I first read the phrase Monkey Mind in a column by Herb Caen, the late celebrated columnist for the S.F. Chronicle. His first sentence was ... Monkey mind, leaping from limb to limbo. He then went on to fill a whole column with leaps of thought that were truly acrobatic. Stream of consciousness is a great thing for an artist to possess. Monkey mind is a Buddhist idea of a person who can't stop his mind from going on its merry way, a restless, preoccupied person. It is the exact opposite of the ideal of a quiet mind.
The phrase enters my consciousness now because I watched a documentary about Jane Goodall, the chimp behavior expert and activist. I must declare that chimps are not monkeys. They are in the family of great apes, which includes the gorilla, the orangutan, the bonobo and man. The great apes are just a stone's throw away from us genetically. And watching the chimps easily makes one feel related. Are humans really the smartest of the bunch? This is not such a facetious question. We are, without a doubt, the most accomplished and have the most complex brains. But what do we do with our complex brains?
This idea occurred to me the other day when friends were engaging in idle chatter and I was noticing that it made me tense. It took a few hours of contemplation to figure out why. It turned out to be a justice issue. Here was someone saying nothing intelligent, cementing the idea in my head that she wasn't very intelligent overall, and yet I happened to know that she was thriving in her life - she had a good marriage, had plenty of money, supportive parents, a life she apparently enjoyed. And here I am making very little money, living a forced frugal life, renting instead of owning, not able to afford new shoes, but using my old shoes which were second-hand when I bought them, wearing second-hand clothes not because they're stylish, but because that's all I can afford. I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person. I value intelligence in others. Yet I am by no means thriving. I'm happy, but I don't have the kind of life that affords me a lot of choices.
So who is the intelligent one, really? We don't really value intelligence in our society any more. I feel as if I have become a master candle maker in an age of electric light.
And then there are the gorillas. Gorillas are monstrously strong, but they are vegetarians. I've been thinking lately that they might be a good model animal for the U.S. military. They don't have a very large territory and don't stray far on a typical day. They don't need to kill to survive. They hold their great strength in reserve in case they are attacked by a leopard, which is their only known possible enemy. And even then, the silverback male will put on a display of power before ever engaging, with the idea of scaring the possible predator away. They live a life of peace and ease. If that is not intelligence, what is?
Very few humans live such lives. Our lives are full of monkey mind.
Let me tell you another instance of monkeys in my consciousness. I am a songwriter and musician. I've been doing this for over 30 years. But my job is to buy art supplies, to check invoices to make sure we got what we ordered at the right price, to place new orders, to sell more art supplies. All day long I'm supposed to do this, and all day long there is Muzak playing in the supposed background. Sometimes there are good songs by classic artists. Sometimes there are terribly painfully bad songs which no one in their right mind would ever ask to hear.
But say I were not a music expert. Say I was a monkey expert. Say I'd been studying monkeys all my life. I knew everything there was to know about monkeys. I was an expert on monkey behavior. And the one day, someone unleashes a truckload of monkeys into the store. The monkeys are breaking things and biting people's ankles and scratching at their eyes. Some of them apparently have fleas. I know exactly how to handle these monkeys, how to make them behave - even how to rid them of fleas. But my job has nothing to do with monkeys. I'm supposed to ignore the monkeys and pretend they aren't even there. I'm supposed to go on checking my invoices while what I'd rather be doing is attending to the monkeys. It makes a job seem very mundane when there are monkeys about. Can you imagine Jane Goodall in the wild with the chimps trying to check an invoice? This is how out of place I feel at my job.
And yet the chimps live in large social groups, and have all they need. They are not perfect - they do kill, even their own kind and they do wage wars. But it seems the farther you go away from the human brain, the "happier" the animal becomes. Ignorance is bliss. Maybe monkey mind is the wrong phrase. Maybe monkeys don't do much thinking at all. Maybe they are like Zen masters who simply exist. Maybe it is the human's curse to have developed such a brain as ours, that worries and dreads and plots and schemes and is jealous and insecure and afraid and angry. Maybe Man Mind is the problem. I'll settle for Monkey Mind any day.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Truth and the Mind
Just finished reading an article about a severely burned Iraq veteran who found pain relief from a virtual reality game called "Snow World" in which he shot penguins and snowmen and mammoths with snowballs. Brain scans of the area called the pain matrix showed much less activity while he was playing. He rated his own pain a 6 out of 10 while on other days it had been 9's an 10's constantly. The hell that the pain caused him was alleviated by giving the mind something else to focus on.
Our brains are equipped with chemicals which regulate our physical feelings as well as emotional states. I'm no brain expert, but am moderately aware of things called endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. Certain drugs, like opioids, affect the production of these chemicals and alleviate pain and promote feelings of well-being. I've heard that endorphins are three times as powerful as morphine. So our brains are equipped to manage pain, but unfortunately, most of us do not know how to manage our brains. If we did, pain would be a trivial message that something was wrong with our body that needs attention, and that's all.
Last year I had a weird, severe back injury while tying a shoe! Fear was my first emotion, because I had gone through years of back pain when I was younger that I now feel was tied in to my depressive/manic states. This time around, my bipolar disorder had been under control for about ten years with meds and therapy. The pain reached down through my nerves to the entire right side of my leg, feeling like a knitting needle were being jabbed into my joints. The trigger for the injury may have been a bulged disc pressing on the nerve that ran down that leg, but the pain, though severe, now did not affect my sense of well-being.
Like in the virtual reality game, I found a way to minimalize the pain using the power of distraction. Instead of focusing on the leg that hurt, I tried intensely concentrating on how good my other leg felt. Amazingly, the more I focused on the good leg, the less pain I felt. This told me that I was controlling the way my brain was processing its chemicals. I was able to produce endorphins enough to fill my body with a sense of well-being.
Lately, I think I've gotten better at producing these sensations at will. I have a sense of being high and my body feels wonderful. I feel lighter and a little less connected to what Eckhardt Tolle calls "the pain body." I also feel anchored to the present, and any baggage of all that I have been through in my life disappears. It is an amazing feeling. It doesn't last forever - life somehow always intrudes eventually, but it's a great skill to learn.
Meditation quiets the mind. When the mind is quiet, everything is perfect. In the present moment, everything is perfect. It is only the fear and anxiety of our expectations which are based on our past experience that take us out of the present moment. Some people say, you can't just meditate all your life, but they don't realize that you can quiet your mind during any activity. You don't have to be in a lotus posture, you don't have to close your eyes, you don't have to focus on your breathing. These are all things that might help you get there - they let you take control of your brain chemicals - but they are not the only way. If you are fully in the present, no matter what you are doing, you become the experience. You are no longer a person doing something, you are the entire world as your mind understands it. You exist in harmony with all of creation. Sounds nice, right?
You can be there right now. When we look for it, like the Tao, we will never find it. As soon as you stop trying to attain, you attain. You are the Buddha right now - you just have to stop trying to be the Buddha. But this is like the old story of the master saying that to attain enlightenment, you must not think of an elephant. The student then, of course, can only think of what he is trying not to think of. Stop seeking, and be the Buddha.
So the truth of reality is not what the mind tells us. Like in Plato's allegory of the caves, we only see shadows of reality and make our best guesses as to what it is. We are limited by our five senses. Reality is what we see, touch, hear, smell and taste. Could it be that there are other qualities of reality that we don't have the sense organs to perceive? Bats understand spatial reality by echolocation. Insects, birds and tropical fish see ultraviolet patterns that we can't see. Suppose we could sense magnetism, or density, or see gamma rays or electrical fields. There must be so many other aspects of reality that we cannot even measure.
So what is the truth? When your mind stops perceiving with its senses, it feels like truth. Truth is acceptance of all that is. Not judging, not comparing, not reacting, just accepting. Our brains are amazing machines that are built for judging, comparing and reacting, so that the organism of the body can successfully continue and help life on Earth continue. But we can control our brains, instead of our brains controlling us. We have the power to quiet our brains any time we want. And in doing so, we can experience the truth.
Our brains are equipped with chemicals which regulate our physical feelings as well as emotional states. I'm no brain expert, but am moderately aware of things called endorphins, serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. Certain drugs, like opioids, affect the production of these chemicals and alleviate pain and promote feelings of well-being. I've heard that endorphins are three times as powerful as morphine. So our brains are equipped to manage pain, but unfortunately, most of us do not know how to manage our brains. If we did, pain would be a trivial message that something was wrong with our body that needs attention, and that's all.
Last year I had a weird, severe back injury while tying a shoe! Fear was my first emotion, because I had gone through years of back pain when I was younger that I now feel was tied in to my depressive/manic states. This time around, my bipolar disorder had been under control for about ten years with meds and therapy. The pain reached down through my nerves to the entire right side of my leg, feeling like a knitting needle were being jabbed into my joints. The trigger for the injury may have been a bulged disc pressing on the nerve that ran down that leg, but the pain, though severe, now did not affect my sense of well-being.
Like in the virtual reality game, I found a way to minimalize the pain using the power of distraction. Instead of focusing on the leg that hurt, I tried intensely concentrating on how good my other leg felt. Amazingly, the more I focused on the good leg, the less pain I felt. This told me that I was controlling the way my brain was processing its chemicals. I was able to produce endorphins enough to fill my body with a sense of well-being.
Lately, I think I've gotten better at producing these sensations at will. I have a sense of being high and my body feels wonderful. I feel lighter and a little less connected to what Eckhardt Tolle calls "the pain body." I also feel anchored to the present, and any baggage of all that I have been through in my life disappears. It is an amazing feeling. It doesn't last forever - life somehow always intrudes eventually, but it's a great skill to learn.
Meditation quiets the mind. When the mind is quiet, everything is perfect. In the present moment, everything is perfect. It is only the fear and anxiety of our expectations which are based on our past experience that take us out of the present moment. Some people say, you can't just meditate all your life, but they don't realize that you can quiet your mind during any activity. You don't have to be in a lotus posture, you don't have to close your eyes, you don't have to focus on your breathing. These are all things that might help you get there - they let you take control of your brain chemicals - but they are not the only way. If you are fully in the present, no matter what you are doing, you become the experience. You are no longer a person doing something, you are the entire world as your mind understands it. You exist in harmony with all of creation. Sounds nice, right?
You can be there right now. When we look for it, like the Tao, we will never find it. As soon as you stop trying to attain, you attain. You are the Buddha right now - you just have to stop trying to be the Buddha. But this is like the old story of the master saying that to attain enlightenment, you must not think of an elephant. The student then, of course, can only think of what he is trying not to think of. Stop seeking, and be the Buddha.
So the truth of reality is not what the mind tells us. Like in Plato's allegory of the caves, we only see shadows of reality and make our best guesses as to what it is. We are limited by our five senses. Reality is what we see, touch, hear, smell and taste. Could it be that there are other qualities of reality that we don't have the sense organs to perceive? Bats understand spatial reality by echolocation. Insects, birds and tropical fish see ultraviolet patterns that we can't see. Suppose we could sense magnetism, or density, or see gamma rays or electrical fields. There must be so many other aspects of reality that we cannot even measure.
So what is the truth? When your mind stops perceiving with its senses, it feels like truth. Truth is acceptance of all that is. Not judging, not comparing, not reacting, just accepting. Our brains are amazing machines that are built for judging, comparing and reacting, so that the organism of the body can successfully continue and help life on Earth continue. But we can control our brains, instead of our brains controlling us. We have the power to quiet our brains any time we want. And in doing so, we can experience the truth.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Big Idea
I've always been a dreamer. Does that mean I'm not a doer? Not necessarily. Sometimes my dreams are grand, the kind that will change everything. Sometimes my dreams are modest, the kind that will change me. I suppose I've fulfilled many of my dreams. I'm an artist, a writer, a composer, a musician. But it's always the things I am not yet that drive me.
I've never been motivated by money, but lately I've found myself dreaming of having some. So several schemes are popping into my head to that end. I don't see my paintings as ever achieving star status - they'll probably just sell sparsely throughout my life, and that's a nice thing.
Just that there are some of my paintings out in the world makes me feel as if I am more engaged with other people's lives. There are those that are living with my paintings every day. They might never give them a thought, but they color the atmosphere a certain way. I'm in bedrooms where people make love. I'm in living rooms where people meet friends. I'm in offices where business deals are made.
But that is not about money. Lately, I've had the idea of helping other artists sell their paintings online. I know so many young artists who make small work, show it at coffee house galleries and occasionally sell a small work for a few dollars. This is the modest kind of purchase that anyone can make. It's not about the elite coming into a gallery with a checkbook and buying a painting by reputation. It's about the connection between makers of art and lovers of art. It's a small, humble kind of thing - not intellectual. It's outside of the ART WORLD, which has all gone kind of crazy. I want the outsiders who still do quality work to get their work into people's homes. There is no current system for this. I want to create one. An online gallery (I've registered he domain name galleryschmallery.com) that would sell work for no more than a few hundred dollars and even offer work for $25 and $50. I want to reach the kind of people who would never set foot in a gallery and when they want art for their home or for a gift, they end up buying cheap reproductions or posters. I want them to know that they can afford original artwork made by people who care about their art, and are not trying to be superstars.
I probably won't make much money at this, at least not at first. Who knows if this will catch on. But it will be a service that I am glad to offer my fellow up and coming artists. It feels important to me. It's a dream. But it's one I'm going to realize.
Some artists dream of being in galleries, having people actively selling their work which increases with value as it sells and their reputation grows. But what a gallery wants is a product they can rely on, someone who has a "mature" style, which is their way of saying someone who does pretty much the same thing over and over. That might sell paintings, but it doesn't help an artist's soul grow. Art is about introspection. It's about finding out who you are in the world and how you relate to life and then making that realization manifest. That is what a mature artist does. It's a skill that some people can practice with just a few strokes, while others do it with obsessive realism. But the mature artist is fully present in his work. It is imbued with his spirit. Making a picture can be easy and can be learned. But making it art takes a degree of self-actualization. The more an artist understands himself, the more powerful his art.
Most of my own output would not be on galleryschmallery.com. I would be very discerning about what I sold. Beauty doesn't seem to matter in the art world anymore, and there are many, many very ugly works that have great success. We shouldn't have to live with ugliness. Beauty is different for everyone, but there are universal truths that can't be denied. When someone is passionate about beauty, it shows in their art. Young artists are taught to avoid beauty, the idea being that if it pleases the eye, it cannot convey the greater idea. The idea is king in the art world today. One day, people will go to a gallery just to hear artists talk about the work they would make if they had any skill. There are artists who almost do this now. Artists who I won't name because I don't want to dignify their work by talking about it, but who just come up with ideas and then have other people make the work. This drives me bananas. Make the damn work yourself or don't call yourself an artist.
I'm getting off track. The kind of artist I want to feature is intimately involved with the making of the work. They are in the work. And they want to get back the energy they put into their work in the form of money. Sure, they have put a lifetime's energy into each piece, but it's better to get paid a little at a time than to wait for that big payday that comes with being an art superstar. I want to be a successful online winebar, coffeehouse, or bar, those places which show art, but are not in the business of selling art. Not a lot of art sells at these places, and you only get to see a small show each month. My site would enable you to visit hundreds of these places at the click of a mouse and to find just that little piece of art that moves you just so.
Maybe someday this would be a successful business and I could actually make a living from the small commission I would take (10% as opposed to a gallery's 50%). Then I could pursue other dreams of teaching college art, being a successful recording artist and songwriter, having a successful career as a published novelist. I find that if I put my dreams into words instead of just letting them play in my head, they tend more often to become realities. There's always room for more dreams.
I've never been motivated by money, but lately I've found myself dreaming of having some. So several schemes are popping into my head to that end. I don't see my paintings as ever achieving star status - they'll probably just sell sparsely throughout my life, and that's a nice thing.
Just that there are some of my paintings out in the world makes me feel as if I am more engaged with other people's lives. There are those that are living with my paintings every day. They might never give them a thought, but they color the atmosphere a certain way. I'm in bedrooms where people make love. I'm in living rooms where people meet friends. I'm in offices where business deals are made.
But that is not about money. Lately, I've had the idea of helping other artists sell their paintings online. I know so many young artists who make small work, show it at coffee house galleries and occasionally sell a small work for a few dollars. This is the modest kind of purchase that anyone can make. It's not about the elite coming into a gallery with a checkbook and buying a painting by reputation. It's about the connection between makers of art and lovers of art. It's a small, humble kind of thing - not intellectual. It's outside of the ART WORLD, which has all gone kind of crazy. I want the outsiders who still do quality work to get their work into people's homes. There is no current system for this. I want to create one. An online gallery (I've registered he domain name galleryschmallery.com) that would sell work for no more than a few hundred dollars and even offer work for $25 and $50. I want to reach the kind of people who would never set foot in a gallery and when they want art for their home or for a gift, they end up buying cheap reproductions or posters. I want them to know that they can afford original artwork made by people who care about their art, and are not trying to be superstars.
I probably won't make much money at this, at least not at first. Who knows if this will catch on. But it will be a service that I am glad to offer my fellow up and coming artists. It feels important to me. It's a dream. But it's one I'm going to realize.
Some artists dream of being in galleries, having people actively selling their work which increases with value as it sells and their reputation grows. But what a gallery wants is a product they can rely on, someone who has a "mature" style, which is their way of saying someone who does pretty much the same thing over and over. That might sell paintings, but it doesn't help an artist's soul grow. Art is about introspection. It's about finding out who you are in the world and how you relate to life and then making that realization manifest. That is what a mature artist does. It's a skill that some people can practice with just a few strokes, while others do it with obsessive realism. But the mature artist is fully present in his work. It is imbued with his spirit. Making a picture can be easy and can be learned. But making it art takes a degree of self-actualization. The more an artist understands himself, the more powerful his art.
Most of my own output would not be on galleryschmallery.com. I would be very discerning about what I sold. Beauty doesn't seem to matter in the art world anymore, and there are many, many very ugly works that have great success. We shouldn't have to live with ugliness. Beauty is different for everyone, but there are universal truths that can't be denied. When someone is passionate about beauty, it shows in their art. Young artists are taught to avoid beauty, the idea being that if it pleases the eye, it cannot convey the greater idea. The idea is king in the art world today. One day, people will go to a gallery just to hear artists talk about the work they would make if they had any skill. There are artists who almost do this now. Artists who I won't name because I don't want to dignify their work by talking about it, but who just come up with ideas and then have other people make the work. This drives me bananas. Make the damn work yourself or don't call yourself an artist.
I'm getting off track. The kind of artist I want to feature is intimately involved with the making of the work. They are in the work. And they want to get back the energy they put into their work in the form of money. Sure, they have put a lifetime's energy into each piece, but it's better to get paid a little at a time than to wait for that big payday that comes with being an art superstar. I want to be a successful online winebar, coffeehouse, or bar, those places which show art, but are not in the business of selling art. Not a lot of art sells at these places, and you only get to see a small show each month. My site would enable you to visit hundreds of these places at the click of a mouse and to find just that little piece of art that moves you just so.
Maybe someday this would be a successful business and I could actually make a living from the small commission I would take (10% as opposed to a gallery's 50%). Then I could pursue other dreams of teaching college art, being a successful recording artist and songwriter, having a successful career as a published novelist. I find that if I put my dreams into words instead of just letting them play in my head, they tend more often to become realities. There's always room for more dreams.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Thoughts on Dying
Bill is dead. It was a sudden onset of brain cancer which was only detected a week ago. I barely knew him - he was the husband of a woman I worked with, and he would stop by the office occasionally to say hi, or bring her something. He had a long life and a mercifully short illness.
I don't feel sadness at his death - I've thought a lot about death in the last few years. My dad is going to be 87 in March and my mom will be 82. I don't know how I'll react when the time actually comes, but I know it could happen at any time. I like to think I'm at peace with the idea. Accepting death is key to living peacefully. Even accepting my own mortality, and knowing that I could also die at any moment, for any number of reasons. I am ready. We tend not to think about death in our culture and so when it happens, we are usually not ready. If we are told we have a terminal illness, the rug is often pulled out from under us and it is then that we fully know that we are alive. And then, for some people, it is often too late to do all the things we wanted to do.
I don't want to do anything but have a deep connection with life, which I feel I have. I want to live as a loving person, which I feel I do. Every day is happier and more profound than the last for me. If I were told I was going to die soon, I would not be altered internally.
Dying is a state in which I will never be as long as I am conscious. I feel you are either 100% alive or 100% dead. I choose to remain 100% alive until I'm 100% dead. There is no dying.
I had a great aunt, whose name escapes me, who I was told was dying once when I was young. She turned out to hang around for quite a while. My joke got to be, "Is Great Aunt so-and-so still dying?" I would ask my mother this occasionally, and she would respond, a little miffed, "Yes, she is." I don't intend to die like that. I intend only to live. If I am irretrievably unconscious, then you can say I'm dying, because that's not really living. But other than that, I will never "die."
Death is also on my mind because of two stories - one of which I'm reading and one of which I'm writing. The one I'm reading is called "Life Work" by poet Don Hall, and is not so much a story, but a meditation on life as a writer, one who finds out he has cancer right in the middle of writing this very book. He thinks there is a good possibility that he will die, which adds a literary suspense, but having read the forward, I know that he did not die, but has lived for ten years after the publication of this book. It turns out that after publishing the book it is his young wife who gets cancer and dies at 47.
Any of us can go at any time. Our lives are the equivalent of a raindrop which falls quickly only to join the great water cycle again. I'm not saying I believe in reincarnation - I don't - but it's a nice belief. That we are part of something greater. That God is the storm.
The book I'm working on currently is called "The Cure," and deals with a group of terminal cancer patients who are cured by an experimental process just as humanity is wiped out by a plague that affects a supplemental element called lunarium, which people have been taking for centuries after its discovery on the moon because it promotes emotional well-being. They are spared because they are lunarium-free. They go from thinking they are going to die eminently to wondering about how to go about the rest of their lives, as others, who thought they would live forever, die all around them.
I think that we all need to meditate on our own mortality. Once you truly accept it, your life will begin.
I don't feel sadness at his death - I've thought a lot about death in the last few years. My dad is going to be 87 in March and my mom will be 82. I don't know how I'll react when the time actually comes, but I know it could happen at any time. I like to think I'm at peace with the idea. Accepting death is key to living peacefully. Even accepting my own mortality, and knowing that I could also die at any moment, for any number of reasons. I am ready. We tend not to think about death in our culture and so when it happens, we are usually not ready. If we are told we have a terminal illness, the rug is often pulled out from under us and it is then that we fully know that we are alive. And then, for some people, it is often too late to do all the things we wanted to do.
I don't want to do anything but have a deep connection with life, which I feel I have. I want to live as a loving person, which I feel I do. Every day is happier and more profound than the last for me. If I were told I was going to die soon, I would not be altered internally.
Dying is a state in which I will never be as long as I am conscious. I feel you are either 100% alive or 100% dead. I choose to remain 100% alive until I'm 100% dead. There is no dying.
I had a great aunt, whose name escapes me, who I was told was dying once when I was young. She turned out to hang around for quite a while. My joke got to be, "Is Great Aunt so-and-so still dying?" I would ask my mother this occasionally, and she would respond, a little miffed, "Yes, she is." I don't intend to die like that. I intend only to live. If I am irretrievably unconscious, then you can say I'm dying, because that's not really living. But other than that, I will never "die."
Death is also on my mind because of two stories - one of which I'm reading and one of which I'm writing. The one I'm reading is called "Life Work" by poet Don Hall, and is not so much a story, but a meditation on life as a writer, one who finds out he has cancer right in the middle of writing this very book. He thinks there is a good possibility that he will die, which adds a literary suspense, but having read the forward, I know that he did not die, but has lived for ten years after the publication of this book. It turns out that after publishing the book it is his young wife who gets cancer and dies at 47.
Any of us can go at any time. Our lives are the equivalent of a raindrop which falls quickly only to join the great water cycle again. I'm not saying I believe in reincarnation - I don't - but it's a nice belief. That we are part of something greater. That God is the storm.
The book I'm working on currently is called "The Cure," and deals with a group of terminal cancer patients who are cured by an experimental process just as humanity is wiped out by a plague that affects a supplemental element called lunarium, which people have been taking for centuries after its discovery on the moon because it promotes emotional well-being. They are spared because they are lunarium-free. They go from thinking they are going to die eminently to wondering about how to go about the rest of their lives, as others, who thought they would live forever, die all around them.
I think that we all need to meditate on our own mortality. Once you truly accept it, your life will begin.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Some Thoughts on Money
Money is a funny subject to me. It's rarely on my mind, and I rarely have any to speak of. But lately, it has been on my mind because I've been trying to raise it for a musical project of mine which is the pinnacle of my life's creative output. If I had money, any at all, I would just pay for the reproduction of this CD and that would be that. And many of my moneyed friends may be wondering why I don't just do that. But I live paycheck to paycheck - no savings, no investments. I live quite happily, mind you. Money, it is true, does not buy happiness - but the rest of that axiom should say it doesn't preclude it either. In fact, money and happiness are independent of one another. There are happy rich and happy poor. There are unhappy rich and poor as well. I feel the most pity for the unhappy rich. The unhappy poor may still have hope.
Someone once told me to think of money as energy - you produce a product or do a service in which you expend energy - you get energy back in the form of money. The energy expended by a CEO probably does not equal the money she or he gets back. And the energy expended by a teacher certainly does far exceed the money he or she gets back. The universe is not interested in fairness. Apparently, neither is society. I make about $27,000 a year. I know there is some kind of taboo about saying this publicly, but I've never been afraid of the truth, and that's the truth. I have no idea how much my friends or family make, but one friend to whom I disclosed my salary acted embarrassed for me. Somehow, I get by - somehow we all do. I feel like there are those who make $80,000 a year who probably still think there just getting by.
I know that if I were making that kind of money, I would be a much more philanthropic person. That seems like a fortune to me. I couldn't spend all that money, and I don't believe in saving for a rainy day. I believe in helping others. Of course, if I had kids I would think differently. Everything might go towards their care, education and well-being. But as it is, I don't have to think about where my money goes. I don't have much say in the matter. I owe $70,000 in student loans, but thanks to income-based repayment I pay a low monthly payment and should have it paid off when I'm about 140 years old. Then there's the usual rent, utilities, groceries, gas, and the like. That eats up the rest. So every paycheck I start out at about zero.
I do occasionally sell a painting, but for the 35 years of energy I put into them, I should be asking an awful lot more for them. Sometimes I sell a piece which I'm not that attached to, though, and the energy exchange feels more equal. But it sometimes seems absurd that big name artists can ask hundreds of thousands of dollars for a wall decoration. Ultimately, that's what a painting is. But it's also a storehouse of the artist's energy and if the buyer can appreciate that energy, then that is indeed worth a lot of money. When I sell a piece and I feel the buyer appreciates my life's energy invested in it, it's almost beyond price. It's as if they're adopting a part of me. I get to live at their house and be with them through all their life's events. How can you put a value on that?
I've been paid for music many times where I've had such a good time that I feel I should be the one paying. And then there are those times where I've played to a bar full of chatty, inebriated people who couldn't care less that I'm pouring my heart into each and every song. My full energy and the energy of all my experience is then wasted and I feel like you could not pay me enough. I want an even exchange. I want to sing my life to people and I want them to take it in as if I were giving a dissertation or a testimonial. I don't need money if people really get what I'm doing.Some of my favorite performances have been sitting around campfires. But if I'm entertaining them on a more superficial level, then yeah, give me some energy back in the form of money.
I'm playing a gig next Saturday for no money. But it's going to be all my own music. Every note and word will be me talking personally to the audience, which will be peppered with friends and co-workers. I'm looking forward to it more than any gig I've ever played for just that reason. Sometimes playing for money you can feel like a prostitute. Same with selling paintings. But this will be music for the love of music. I'm hoping to do more gigs like this in the coming year. I'm ready to profess my music, not just mimic other people's songs. It goes beyond the sound, and into an area that is very personal. I know there will be people there who will not pay attention - it is a cafe, after all, and there will be people who barely notice what I'm doing. But if there's one person who gets it - one person who meets me in the field of my mind, then they will be rewarded with a lifetime's worth of energy, because that is what I put into my songs. I'll have CD's for sale for the price of a tip, but that won't be the real payment.
My energy is not stored in my money. I give money very little power. My energy is stored in my creativity and I intend to be generous with the energy I have. If only people would recognize that energy I would give it so freely. I am a rich man.
Someone once told me to think of money as energy - you produce a product or do a service in which you expend energy - you get energy back in the form of money. The energy expended by a CEO probably does not equal the money she or he gets back. And the energy expended by a teacher certainly does far exceed the money he or she gets back. The universe is not interested in fairness. Apparently, neither is society. I make about $27,000 a year. I know there is some kind of taboo about saying this publicly, but I've never been afraid of the truth, and that's the truth. I have no idea how much my friends or family make, but one friend to whom I disclosed my salary acted embarrassed for me. Somehow, I get by - somehow we all do. I feel like there are those who make $80,000 a year who probably still think there just getting by.
I know that if I were making that kind of money, I would be a much more philanthropic person. That seems like a fortune to me. I couldn't spend all that money, and I don't believe in saving for a rainy day. I believe in helping others. Of course, if I had kids I would think differently. Everything might go towards their care, education and well-being. But as it is, I don't have to think about where my money goes. I don't have much say in the matter. I owe $70,000 in student loans, but thanks to income-based repayment I pay a low monthly payment and should have it paid off when I'm about 140 years old. Then there's the usual rent, utilities, groceries, gas, and the like. That eats up the rest. So every paycheck I start out at about zero.
I do occasionally sell a painting, but for the 35 years of energy I put into them, I should be asking an awful lot more for them. Sometimes I sell a piece which I'm not that attached to, though, and the energy exchange feels more equal. But it sometimes seems absurd that big name artists can ask hundreds of thousands of dollars for a wall decoration. Ultimately, that's what a painting is. But it's also a storehouse of the artist's energy and if the buyer can appreciate that energy, then that is indeed worth a lot of money. When I sell a piece and I feel the buyer appreciates my life's energy invested in it, it's almost beyond price. It's as if they're adopting a part of me. I get to live at their house and be with them through all their life's events. How can you put a value on that?
I've been paid for music many times where I've had such a good time that I feel I should be the one paying. And then there are those times where I've played to a bar full of chatty, inebriated people who couldn't care less that I'm pouring my heart into each and every song. My full energy and the energy of all my experience is then wasted and I feel like you could not pay me enough. I want an even exchange. I want to sing my life to people and I want them to take it in as if I were giving a dissertation or a testimonial. I don't need money if people really get what I'm doing.Some of my favorite performances have been sitting around campfires. But if I'm entertaining them on a more superficial level, then yeah, give me some energy back in the form of money.
I'm playing a gig next Saturday for no money. But it's going to be all my own music. Every note and word will be me talking personally to the audience, which will be peppered with friends and co-workers. I'm looking forward to it more than any gig I've ever played for just that reason. Sometimes playing for money you can feel like a prostitute. Same with selling paintings. But this will be music for the love of music. I'm hoping to do more gigs like this in the coming year. I'm ready to profess my music, not just mimic other people's songs. It goes beyond the sound, and into an area that is very personal. I know there will be people there who will not pay attention - it is a cafe, after all, and there will be people who barely notice what I'm doing. But if there's one person who gets it - one person who meets me in the field of my mind, then they will be rewarded with a lifetime's worth of energy, because that is what I put into my songs. I'll have CD's for sale for the price of a tip, but that won't be the real payment.
My energy is not stored in my money. I give money very little power. My energy is stored in my creativity and I intend to be generous with the energy I have. If only people would recognize that energy I would give it so freely. I am a rich man.
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