Does Hate Win?

When did we become divided? I realize this country has come so far in such a short time. However, in my lifetime, I cannot remember when we have seen so much dissent. It hurts. Labels hurt. Insinuations hurt. Alienation hurts. Hatred Hurts.

When I was a child I didn’t see differences in race, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. I only saw people. From my point of view, we were one. We were friends. We were neighbors. We were a community. We were a nation. As I got older, I still didn’t give power to anything other than action. I judge people on how they make me feel. Do they edify me or do they tear me down? But these days scare me. I worry about what we are becoming.

This has been a rough few years. Violence and hate are increasing, culminating with political division causing mass riots around this once great nation of ours. How did we get here? How did we go backwards? This stuff did not happen when I was growing up. But here we are, making progress. Is that what we call it? Progress? I don’t consider hatred progress. I don’t consider segregation progress. Why are we grouping ourselves according to our religion, political affiliation, ethnicity, and sexual orientation? How is this progressive?

I understand that we must unify and stand up for our rights. I also understand that hatred is often expressed through organized sects. Honestly, hatred has no authority. If an organization promotes hatred, they simply have lost their credibility. No one should have to respond to organized hate. But we are responding. We are responding by splintering ourselves into human subpopulations and attacking each other. We are segregating and the hate is increasing in power. We are allowing hate to win. This is not working. We need a new plan.

We have an opportunity to respond differently. Let us not fight in kind, but instead be an example. Counter violence with peace. Counter hate with love. Counter intolerance with acceptance. Otherwise hate wins. Let us be the light that illuminates the path to unity. We can have differing opinions, beliefs, and values but we are all citizens of this great nation. We are all Americans. I believe that if we stand together in support and understanding of our differences, hate cannot win.

The essence of the beautiful is unity in variety... Felix Mendelssohn

Embracing the Id

I am not a glitter girl. Pink? Nope. When I was a teen I wore Dr. Martens and ripped jeans. I spent Saturday afternoons writing short stories, planning my next concert trip, and listening to death metal at a volume that kept my parents at bay. Although I have been forced to grow up, I still love that rebel voice that these days is only really found in the music I chose to listen to and the internal desire to place pen to paper and craft anything that soothes my soul. But I feel I need more. I need more of what gives me joy. I've lost too much of my inner child, my Id.

For those that may not have studied Freud, the Id is the underdeveloped portion of our psyche that demands instant gratification for those things that we desire. The Ego and the Superego then develop to help us deal with reality. Without the Ego and Superego, we would all be adult toddlers throwing tantrums screaming, “not fair” when life delivers up a bucket of lemons.

This is where I leave Freud’s theory and relate it to life balance. I believe that unhappiness in life often occurs when some of us allow the Ego and the Superego to suffocate the Id. That is when you wake up twenty years into the future and realize you give 100% of your energy to responsibility and 0% to what used to make you happy. In contrast, too much Id can result in you living in your parent’s attic for the next 20 years. It is all about balance.

Life develops in layers. When we are born we have our immediate family. As we grow, we develop friends. Before we develop a life in which we must be responsible, we develop our interests. Some delve into sports. Some embrace art. Music moves others. We become ourselves when we only have ourselves to cater to. That is when we figure out what makes us happy. Then more layers develop. We become spouses, parents, and/or managers. As responsibility increases, we often let go of the passions that gave us joy. It is simply a time thing. As time gets short we let go of those things that are not absolutely necessary. However, life evolves full circle eventually leading back to the point when we are again alone with ourselves. Then what?

The trick is to strike accord between life’s responsibilities and the passions that make you, you. We must learn to cater to our Id while balancing the daily routines of life.

My sister is a shining example of balancing her Id. She has always been a musician, playing in bands since her 20’s. Twenty years later, she’s still doing what gives her joy. She is living to her fullest potential because she allowed her Id equal playing time, balanced with the life’s demands. She is a wife, a mother, an insurance broker and a musician. She also rides a Harley, but I digress.

I love to see my sister’s band play and sadly I have not done so in such a long time. Watching my sister reminds me that I need to cater more to my Id. My sister is a reflection of the happiness we can have if we take time out to do those things in life that we want to do. Not just focus on those things that we must do. Today we call this work/life balance. I call it embracing the Id.

As I wrap this story, I have the sudden realization that I am getting better. Instead of getting my house ready for an event I am hosting tomorrow, I decided to write and I feel good about it. I am choosing to spend time on my passions. Yet I have another realization that my house is quiet and needs some work. Perhaps my Id is telling me to turn on some Alice in Chains while my Superego beacons me to break out the vacuum.

Embrace the Suck

I love this saying! Honestly, sucky things happen. They happen to us all. It does not matter who you are, what your education level is, or how amazing of a person you may be. You are not immune to the suck. And so, when all is shining bright and you feel completely untouchable in this golden world of wonder and suddenly out of nowhere the suck strikes you unaware, what should you do?

I know from experience, throwing your hands in the air and muttering useless words like, “why me?” only results in more suck. Likewise, stumbling around and letting life drag you down produces negative energy that attracts more suck. Neither of these techniques worked for me. So, what is a person to do in the face of serious suck?

There is only one logical answer to this and every sucky scenario. Yup, embrace the suck.

Sometimes good things come out of the suck. We live life forward and we understand it backwards. It is that whole, hindsight is 20/20 thing. If only we could understand the suck when we are stuck in it. But, we cannot because we are not meant to. Perhaps it is an appreciation thing, or a lesson in trust and perseverance. I do not know.

What I do know from going through plenty of suck myself is, as time passes, I could begin to see how the suck transformed my life. I grew stronger. I found a belief in myself that became resolute. I fought and I found strength. New, amazing people came into my life. And, those that believed in me never left. Now, I find myself in the most amazing place surrounded by the most incredible people. Even though the suck still visits me on the regular, I stand firm and unwavering.

So, if you happen to be wading through a sea of suck right now, please know, you are in good company. Some of the most inspirational and accomplished people of our time were transformed by adversity.

“All the world is full of suffering. It is also full of overcoming.” – Hellen Keller

Some Never Came Home

 

 

I am one of the lucky ones. My dad came home.

My father served in the subservice of the United States Navy for 28 years. For 28 years I watched my dad leave for extended duty. Birthdays, Christmases and countless plays, awards and milestones ticked by without the security of his presence. When he came home, he always looked a bit different. He seemed foreign. But the look in his eyes was always one of joy and love and grace. Oh how I would love to see my father come home, bearing gifts from around the world and stories that kept my imagination fed.

I remember after one long deployment my dad came home 30 pounds lighter. At first, I had no idea who this scrawny man was at our door. But those eyes. They were my daddy's eyes. As a child, there was nothing to understand. It just was the way it was. Daddy had a job to do and his job was to keep our Country safe. I never resented his absence in my life. I simply looked forward to his return.

Similarly, I had no idea what he was sacrificing. My dad served during Vietnam and the Cold War. An estimated 58,220 Americans died in Vietnam. I wonder how many of them were daddies. As deadly as the Vietnam War was, The Cold War was a game of cat and mouse fought on the open ocean, as soviet warships depth-charged American submarines. During this time, as American subs sank into the ocean's vast abyss, I was clueless. I had no idea how much danger my father was in.

My father joined the United States Navy as a submariner in 1958 at the age of 19. He served 28 years and retired when I was 16 years old. My husband served in the United States Navy as a submariner from 1988 to 2012. As an adult I raised my own family with the absence of my husband, leaving for long deployments for a singular mission: to protect the life and freedom we take for granted every day. I thank them both for their service and dedication to their family and Country. Both my father and my husband served and retired. They came home. How blessed I am that they came home.

Since the inception of our great Country, 1,319,943 million American's never came home. They left their mothers, fathers, siblings, wives and children behind. They stepped out from the security of home into harms way to keep America free. This is dedicated to every man, woman, son, daughter, mother, father, brother and sister who paid the ultimate price. Thank you for your service. May you, resting in eternal peace, have finally found your way home.

For the Music Makers, the Dreamers of Dreams

 

Sometimes the world regards dreamers as aimless wanderers, fleeting from one thing to the next in search of some joyful, yet nonexistent utopia. These people are not dreamers, the world that is. They don't understand the plight. And that's alright because we are all born with unique gifts and talents. We are all destined to fulfill a specific purpose. With that said, this is a call to action to the dreamers who are still dreaming.

For those dreamers among us, it is excruciating; a never ending pursuit of something that is always dangling just beyond our reach. It is a daunting task to live up to our own dreams. We are each created to touch the world in our own unique way. We are musicians, writers, artists and entrepreneurs. We were born with an innate sense of necessity to accomplish something profound. Step by step, day by day, year by year, from the moment of our earliest cognitive memory we have felt the urgency to be what we were designed to be. And, for those of you, like me, who are still dreaming it is time to wake up.

By wake up I do not mean abandon the dream. The dream is who you are. You can no sooner abandon your self than you can refuse the air that fuels your body. By wake up I mean, set in motion the steps necessary to fulfill your destiny. Stop living that life that is manufactured. That thing that you do because everyone counseled you to take the safe path. Start creating again. Start dreaming again. Return to yourself. Return to your passions. Return to who you were destined to be. After all, there is only one YOU! There is only one person that holds the gifts and the passions that you do.

Consider for a moment your mentors, the biggest inspirations on your life. Who are they? Think of their faces. Truly see what they have given to this world and to you. Now consider what the world would look like without them. Consider what the world would look like if they accepted defeat and took the responsible, safe path. Imagine, if you will, yourself without their influence on your life.

Imagine a world without Picasso, Monet or Escher. What would today's music sound like without the influence of the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix or James Brown? Would Matthew McConaughey have made it to the big screen if it weren't for Jim Morrison's influence on his Dazed and Confused audition? Life is a series of domino effects brought on by the inspiration of those who touch our every day lives.

Now, let me pose a question. What if you were destined to influence others? What if the aspirations of future generations hinged on your mark upon this world? What if future generations miss their destiny because you have chosen not to share your gift with the world?

For all the dreamers among us, myself included, wake up and stay true to your art. Stand up and be accountable for the gifts you have been given. As Gene Wilder so eloquently said, for "We are music makers. We are the dreamer of dreams."

The Joy of Traffic

 

This morning was one of those mornings. One of those hurry up and wait mornings. Rushing to get out of the door only to end up in the throes of gridlock. You know the drill. Bumper to bumper, calculating miles per minute to determine ones exact degree of tardiness.

If there is one thing I can say about my personality it is that I despise being late. My father always told me, “if you’re going to be late, be early.” I never understood that. I still don’t. No matter, he planted the seed of all things that are unholy and unclean. The top of the list: tardiness. It is no wonder that when I see a traffic jam I feel the blood in my body build up conscious pressure.

But today was different. Something odd happened. Something alien. Something refreshing. Something most welcome. As I merged onto the interstate, calm seemed to whitewash my entire body. I was transfixed by peace. In the background I could hear the faint sound of Van Morrison calling me into the mystic.

In that moment I did what any music loving being would do. I cranked it up and remembered the feeling of once having a gypsy soul. I let the horn break consume me, draining every ounce of stress and negativity from my spirit. Freedom enveloped my subconscious, while I happily joined the cadence of the stop and go traffic surrounding me.

The minutes lapsed as brass gave way to the sultry voice of Janis reveling in love and loss. Like seasons of my own life, Bobby McGee weaved throughout her past and present with resounding illumination of all things beautiful, yet passed by. Love is like that. It envelopes you and releases you in its own sweet time. It is a lost song, a distant memory, a fading joy. Fading like Janis’ voice in the shadows of St. Elmo’s Fire.

“Growing up, you don’t see the writing on the wall…” An anthem to my youth. “Soldier on, only you can do what must be done...” Suddenly I am filled with empowerment, hearing the lyrics to a song I have heard many times over yet never really felt until this very moment. “I can climb the highest mountain, cross the wildest sea.” Damn right I can! “I can feel St. Elmo’s Fire burning in me...” Inside my car, a concert hall. Just two feet to my left, another car bearing the burdens of an agitated passenger looking at me as if I were the sole cause of the traffic folly.

Suddenly, I am brought to level of awareness that begs for my reserve. And yet, as this awareness engulfs me, for the first time in forever I do not care. “Just once in his life a man has his time, and my time is now. I'm coming alive…” He’s still staring at me, this man…this angry man. I see a familiar face in him. I see myself, a person of lost joy, focusing only on life’s duties.

When did music leave my soul? When did I lose my spirit? When did I surrender control of my joy to happenstance? Since when did I allow the irritation of traffic to hijack the rest of my day?

And just like a perfectly written script, “a long, long time ago I can still remember how that music used to make me smile.” At that exact moment when the realization hit me that I have allowed life’s burdens to suffocate the music from my life, confirmation of the loss is delivered by none other than Don McLean. I glance once again at the agitated man to my left and I smile, I roll down my window in the 40 degree chill to share the gift that I have been given on this random Thursday.

As the day fades, I sit in reflection of my gratitude for a simple traffic jam and a mirror image of who I choose not to be. Ah, the joy of life. It can be found in the most unpredictable of places.