Category: Thoughts

Fail better

by MAÔ, posted in Pathfinding, Writing

Hmm… I lost a month. I was cruising along again, then stepped away from the computer. Rip Van Winkled it.

I’m back. I guess I could consider not writing to be a fail. No one is emailing me asking for more posts, so that’s fine though. It’s a personal journey for me. And really, it is all about the journey.

I started keeping a blog for two reasons. One, I like writing. I wanted to get what I had to say out there. It may not be viewed by very many people, and that’s also fine. But it’s me being accountable to myself.

And two, I had a lot to learn to be accountable for. The year of 2016, when I believe I really started blogging, was a struggle for me. I have pulled out of that turmoil, which may be a reason why I’ve been less structured when it comes to posting.

But I still journal most mornings, and these posts are additional. I like the tactile sensation of writing in a book, with pen, in cursive. Someone tried to read a couple lines and called it my ‘old-man writing.” That’s how I feel sometimes – like an old man.

Other times I forget that I’m in my thirties altogether, and behave much younger. Those times are interesting, and I realize that my body bounces back much slower than it used to.

Either way, I’m here posting now. “Ever tried, ever failed” as Beckett says. “No matter. Try again, fail again, fail better.”

 

Slacking off

by MAÔ, posted in Work

Took a little break, as I went into tech week for a show (Oklahoma!), as well as starting a new job. Thus far, all has been going well. Still, there has been some slacking on my part.

I haven’t been reading much. A couple of nonfiction books. I’ll include that in Friday’s post. It seems that I’ve been incredibly busy without getting very much done.

Busy doesn’t mean productive. Someone said that once. I think.

So what have I been doing?

Good question.

 

The Crazy Ones

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

How do we say, oh crazy ones,
That the world is not ready?
Your time has either passed,
Or has yet to come.

You burn with unquenchable fire,
A flame none of us can comprehend.
Then we witness your struggle
To control your madness, your blaze.

The dying embers leave us empty,
An unsettling quiet in the pit of our soul.
You brought brilliance with you,
Gave us light from your very core.

I watched them die down,
Oh crazy ones. You fire starters.
Each great and mad all at once.

Better than most, yet misunderstood.
For how could we understand you,
We without the fire of madness?

A silent hearth, unsure of itself,
Whimpering in our complacency, waiting.

In some simple presence
Was enough to ignite passion,
Buried deep, long held silent
And at bay. The rules

No longer applied, for you,
The crazy ones, We who,
Like you and so many others
Before, after, and all time

In between: You called out to us;
Not knowing you were doing it,
Giving us the strength of your fire,
A spark that by itself could
Ignite the world.

Mere contagion will have to suffice,
As I and those like me bare the truth –
Since you are gone, Oh you,
Who were one of the crazy ones.

You have given us laughter, fear,
Compassion, understanding, fire… Hope.
We hope that we brandish your fire well.

Without fear, or hesitation. The way you did.

Time is a finite resource

by MAÔ, posted in Work

How do you spend it? What does your currency go towards? Are you doing things that make you happy?

Some of the more pervasive questions I’ve been asking myself of late. Over the past two years I’ve had roughly 4 different jobs, and I’m currently interviewing for a new position. (Several, actually, across disparate fields.) I’ve had okay “jobs”, and tended to excel in them. However, much of the work has been hollow. Or left me feeling hollow.

Certainly it’s a societal norm to trade hours for money. And we trade the best years of our life away in a notion that we’ll enjoy our retirement that much more.

Yet I’ve been reading the 4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss (finished it, and have actually begun rereading it). It’s one of those books that resonates with me. The Icarus Deception by Seth Godin was another. Business-focused, creative, and with just enough balls to say that the system may be wrong.

When I was a president of a board, I recall bumping against the mindset often; the mindset that was resistant to change because “it’s the way we’ve always done it.”

And if that’s the kind of mindset I have to fight tooth-and-nail with, is that really how I want to be spending my time?

I think not.

Icarus

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

Cuckolded and cropped,
A shadow with no self.
Beaten, bruised, broken, bloody,
Footsteps falter beneath me.
Capped at this height,
Stunted; wingless.
Flightless Icarus
When once the sky.
Cleaved from the aether,
Dirt I reside.
In dirt I live.
In dirt I hide.
It is in the dirt
That I will die.
Countless words drawn from my lips
as looking above, I lie.
Bitter feeling enfolds my breast
Remembering the sky.

Guns vs. Mental Health

by MAÔ, posted in Thoughts

Dammit. It’s happened again. This time just an hour South of where I live.

All I want to say is this. The purpose of a gun is the taking of life.

The purpose of a gun is the taking of life.

That is why guns were invented. To increase the efficiency and ability to take life. Threats of gun violence, yes, may have a deterrent effect on some criminals. That is why officers carry guns.

But the sole purpose of a firearm is to end a life.

Unless that is clearly understood by all parties, there can be little effectiveness in a gun control debate.

Some people collect guns. Some people collect coins. The primary purpose of a coin is to be a form currency. Not a collectible.

Guns are first and foremost a method of ending life.

Are mental health concerns an issue that we should address? Yes, absolutely. The way we treat the least in our society shows us who we are as a society. But when someone uses a rifle in a mass shooting – a mass murder – the issue isn’t mental health. It’s that the person knew the purpose of that weapon, and made use of it.

I’ve been told that if guns were illegal, people would kill with knives. Or axes. Perhaps that is also true.

But the primary purpose of a knife is not to kill. The primary purpose of an axe is not to kill (unless you’re a tree).

The primary purpose of a gun. Is. To. Kill.

Writer’s block?

by MAÔ, posted in Writing

I haven’t been writing much lately. I had intended to be, and yet it hasn’t happened. I could blame it on writer’s block, though it’s not entirely accurate. Well, it is and it is’t. Writer’s block to me seems a form of catch-all for the various excuses we use to say that we’re not writing.

Julia Cameron asks something like, “Why is there no engineer’s block?” That sounds not quite right, but you get the point.

Mainly, my lack of writing has been an issue of prioritization. Other things on my mind, and distractions abound in those times when I would typically do my writing. My journal entries have been sparse, my reading lax, and even the well of ideas that would pop into my head had seemed to be reduced to a trickle.

Now why this happens I can’t say. But I am aware that if I don’t write, regardless of if what I write is any good or not, the symptoms are only going to worsen.

So, here’s to a prolific and creative 2018!

Working on Purpose

by MAÔ, posted in Thoughts

I’ve begun reevaluating many of the choices I’ve made, distilling them down to some fundamental truths as to who I am, and what I should be doing with my time. This is a process, continuous over a lifetime. But in defining purpose, I’ve oscillated between some extremes.

A question that I’ve just written down to answer is: “who must I fearlessly become?” Even in the writing of that question, I could feel my fight or flight responses kicking in. I’m scared of answering that question. Which is why it’s an important question to ask.

Hence, fearless. Leaning in to the points, as Pema Chodron says.

When you find that thing that scares you, that’s an indicator that you’re about to do something important. As I continue on my process, I look forward to the new year and what changes it will bring.

Chai

by MAÔ, posted in Florida

Ah, fall. It comes slowly here in Florida. But oh how I love that brisk fall breeze blowing in.

For as long as I can recall I’ve had a love affair with Autumn, and the thought of leaves changing (not seen much in this state), hot apple cider (not necessary in the 70-80 degree range), and bundling up (I’m still wearing shorts and tank tops) always brought me joy. Seriously, this time of year is easily one of the most amazing. It’s almost magical how life seems to slow down around now.

When you look at the world, at least here in the US, the holidays are just coming to mind. People are easier to smile for the most part. A little more considerate. It seems that once you get into December, and especially just before Christmas (maybe even that last week of November, unfortunately) the pace becomes harried again. But for now, it’s all windblown leaves and warm wishes; family time and remembering.

I think about these things when I drink hot chai tea. I’ll get it from local coffee shops, Starbucks, or the WaWa gas station. It’s been my favorite drink for years, and though I drink it year round, this time of year seems to fit it so much better.

Hallows

by MAÔ, posted in Poetry

As the night wind blows

Making haunted howls,

The moon looking down

Illumined in vicious scowl,

The Day has died,

Departed or fled.

All that remains,

Or what lies ahead,

Is dark and wide,

Mysterious, changed, new.

Yet what is missed,

Thought dead or slew,

Returns aflame, bright,

Boldly breaking through the Night.

Last remnants flee,

Afraid of thee,

So should you brandish the light.