Wednesday, October 22, 2014

I Was Once a Son with Rage and Love

One of my major faults, I feel, is that I can hold onto a grudge longer than a statue can hold its pose.

In the past nearly two years, I have turned around a lot of my behavior and general outlook on life, and myself, due to the discovery of Taoism and it's messages.  I have, in general, become a more positive person in my everyday and have become much more of a fan of Dave.  I, still, am very hard of myself with the occasional slip into the world of self deprecation, more so recently than when I am getting regular nights of sleep, but there has definitely been an improvement.

So last night, I had a bit of an epiphany.  As many of you know, I have resurrected my dormant theatre company, MidCity Productions, and we are slated to make our New York City debut one week from tonight.  In the past few months, I have been on virtually no auditions, and for those of you that know me, that is very rare.

My two year anniversary in New York was February 19th, 2014, and by that time I had tallied over 180 auditions.  Truth be told, auditioning is something I really enjoy doing.  I don't get to perform as much as I want to, so those 45 seconds is my time to perform.  To get my kicks in.  To get it out of my system until the next time.

But the past few months have been filled with meetings, rehearsals, and hours upon hours of planning how to get this theatre company up and running.  I made the vow to myself and my staff that I would not audition for any summer stock because, if I were to book something, it would not be fair to them for the Artistic Director to leave town for three months, leaving them the burden of starting a company.  The first few weeks were difficult, truth be told, because I felt like I was neglecting the reason I was in New York.  But I wasn't.  Just because I wasn't actively seeking employment with another theatre production/company, doesn't mean I wasn't fulfilling my reason for being in this city.  I was starting my own theatre company.  And trust me, that is definitely doing something.

Ok, so that is the exposition.

Now we turn the clocks back to April 2012.  Or somewhere around that time.  Maybe it was August.  Either way it was over two years ago.  This was the day of the first open call for the National Tour of Green Day's 'American Idiot.'  I had auditioned for this show several times before, but it was for the Equity required six-month (or whatever they are) call when the show is on Broadway.  But this was actually the first time I had a chance to fill a role in the company.

I have been a die-hard Green Day fan since I was twelve when I bought their album 'Nimrod' before I went to Australia.  It stayed in my CD player for the entire two weeks and by the time I came back home, I knew every lyrics to every song on that CD...except for 'Last Ride In' which is an instrumental.

When I got the opportunity to see 'American Idiot' on Broadway, I was like a kid given carte blanche at Toys 'R Us.  The only thing to sweeten the deal was that, at the time, St. Jimmy was being played by Billie Joe Armstrong.  Now, I was dead.  I won't give you a review of the show here, so all I will say is that I wanted to go back the very next day.  I haven't stopped raving about it.

So when I saw the audition call for the National Tour, I knew nothing was going to stop me from going to that.  So for weeks and weeks, I practiced, tried out different songs, listened to Pandora non-stop for songs that would be a good fit for the audition.  I finally chose my song.

The day had arrived and I arrived at Chelsea studios at 4:30 am to stand in line for this audition.  For those of you not familiar with the audition scene, this is actually a completely normal time for a show as popular as American Idiot.  So I waited in line, got my number, was going to be seen before lunch, and was overall very confident.

Long story short.  It was the worst audition I ever gave.  Before entering the room, the headstock of my guitar smacked against the door frame, sending the guitar wickedly out of tune.  So the retuning had to happen in front of the auditor while trying to not look like a complete putz wasting her time.  After trudging through the song, which was on par for a rousing round of 'boos' from any karaoke bar, I slipped into a funk that I couldn't break for three days.  I was seriously ready to give everything up after the one audition.

My girlfriend at the time, try and try as she did, had every effort to cheer me up shoved right back in her face by me.  Real mature.  I still feel bad for the way I treated her that week, deflecting every attempt to raise my spirits as if it were some sort of malintentioned tennis ball.

That was over two years ago.  Remember how I said I hold a grudge for too long.

Last night was the first time since that audition that I listened to anything 'American Idiot' related, be it the 2004 studio album or the Broadway Cast Recording.  I have listened to plenty of Green Day since, but not a note of anything 'American Idiot.'

Last night, it was time to get over myself.  There is a (wonderful) documentary on Netflix called 'Broadway Idiot' which is about the journey the show took from workshop sessions to Billie Joe's Broadway debut as St. Jimmy.  And seeing all the actors in that documentary that were involved with the show, and seeing Billie Joe's revelation of what theatre and the comradery happens in a cast was exactly what I needed to tell myself,

'Dave...get the FUCK over yourself.  So what, you had a bad audition.  It happens.  Ease up on your self.  Enjoy yourself.  Know that you did it.  It's better than bombing a show in front of thousands of screaming fans, which, in 20+ years in the business, I am sure Green Day has done.'

DISCLAIMER:  This is not to insult Green Day, but bad shows happen.  I have had them and I'm no where as experienced in live performances or as famous as Billie Joe, Mike, or Tre.

So back to why I started rambling.  I know full well, and have accepted, that with my new role of Artistic Director of my company that is about to swan dive in New York, my ability to audition and perform elsewhere will be heavily limited.  This is completely ok with me.  This is what I signed up for.  For this, I have no regrets or hard feelings at all.

But I will be in American Idiot.

I am going to rededicate myself to my training and really make it focused on developing my guitar playing, my singing rock vocals, and expanding my rock repitoire.  There is nothing has ever beaten me that I haven't risen back up against and gave it another fight.

I've never really had a 'dream show' that I would drop everything to be in.  This is that show.  It's a goal.  And goals are set to be achieved.

And I will.

Abide and ramble on
Stish

ps - Listen to both albums if you haven't.  They are amazing.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

One Thousand One-Hundred Twenty-Five Feet per Second

That's the sound barrier.  One thousand one-hundred twenty-five feet per second.  Or three-hundred forty-three meters per second for those of you from the other side of the pond...and pretty much everywhere else in the world.

I was sitting in my folding chair at my usual Tuesday evening locale, The Shakespeare Forum, when we picked the night back up from our 'intermission'.  It was then brought to our attention that 67 years ago from this past Tuesday, on October 14th 1947, Chuck Yeager was the first person to break the sound barrier.  Pretty remarkable considering that only 44 years earlier, in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, the first airplane was successfully flown.

It was then that the AD of the Shakespeare Forum, Tyler Moss, laid down a challenge for all that sat before him on this particular Tuesday....and it is that same challenge that I give to all of you, whoever may be reading this.

Find a barrier that you have and break it.

What holds you back?

What keeps forcing back on the sidelines when all you want to do is jump in and play?

What pulls you away from where you want to be?

Is it fear of rejection or humiliation?  Self consciousness?  Anxiety?  The prospect of disappointing others?

Whatever it may be, break it down.  Shatter it.  Know that it is only ourselves that can break our limits because it is us who set them.

I used to always think that I'd have to go through life just settling for what came my way.  Whether I wanted more or saw something that was out there worth fighting for, I would normally settle with whatever I got because my barrier was standing up for myself and having my own voice.  I am slowly breaking down the barrier because I know what I want and, dammit, I'm going to do everything in my power to get whatever it may be.

Other people can help provide for us but we have to be honest with ourselves first.  No one will know until we know.  It's like you have to start loving yourself before others can love you.  Same thing.  You have to know what you want, know that you are worth it and deserve it, before you can get it.  Because even if whatever it is that you desire comes to you, if you don't think you are worth its reception, than there is no feasible way you are going to enjoy it upon it's arrival.  And this editorial 'thing' that I keep referring to can be anything.  Material, emotional, spiritual, behavioral, etc.

We all set limits and barriers for ourselves.  According to Merriam-Webster, a barrier is defined as:

something (such as a fence or natural obstacle) that prevents or blocks movement from one place to another

To me, the key word here is 'obstacle'.  Obstacles are meant to be overcome.  They beg to be overcome.  They don't exist to squelch dreams and shutter hopes.  The exist to encourage growth and promote maturation.

So find your barriers, find what blocks you, and do what Chuck did and break it.  Whether that's loudening your voice and standing up for yourself, saying hello to that guy or girl in your life that slows down a room, jumping off the bench of creativity and promoting what it is you've created or simply looking at yourself in the mirror and reassuring yourself that, yes, you are worth everything you desire in the world.

Do what Chuck did.

He had nothing to lose....and neither do you.


Be well and Ramble On,
Stish

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Pagliacci, Exit Stage Right

I fear that this ramble will turn into a bit of a rant at some point, but that tends to happen when what I'm writing about is so rooted in my being and morals that I can't help but get passionate about what it is I am writing.

I recognize that some people might not agree with what I am going to say.  Some people might even stop reading after the next paragraph or two.  Some people might change the way they think of me.  And I am ok with all of that.

I can't not sit by and let Robin Williams' death go unreflected upon.

For those that didn't know, Robin Williams was my personal hero.  He was why I became an actor.  He was my favorite actor.  He was who I wanted to embody every time I took the stage.  I remember watching Robin Williams movies when I was younger and completely loving the feeling that he left me with as the credits rolled.  It wasn't until later that I discovered that that feeling I was left with was the feeling that I wanted to leave others with.  So I consciously made the decision to be an actor for the rest of my life.  I wanted to be his warmth, his funny, his honesty, his truth, his smile (I am lucky enough to already have the blue eyes).  Would I have wanted to become an actor had I not had such a connection with Robin that I do today?  Maybe.  Who knows.  But I am one and it is because of him, so why speculate?  

When I got news about his death at 7:02 pm, Monday August 11th, 2014, I, along with many people around the world, felt my heart jump into my throat and beat a hysteric rhythm that would make any cardiologist see dollar signs.  My hands started shaking something fierce and I couldn't catch my breath.  It was like I was on a month long hunger strike and just ran a marathon.  I had no strength in me anywhere.  I even checked on four websites to confirm it.  But there it was.  Robin Williams, aged 63, found dead.  Suicide suspected.

And here we go.

Suicide is not a choice.

Suicide is not what killed Robin Williams.

That is my belief and I will argue that until the day that I die.  I honestly believe that suicide can be ingrained in your body just much as sexual orientation or whether you are a righty or a lefty.  You are not born with suicide in your nature, but rather it springs up like a nosy weed among your prized garden of life.  But this weed can't be pulled.  Once it's there, it is there.  Whether tendencies, thoughts, attempts, or the actual act itself.  I am disgusted that people have the audacity to say that anyone is selfish that chooses to take their own life.  That they are don't care about the people around them and what happens to them once they are gone.  That they had a choice to live or die, but they decided to continue the cut or cock the gun.  That they chose the 'coward's way out' and decided to end it all.  Running away from their problems.

These people that honestly believe that, and think that suicide is a choice, I envy them because they have obviously (and I hate using that word) fought the battle with suicide, or maybe even just severe depression.  I can't say that what I had was severe, but I battled with depression all of high school, through college, and even have lapses of it now.  When you fall into that 'funk' or 'blue state', it truly is numbing.  Nothing that you have in the world means anything to you; fame, fortune, friends, love, material goods.  Nothing.

So be fortunate. 

When you walk up to an elevator, what makes sense is to press the button to call it.  When you you sit down in your car, it makes sense to put the key in and start it.  When you are succumbed by depression, by the darkest, lonliest, most isolated feeling that mankind can ever feel, there are really few things that makes sense. 

Now, I am not condoning suicide.  Let me state that again.

I am not condoning suicide.

And those that know me, I am not someone to talk and 'preach' about what I don't have experience in.  I don't talk about politics or health care or German literature because am ignorant to those topics.  I find it very unattractive when people argue with the one-and-a-half points of knowledge they have on a topic and claim to be the experts.  But I am ranting about depression and suicide, so do the math.

Suicide is a real thing.  It shouldn't be this taboo subject that no one talks about because it is supposedly 'frowned upon' or looked at as something 'ordinary people' wouldn't do.  Bullshit.  The truth is, people dealing with it often times don't know that they are, actually, dealing with it, and won't talk about it.  Other times, they won't talk about it because they are ashamed and embarrassed and don't want to make others think different about them, so they leave on the face that everyone is familiar with.  But trust me when I say this, we really do want to talk about it.  We just don't know how.

But there's another battle I'm having.  It's with myself.  It's the battle of  do I even have the right to mourn and grieve?  This is a man I never met and I am a man that he didn't even knew existed. This is a man who had friends, family, colleagues, and people closer to him that he might have ever known. And I'm just a man in New York struggling to be half the performer that Robin ever was. So do I have the right to mourn him as if he were a family member? Because this certainly feels like the loss of one.

In ways I feel foolish and selfish for being so torn up about a man I never met before. It's like a sick case of "one ups". He never shook my hand. He never took time out of his day to talk to me. He never shared a story or anecdote with me. And I never did any of that for him. So can I mourn?

Monday wasn't so much about sadness as it was about shock. I shed one, maybe two tears, on Monday. Tuesday was different. Tuesday I couldn't concentrate. Tuesday I couldn't focus. Tuesday, all I cared about was when I got to go back to bed and pull the sheets up around my chin. At work, I had to excuse myself from the floor twice to lock myself in the bathroom and sob for 20 minutes. I had to make sure to wipe up the tears and snot that pooled on the ground by the toilet before I left and went back on the floor.  

So whether I have the right to mourn and grieve as a family member, I'm doing it. Because I looked up to Robin Williams as much as I look up to my own father. I lost someone that gave me guidance and direction without him even knowing it.

This was a man whose simple smile could lift anyone's spirit.  When he smiled at his kids in Mrs. Doubtfire you knew he loved them.  When he grinned at his students in Dead Poet's Society you knew he was proud of them.  When he laughed with his patients in Patch Adams you know he would give them the world.  It just proves that, no matter what face we wear in public, no one ever knows what is happening behind closed doors...unless we decide to open one of them.

So now I send out a plea. Don't feel like you have to go through life alone. No one should have to go through life alone. That's why you were graced with family members, friends, colleagues, teachers, coworkers, and mentors. They were put into your life more than to just be there. Here put there to be there for you. I made the decision to reach out and talk and find out what was going on inside my head. And, to this day, next to the first time I made a decision to watch a Robin Williams film, that was the best decision ever made. 

Learn from your heroes. Learn how they entered. Learn what they did while they were here. And take lessons from how they left.

I will never stop loving Robin Williams, as a person would professional. And I certainly, with all my heart and morals, will never ever judge him for what he chose to do.

Be your own catalyst of change.

Be well, take care of each other, and ramble on,
Stish 

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Ira Lindberg Harris (1988-2012)

I enter this week, as many of my Shenandoah Alums do, with a heavy heart.  It was roughly two years ago to the day that our Ira Harris was involved in an altercation that left Ira in intensive care where he would succumb to his injuries two days later on February 27th.  When news first hit that Ira was badly injured and in serious condition, thoughts, prayers, and rallying words flooded Facebook so much that I bet if a regional survey was taken, the name Ira Harris would've been trending on Facebook in the DC/VA/MD area.  In fact, I guarantee it.  Why?  Because that is how many people Ira not only knew, but loved, touched, and inspired.  Ira was a man that knew just one thing: love.  He knew how to love, how to be loved, why we should be loved, and what he loved.  Not bad for what some would label as 'just a kid.'

Ira was the first person that ever said anything to me on my first day on the Shenandoah Campus.  I remember it quite vividly, and for those of you that know my short-term memory, this is quite an accomplishment for me.  It was a rainy, ugly day in August 2007 and it was freshman move-in day.  The entirely too small parking lots were filled with cars, parents, dolly carts, suitcases, cardboard boxes, and unattended younger brothers and sisters.  And it was only 8 am.  My family brought two cars; dad and I in his, mom and Eric (my brother) in mom's.  Dad dropped me off at the front door to Racey, my freshman dorm, and went to find a parking spot with mom's Volkswagen Passat puttering behind.  As I walked in, there was a table with five or six (maybe it wasn't that vivid after all) people helping misty-eyed parents and wide-eyed, quasi-nervous students.

But one person stood out.  It wasn't his mane of tight, spiraly hair, though it didn't help, but it was his energy.  He was bouncing back and forward, bobbing his head, helping anybody and everybody with energy that I had never seen before.  And I remind you it was 8 am and some change.  He then asked if I needed some help.  Uhh, hell yes.  I told him my name and he looked at his check-in list and smiled when he found it.  It wasn't because I knew him or he knew me.  I had never met this man before.  He was smiling because, as it would turn out, I would be living right across from him and he would be my RA for my freshman year.  By then, dad had parked the car and made his way to the lobby and met me at the table.  Dad introduced himself to Ira and you would've thought Ira was shaking hands with Michael Jackson himself.  He then escorted my dad and me to my room, asked if I needed anything else, and then went back to the lobby.  That was my first experience with Ira.

Now, I'm not going to recount my whole history with Ira, but I wanted to share that first one because that was what was so special about him.  Ira didn't know me from Adam, but he didn't care.  I was another new face for him, but what a new face meant to Ira was a new friend and a new person to love.  That's why he was so excited to meet me.

In 2009, another very dear friend of mine, Casey Spence, died.  When I moved to Ellicott City in 2001, I was paralyzingly shy, still am to an extent, but she was the one that reached out to me and brought me into the neighborhood.  There's no doubt that if it weren't for her, I never would have met my best friend to this day, Jon Kaufman.  Casey was the catalyst to what would be a very enjoyable middle and high school career.  All because of Casey.  At Casey's funeral, the priest made an interesting but profound point.  He said, 'While we celebrate and embrace the life that Casey led, we must also look at how she left us.'  I will never forget this.  I thought it was odd to talk about that at a funeral, but over the years it became clear to me why he said this.

Life is full of entrances and exits, and each much be treated with the same respect because it will make subsequent entrances and exits mean that much more.  We must never forget how we met our best friends just like we should never forget how people leave our lives. whether it be voluntarily or not.  Whether it be physically or spiritually.  So that is why I told you how Ira left us.  Because it shouldn't matter how he left.  That doesn't change the type of person he was and how he lived his life.  When Ira died, a reunion of SU alums was organized that night at a bar in Astoria, and I remember the toast I made.  I said that Ira lived a unique and special life and we were are blessed to have met him.  But now that he is gone, we have the awesome responsibility to carry on his legacy.  It is our job to love like Ira loved and spread his personality to people that will encounter throughout our lives that never met Ira.  Because everybody should have an Ira in their lives.  That is our job and I know we will all see it through.

I have certainly loved a lot more in my life since Ira and Casey's passing and will continue to love more and more.  Sometimes it is hard.  Sometimes it isn't.  But it is always necessary.

Abide and Ramble On
Stish

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Hello, My Name is Roses. Blue Roses.

Last week, I had the good fortune to see the latest Broadway revival of Tennessee Williams' The Glass Menagerie.  Let me first state that this is not going to be a review.  I will simply say, about the production itself, that it was truly a wonderful piece of theatre and it did a wonderful job of breathing new life, as well as resurrecting the old, into this timeless tale.  What struck me, from my third-row mezzanine seat, was the dialogue and what it really said.  Most notably, the scene between the gentleman caller, or Jim, and the daughter, or Laura.  

Just some background...

Laura is a shy, timid, case-study introvert.  She is 'crippled' and has decided to let that physical handicap cripple her experience in life.  She is the kind of person that would apologize profusely to a brick wall if she ran into it...if she left the house.  Jim is an old classmate of Laura's and her brother, Tom, who was brought over for what was assumed to be an innocent dinner with Tom, now a co-worker, and his mom, Amanda.  Oh, don't let me forget that Laura has harbored some very strong, passionate feelings for Jim ever since their days in high school.  In the scene that the two characters share together, Jim is able to clue into Laura and why she is how she thinks she is.  She has spent her entire life focusing on her disability and what has made her different from her peers.  Then Jim says something that really hit me.  More so than it ever did in the past when I read this play.

JIM:  A little physical defect is what you have.  Hardly noticeable even!  Magnified thousands of times by imagination!  You know what my strong advice to you is?  Think of yourself as superior in some way!...Everybody excels in some one thing.

(cue major exhalation of breath)

Damn, that Tennessee is good.  

Often times, when certain lines or moments in plays or movies hit, it takes a minute for me to realize why they did.  But, with this instance, I knew exactly why.  As I have mentioned in previous ramblings, I have adopted a new life philosophy within the past year or so and the main focus of my new philosophy (sorry to my musical theatre mavens reading this and are now being plagued with Kristin Chenoweth's rendition of "My New Philosophy") is to accept what you have because what you have, no one else has.  And what you have is part of your nature, it is what is helping you on your path, or you way.  We all suffer from shortcomings that we think we have that no one else sees or even cares about because of how we blow it up in our heads.  Anything that we perceive to be wrong with us is always WAY blown up in our own heads and, when asked around, no one cares about it.  Most don't even notice it.  Just like Jim with Laura's physical defect, which is portrayed by a slight limp, he never even noticed it, and if he did, he never thought twice about it.  It is us, or Laura in this case, that think twice, three times, or more about where we think we fall short of our peers.  

But why waste time on that?  Why think about what others might not like about what they see in us, which they probably won't?  It's so much more fun to think about what is awesome about us.  And what we have that no one else does.  And so what if we have what could be considered a 'defect'?  Just like a scar on your thump affecting its print, that 'defect' is what makes us the individual we are.  No one else has two scars on their right calf like I do.  No one has a scar on his lower back like I do.  No one else's right eyebrow hangs lower than their left like mine does due to a wrestling injury.  No one else has humor as dry as the Sahara or as skewed as the Escherian Stairwell.  And I do that very well.

Which leads to part two...

Own what you have and what you can do.  No one is totally useless and incapable.  Everyone can do something better than anyone else.  Find it.  Embrace it.  Fall in love with it and let other people fall in love with you.  

In the past year, since adopting my new philosophy (sorry again) I have done something that I can honestly say is a first for me: I have started to really love the person that I am and what I bring to this world.  And let me tell you, it is awesome.  There's really no need to expound upon that.  It is pretty self-explanatory.  I have learned to love and I am loving it.  I am not perfect.  I don't do things perfectly.  And I never will be or do perfect.  But I can perfectly love what I do and I can make sure that what I do, I do it like no one else does or can.  I'm not the best singer, but no one sings like Dave Stishan.  I'm not the best dancer.  But no one clod-hops like Dave Stishan.

And no one (FILL IN INDIVIDUAL SKILL OR ACTIVITY) like (INSERT YOUR NAME).

So remember what Jim said through Tennessee.  In so many words: 
- Be proud of what your nature has given you.  
- Nothing is ever as bad on our outside as we think it is on our inside.
- Be superior and know that it is ok to be able to do something well.

Abide and ramble on,
Stish

Friday, January 24, 2014

I'll Take a Season Pass

On Monday, by recommendation of a very dear friend of mine, I watched the movie The Way Way Back.  Before I get into what I got from the movie, I want to highly recommend it.  The writing is amazing (written by Nat Faxon and Jim Rash, famous as the writing team for The Descendants), the characters perfectly developed, and enough of a conflict within the story to keep it real and relatable on multiple planes.  Also, Steve Carrell probably delivers one of his best performances and what movie that features a wild Allison Janney isn't fun?  I implore all of you reading this to find a copy of this movie and watch it immediately.  Now, moving on.

The movie is about a young boy going on a summer vacation with his divorced mom and her boyfriend (Steve Carrell) to his beach house.  This kid, along with dealing with the onset of puberty and all the emotional changes that comes with that, he is dealing with the fact that he no longer has a father figure in his life and a mom who is quiet, timid, and easily submissive, no matter that damage it could cause.  Now, coming from a household that was not divided growing up, this is an aspect that I couldn't fully empathize with, but what I got from this movie was the friendship that this hermit of a kid forged with a local water park manager played by Sam Rockwell.  Rockwell's character is a kid at heart, but the kid that everyone loves in high school, but not because he's the captain of the football team or the class president.  It's because he just loves the fact that he can wake up every morning and breath.  It's because Rockwell's character has a zest for life.  He is the class clown and has no judgements regarding anyone.  Everyone is his friend and no one is too good for him.

Throughout the movie, the boy, whose name is Duncan, is shy, quiet, off-putting, and generally shut of the world and everything it has to offer.  When he visits Rockwell's water park, Rockwell immediately takes to him, realizing this is a kid not having a fun time and knows he can get something out of him.  He eventually offers Duncan a summer job at the water park where, through a near perfectly orchestrated transformation, he comes out of his shell and starts to smile and enjoy what is around him: the world.

What I got from this movie is something that I believe with all my being in every day life: that no matter what kind of person you are, shy or outgoing, introvert or extrovert, there are people or plural people out there that are meant to inspire you.  There are people that are the keymasters to your own world.  You simply have to take a leap of faith and let them inspire you.  Let them change the way you see things.  Let them wake you up to show you that you are the eyes of the world and that the world is, in fact, looking at you and not ignoring you.  Everyone has the natural right to enjoy life and sometimes we need other's help to convince us of that, just don't be so shut off that you are blind to their efforts.

Another thing that struck me about this movie and the message that I got from it is that I watched it on Monday.  Monday was Martin Luther King, Jr. day.  A man who was an inspiration to millions and changed the way millions look at not only the world but their fellow man and woman.  But he didn't just walk up to a podium one day and change things like that.  He would've been nothing if people didn't let him inspire.  But people listened to him, and let him inspire, and let him open their own doors to the rest of the world.  Just found it as a cool coincidence that these two things happened on the same day.

Have a great weekend to all of you just be open.  Be willing to be inspired and be ready to inspire.

Abide and ramble on my friends,
Stish

Soundtrack:
"Pearl" by Dave Crossland
"Goodnight" by William Fitzsimmons
"Celtic New Year' by Van Morrison
"Flirtin' With the Undertaker" by Jack Rose
"I'm Ready" by Muddy Waters

Sunday, January 12, 2014

89 Comes After 88...Makes Sense

As some of you may know, and probably many of you don't, about eight months ago I became a student of Taoism and have dedicated to living my life in The Way.  This came about when I picked up and devoured a book that changed my life.  That book, appropriately enough for the kind of person I am with my interests, was Benjamin Hoff's The Tao of Pooh.  What this book is, for those unfamiliar, takes the basic fundamentals and building blocks of Taoism and applies them to the characters and situations of A.A. Milne's lovable tubby little chubby all stuffed with fluff and the Hundred Acre Woods.  I always knew I had a much more laid back approach to life and that always felt right to me.  I never saw the point of exerting unnecessary energy towards things that I know I have no control over.  Things were going to be as they were supposed to be.  That's always been the case and will continue to be so, no matter how much we as mankind will try to exert our assumed force on Nature.  But when I opened this modestly sized, 176-paged book, my philosophy on life and daily status quo was finally given a name: Taoism.  And this excited the hell out of me.  Cause, like everyone else out there with a pulse and breath in their lungs, I would stray from myself and become a different type of Dave.  A stressed Dave (which has since brought on a couple dozen pre-mature gray hairs in my beard, which is filling in nicely I might add).  A neurotic Dave.  An anxious Dave.  A snappy Dave.  And all of these Dave's were, I am sure, hard to be around cause they were all certain hard to live with.  But I never had anything to sort of 'help' stay focused and show me my Way.

Now, I am not here to evangelicalize Taoism and ring on your doorbells and ask you if you've found your Way.  I am here, as I always have been, to ramble about something cool or worth rambling about that has happened in my life in hopes that something might be taken from it.  So please, get out of your heads any thoughts that I am pushing my beliefs on you.  That is not at all my point.

I recently started reading a new book called The Zen Experience by Thomas Hoover which stories the evolution history of Zen through its great masters (The Buddha, Lao Tzu, Bodhidharma, etc.) and there is one passage that really caught my eye and got me thinking about everything that I have learned inside the past year, both in my studies and it's daily application.  It comes in the form of an anecdote told by Chuang Tzu, the second most important figure in Taoism behind it's supposed creator, Lao Tzu.  In this story, he tells of a wheelmaker describing his method of making wheels to his Duke.  I won't recount the whole story for you, but the section that lays highlighted says:

"The right pace, neither slow nor fast, cannot get into the hand unless it comes from the heart."

Before this statement, the wheelmaker says if he goes either too fast or too slow in carving his wheel, though perfect in one area, it is largely imperfect in another area.  My interpretation of the above statement is a basic principle of Taoism: don't fight what is innate, do what is supposed to be done as it is supposed to be done without tension or resistance, and all will turn out as it should.  Do only what you need to do to appease yourself and don't try to do too much.

Like my mantra says, 'To Thine Own Self Be True.'

Why this stuck out to me?  That's an easy answer to what could be a rhetorical question.  In October, I decided to start the process of establishing my own theatre company here in New York.  This is a company that found its birth back in 2009 while I was in school and I always wanted to bring to New York from the day I arrived, but I knew the time wasn't right.  But I was confident there would be a right time, I just had to wait for it to arrive.  I wasn't to force this hand or speed it along, cause then it wouldn't materialize as it should.  Finally, come late September 2013, and I can't really recall the exact circumstances that surrounded this all, but the right time had arrived, just as I thought it would.  Since then, there has been non-stop action to assure the success of my company and every day it continues to grow and create more and more puzzle pieces that, once all are collected, will create a magnificent image.  That is what I have faith in and that is what I believe will come to be.

So I say this to close out this entry: if there is something you know you are meant to do or have happen, do not urge its arrival.  If it is too happen, and I am confident that it will for you, you must have trust in the Way Nature has been laid out in your puzzle.  Just like riding down a highway and passing exit number 30 and you need to get to exit 89, it will happen when it is supposed to, right after exit 88.  Not an exit or mile sooner.  Just keep living your life as it feels right, from your heart, and it will all come into your hand.

Abide and ramble on,
Stish

Soundtrack:
'Stealing Time' by Gerry Rafferty
'Can't You See' by Marshall Tucker Band
'I'll Build a Stairway to Paradise' performed by Iss Van Randwyck
'Cripple Creek Ferry' by Neil Young
'Joe Avery' presented by The Preservation Hall Jazz Band
'Belfast to Boston' by James Taylor
'The Blood of Cu Chulainn' (The theme to The Boondock Saints) by Jeff Danna and Mychael Danna
'California' by Joni Mitchell