Tag Archives: inspiration

It Can Be Done

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Limitless opportunity in an unshackled universe

It can be done

Present the ideas that will never fly

It can be done

Dance in some new crazy sexy way

It can be done

Don’t wait for opinion or you will lose your nerve

It can be done

Blow up the carcass of your belief

It can be done

Put your plans in motion

It can be done

Cause the clockwork to pause

and reset the time

It can be done

This poem was inspired by a paperweight model of one of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge, which you see above. The Golden Gate Bridge, for me, represents audacious daring. Taking a crazy idea which many people said at the time would not fly, and making it not only fly but become an icon for the American spirit of unshackled innovation and exquisite beauty. You can purchase the model at the new Bridge Pavilion, next to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Ducks and Kittens (A Spud’s Last Remarks)

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Ducks and Kittens. I have nothing to say. Just ducks and kittens, aren’t they cute? This is the best I can come up with. I have received a lobotomy that I can’t recall.

Who cares about goes on in the world when you can have ducks and kittens all day long!!

This is how I feel sometimes, like tonight. I no longer feel all fired up and ready to go, full of ideas and inspiration and wanting to share myself with the world. I don’t suppose this makes any sense but I would like to die without going through the massive inconvenience of actually dying, or, better put, I would like to put everything on hold for a bit. That actually comes a lot closer to the truth (so all my friends and relatives are permitted a sigh of relief). I feel all tapped out. This is often the plight of those of us who work hard all day long. I love my work, but I often feel drained after I get home, just a sack of aches and pains. It makes it easy for me to let my creativity slide. I have quit at other times in my life and it was never satisfying. Nevertheless that aimless emptiness has it’s appeal. It almost makes me want to watch 30Rock along with every other empty headed hard working American. I may even vote for Mitt Romney. Barack Obama makes me think and I just want to take a break. Romney just wants me to trust him. But, no, I really don’t want to do anything, screw voting, screw mindless entertainment. I am in such a pitiful state that I don’t even find Margaret Cho funny anymore. I’m a spud, and all my eyes are closed.

I don’t even want to be writing this right now. I should go to bed, I need to get up early. But something compelled me to type out this desperate plea for inspiration, affirmation, and a reason to get up tomorrow morning. I don’t have anything to say anymore. It is as if I have taken stupid pills. (Yes, I know, that was a pretty lame sentence, but it is the best I can do, my wit has left me. I should write speeches for Mitt Romney.) I am no longer in love. Yes. And that is the worst of it. I am sick of Stock Photo Woman. There!! I have said it. Some of you may say ‘Who the hell is stock photo woman?’ and I haven’t the energy to clue you in. It’s just this thing I did, and now I just don’t care about it anymore.) Maintaining my blogs feels like a chore. I just want to be a spud. That fits my pay grade.

Perhaps all this will pass, or maybe I will pack it all in. Finis. That’s all folks! Nothing more to say.

Or maybe I’m just tired.

If you see more posts in the future you will know that somehow I managed to pull myself out of this rut. But I am worried. I feel pains in my chest and I worry, I feel dizzy at times and I worry. I worry a lot and I worry about that. I might not be around all that much longer. No, not suicide, just an old man taking his last walk. Cardiac arrest. These are my morbid thoughts on this night. Is this spud about to be peeled? Or am I just being dramatic? All of the thrill I felt after having my eyesight restored has left me. I take it for granted. Am I an ungrateful dolt? You bet. I don’t deserve this happiness that I refuse to recognize as happiness. I am already sick of this pity party that I have written. But I am sure many of you out there in cyberland share these feelings from time to time, many of you bloggers often feel like packing it in, and never blogging again. So know that you aren’t alone. If I can crank this shit out so can you! So….sad to say, I will probably soldier on and continue my stupid blog with my stupid observations about my stupid life in this stupid world. Because the alternative is worse. So now I will shut off my motor functions and my brain and become spudlike until another working day raises me from my self-made grave.

Magic

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A new universe emerges as the Buddha continues to sit.

There is an inexplicable thread, a connection between all things past present and future. I cannot explain or write intelligently about it, but I nevertheless am. For it perplexes, thrills, frustrates, and propels me forward to the next thing, always, the next thing. I sometimes feel as though I am serving some other purpose than the one I have half-wittingly devised for myself. I sometimes feel protected, other times the world has conspired to kick me in the ass. What is the point? I grow very tired of asking. I am driven to stay awake when I want so much to sleep. Why? Why do I have so much to say? to create? Am I holding back the tide of death?

This leads to the topic of this post, magic. Do you believe in magic? asked the Lovin’ Spoonful. I believe in that perfect sunny day, when everything is right, and love is in the air. Oh yes, I believe, although Davey Jones is dead, I still believe. Remember that old film, “Field of Dreams”? I know it is corny, but there is truth in that phrase, “If you build it, they will come.” but here is how I would say it. If you can imagine it, fully, in delightful detail, you can bring it into being.  No matter how outrageous it may seem, or hopeless, pointless or whatever other adjective your mind comes up with to sabotage your efforts. You must imagine freely, with abandon, without purpose or reward. Imagine boldly! Like a solar flare! This fire of creativity does not lie within a single breast. It is shared throughout eternity, an inexhaustible resource with unlimited downloads. and it’s free!

Yes I know, I have written this drivel before, my skeptical side protests. and what good has it done? To this mind there can be no adequate response. For such a mind gazes into it’s own reflection and it is always exactly the same old dull disappointment, rendering a dazzling array of colors to various tones of gray. Such is the mislabeled discerning mind, upon which we foolishly depend. I do not believe one word of this post and so what? The truth does not seek approval. The truth does not require your vote. So put such foolishness aside. And Dream!

There is a hidden network, a not so silent anymore brotherhood embarked upon the same journey, engaged in the same task. You can find it on the internet, in a small overlooked church, or a restored Victorian house converted into a Zen Center. You find it in a mosh pit, or a tent in the Sudan. You find it on campuses, in military bases, and playgrounds. A single thread connects us all unknowingly, perhaps even unwillingly. Therein lies the magic. In ways we cannot possibly imagine, we truly have the power to do impossible things.

This is definitely one of “those” posts. The ones I nevertheless put out there even though I have my doubts. You see, somebody wrote this using my hands. Or else there is another Russell I am beginning to know better and better each time he writes such things as this. I think I like that idea much better!

Cosmic secrets of inspiration

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Hi! I’m Starman! Can you keep a secret?

There is a realm you visit every night, and it is more real than the world you wake up to each day. You might say this ‘real’ world is actually ‘virtual’, now that we have reached a point where we can understand what that means. We go through our lives in order to achieve certain goals. Goals we set out for ourselves before we were born. This is our laboratory. Of course, we don’t allow ourselves to really believe any of this, because it spoils the experiment, and we are unable to learn the lessons or accomplish our goals. It must be deadly ‘real’. But I’m telling you to relax and enjoy the show. All of it, even the scary parts, the sad parts, all of it. Each night you get an opportunity to glimpse behind the curtain, so to speak, and take part in the true. (I hesitate to call it a world, or universe, or whatnot, because it defies description, so let us call it the ‘true’. From there lies the answers to our questions, the inspiration for our creations. But it appears in a language which is foreign to us. There may have been a time when we could easily decipher the language of dreams, but today they often remain a puzzle. I can give you an example:

Last night Russell (who invited me to post on his blog), had the strangest dream. It was in a city, probably San Francisco where he lives, and cars were racing by on both sides of a busy street corner. A thin young woman that Russell knew said listlessly “They killed my mommy!”. It was said in a matter-of-fact tone.  Oddly, the entire scene was a cartoon. It was as though Russell was being told that it wasn’t serious, wasn’t real. Russell wanted to race over to the friend and console her, although she didn’t seem to be distaught. She seemed to be wearing a grey dress with a black question mark across it. Question mark, indeed. That is how dreams often are. Then, Russell dreamed of a television in which you could watch the same movie from several different perspectives. On one channel you could watch the movie from one character’s perspective, one another channel another character’s perspective, and so on. This would enable the viewer to get a full version of events. As Russell began to wake up, he thought “In the future that is how films will be, you can click to see the movie through various character’s eyes.” Unlike the cartoon, this dream seemed pretty straight forward, like brain storming in a film company’s boardroom.

It seems that there is an inexhaustible sea of inspiration available to you every night, provided you can recall it the next day. Another path to this ocean of information is through meditation, or perhaps prayer, as well. My friend, David Lynch writes about how transcendental meditation has opened him up to that endless source of ideas. He also compares it to an ocean, and calls his efforts to create, the attempt to spear the big fish. (I bet you didn’t know David knew a comic book character, but he does!)

So the next time you go to sleep, watch closely, because you are getting a glimpse into the same well that Einstein, Mark Twain, or maybe even the Beatles, gazed into. Somewhere down in that well you  can hear them singing:

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I’m crying.

Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the van to come.
Corporation tee-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long.
I am the eggman, they are the eggmen.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

Using my wits when I’m at my wit’s end.

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Didn’t get that job. Thought I would, but I didn’t. Interview went well I thought, but not well enough. I’m at my wit’s end. This is surely the end of the line for me. Why bother? Just drift away into mindless homeless obscurity, barely noticed by passersby, it almost sounds romantic. Except, it isn’t. Neither is suicide, which is another creepy thought born of hopelessness which emerges with much drama whenever I’m at my wit’s end. I send such thoughts back to the hell from which they came. I took a little guided tour of hell for about five minutes after I learned that I didn’t get that job I wanted. It was an ugly but enticing experience. It really felt as though I had no more options, all was dark, and there was absolutely no point to anything any longer.

From somewhere inside me, I conjured up a wellspring of hopefulness, and thankfully, rationality. The future is unknown. I could end up with an even better job, something wonderful could happen. A whole array of possibilities presented themselves to me. There is always something you can do. There is never a reason to succumb. But you have got to be resourceful in ways you weren’t before, because the old methods no longer work. You have to use your wits. What can I offer? What can I offer that someone would pay me to provide? Nobody wants to see you fail. Just like those banks we bailed out, I am too big to fail. This was a feeling, nothing more. I have yet to put together the details, to bring this vision into being. But I know it’s there, and it is actually up to all of us, not just myself, to bring it forth. Otherwise the future is grim indeed, and some of us aren’t going to make it. They will journey into that hell, as I did, and be unable to bring themselves out.

So now I know that I’ve got to get smarter, use my wits, even when I appear to be at my wit’s end. I’m going to put my thinking cap on now, and report back on what I find. I know that it will help many of you, dear readers, as well as myself. I will try to come up with some juicy nuggets that will bring a smile to your lips, and help us get back on track.