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8:43 pm - Wed 1/9/02 Our Deepest Fear... Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It it our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won't feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. ~Nelson Mandela from his 1994 inaugural speech Lauren sent that to me in an e-mail about a month ago. I had come across it before--and I think I quoted at least part of it in a previous entry--but it's good enough that I think it bears repeating, in here and in my own mind. As you know if you've followed along so far, I'm at best uncertain about the whole "God" issue, but I can definitely get behind the idea of my "playing small" not serving the world (I know it isn't doing ME any favors, that's for DAMN sure!). A long time ago, I was presented with the idea of acting "as if there was a god". Recently--maybe it's something Jane and I discussed--the idea has floated back into my consciousness. I think if there was a god, he/she/it would want me to "just do it", to "Be all I can be", and in general, embody all those commercial mottos/positive affirmations that imply self-actualization. I'd like there to be a God. I'd like to have the comfort that I'm being looked out for, that things make some kind of SENSE, even if I can't see it at a given time. I'd like to have the comfort that, when the end comes, it will just be the end of "this", and not the end of everything. But I kind of think wanting there to be a God is much like wanting the Wizard to give me some courage; Wanting some gift to be bestowed from above that will never, ever come. If there's a God, is there ISN'T a God, I can't know. I will NEVER know. But I'm guessing, God or not, that I'm basically going to be left to my own devices. But can I imagine myself in a world that makes sense, where help will come if/when I need it, as long as I'm open to it, as long as I'm willing to take at least the occasional chance? I can imagine that. I WANT to imagine that. ************************************************ The day before yesterday, as I was riding to work, either just before or just after my rear tire quit rotating (I'd hit what seemed at the time like a very minor bump), I noticed a huge, black plume of smoke emanating from the block just past La Cienega (It turned out a condo under construction was burning down). I distinctly remember thinking, "That doesn't look right...". Cause I'm QUICK that way. If I'd had the time--and I WOULD have had the time, if I hadn't had to carry my bike the last three or four blocks to work--I would have stopped to check it out. But I didn't, so I just parked my bike in the little storage shed at work, and went about my day. While at work--my shift was 12-8:30 that day--the power went out (This was, I think, around 1:30. We all assumed it was fire-related). Sadly, it was only for about 20 minutes or so--I was hoping against hope for a "snow day"--but it dressed up an otherwise routine day at the bookstore. ************************************************* Did I mention my long weekend this past weekend? When I first saw the schedule for that week, I was kind of freaked out; "I can't have three days off," I thought to myself, "I can't AFFORD it!". I even cried about it to Michael C., the music manager. Michael took my concern seriously enough that he approached me later in the day, to tell me that, with holiday pay, I wouldn't really be losing any money. I was comforted, so much so that I was able to look forward to my three days off. The only trouble? I didn't really HAVE three days off; I had misread the schedule; The coworker whose schedule was underneath MINE had three days off. Ooops...! I was supposed to work 2-10:30 on Sunday. I idly checked my voice mail sometime after 4, and there was a message from work, just curious as to where I was (I called back, and they said, since I'd get an "occurence" for the infraction anyway, that I could just take the day off if I wanted to. But the last thing I need these days is to lose hours at work, so I jumped in the shower, and got to work around 5:30). There's nothing too interesting about this little anecdote, except as a comment to the power of the subconscious; I haven't had three days off since they made me full-time at the bookstore, and I haven't misread the schedule since the second week I was on the job, but suddenly I had a three day weekend, and I didn't question it for a second. Why? Because I WANTED more time off. And at some level, my mind decided to TAKE it. ************************************************* Every time I see a picture of the Romanovs, the Russian imperial family, I always think the same thing--"They are very attractive..." ************************************************* It's pretty easy for me to figure out why I avoid writing in here when I feel really bad. I've said it before--I don't want to worry people who care about me, and don't want to send myself into a depressive spiral--but it's much more difficult for me to understand why I avoid writing when I feel GOOD. It makes me wonder(revisiting my "subconscious" once again--the same subconscious that knew I didn't really want the Shakespeare gig in Texas, the same subconsious that decided I needed extra time off whether I was scheduled for it or not--)if I really would rather present myself to the world as "depressed, unhappy guy", and get the resultant pity, than be the much more complicated and three dimensional guy that I am. Just wondering... ************************************************* Right now, I'm watching the last part of the Michael Jackson show on CBS... He's putting his hand in front of his mouth a lot as he sings (I didn't get why he was doing it, but then it hit me--he's convering his lip-synching). I have pretty complicated feelings about Michael Jackson; I think he's a singular, exceptional talent, and I always list him as one of my inspirations for learning how to dance. But I also feel tremendously sorry for him, zillions of dollars and worldwide acclaim notwithstanding; I know I'm not expressing any novel sentiment here, but this is obviously not a happy guy. I don't think happy, well-functioning people abuse young boys, while turning themselves into outer-space/zombie/night of the living dead THINGS. But while I admire him as a performer, and feel sorry for him as a person, he also makes me think about how you can get away with anything if you have enough money. And since I DON'T have money, I resent that (Not that I plan on abusing young boys or turning myself into a freak of nature anytime soon. It's just the UNFAIRNESS of it all that gets me). ************************************************* A couple of things that surprised me about LA: 1. There isn't a movie theater on every block, at least not in MY neighborhood (That was an expectation I had that I didn't even realize until I got here). 2. At night, it sometimes gets cold enough that I can see my breath (I thought I was done seeing my breath once I left Michigan). 3. I had a notion of LA/California as being some kind of mellow place, where everyone would talk in some variation of surfer guy/Valley speak, but very soon after I got here, I realized that things were faster paced, and people more impatient, than I thought they'd be (I think my view of LA was more informed by stand up comics and the like than any real INFORMATION). ************************************************* I'm going to have to keep reminding myself that I need to keep reminding myself to be positive, and grateful for what I have. I tend to give lip service to the fact that improving my outlook is going to take effort, but then give up after taking a stab at it, falling once more into depression and despair. So what do I have to feel positive and grateful about...? After I botched Fridays audition, after I misread the schedule and had to be called to go in to work on Sunday, and after my rear bike tire locked up on the way to work Tuesday, I was feeling pretty crapped on by life. But when I got home, there was a big box from Kevin waiting for me in front of my apartment door. I had misunderstood my communications with Jane and Kevin; Since they both made reference to getting my Xmas gift out late, I assumed they were working in concert (But Jane had ASKED Kevin if he wanted to do a group thing, and he already had his thing in the works, so he declined). It was a shipment of things I had stored with him. I won't bore you with a complete list of everything that was in the box, but amongst the treasures were: 1. The metal windmill music box--that plays "The Impossible Dream"--that Jane gave me after I did "Man of LaMancha". 2. Books (Amongst which were some acting books, which came not a moment too soon, and my three J.D. Salinger books, which I want to re-read after seeing "The Royal Tennenbaums", which was apparently inspired, in part, by Salinger's "Glass family"). 3. The little award Jane made for me after I won a Lansing State Journal "Thespie" award for my work in "Big River" at the Riverwalk Theatre (The award had been especially gratifying to me because it made reference to my whole body of work that year). 4. The gumball machine Kevin gave me when I expressed admiration for it while visiting his house one time (Included in the package were two containers of gumballs. I loaded the machine, and chewed probably thirty or forty gumballs that evening). I've been thinking a lot lately about how "stuff" isn't really all that important to me, and I think that's pretty true. But SOME stuff does serve to make you feel better. So thanks for that Kevin. ************************************************* Well, I've actually got a LOT more I could say at this point, but the time has flown by, and I have to get up moderately early tomorrow, because I'm taking Tony B., a young friend of mine from work, out to breakfast tomorrow (Tony would qualify as one of the things I'm grateful about these days, a very nice kid who's made life at the bookstore more pleasant just by his presence there. Now he's off to the National Guard for the next four months, and I thought I'd like to see him before he leaves).
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