It’s about time.

Everywhere I look the world conspires to remind me that time is short. Obituaries of people my age or younger jump off the page.  Photographs of school friends, who look like their parents, cause me to stop and check the mirror in a panic: “Dear God! Do I look that old”?  Watching a younger sibling build a retirement home and then freaking retiring!  Seeing Minnesota friends and contemporaries, begin to winter in Phoenix.  Although, this may just be proof that old dogs can finally learn new tricks… it’s flipping cold during the winter in Minnesota people, and it happens every year. Really.  Realizing that when my mother chooses to go home (a euphemism for dying, yes), I will be the oldest in my tribe.

Age has always befuddled me.  Society has rules that are adjudged severely.  I was forever too young to be old enough, to do everything!  Then I was too old to be cool, and now I’m too old to ever be young again!  And yet, other than the occasional… OK, regular, and often annoying reminder from my body, I don’t feel old.  

Am I going to die?  Yep, I believe the evidence is irrefutable, this body will at some point leave this mortal coil.  As I write this I’m sitting in the lobby of a medical mall in Beverly Hills, watching people escort their hobbling relations to and from the myriad body shops.  Why did “planned obsolescence” ever surprise anyone?  It’s the way we are built!  Nature.  Has anyone ever considered filing a grievance about the poor design of this body?  Hell, even Toyota had to recall vehicles recently!  And don’t start telling me that if I’d take proper care of it, yada, yada… even Jack LaLanne’s body gave up, and that sucker could pull a boat with his teeth while swimming! 

Where was I? Oh yeah. I don’t feel old.

The only thing that has changed perceptibly for me is time.  While I believe time is infinite, I’ve become acutely aware that on this plane of existence, it is a limited commodity.  I realize there are many of you who figured this out at a much younger age, bear with me, I’m an Aries, and a man.  How I use time, has become a priority.  Who, Where, What or Why I use or spend it: is now a conscious part of my life.  I’ve become selfish with my time.  It really pisses me off that now that I’ve finally figured out this little secret of life – time has chosen to move faster.  No really.  Just trust me.  It has.

The good news is that I’ve started, well restarted a career as an actor.  And surprise, surprise, they say it takes time!  Time to hone your skills.  It takes time to build relationships with people, Casting Directors, Agents and Producers.  Time to shoot and market a film.  It takes time for your audience, to find your films.  It takes time.

I saw a quote attributed to Adrien Brody recently, “My dad told me, “It takes fifteen years to be an overnight success”, and it took me seventeen and a half years.”  This made me want to start desperately negotiating with the Time Police.  Listen, I was here for 11 years kicking it, 25 years ago.  Do they count?   Or, does it have to be continuous time served?  If you count those 11 years and then add the 3 I’ve been back this time, that’s 14 – so I’ve only got another year to go before I hit, before I’m an overnight success.  Right?  Please!  Right?  Wait!  Whoa Nelly!  Screw Adrien Brody’s father!  What does he know?

Excuse me if I sometimes sound impatient, self-centered or rude.  Excuse me for laughing when I hear people complain that it’s taking to long.  Excuse me when I choose to spend my time with people who are in the full bloom of creation and possibility; who choose to live with energy, action and hope.  I forgive you your age. Please forgive me mine.

I’m new at this and all I’ve got is time, and I’m spending it fast.

I’m ready. I’m prepared. It’s time.

Namaste,

Lon

I remember now.

I'm 56 now and graduated from high school in 1973,  college in 1977. I mention the dates because after listening to the news today, I realized that I should start recording my memories of high school. Apparently in 10 years or if I ever choose to run for president (not gonna happen, I promise), I will lose my memories of that period of my life.

So here are a couple of things I remember - I was regularly called a faggot and a homosexual through-out high school and college. Well actually it was more like "fag" and "homo".

I figured at the time it was because I was tall, had long hair and loved music, theater, singing and dancing. I was a little outside the norm during my school years, particularly after having accelerated in fourth grade. Nothing like pushing your desk down the hall in the middle of a school year to tag you as different. That in combination with my reaction to my father's death in sixth grade certainly made me feel different from others....or at least so self involved that I didn't care or have a clue whether I was like them or not.

I remember being regularly singled out and challenged to fight in junior high, at the bus stop, at my locker, surrounded by a half a dozen of my class mates. Apparently I was particularly scary in my polyester bell bottoms with matching neckerchief. The words I remember more than the fists.

I remember the verbal baloney got so bad during my senior year in high school that when I was cast as the lead in our high school musical, the theater and music teachers insisted that I forgo any other activities that put me in front of my schoolmates until after the musical was performed.  Huh.

In college the words continued to be used through my freshman year. Yeah my hair was down to my shoulders, I wore a fedora and an ankle length car coat with a fur collar when it got cold.

Now I'm sure that my behavior - particularly my mouth attracted some of this abuse. I have a tendency to say what is on my mind. Although I've never understood what having an active mind and exercising it in concert with my mouth had to do with my sexual orientation.

I was coached to brush off the words and the insults, reminded that, "sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you." So I created a facade. You can't get to me, I don't care.

What colossal rubbish.

I remember.

I choose to not remember who said what, but I do remember what was said.

I remember how I reacted to those words and what I chose to make them mean.

I'm fine now.

I do care.

I remember.

I learned.

Words. Are. Important.

Namaste,
Lon

One step at a time.

Beauty and Truth: All You Ever Need To Know

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This saying has been traced back to the 3^rd century BC, with many writers including Shakespeare restating it in their works. Its current form is attributed to Margaret Wolfe Hungerford from her novel Molly Brown published in 1878.

I believe that not only beauty, but truth are found in the eye of the beholder. We simply can't see things in anyway, but the way we see them. 

My world is colored uniquely by the way I've experienced the world, and what I've made those experiences mean about, and to me. It's a circular construct that continually evolves. My truth ain't growing no moss.

Be a Queen! (Bee) or I Am One with the Cannoli

Someone told me once that if I felt huge resistance ( fear ) to taking a particular path, I might as well start walking down it now, or I would simply have to face it later.

Damn them.

THE JOURNEY:

Nothing scares me more than to imagine, a life lived alone. Living without companionship, intimacy, love, family or friends. It might appear to some, that is exactly where I am putting myself. Alone, in plain sight. Maybe...

I've started down this path a few times before in my life, every time going a little further, but in the end always turning back. Why? 

Umm...cuz I got scared maybe?

On this journey, there is no one but myself to talk to, listen to, or reason with. ( I know I made all of these rules up, but somehow they were important for me to learn, to own. ) There are only my opinions, my voice, my actions, and my wants and desires.  I am the one responsible for, loving and respecting who I am.  Yeah I know, cue “I've Gotta Be Me”.

Trust me I've had HUGE resistance to the idea that I'm all I've got. Are you kidding me? Look at the evidence. I'm pretty sure that a fourth grader could build a convincing case that I am a disaster in progress!

OH, OH, HE THINKS HE'S GOD

The End of Fear

I woke from a dream, knowing that I was born in the presence of pure love. Clear that I was that presence. That I was, I am, at my core, pure love.

I am pure love. You are pure love.

We are pure love.

Though born knowing, I opened my eyes, saw my parents and decided that love was coming from them, not seeing it was a reflection....forgetting what I knew with certainty, a brief moment before.

I Am Your Brother

Currently I have no job, no income, no home – (housed temporarily with angels) no credit and growing debt. Health insurance lapsed three years ago. I eat courtesy of the Food Stamp Program. Family has sent me a small check for to many months now, to cover car and phone expenses.

I am 54 years old, a college graduate with extensive work experience at an executive level.

I am your brother.

My situation has gotten progressively worse since I started looking for a new gig in early 2008. Resumes are submitted with no response, save an automated email acknowledgment. Applications for hourly jobs, mysteriously go unanswered and unacknowledged. Phone calls to my network reveal others sharing similar experiences.

Viktor Frankl wrote in Man's Search For Meaning¹ that, "everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

In my recent experience this passage rings deeply true. While my circumstances are in no way as dire or profoundly evil as those that Mr. Frankl endured, they are as challenging as I've ever faced.

And.... I am happy, healthy and hopeful.

Surrender

I've learned to surrender in the past few years.

Fearlessly communicating means different things to people. I find that I am willing to fearlessly communicate my wants, needs and desires... but choose to not give life, voice or light to the garbage and fear that can stream through my consciousness. I've learned to just, let it go. Some see this as me being unwilling to share intimately. They ask, "How did your soul get to that choice?" My soul didn't "get there", it waits patiently for me to clear my mind of the fears, judgments and history that prevented me from seeing clearly, and acknowledging my truth.

So much to learn. So simple if you can just let go. Surrender. I'm saying yes more often in life. I'm giving it up to the universe I share with you and every other soul. We are each all of it. What would happen if we just let people in, trusting that the universe had sent them to teach us what we need to learn next?

Goodbye

Such a simple word. Almost ubiquitous in use. So precious, when you know what it means to never have the chance to say it to one you love.

My father died in an accident when I was young. No chance to say goodbye. I learned to say goodbye to friends and family with intent, with meaning. To never again regret not having taken the chance to acknowledge our parting and to tell them they are loved.

My grandmother died a year ago at the age of 95. My goodbyes to her for a few years prior, had been earnest, compelled by a feeling that she would be leaving soon.

The finality of a goodbye is temporal. Readily broken with a sweet Hello.

Messenger

It had snowed for two days. Waking on the morning of the third I found the sun shining through crystalline blue skies. As I drank in the freshness and beauty of the strange little valley I found myself in, my eyes noticed a shadow moving. Moving? Darting, hovering, darting again from flower to flower in the bush of fuzzy red berries in my backyard. It was the end of November, the ground frozen, leaves off trees. Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?

It had to be a sparrow. Again it darted, wings a blur, body still, seeking to serve flowers long frozen. I smile and wondered what it was doing. Tried to remember what it meant when they stayed close by.  My mind empty, then suddenly full, afraid for its life. Wouldn't it get eaten? Who's lunch would it be? Doesn't it know its supposed to move on? Move south where it's warm. Move on with your friends. Why have you stayed and risked it all? It's winter not fall. I sat and pondered what I was seeing. Looking for an explanation, looking for meaning. Again it darted, darted away.

A smile on my lips

I faced the new day

If something so small

So fragile, so tiny

Makes its own calls

What's to stop me

From creating it all

My life has its seasons

It's summer I feel

Life near a beach

Has an appeal

My hair looks like winter

It's true

But, it's my time that matters

Not theirs, nor their rule

Time to love, to sing and to dance

Time to kiss, to hug, pull close and romance

I sit down to write

To share what I've seen

To try to explain

What it all means

I sit and I ponder

Is it still there?

Will I see it again?

Will it stay near?

Aware in an instant

It no longer matters

Miracle messenger

Fly on to the south

Warm succulent blossoms

Wait for your mouth

To serve and to seed

Moving life forward

Thank you for stopping

For feeding my soul

Now get a move on

Before the next snow