Decision

One of Hitlers staff said "the worst thing anyone has to do in life is make a decision". Look at the result of letting other people decide for us. Never that delicious. Sometimes disastrous results.

I understand this sentence. It's the heart of procrastination. It opens up the door to "what if?" What if it's the wrong decision? God I hate this torture, let someone else decide!

Torture lies in non commitment. In my experience when I make a decision and commit to it something lines up in the ether and the resources have a way of showing up to support that decision. I don't know how this works, neither do I need to know, I just have seen it work enough times to know that it does.

Probably the most difficult decision I chose was to either stay in Baltimore in '95, move to Portland or move to New York. I chose Portland. I think that was ultimately a poor choice for me but I followed through and don't regret it at all. See, the toughest decisions are the ones where they all look like good choices, and in fact at least 2 of those choices were potentially great. Staying in Baltimore was not an option. My deepest fear is in standing still. It was probably better to go to New York in '95, that was the scariest choice but I am glad I had my west coast experience. I still did a lot of growing there.

At the heart of indecision lies fear. Fear of the unknown. Or is it unknown? If I don't know the result, why would I be fearful? Fear is always old right? "Don't let that happen again!" is the tape loop in my brain that keeps me in a state of indecision and agony. It's what keeps me in a state of putting off what must be done. And it's old. Dead like all those awful fascist leaders I opened this post with. Why be afraid of the dead? We are alive after all, and capable of creating something better.

One of the beauties of being an improvising musician is I need to make decisions every second. I make tons of wrong choices every minute. If I can apply this to my life the same way I apply it to music, decisions will become as easy as breathing. No telling what can be accomplished if I treat life as an experiment. Life is an experiment and ever changing, that is a fact. Fear is old and stagnant, that is a fact. Forks in the road are just that, forks. I never get hung up on the type of fork I use when eating, I just eat when I'm hungry. Simple.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-6xHI7FFhs

It's tricky to do.....

I had a conversation about mastering idle time tonight with my love. I said something I don't remember about mastering time and the next phrase loaded on my tongue was "It's tricky to do". I stopped myself. Thank God.

It's a knee jerk reaction for me to say this about life change, after all we have these tenacious habits always demanding our attention. I know I do anyway. But that phrase "It's difficult to do", there is no real truth in it when it comes to change. What's difficult about it? What's difficult about mastering time, getting up earlier, maximizing our innate talents and sharing them effectively? What's difficult about letting love rule, letting light into the heart? What is difficult about changing our habits? Is it at all possible to radically shift from mediocre to excellent? Is it possible to shift without 34 1/2 years of therapy from a negative outlook to a positive outlook? The older I get the more the answer is a resounding "Yes, it is possible!"

So why this phrase following every thing I say about change? I think if I choose to lose the phrase, my life may radically change for the better only because my outlook will have radically shifted. Yes, I can. Those words serve as defense. Blocks. And they are easily removed.

JB

The Millennium Falcon and the power of denial.

In the late 80's up until about 1991 I had my dads '79 Ford Fairmont wagon, a silver car he used daily in his commute to work to northern Virginia. By the time I received it the "Millennium Falcon" already had 200,000 miles on it. My car received this name from one of the many bands I was in, she was silver and it was difficult to hyper speed just like in the Star Wars saga. I was no Hans Solo even though I may have wished I was.

There was a point crossing the Chesapeake Bay Chunnel that I heard a sound. I looked down and there in the middle of the night was the freeway right under my feet. I could see it in a hole big enough to put a ham sandwich through. I was on tour with a reggae band called Jamallad at the time, we played from Delaware to Virginia, you know, beach towns. This car served me well, I am grateful for this jalopy.

I used to get into traffic on the highway and punch the gas, she'd sputter and I'd go from 0 to 60 in about 21 3/4 seconds. I would imagine myself justifying my sad car to other drivers zooming past me by scowling and saying "you drive my car for a day and see what it's like to be me!" Wow. The phrases of an insane man.

One morning I was picking up my friend Barry in Baltimore to go to Funkyard practice. I parked in front of his house and heard a new sound while parking (whenever I heard a new sound in my car I would also hear a game show host announcing "A NEW SOUND!!!!"). I went upstairs to Barrys apartment, he was on the 4th floor and while I waited for him to get ready I looked out the window. I could see this exhaust system behind my car. In my mind I said "hmmm, that must have been the new sound. I must have run over someone Else's exhaust system. Fucking slobs for not picking their own trash up!" So I went about my business.

About 6 months later I needed an emissions test. They stuck that piptic up my tailpipe and said "sir, you are aware that you have nothing connecting from your tailpipe to your engine right?" I stepped out and looked. Of course! That entire exhaust system was mine, all mine! My car was so noisy at this point I didn't even notice it being noisier without the muffler! Ah, the power of denial!

When I hear people complain about the state vehicle inspection I think of this story. It's to keep dangerous vehicles like the Millennium Falcon off the road. It was a rust bucket, couldn't go any faster than 55mph and had large parts falling off. I buried it at 275,000 miles.

I used to complain loudly in my mind every time I would see an rickety old pick up truck with junk all bundled up in the back, you know the type, the junk collector. I would get angry. I would be screaming "you're going to cause an accident!" But there was something so much deeper going on. When I lost my apartment in Los Angeles and was putting my boxes into storage for the 3rd time, I looked at those boxes and wondered what was in them. Some of these I hadn't opened in 20 years. I had carted them around Maryland, to Portland, to Los Angeles. I could feel my own insanity. In that moment I realized I am that guy in the rickety old pick up truck hauling crap around! The moment I realized that the hatred for those fellows vanished and I could love myself a little more, for a piece of my own self hatred vanished because I could no longer deny it it was a problem.  I became the problem and treated it like my own child, giving it attention and sending the physical manifestation of it (the boxes) to the Goodwill. I don't even know what I gave away that day. It was 2 1/2 years ago and I don't miss any of it whatever it was!

It's not like I don't struggle with putting up with crap, I need to fix a head light and a tail light on my van, but I don't deny it's a problem any longer. Denial is a colossal waste of energy. Own it, heal it and move on. Denial was a peculiar way for me to be right when I was so clearly wrong! A great way to stay in conflict. It's madness.

Now I have a car to fix, best get to it! And a car to fix may be so much more than that! I love it!