Alive — Baseball

baseballWhy did you commit so much of your youth, from age seven to twenty, to this game called baseball?  What drove you to work so hard, for so many years, to improve?  And why…after all that dedication, sacrifice, and improvement…when coaches and scouts were talking about your great potential to go professional…did you decide to leave the game behind?  And you know…had you continued with passion and focus…that you had a very good chance to go all the way…barring injury and getting some good luck…or avoiding some bad luck.

In a way, this game molded and shaped the core of your being…your brain…your identity.  For no matter how we try to spin it…we are what we spend most of our time and energy doing.  And, what we do in our youth, while our brain and body are developing, shapes who we are then and well into the future.

dusk2Your passion for the game formed early in your childhood–it was torture watching your brothers play organized baseball.  In everything else…all other games and adventures…you were included.  But organized baseball wasn’t available to kids your age.  You really were obsessed with this sport at that early age.  Remember when your parents said we were moving to California…you thought…that will be a much better place to play baseball since it is sunny all year-long.  But this only explains the interest.  What kept you engaged in this sport for so many years?

diveWell, to answer this question, I must try express myself at the unconscious level..which is really what being successful in sports is all about…not thinking…instinct…letting go…a relaxed state of wildness.  You loved to be outside…the smell and look of freshly cut grass…the sun…the clouds…the wind blowing shadows over the field…the war paint under the eyes…use of muscle…physical skill…overcoming odds and failure…slamming into the dirt head first full speed…blood, sweat, dirt, stained mix of all three…sacrificing body with graceful abandonment…body parallel to ground…every inch stretched to the limit yet relaxed…slow motion…flying through the air…reaching for the white spinning leather.

DuskWords meant nothing…actions and performance told all…lead by example…motivate others by visible deeds…sunsets…dusk…the smell of night approaching…lights…feel more alert…all is more visible…sense of speed and courage increases…healthy pressure and stress releases adrenaline into blood…no fear…immortal…muscle and bone prepared to collide with earth or other muscle or bone without reservation…intimidate opponent with speed and unbridled desire…quick bat…sweet spot…crack…run like the wind…quiet…invisible…here then there…gone…white lightening.  Pain, injuries, cuts, blood, bruises…battle scars from being Alive.  Continual improvement…no limit…pushing oneself…by oneself…to new levels.

lightsNo wonder you excelled at this game.  So…why did you give it up?  Because you realized baseball, in its highest form, is for kids.  Because you didn’t have anything in common with those around you.  Because you weren’t after fame or fortune.  Because you wanted another challenge in the sphere of consciousness.  Because you knew there was much more to learn, explore, and experience…outside the defined rules and walls of a kids game.

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Awake

SunriseJanuary 7th, 2013

Indeed, your present condition is critical given your financial state of affairs.  But, over the last several miserable years, you have, believe it or not, awoken.

It is because of your misery that you began to write once again.  The last time you wrote anything of content on a regular basis was during your short breath of freedom traveling alone throughout Europe for over a year.  Remember that?  Remember…that was when you decided to become a landscape photographer?  That was when you picked your subject matter — the cascade volcanoes and the northwest coast.  What happened with that idea?  Yes, you did take some significant quality photographs with your large format camera and produced some fine prints, but that only lasted for a few years.  Eventually, you let yourself get swept up completely by the momentum–years rushed on by with the great wave.  You let yourself become numb and fell asleep.  Now it is time to begin the process of waking up.  Writing is a good sign that the sleeper has awoken.

You have also learned an important skill in the last year – surviving with very little.  You never were very good with money, credit, or debt, even when you were making big money.  The temptation to Live, when there was actually time to Live, over-powered any sense of restraint.  Not that you lived high off the hog.  Hell, all you did was enjoy eating out, traveling, paying for a house and car, golf, romance – of course that is all extra expense in addition to all the other shit that costs money to live “the dream”.  You were just doing what most people do that are riding with the momentum, except, you may have been a little more aware of how valuable the time to actually Live really was.  And, now that you have fallen from the crest of that momentum, you realize how insanely expensive it is to ride that wave and actually Live, both in terms of time and money.

Believe it or not, your current miserable job is also good for you.  You can actually see and feel the very base and nature of the wave and from where it draws its power.  You get to experience it firsthand — you and the other slaves that reluctantly perpetuate the momentum, with no benefits, and not enough money to live.  You can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel how much the human being is truly worth to the momentum.  In your previous high paying desk jobs, the pain and realization of your slavery, wasted time and energy, was masked by the thin veneer of sedation, contentment, and acceptance.  But now, when you are at work, there is no confusion…this is work…not a passion…not a career…not achievement…not fulfilling…not important…not important other than the fact one needs to engage with the momentum in some shape or form to be able to live.  The key difference is a clear, conscious break and divorce from any delusion that the momentum has anything to do with your passions, interests, or fulfillment.  The problem of course is…how do you get from living to Living and Becoming?

Love Letters — Fourth Love

Forbidden LoveOur Love was forbidden from the start — married man with child falling in Love with a single mom at work.  All those secret rendezvous – some people find that exciting, but it wasn’t…it was pressure…the whole weight of outward and inward social norms crushing down on a delicate budding flower.

Lightning

I remember exactly when I began to fall for you.  It was on that business trip we took together…alone…to Florida.  We had known each other for several years, but this was the first time we were alone together.  We worked alongside one another during the day and went out to dinner in the evening and then drove back to the same hotel…only to repeat the cycle for the entire week.  It was on the flight home…you were half asleep…when I let my head rest on your shoulder.  From that point on, the feelings grew…no one could stop it….not even you.  The flower was in full bloom.  I received all kinds of advice from those closest to me, but the words sounded like a foreign language compared to the passion of a deafening thunderbolt.

AirplaneIf the social pressures weren’t enough…add the black and white laws of corrupt capitalism.  Corrupt  capitalism drove us from the west to the east…took me away from my son…forced you to sell your house for a loss…what other choice did we have when they shut down the west coast headquarters in the name of “synergies”?  My ex-wife hadn’t worked for years — I couldn’t just take severance and hope to find a job in one month.  You may have had time to land something, but then we would be apart.  And so we accepted the company’s ultimatum and moved across the country to begin our new life under one roof.  Since I negotiated a healthy increase in salary and bonus, I had enough money to support two lives, the old and the new…and I was able to travel and see my son once a month.

Financial Crisis Hearings 2And then, after two years, corrupt capitalism reared its ugly head once again.  All those fucking assholes, the legalized and protected criminals, brought down the financial system…which led our company to “layoff” 10,000 human beings…with no option to stay on at a lower wage…escorting them out of the building like they were guilty of a crime… treating them like a bunch of fucking dogs.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I took the severance package instead of hanging on at a lower salary like all of the other more politically connected, mindful, nipple sucking slaves… well, you know what… fuck those cowards…let them rot in hell for all I care.  I know…they are only thinking of caring for their own families…I know the argument and logic..well…what about the other 10,000 little people who didn’t have a fucking choice?

HoleOver-time, unable to secure a new job on the east or west coast, the expense of living the old and the new life depleted all my “worldly resources”, and the time came for a decision.  All I had left in my possession was my energy and Love…and that energy was divided… between you and my son…I chose my son.  The process of contemplating this decision tore something out of my mind…and the hole remains…all the way the through.

Little boyYou’re an amazing woman, tough, strong, beautiful inside and out…a fighter.  But I know, under all that armor, you have a gentle heart.  You deserve more than half of my energy.  But my son…he is just a little being…still developing…he needs all of my energy to grow strong and healthy.  Just as you have given so much of your energy to your son, so I need to do the same.  You, of all people, should understand this gut wrenching decision.  I still Love you, but you deserve a man who can give you everything… and nothing less.

There are those that will smile at this outcome, but they of course are advocates of the status quo and perpetuate all that is….from the meaning of the marriage contract…to believing in capitalism even in its morphed and corrupted form.  To them…I say…I would do it all over again…poverty is worth the price of pursuing Love…just like poverty is worth the price of pursuing what you know to be true…for you.