you spin me right round

The Bluegrass Roundup was this past weekend, and WOW--what an amazing event.

A fantastic, diverse crowd from ten states descended on Louisville for the weekend.  As a part of the planning committee, I hopped around busily throughout the event, but that didn't prevent me from surfing wild waves of fun.

On a personal level, I'm still absorbing the profundity and poignancy of the whole experience.  This is my third round-up, and these events have an alchemical quality.  They leave you changed, and often in unexpected ways.  I'm sure I won't realize the full impact for weeks to come...

I reconnected with some folks I hadn't seen in months, and I made connections with folks I'd never seen before in my life.  I was floored by the power of friendship--the open exchange of unconditional love and affection.

In many faces, especially those with years of sobriety, I got a glimpse of wonders to come--living out loud, happy, joyous, and free...

Something broke open deep within me spiritually as well--a shift I'm only beginning to understand, but one that seems to have changed all the rules. 

The weekend was intense, exhausting, and liberating.  I'm deeply grateful to have been a part.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

naysaying

I'm a chicken, clucking and fussing over any intrusion into my coop. 

I'm amazed at my propensity for negativity.  It's something I've started paying attention to.  A 'character defect', if you will.

No matter what comes up throughout the day, I have a negative, rejecting attitude.  I find fault or flaw with most everything around me, including me!  My automatic response is to refute, to repulse, to reject.

Frightening this constant, critical machine that runs my mind.  It pours a steady stream of vinegar into the fantastic unfolding going on all around me.

Fear, of course, makes the chicken.  So long I've been terrified of the world around me.  I've wanted to control it.  Damper it down.  Make it be quiet, sit still, or just go away...

Amazingly, though, my program of recovery has delivered to my doorstep and simple and ingenious solution: gratitude.

If I am confused, or irritated, or troubled about any situation, pausing to offer gratitude opens the door to acceptance and even, perhaps, wonder.

When I first began my journey into sobriety, I heard people talk about gratitude lists.  I kept one for awhile, but it seemed quickly to become redundant and there were so many other 'more important' issues to attend to. (See how that negativity slips right in there...)

If Life is, as I believe it to be, some massive, undulating, bewildering, ceaseless expression of the Divine, then everything that flows into my life is a manifestation of the Higher Power.  A visitation certainly worthy of my gratitude.

So here is an example of the negativity machine and an alternative grateful response:

I got a couple of small freelance jobs this week. 

My negative mind started in immediately on how they almost weren't worth the effort for the money I'd make.  I'm getting ready to leave town for the weekend and these projects are yet something else I'll have to get done before I can leave.   The clients don't know what they want, and it's slowing down the works.  I have other things I really need to be doing...

Okay, it should be easy for you to see where this is going.  Especially since a couple of weeks ago I was panicked about having no income and no job prospects.

Gratitude, of course, reminds me that I've been given jobs based on my reputation without having to go hunt for them.  I can make a decent chunk of money for relatively little energy expended.  The money I make on these two projects will finance my weekend out of town.  I don't have an overload of work at the moment, which means I can turn these projects around as quickly as they need to be.

Amazing the difference a touch of humility and gratitude can make.  Of course this is an obvious example, but I have plenty more negativity where that came from. 

The stuff that's pissing me off the most, I must remember, the stuff causing me the most angst, is the very stuff that needs to go at the top of my gratitude list.  I begin to comprehend that developing a proverbial 'attitude of gratitude' is essential for cultivating serenity.

Let me close then accordingly by saying I'm grateful for this blog, which offers me an outlet to explore all these ideas.  I'm grateful for those of you who read along and share in the experience.  I'm grateful for the internet and for all those souls who spend long days assembling chips, burying cable, climbing utility poles, monitoring systems, answering phones, and showing up for work, who make this online experience possible.

While I know negativity is something I'll be working on for a while, it's good to know there's so much to be thankful for in this amazing world.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

the god in the mirror

When I was finally forced to realize that I needed some help with the whole alcoholic train wreck that was my life, I was really aprehensive about going to AA.

I knew about the serenity prayer, the whole higher power deal, and I was skeptical to say the least.

Religion, as a rule, gets under my skin.  I've been burned.  Burned in a way only the truly intimate can be burned--at the stake as it were...

I started college with the intention of becoming a Southern Baptist minister, as much to purge the evil, sinful gayness of my soul as from any real calling to the task.  It was more of a bargain: I'll buy off my wretchedness by bringing some other better souls into the fold.  During my first semester, though, I found another way of drowning out my inherent 'wrongness' with an altogether different kind of spirit.

Although I abandoned my theological training, I remained fascinated by religions--all religions.  I studied everything from Aryuvedics to Zoroastrianism.  I became enraptured by mystical systems and paganism.  The Golden Dawn and the Tarot.  Astrology--Western, Indian, and Chinese.  I read the Dalai Lama and Thich Naht Hahn.  I waded through Tillich, Teresa of Avila, and St. John the Divine.  I got completely lost in the Unipishads and fell in love with the Stephen Mitchell translation of the Tao Te Ching.  And of course, I became a disciple of the brilliant, incomparable Joseph Campbell.

Despite my investigations, however, everything came up empty.  And the more I drank, the less I cared.

Oh sure, I could knowingly nod and utter cryptic phrases full of weight and wisdom.  I could pull some really esoteric and arcane trivia out of my ass at parties.  But somewhere along the way, I got frustrated with religion, mysticism, and spirituality.

So a few weeks ago, approaching my first meeting of an admittedly 'spiritual' organization, I had my reservations.

Magically, miraculously, or synchronetically--whichever you prefer--that first meeting was all about people and how they deal with the issue of a higher power.  I heard some amazing things.  Things that made me start thinking, but in a different way.

I love to believe I have control over my life.  I get very frustrated when I can't control the things in my life.  Especially uncontrollable things--like the lengths of checkout lines, the speed of time, and the thoughts and emotions of other people.

I began to realize that all my study, all my research and analysis over the years into the realms and traditions of spirituality, were really an attempt on my part to get a handle on god, so I could control him, or her, or it...

Intellectuality is a big part of my defense system.  I'm 'smart'.  I know big words--in several different languages.  I'm a quick study.  I can figure out concepts, analyze systems, and philosophize til the cows come home.  But my brain is far from perfect.  It has a gift for distortion.  It has amazing editorial powers that allow me to filter out great chunks of reality.  Nevertheless, my modus operandi is to absorb and process life through that big gray organ.

The trouble is, knowing what you should and shouldn't feel, doesn't mean you actually do feel.  Knowing what you should and shouldn't believe, doesn't mean you really believe.  My approach to the spiritual realm was acquisitive and colonial.  I wanted to claim spirituality as a subject I'd mastered and could now use to my own advantage.

I didn't want to find god, I wanted to be god.

And that, my friends, is where ol' step number two kicks in on this ascent from madness.

"We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity..."

Humph.

Don't like that at all. 

A Power greater than ourselves?  What about self-determination, triumph of the human spirit, the freedom of self reliance?

Well, those are all noble ideals, and for many folks they are probably principles to live by.  But when I checked, my self was determined to drink to the point of passing out--every day.  The triumph of my spirit was waking up, wading through a hangover, and wrestling with my workday as a functioning drunk.  And the freedom of self reliance?  At the point I went to that first meeting, my self had nothing to rely on except a plastic bottle of ten dollar gin in the freezer.

And so I decided, trepidatiously, to allow myself to consider, even briefly, that there may just possibly be someone else out there--a voice at the other end of the line.  So I started talking.

I can't really explain what has happened since.  Certainly no trumpets, burning bushes, or Damascus lights.  Something's up, though.  Random people will say random things that for some reason slice right through my bullshit and hit me where I live.  Coincedences happen.  Books open to certain pages.  Things connect.

What I'm working hard to do now is maintain a willing ignorance.  Not try to figure it out.  Not try to analyze, explain, or theorize.  The Great Cloud of Unknowing.  I'm talking, trying to be humble, and doing my best to listen.

I'm a long way from sanity.  But for the first time in a long time, I do have just a little bit of honest-to-goodness hope.

Honesty, serenity, and hope, folks--one day at a time...

i'm coming out

This is a tough one, boys.

It's taken me 17 years to get to this point.

It's scary.  But it's important.  It's a matter of life and death.

My big time party life fantasy has crashed and burned with the all too real realization that I'm a big time drunk.

Oh yeah.

I have been, as we say in Kentucky, whooped.

I've been sober precisely 18 days and 2.5 hours. 

Today was a rough day.

That's what made me finally decide to go public on my blog.

I've admitted to myself that I am powerless over alcohol, and man, has my life become unmanageable!

The trick is, though, alcoholism is a soul disease, and it festers and metastasizes in secrecy, in shame, in shadow.

So, I'm bringing my secret to light, here in a semi-anonymous forum.

This blog has always been the place where I explore what I'm feeling, where I reflect on life, and where I try to put the day-to-day craziness into some sort of context.  Now there's just a little more at stake. 

Don't worry--I plan to keep it as real and racy as always. 

I'm not doing this to preach or moralize (as if!). 

As much as I appreciate and adore my readers, this is something I'm doing for me--for my sanity, for my survival.

So I've added a new category: "1 Day at a Time".  That's where I'll muse and confuse on this strange road trip of sobriety. 

I've added an icon of the chip I got at my first meeting, the twelve steps, and the serenity prayer.  Those are for me, too.  Hopefully they won't turn you off, but if they do, there are lots of other blogs in the cyberverse...

And for those of you readers out there who can enjoy the luxury of a nice stiff drink without the need to self-destruct, I salute you.  Rock on, and I hope you'll still find stuff on this blog to keep your interest.

It's a brave new world, boys.

So in the immortal words of our beloved Bette, "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night..."

Honesty, serenity, and hope, folks--24 hours at a time.

secrets and spin

This past week I had the unnerving and exhilarating  experience of informing my parents of my alcoholism and recounting the past year in recovery.  Talk about something powerful and profound.  It's hard to comprehend the emotional energy that crackles between parents and child.

I noticed, even as I was speaking with them, an almost involuntary instinct to hide, to conceal, to deflect.  Something in me rails at the idea of exposing myself as anything less than a perfect, good little boy.   

Maybe that's why I have such a knack for advertising.  I'm hard-wired to highlight the most attractive, enticing, desirable features of any given 'product' and downplay any potential defects with some flashy sleight-of-hand.

How amazing (and frankly frightening) that I work so hard to polish my humanness to a slick one-dimensional sheen.  Perhaps I believe I should be one of those smiling, laughing, perfectly coiffed and buffed people in commercials who have only one problem to which the solution is the product being sold.

My next area of growth then it seems is rigorous honesty.  What am I actually feeling?  What do I truly like and dislike?  Is my answer anticipating what I think you or someone else wants it to be?  Am I feeling or liking the 'right' things, the 'cool' things, the things 'good, smart, savvy' people like and feel.

In some bottle of gin or carafe of wine along the way, I lost the authority of my own experience.  I learned to mistrust my feelings, doubt my delights, and second-guess my instincts.

I'm not talking about ego here.  This is not about having my way, or getting what I want, it's about authentically experiencing life as opposed to running every waking moment through a content editor for evaluation.

Disappointments, difficulties, and mistakes are as much a part of my life as they are of any human existance.  I must learn to stop scolding myself for being human.  It's time to stop pretending. 

I was telling my sponsor that part of me still suffers from the illusion that one day I'll 'get it'.  I imagine arriving at a point of stasis that is my final, permanent personality.  I'll "grow up."

If sobriety has taught me anything, it's that everything is changing all the time.  That means me too.

Accepting life on life's terms means accepting myself as I am at any given moment; constantly breaking down the illusion that I am somehow separate from what's going on.  In fact, feelings of being "not a part of", of isolation, of ultimate, existential loneliness are the very feelings I tried to find release from by drinking.

And that returns us to rigorous honesty.  Being mindful of what's going on in any situation is just the first step.  I also have to be aware of how I'm judging that situation, spinning the situation to my best advantage, tucking the discomfort of the situation into shadow.  Acceptance, compassion, and gratitude are essential.

Most important, though, is to remember all that I am is held, supported and accepted by the entire universe, or I would not exist.  If I can relinquish my self will, my defense of my own story about myself, then I can surrender to that Higher Power who has indisputable reasons for making me exactly who and what I am.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

knowing me, knowing you

I have always been interested in patterns.  I am especially fascinated by patterns that are simple in instance, but upon repetition produce larger, more complex, infinitely intricate patterns.

This pattern predilection has helped me sort out a deep metaphysical concept I've been trying to wrap my puny head around.

Life, it seems to me, is a massive kaleidescope.  All of our choices, all of our actions turn the dial and alter the colors and configuration of life's pattern.  In fact, to Viewers of this kaleidescope, Life is one massive, ever changing mandala breathtaking in its beauty and complexity.

Living here in the pattern, though, preoccupied with our own little chip of color and the shape we've carved out for our private use, we forget that everything we do changes the pattern not only for us, but for everyone else.

If we introduce a bit of blue into our part of the world, blue pops up in the pattern all over.  Same thing with our reactions.  If we act out of anger, we introduce anger energy into the pattern--all over.  True too with compassion.

Regardless, the pattern just keeps unfolding and unfolding with every twist of the dial.  There's no 'right' combination to get to.  Some patterns are more pleasing to our eye than others, some we don't care for at all, but the lens keeps on turning and new colors and forms keep clinking into place.

'Higher' consciousness, I suppose, is expanding our perspective a bit.  Seeing there's a lot more at work than just what happens in our own little worlds.  And, at the same time, understanding that everything is irrevocably connected.  The more we learn to know and love ourselves, so too does the world.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

a day at the races

Today is a high holy day where I live--the Kentucky Derby.

Easy, I know, for the uninitiated to wonder 'what's the big deal?'  So I'll give you my spin...

Horse racing is a multi-billion dollar industry.  Gobs and gobs of money trade hands at betting windows, on sales floors, in breeding stables...  Just so happens that right here in the Bluegrass where I live, geological forces come together to create an environment like none other on the planet, which just happens to be ideal for raising really fast thoroughbreds.

For us, then, the Derby is more than "the most exciting two minutes in sports".  It's a celebration of our land, our culture, the way we live.  Some of the most elaborate parties you can imagine, with budgets in the millions, happen all across the state in the week leading up to this day.  And of course, it's the one day and place that ladies can wear fabulous hats with complete abandon.

Now all that said, I don't really get too excited one way or another about the race itself, but I will tell you every year before it begins, I stand and sing 'My Old Kentucky Home' with a tear in my eye. 

Kentucky gets more than our fair share of barefoot, toothless, inbred ribbing through most of the year, so it's nice to have a day when people remember that the sport of kings starts and ends right here at home.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

belly of the beast

As you can see in the photo above, weight gain is a side effect of sobriety.

Give up booze and cigarettes, and suddenly ice cream and chocolate take on a whole new role in your universe.

I'm officially 35-40 pounds heavier than when I stumbled into my first AA meeting a year ago.   Part of my spiritual path these days, though, is acceptance.  Embracing my Buddha belly is part of the deal.

I don't particularly prefer carrying around this additional weight.  I don't fit into three quarters of the clothes in my closet.  I "feel" the heaviness when I climb stairs, get up and down off the floor for meditation, and when I lay in bed at night.  Health-wise, it's better than ingesting massive amounts of alcohol and nicotine, but it's not ideal for maximum performance.

Nevertheless, I'm at peace. 

Amazingly, I have the serenity and perspective to realize that I've undergone a profound physical, psychic, and spiritual change over the past twelve months--a period of intense healing.  I'm totally aware that if I get off my butt and exercise, then I'll most certainly shed some weight.  In fact, I've been walking 4 miles a day pretty regularly for the last two or three weeks.

What's different is that I'm not obsessed about making my body look a certain way.  I know it took time to gain weight and it will take time to loose weight.  I know that the results are directly proportionate to the energy I invest.

I am exactly the weight I am supposed to be.  If I wasn't, my weight would be something other than it is.  The very fact of my body is a miracle--with its cells and tissues and follicles and vessels.  It's a miraculous machine of living, moving, ever-changing parts that keeps my blood pumping, my fingers typing, my eyes blinking, and my hair growing.  How amazing that it continues to function after the abuse I've put it through.  How glorious that it serves willingly, totally, and completely as a vehicle for my consciousness.

If truth be known, vanity and lust keep the pressure on to slim down much more than considerations of health, but that's just ignorance on my part.  My body--like the rooms I inhabit, like the world I perceive--is a reflection of my inner state. 

To let my body become flabby and sluggish is to demonstrate a degree of neglect for my own well being.  My body is my point of entry into the physical world.  It's the means by which I get to participate in the sensual experience of life.

But rather than get caught up in didactic judging, berating, and admonishing, I decided to write this post (and include a less-than-flattering pic) as a way of celebrating my existence right now, in this very moment, exactly as I am.

I have much gratitude and joy--enough to set my whole midsection a-jiggle!  Life is a banquet, and as you can clearly see, I'm not one of the poor suckers who is starving to death.

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...

pole dancing

Yesterday good pagans around the world celebrated the cosmic goodness of our favorite friend--the phallus.

I move that May Day replace Halloween as the de rigeur homo holiday.

What other annual event offers the kinky fun of performing ritual, effigiac cock bondage while dancing with ribbons?  Sure it's a fertility rite--yadda, yadda, yadda--like we need more friggin' babies in the world...  Imagine instead a giant drag queen puppet three stories tall (a la the Macy's Thanksgiving parade) performing a rowdy, rootin'-tootin' Beltane bang with a huge, Holmes-sized maypole surrounded by writhing, mostly naked boys.  The whole shebang could climax in a massive explosion of confetti cum.

Now THAT'S a holiday tradition worth celebrating!

Passion, beauty, and love, folks--24 hours at a time...