidently and consistently too) and turning my attention inward brings me to a new level of awareness. I even feel high for hours after the fact, the best high ever. =)
I know there’s a point or two in here somewhere, and perhaps it’s this: I have always assumed that I had it all figured out. I mean, I wanted it, right? Wishful thinking is not a strategy (yet another lesson I should have learned years ago). Or, the journey didn’t fail me, I failed it. I remain a shell of the man I want to will become, but he seems a lot more real and much closer now than he’s ever been.
It’s been a bumpy ride as of late, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. I genuinely look forward to waking up and going to work again, and I hate having to shut down for the night. I finally found a form of exercise that suits my body and mind, just like the music I love. I am (re)building my foundation. I feel like my dreams are within my reach. And I believe the best is yet to come.
NOTE: Slightly edited for clarity and consistency after posting. Gross generalizations kept in tact.
Like everyone, I imagine, my life’s soundtrack is meticulously edited, intensely personal, and ruthlessly guarded. There are several themes that run the course of my current tastes, and over time we’ll dive further into them. One, though, is the central theme, and as such, must be addressed first. This is convoluted, so hang close…
Finding and buying (my) music is almost as much of a thrill as hearing it for the first time. Two reasons, as best I can tell. First, I gotta thing for the new. Always liked the idea of Nietzsche’s “new ears for new music.” Second, I gotta thing for the purchase, the transaction. No shame here, I’m a consumer.
Warp Records, as you’ll see over time, is a constant, and Bleep is quickly becoming an addiction. I was skeptical at first, I honestly wanted/expected them on the ITMS, but I couldn’t be happier (and shouldn’t be at all surprised) that they chose a different path.
Bleep is an incredible achievement. Clearly very thoughtful work here. The app? website? store? behaves well, is beautifully rendered, and is stocked to the gills with goodness. More on this topic soon enough…
Always felt that Warp’s dominance of it’s domain had legs, but never thought that another could rise to prominence so quickly. Morr Music has arrived. The new Styrofoam release is simply stunning.
“Nothing’s Lost” was released in the EU last Monday, but will not be released in the States until the end of November, so I was scrambling to find it. Then, out of the blue, Bleep adds Morr Music on Friday. Saved!
I’m on my 15th listen, give or take, and I’m stuck by how graceful, how eloquent, how perfect this release is. I’m literally floored. Think of “Every Man and Woman is a Star” — what’s your favorite song? Even your least favorite, even the one that sounds like something you wouldn’t allow in your collection, catches you. Stella!
The new Styrofoam is that good. But I couldn’t just come out and say only that. And the search for it was almost as satisfying, and kinda reaffirming. It’s been a beautiful and productive weekend, and this release is icing on the cake.