Living in time, the question of purpose and destination bubbles to the surface of depression.  Having seen all that is offered in this reality, the thoughts of flight and night embrace the day. No answer to why it must be this way, seen all is all that i say.

Nothing to do on a day like to day, except to stay away, stay awake for heaven’s sake.

Having loved and lived in peace, higher levels of love i seek. A different life for the love of meek. A different sphere for the sake of sleep. Helpless in a time of need, thankfully music is the seed.

Yesterday, Robert brought a Christmas present:  Victor Wooten’s biography titled, Me and My Bass Guitar.  I’ve both read and listened to Vic’s book The Music Lesson.  I review it periodically. And, I’ve been working on a chart that’s been extremely challenging.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I just can’t seem to get it.  And, my analysis and criticism of my practicing, playing and performance has been quite severe and pointed.  “What’s wrong with me or my head?”

I’m sure other musicians have had the same frustration.  But, that doesn’t help at all.  I’ve got to get it because it simply feels like a milestone that and bridge that I’ve got to cross before I die.

The insight I’ve received, after beginning Me and My Bass Guitar is that Vic learned to play before he learned to read music.  And that, I believe, is the problem I’m having.  I’ve been trying to read before I’m able to play.  Well, at least that the insight I’ve gleaned today.  And, I’m going to put that concept to the test.

Teachers have misunderstood the reality of playing music.  And, to an extent, the reason is clear:  Learning is counter-intuitive.  So what is taught is simply backwards.  The application:  learn to play music before you learn to read it and you’ll always be able to read the music.

I’m going to apologize for being cynical.  I have been called one of the “world’s greatest cynics” by a good friend.  It’s not that I’m cynical, it’s just that some people tend to live up to my lowest expectations.

What does all of that have to do with “illusions?”  Simply this: Often we are enticed to idolize those who “look good,” the strong and boisterous —  and who are doing self-destructive things.  Competitive professional sports, for example, create the illusion of fame and often disregard the reality of life and living.

The illusion:

What’s real?  Can you see the point.    Note: very little publicity and interviews are now being broadcast.  Why?

At this point, I will wager that Ms. Rousey is finished, as done and gone as Mr. Woods.  I would hope that she never enter the ring again and, furthermore, that the truth of violence not be the entertainment and amusement of the masses.  I also predict that if she enters the ring again, she will never be the fighter she so arrogantly claimed as her destiny.  The last I heard, she couldn’t even bite or chew an apple.  It’s hard to see how she’ll ever overcome the psychological trauma, not to mention the physical abuse she volunteered for.

As for being cynical, I’m sure my hope is absolutely meaningless to the ears of the masses.  And, in conclusion, I think it can be truthfully said that being a musician is a much better choice. And, it’s also a best choice of entertainment (as compared to the fight game).

$0.02!

This morning I awoke, read the news of the world and thought about a conversation I had on a Sunday evening a few weeks ago with fellow travelers on this stone — this Third Stone from the Sun.  We were sitting around a fire, fired up and having that kind of precious moment.   The deep philosophical one conversation and spiritual moment where in total honesty and truth each man expressed the depth of awareness, knowledge, confusion and truth about existence.

“What I’m trying to figure out,” I said,  “… is did I volunteer or was I drafted?!!!!”

“Given  a choice (for life as a human being or absolute non-existence) for just only one turn,” John said “How could you turn it down.”  The flames behind the glassed in fireplace glowed the room warmly.

Weeks later, after the Dance of the Death of the Innocents by the Deceived and Wicked, and thinking about all that occurs in the violence perpetrated by the cowards and fools and unrighteous, who are rightly called SHIT as their complementary description, I’ve finally been able to write and express that I’ve discovered in living.  I’m thankful and grateful that before my own transition, I’m able to share my insights to truth with you.

Perhaps the arguments about creation or evolution are simply a different side of the same coin:  INEVITABILITY.

Life is nothing less than inevitable.

I must thank the physicist, Dean Rust,  for the observation.  Many years ago I had the opportunity to discuss the universe with him and, as he said, “Well, Charlie, it only had to happen once.”

Given infinite time (think Toy Story) time does not exist.  Time only exists within the construct of space. Space begin only if there is an event in time, followed by an event. Before the prime event, time itself did not and cannot exist.  More specifically, time as comprehended by the mind of sentient beings, does not and did not exist. And, by definition and reality, there is but one prime event.

Within the prime event all that exists EXISTS in that instant moment, including space for the successive event (however short the duration between the two).  Within space itself life is as an inevitability in probability. The inevitability is certain to occur, thus inevitable in time.

The organization of matter within time is also inevitable, as is the manifestation of life itself in all its forms, shapes and sizes — including the human being, with the ability to perceive mind and manipulate the environment and reality, itself.

An attribute of mind is dreaming and thinking and emotions, mediated by cellular organization of the brain and its function.

Thus, the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “… seen the promised land.” Thus inevitable future state.  Echoing the words of the spiritual alchemist Jesus: ‘ My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?’

The problem is that one assumes it’s a future state.  It is not.  Time is an illusion that does not exist. The prime inevitable event exists and in it all that is IS at that instant.  As the universe is expanding in movement, every moment of consciousness exists.  Only in the mental reality of the mind, time bound, does the vision of the future appear as a future state.  In fact and truth, it already exists.  It simply has not been experienced by those mortals living in that time-space moment.

That the future state will exist as an experience by those then living mortally is a certainty.  Evolution IS the proof of that truth and fact. The emotional perception of that future state, as communicated by those so inspired — including the moral values that produce that state — is inevitable, because it already exists and will be realized inevitably.  The realization will be and is as certain as this momentary existence.

“YOU ONLY GO AROUND ONCE!”

Just remeber:  It’s NOT about YOU.’ It’s US. We are inevitably ONE, within the prime inevitably, measured through the illusion of time.

Peace!

I visited David Rages on Wednesday and Thursday.  It’s my annual tradition for celebrating Thanksgiving.  I should also mention that I celebrate Christmas and Easter in a similar manner.  David deep fries turkeys.  But, he’s got it down to a science that will turn a vegetarian to the tastes he creates.  It’s both the technique of deep frying the bird, along with his secret marinade sauce.

Of course, the reality is that before Thanksgiving and on 13 November 2015 a disgusting act of cowardice, stupidity, ignorance, and un-Godliness (call Him or Her Allah of Jehovah or YaWay of whatever) occurred in the assassination of innocents occurred by and through scum.

In tribute to those fallen and that moment, Ric Louchard performed a lament.  Here it is for all who truly understand righteousness, love and peace.  Sorrows for love …

1311 Lament

Last night’s drive to San Francisco was a “trip” to say the least.  Lots of accidents on Northbound 101, cut through neighborhoods to get to 280 only to be met with a row of red tail lights.  But, the good news is I made it in 1.5 hours + a few seconds and …. lo and behold!  A parking space right in front of the restaurant.

The first set was great.  The second set ended in a train wreck.  I’m not sure how … well, that not true.  I’m not sure when …. well, actually I sensed the moment … I’m not sure where … well … actually, I know where I was.  The end was a train wreck and I think I know how, where and when and why it happened.

The incident reminds me of something a friend and fellow musician said:  “Don’t even pick up the instrument if you think you’ll not have a melt down on stage.”

Why it happens:  Lack of listening to the space.  The space will define where the beginning of the tune is.  But, you’ve got to listen to an entire chorus + to be sure you know exactly where you are, or where the rest of us are.  It’s a bit of advice I’ll pass on to the team.

Meanwhile, we did make some real pleasurable moments before the derailment. And, I got dinner + gas money + a couple of bucks for a pizza.  Cheers!

I’m about to embark on the trudge to San Francisco.  Seems like I dislike driving these days.  It’s kind of tiring.  But, in order to play music, sacrifice is often required.

At my small birthday party, hosted by Marilyn Scott, I was presented with a birthday card custom made by her.  She always does that.  She’s my biggest fan!  I’m pleased to share what she gave me, a card with an image of me.

Here’s a picture of me launching into music around 2002 – 3.  I was jamming with the Talons:  David Rages, Tony Rodrigues, Jeff Carr and William Jackson.  Dave’s cousin is Mark Wright and I was so pleased to be able to play with him on occasion, as facilitated by Dave.  We did a great gig in Mountain View at the Afrobean (sp?) Feastival.  Sadly, Mountain View stopped having the festival a few years later.  But, in that moment, the jam was on and it was hot!

Honestly, folks … this is the way music is supposed to be.

Now that I’ve passed the milestone of 70 years, I feel somewhat complete.  It’s not the 70 years on the planet that defines destiny.  Rather, it’s reaching 71 years of age and finding a photograph of my father, probably taken around 1947 or 1948, as best I can tell.  At four years of age, I began to have consciousness of recall.  I recall and remember learning the A,B, C’s, climbing stairs, being in the neighborhood with other kids, chased by a bad dog, learning to ride a bicycle, nice little girls who lived down stairs and experiences like that.  I recall is listening to Ravelle’s Balero,  playing the records over-and-over again on a 78 record player, sitting down and playing on a Wurlitzer upright piano and having to go to church on Sundays.

This is a picture of my Dad.  Fun loving, hard working foreman at Moore’s Dry Dock in Oakland, California.

I’d misplaced the picture some years ago but I managed to look where I last remembered putting it and rediscovered an image of reality that defines my own existence:  Born an African American by a father and mother who were somehow different from others in terms of their love and loyalty for each other and other human beings.  So, finding the picture completes the awareness of my reality and existence.

The lesson is simple:  Intelligence randomly distributes. Some are born leaders and lovers of life, regardless of opportunities restricted by ignorance, stupidity, prejudice and arrogance.   That’s the point.  Period.

I had the wonderful pleasure of attending a concert presented by Youssou N’dour on Saturday evening.  It was my birthday present!

One songs he and his band performed featured “happiness” as the vibe and I loved it.  As I’ve told others, music is wired in my brain so that it presents measurable pleasure.  And, so it was that I was inspired by Youssou’s vibe and was working out the muse on keyboards.

The interruption occurred from the telephone ringing.  Annoyed I asked, “What do you want?” and “What are you doing?” in terrible Spanish.  The resulting interaction with the solicitor was ad hominid pitiful diatribe that informed me that my Spanish was terrible, that I was a Bitch and a Motherfucker.  I’ve no problem with that.

My Spanish is terrible.  I’ve been a Bitch when I was in charge of my household with a disabled wife for several years (cooking for everyone, cleaning and holding down a full time job) and, of course, not only Mexicans but African American brothers and others have rendered the other compliment about my prowess with mothers and females.  Of course, I told him, in Spanish, that my own mother was dead (long ago deceased).

The truth is that at one point in my young life as a human, I learned the following rhyme that I lived and survived by in the neighborhood and  conditions in which I grew up:

“Sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

Times have, obviously changed.  And, I guess that’s why some complain about political correctness as that’s not their world view.  And therein lies the difference.  I am old. I am old school.

So, I’d ask the solicitor to come to my house and say it to my face if he dares.  I’m quite the public person and he knows who I am and, therefore, where I live.  I’ll tell him that to his face.  I’d just hasten to remind him that where I have survived over t he past 20+ years was, once, the murder capital of the U.S.

But the ultimate insult was that I am a terrible pianist.  I didn’t have the heart, time or opportunity to tell him that (1) I am not a pianist, (2) what he was hearing in the background was the jazz organ patch on my Yamaha (not a piano) and (3), as a musician, I’m not too worried about anything except getting back to the happiness I was recording.  He angrily hung up.

But, wait.  There’s more.  I live by the Four Agreements:

•  Speak with integrity
• Take nothing personally
• Make no assumption
• Do the best you can.

Those are the keys to the mastery of love and, thereby, life.   Conqur the predators.  Avoid the creditors.

Commerce off.

WHY AM I PAYING FOR A SERVICE THAT

ENABLES  AND EMPOWERS OTHERS TO

INTERRUPT ME?

I remembered:  “It you don’t like what’s on, turn it off!”   It’s the Silence of the Ringer.

Onward, in silence. Keep calling  and expending the irreplaceable time of your lives ye Bastards of Commerce.

Happiness on.

How we learn.  “We” meaning “humans.”  And, link of course, vialis 40mg I AM THE MONKEY!

Breathing … inspiration … taking in the breath and width of the Muse …