Deep Links

Truth Blocked

It's been months since I've written anything of note on any of the ole blogs. The year ended and began, and I followed my usual change of year rituals. Reviewing the previous year, planning goals for the next. 

Several big changes occurred in this quietude. I left West Hollywood. I met someone. I continue to plug away "being the change" in the Future of Money. I'm learning to play the flute and read music.  I'm not rich, but I live life on my own terms.

Except the block. I've been intellectually frustrated for most of last year. My writing languishes. I read books of (what I think of as intellectual) peers. I've had those ideas for years, I've talked about them, presented them. I'm not even angry they wrote these books. They have these perspectives. They're published. I think they must be in privileged positions (some are). They also just do what they want no fucks given. 

So why do I cease to writing these things I see unfolding for humanity? Why stop sharing what I see?

I don't know. I talk to people. I say things, see things, it takes years for others to see. It's kind of pointless. People want scifi. They want trends. They want reassurance. They want it easy. They don't want responsibility. They want profits. They don't want to think about the expanding problem sets with each step into the future (and equally diminishing problems we leave solved in the past).

Seeing all these futures, means nothing. Who's gonna make them happen? Who takes conscious action in the present moment? Futures are not predictions. Although a good future vision can inspire it to be created in reality. 

Is it worth it? I don't know. Some days I just want to tend my garden and play my flute. 

Surrender to 2015

Wise words from a younger Heather:

Surrender to acquiescence.
Surrender to your life.
Surrender to live it passionately and with awareness.

I am packing. In this box, a decade of handwritten notebooks. Modest composition notebooks. Filled with life and dreams and agnst. 

Topping off the box, I pulled a couple favorite authors: James Ogilvy and David Allen. Ogilvy's is called, Living without a Goal; while David Allen's is Ready for Everything. In that instant, I had my 2015 theme.

I alternate between extreme goal focus "on target" and going completely off the rails into the unknown. It's hard to have goals when you're not sure what you're looking for, or what you're doing or what you're even discovering. 

Remembering Mom

Hi Mom. It's been two years from our last hug. This song goes out to you - I know it was one of your favorites.

xo 

-Heather 

Flowing

It's morning, music is going. I'm drinking coffee on my couch, looking out the window, watching the morning breeze. The leaves lift and flutter as the wind blows through the neighborhood - like fingers in hair. I'm reminded of watching the wind up in the Sierras. Cold mountain air through the pines. Whirring. It's about acquiescence. A leaf can not fight the wind. (But it can change the direction.)

I'm thinking about canyon roads. Hot wind - funneled through human technology, not the hillsides of creosote. The twisting black ribbon. These roads - our playground. I'm being a rare passenger as we track the double yellow. Pressure growing and shifting through the curves. I relax as the adrenaline dumps into my system. Building, I laugh in delight. The shift is slight. Hot wind cooling, becoming moister, less harsh - it comes into my lungs. Then the ocean appears and the heat of the desert is a faint memory.

Expansion to Collapse

I was driving yesterday, listening to Suzin Green (my new favorite driving music). At the end of one of her pieces was this gorgeous expansion of sound and then slowly collapsed into silence and the end of the track.

I thought, this is like life. Like relationships. It starts with a seed, that grows and expands - into a beautiful flower - sometimes many beautiful unfolding buds, and then at some point it begins to collapse upon itself. Folding inward. Return to origin point. And silence. 

And likely it happens again. Kind of like the visualization of a track on soundcloud. 

These strung together are life. A series of relationships. Some, like my favorite songs, I like to return to the pattern - to taste again. To return to familiar streets in a favorite city, within my Saragasso Manuscript of life.

Overland to the Sea

photo by UK Ministry of Defense, cc licensed

Driving to the ocean, I stopped at this light. Memories unfolded, decades ago. Tilden Park. Croquet Mallets. Pims. A different obsession (not mine). My life, previous versions ago. The Overland Mallet Club. I chuckle. Thanks Mjolnir. I'll take you with me. I do believe I've earned the honor of wielding you.

As we being our next adventure.

Standing on land's end. A slight bluff. Nothing so dramatic as a cliff's edge. This is not where I unfold my wings. Flying is momentarily done. I embark on a new adventure: Galloping across the Sea. I think back to fecund Iowa plains and fields. An ocean, samesimilar.

Which thread among the depths shall I follow? Possibilities abound. Any path will do. But there is one that always sparkles more than any others. That one is mine.

The edge of my overland journey, the adventure of the sea ahead, an eternity of possibilities.

A Vulnerable Heart

My friend, Miko, convinced me to attend Bhaktifest this week. I was a bit skeptical at first, it started a few days after Burning Man (he assured me it was the best decompression) and I'd take another week off. Plus, he was bringing a crew of awesome peeps to stay out at the Dome. Plus... OMG Bhaktifest - I'm not sure I'm ready to be public in a space with that kind of thing.

Miko has never steered me wrong, so I took his advice. Yesterday was the opening day of my first Bhaktifest. 

I wander in and come upon the main stage. I start to feel uncomfortable. Immediately, the judgement talk on these "hippy" people, singing, dancing, whatever wants to start. But I stay there, I stay there and listen to this music - that was unfettered emotional love and devotion expressed. 

Standing in the back, feeling vulnerable. The feeling grows. But I stay, rolling the flavor around in my chest. Exploring. Flickering tongue tasting the nuances of the emotion. I do not run away.

Knowledge unfolds, this feeling of vulnerability with an open heart is not vulnerability, because it's connected to something bigger that runs through us. 

This gives me courage. My heart has been stomped, cock-blocked, and turned into kale smoothie. I revisit the wounds of my heart. Connecting to the larger power weaving through humanity. I wish these men I've loved courage, I forgive them their fear - denial, obstructionism, fear of action. I forgave myself for doubting myself. 

As the afternoon passes, my heart relaxed - opening. I kept the channel open, adding my own practice to increase the intensity.

The reformatting has begun.

The Verge of Failure

A year ago, I was pushing myself hard to launch the Future of Money Kickstarter. The idea of doing a TV series was one created with my then business partner Erika. She was the TV side, I was the content side. She was responsible for distribution pre-sales, I was responsible for content development. We both were responsible for fund raising. I funded 95% of the initial cash outlays. Then there was the kickstarter - which almost literally killed me - well the kickstarter didn't, but I almost did. After that money was in the bank, Erika bailed on me, called me a bunch of names because I wouldn't transfer the money to her company's bank account. I didn't feel comfortable handing over the money people gave to the project because they believed in me. I picked myself up and continued on with the dream alone.

I tried my best to move forward. But I am not a Hollywood person. I don't have those connections. Despite good meetings and conversations, people loving the concept, things stagnated. I was stretched too thin. I couldn't take over Erika's role. And I was failing at moving forward on the content side. On top of that, was increasing anxiety on paying my own bills and a sustainable cash flow.

Everyone wants to know the Future of Money, but it seems no one wants to pay for it. (This leads me down a road of despair that often leads to my fantasizing about slitting my wrists. Because I'd rather die with all I know than have someone make money off my work and not compensate me.)

I try not to complain. I try to figure out how to make business models work. I try to keep pounding away. I think, these cranky thoughts mean I am on the verge of some break through. And often something positive and small happens. I am grateful for those. But damn, I need a fucking wildcard! (I am a fucking wildcard.)

This project is too much. 

A year ago I willed myself into a world where I'd make a TV series and have an awesome romantic partner. This morning I remembered that. And the complete and utter failure on both of these counts. (I'm pretty much rocking everything else in my life though, so I really can't complain right?) 

I felt like a complete and utter failure. These two things I really wanted and worked to make happen this past year - absolutely nothing. (And by "working" to make happen, I mean taking action AND surrendering.) I've got a laundry list of "lessons learned" on both topics. I'm fucking tired of learning.

So what to do?

 

I'm here now. August 12, 2014. My bedroom. Filled with blue stripes, low light. Moist cool California air. Here in this reality, I have all I have. Instead of a TV series and awesome partner - I have a podcast (about to be launched), amazing friends and I definitely live life on my terms. I truly have so much.

But I see that other world. The world with the TV series and that awesome partner along with the amazing work and collaborators. It's not that I have to trade in what I have not for those. It's all part of the vision. I see that world and it feels so. far. away. 

I think about failure. Of giving up. Being satisfied and finding happiness with what I have already accomplished.

Who cares if the world economic system evolves? We've learned to deal with the cyclical crisis and crashes. We don't like, but we understand the elite and power hungry will always siphon money off to private stashes in whatever way possible (though crime or capitalism). Who cares that our economic models are set up to destroy natural resources, making the earth inhabitable for humans. (Better'd go develop space exploration technology so we can escape. But you can never escape yourself.) And really, who cares about being conscious in their actions? It's all too much to think about.

What's the point of going on?

Of course, the flip side to that is, what do I have to lose by redoubling my efforts... again?

Either way, there is nothing to lose. Merely the conscious choice of which action to take.

Sweet Transfiguration

A few months ago I was afraid that the possibilities of life would dry up when I turned 40. The fear is to be expected. There's a lot of societal pressure to be successful, to get to some level of life by a certain age. I am not immune to this pressure. 40 is a big number to hit coming out of one of your worst years. And your most ambitious project.

This morning, I sit at my desk in my desert home. It's a geodesic dome in the Mojave. The week has been full of hot 100 degree weather, strong 30 mph winds, ants, coyotes, rattlesnakes on my private hiking trail and water explosions. I've spent hours each evening around 7pm, watching the sky paint itself a palette of my favorite colors: dusky purple, periwinkle, vibrant orange flecked with gold. The winds caress my skin - there is no need to clothe my body. I sit in silence, listening to the desert. 

How could I have been so egotistical to think I had experienced everything the world had to offer?

Out of the silence, new possibilities appear. Doors open and I walk through. I find myself in a room of musical possibilities. 

“Life is like a piano, what you get out of it depends on how you play it.” -Tom Lehrer

I love how my life foreshadows things. Sometimes, this world is a long drawn out conversation with myself. Sometimes I pick up on the suggestions, other times I am as dense and stubborn as the desert stone.

For now, these days in the Mojave, the conversation is perfect. It's bliss. It's everything I have dreamed. Again, all my dreams have come true. And this time, I'm not worrying about them ending. I only have to enjoy what I have created. My amazing life. I'm happy for now.

I Don't Miss You

Here in this city, walking the streets
I sit alone in the sidewalk cafe
Frothy white Cappuccino
The clock chiming across the square
Couples pass walk hand in hand
My mind wants to grasp at the past.
To stir up some kind of emotional sadness.
And create a personal Narcisa. 
But I've paid my debts looking into the mirror.

I sit.
Present in this moment.
The breeze blows my hair.
My skin rises in response. Nipples hardening.
I am alone with myself. 
I do what I want.
I answer to no one.

I do not miss someone in the past, or the future. 
I am my constant companion. 
I am all I need.