Easier said than done.

Global Positioning Systems a.k.a. GPS make it virtually impossible to get lost these days. Granted the dreaded ‘no data’ prompt provides for some Maalox moments when you realize that you’ve trusted the voice a bit too much and consequently failed to pay attention to where you were going. User oblivion allows plenty of margin for error but by and large a GPS will guide you to almost anywhere. Simply plug in your current position, add your destination and voila! Enroute, you are prompted at every turn by a pleasant, English, gender of your choice, voice in a box. Relieved of the pressures and responsibilities of charting your own course you can sit back and enjoy the ride. If your destination runs amuck you can blame it on the box. The box accepts this blame without complaint as it continuously updates your position. If you do take a wrong turn, no worries, the box will recalculate your direction and lead you back on course. Don’t panic, keep driving, keep smiling, all is well.

If only there was a GPS for the soul. The name of the device would have to be changed as the range would outreach the confines of the mortal coil. How about Astral Positioning System? By punching in a few, personal, details the APS could enlighten you as to your current, spiritual trajectory and suggest a path of least resistance by calculating the projected outcome of each encounter based on collected data from similar encounters in your past.

The data would require some modification from that of a typical GPS. The basic input required could be: action/reaction/result with an additional box at the bottom of the screen for logging the reaction to the result.

Beyond the differences in input the basic responses of an APS remain applicable to that of a GPS.

For example: It’s is Monday morning. You see you boss coming toward you after an unpleasant exchange on Friday when you, in a moment of mouth speaks before brain thinks, called out your boss for blaming you for her mistakes.

Enter data: action(unwarranted blame assignment from superior to cover their inadequacies)/reaction(telling superior that you know full well what is going on and you don’t appreciate it!)/result(superior gets angrier and avoids you for the rest of the day) with additional box for reaction to result(apologize because it’s the correct thing to do but come Monday you are STILL PISSED ABOUT IT!! )



APS command: Roadblock ahead. Turn around at first possible opportunity. Consider alternate route.

I recently read an unassuming book entitled, “Tao Te Ching.”

Vs. 24
On his tiptoes a man is not steady
Taking long strides he cannot keep pace

To the self-serving nothing shines forth
To the self-promoting nothing is distinguished
To the self-appointing nothing bears fruit
To the self-righteous nothing endures

From the viewpoint of Tao, this self-indulgence is like rotting food and painful growths on the body-
Things that all creatures despise
So why hold onto them?
When walking the path of Tao
this is the very stuff
that must be uprooted, thrown out and left behind.

Vs. 56
One who speaks does not know
One who knows does not speak

Shut the mouth
Close the gates
Blunt the sharpness
Loosen the knots
Temper the glare
Become one with the dust of the world.
This is called
“The Secret Embrace”

One who knows this secret
Is not moved by attachment or aversion,
Swayed by profit or loss,
Nor touched by honor or disgrace
He is far beyond the cares of men
Yet comes to hold the dearest place in their hearts

Vs. 76
When life begins
We are tender and weak
When life ends
We are stiff and rigid
All things, including the grass and trees,
Are soft and pliable in life
Dry and brittle in death

So the soft and supple
Are the companions of life
While the stiff and unyielding
Are the companions of death

An army that cannot yield
Will be defeated
A tree that cannot bend
Will crack in the wind
Thus by Nature’s own decree
The hard and strong are defeated
While the soft and gentle are triumphant

action(unwarranted blame assignment)/reaction(silence)/result(sun continues to rise and set) with additional box for reaction to result(triumphant!)

I’ve been on the road. This trip I was working on a refurb at 6 Flags of the Okeefanokee Swamp now called Monster Plantation. The last time I was at the park I was in grade school. We spent a lot of time on the Swamp ride because in the middle of miles and miles of blistering asphalt it was one of the only places to sit in the shade.

It was surreal to be there as an artist. It was even more surreal to return to a place where when I last visited most of my innocence was still intact. It was yet even more surreal to return to a place that, while I was going through monumental changes of my own, hasn’t changed at all. I didn’t find comfort in it.

A good friend of mine, EC, recommended me for the job. It was great to see him again and to meet his girlfriend, Camille. They are Brooklyn hipsters right down to their painted on clothes and unruly coifs. The city vibe suits them. Both are artists and musicians who have found a way to hold on to creativity AND pay the rent, no small feat. They are also still young enough to be undaunted by late nights on the town combined with early mornings on the job. I, on the other hand, am old and need my sleep so I didn’t get to spend as much time with them away from the sight as I would have liked.

This is the first scenic gig I’ve been a part of where my primary scope was not painting. I was there to hang the murals that provide the back drop for the story of the Plantation. The murals hang behind the scenery around the entire course of the ride. We hung 20 some odd murals ranging in size from 5 to 50 feet long. The murals arrived to the site late in the game because of last minute changes by a fickle art director. Because of this they had to be commandeered around the scenery and the hardscape. This made their installation extremely challenging. Even though it was a trial it was probably for the best that they went in last.

Hardscape is a scenic term for concrete. The hardscape crews are notorious for coming on site and blowing concrete on EVERYTHING. They rarely, if ever, use a shield or clean up after themselves. Consequently, what is a pristine piece of art when you leave the site in the evening can become a pristine piece of art cover in splatters of dried concrete by the next morning. Painters hate hardscapers. Judging by their lack of respect for the painters’ progress I’m guessing the feeling is mutual.

All in all it was a fun and interesting gig. I’m happy to be back in Orlando but boy is it HOT! Thank God my Orlando gig isn’t outside. I don’t think I could hang.

The DeSoto in the Closet of my Soul.

Meditation isn’t always intense and full of drama but it has its moments. It is true that still waters run deep. By dedicating myself, humbly, to the process of meditation I’ve been able to drag several, DeSoto, sized, obstacles from my soul’s closet and into the light of awareness. I definitely feel as if my mortal load has been lightened. Good riddance.

For example, a good, friend got engaged and she and her fiancé were moving away. The sadness that I felt when I learned that they were leaving was a sadness that reflected something deeper in me than the notion of saying goodbye to a friend. My sadness was out of proportion to the circumstances. I used these feelings as a catalyst in my early meditations. Revelation came through a peeling away of the surface emotions and digging deeper. I soon realized that my out of proportion reactions to good-bye went back much, much further than my current circumstances. There was a little girl deep inside who didn’t understand that saying goodbye is part of life. I found her, explained some things and now she gets it. She still doesn’t like it but she gets it.

I was thirty nine when I embarked on this spiritual adventure. I had made many half hearted attempts in the past, generally when the proverbial shit was hitting the proverbial fan but this time I decided to fully and indefinitely commit. Sitting quietly for forty five minutes was a challenge at first but after a few sessions I began to look forward to it. The first few times I meditated I’d sit with my eyes closed for what seemed like an hour only to take a peek at the clock and realize that ten minutes had passed. After a few sessions I was able to still myself to the point that when I finally peeked at the clock more than an hour had passed. Eventually I stopped thinking about the clock entirely.

The more I am able to ‘let go’ the deeper my stillness becomes. I use two techniques to relax and still myself physically and spiritually. Both techniques require me to sit comfortably, back straight, shoulders down and back (sit up straight) with my eyes closed. In the first technique I imagine a current similar to a river originating in my solar plexus and exiting through my extremities, hands, feet, groin and head. As I imagine the flow of the current I repeat the phrase, “let go.” I imagine the current flowing out of me taking every trace of negativity that is in me along with it. The second technique is similar to the first. The difference is in the second I imagine that my body is permeable and I imagine love blowing through me like a summer breeze across a screened porch. When I get to the place where I feel conducive I still my thoughts completely and I listen. I meditate in this fashion three to five times a week.

Lake Eola is a park located near Downtown, Orlando. It is located

between my house and the Metro 24/7 gym. I walk to the gym at least three days a week for weight training. On my way home from my workout I sit beneath my favorite Live Oak and cypress trees beside Lake Eola and with the sun on my face I close my eyes and listen.

I must add that the very first thing I do when I sit down to meditate is reaffirm, out loud, that I am a child of the light and I ask that only revelations from the light, the maker, be allowed to influence me. To each his own here but I, personally, feel that we have to verbally claim our alliances and I choose light. The other side of the veil is no place for a mortal without a spiritual guide. We don't drive to the airport, buy a ticket and FLY the plane. We rely on the pilot because he knows more than us. It's all the same.

Pitfalls of Freelancing as a Scenic Artist

I am a scenic artist. I have earned this title by traveling to the world’s amusement parks and smearing my blood, sweat and tears into every fake rock, board and cartoon flower I am hired to paint. Ok, blood and sweat, no crying but sometimes after a 12 hour day in the Orlando sun, when my knees revolt and my hands resemble paint covered claws, I imagine how it might feel if a cool tear slid down my cheek.

I just finished a gig at Animal Kingdom Lodge, Disney World.










Right this second I am dealing with a chump that doesn’t want to pay me for services rendered. The rub of any freelance job is that you have to do your bit up front. The gig has been finished for a week. When I completed the job I was paid 75% of my invoice. “I’m going to hold some money to make sure everything is ok,” was the explanation that I received from Ivan, CEO, Exterior Walls Inc. Huh-oh…this usually means trouble. So far we have settled 75% of what I am owed on three seperate occasions. Ivan always holds on to a little...just in case.

Time and again the most challenging part of freelance is getting paid for the gig. Bartering over money, a.k.a my worth, is my least favorite part of this process. Because it is my least favorite part and because I hold my self to a very high standard as far as work ethics go I resent to my core having to beg for my pay. I try to remain "professional" but as time lags my evil starts to eek out. Today I called to collect my last, little, dribble of compensation and I got Ivan's voicemail. I'd rather set sail on the River Styx than play this game. Ivan, I'm sitting here in Limbo contemplating your demise. Who knew that the First Circle of Hell was in Orlando. It is futile to resist. I will not go away. I work all day, every day, out in the sun and the wind and the sand for FUN.

What doesn't kill you...

In April of 2005 my younger brother’s abdomen began to swell. He thought it was gas. He continued with his studies because he was taking finals trying to complete the requirements of his senior year at The University of Tennessee’s Law School. He expected to graduate in May. The swelling persisted and finally he succumbed and my mother took him to the ER at Erlanger in Chattanooga. Over the next few days we received information that would change our lives and break our hearts. He was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer with a zero percent chance of survival.

He was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis in his early twenties and had battled the disease for years but at 31 he felt that he was over the hump and the worst was behind him. The dilemma with colon cancer is that it mimics the symptoms of colitis identically. Those who suffer from colitis get used to getting on with their day to day lives living in a perpetual state of, “I don’t feel good.” They get used to the fevers, aches and pains associated with the disease. This was the case with Jason and he didn’t recognize the moment when his colitis turned into cancer. When we finally realized what was going on it was too late to save him.

He fought for his life for six weeks and we stood on the front lines and fought along with him. In those last days when the odds were against him and the surgeons were shaking their heads it was paramount to him that we never gave up on him. In the end he knew that he had us and that we were fighting for him. That mattered so I say to everyone, when the time comes, make the effort. We were desperate to help him and I spent many sleepless nights researching endlessly, link after link, page after page hoping to find anything that might give him another chance. Cancer is hideous and I hope the day comes when no one has to face it. He laid down his sword and gave up the battle on June 6, 2006. It was through his noble demeanor during his struggle that I learned what grace is. I am proud of him.

I must add that he did manage to graduate with a Doctorate of Law. I made the trip from Chattanooga to Knoxville and met with his Dean. During his time at school he never complained of his illness so she was stunned to learn that not only did he have cancer but he was not going to survive. No one knew he was sick. She told me that indeed he had met his requirements and she was kind enough to give me his diploma. I presented it to him in ICU on the same day he was told he had 4-6 weeks to live. By then he had both cancer and pain medication flooding through his system so he was in and out a lot. He struggled to stay present and coherent forgetting the date or confusing reality with dreams but he never forgot that he was a UTK graduate. He was extremely proud of that. Dean Edmonds was kind enough to come to Cleveland and speak at Jason’s memorial. I’m still not certain how it all works when we cross over but I hope he got to see that.

Initially I was going to focus this blog around the changes I've made in my diet after experiencing the loss of my brother. I’ve decided to write from the broadened perpsective that comes from confronting death and how that confrontation can be used to initiate a positive change in every aspect of one's life. Our family tapestry has a hole beyond mending. Our world was dimmed. I've spent the last two years living as if I have been superimposed on life. Even so, life goes on. Jason would expect us to go on as well. I know he’s in a better place and I know I’ll see him when I get there. Until then I’ll dangle here among the mortals.

What do you do when you get to the end of your rope?
Tie a knot and hold on.