Monday, August 18, 2008

a fairly recent project initiative.. the 'nutshell' version:

{What if we’re not meant to live with only what we’ve got? What if we’re meant to take part in others’ lives in such a way that we let parts of them seep into us. Permeate us enough, so that we get to live by a mesh of experiences, their and ours. Wouldn’t this then equip us to face the world with a little more than we had on our own when we first began? Obvious Tobin, that’s quite obvious.. I know. But I think I’m just re-epiphanizing (I realize this isn’t a word, but I think it needs to be) to myself and to my blog that we were never meant to go this alone. This whole thing this whole process this whole challenge of keeping-on, of pressing forward, of changing things in our path for the better or at least trying to, this whole thing of trying to survive in a place that sometimes seems un-survivable.. all of it, we were just never meant to do it as one against all. Things just get so clouded that it can sometimes look that way.
So at the risk of oversimplifying, would I be selling this thought short? to say that sometimes- asking someone how their day was (and really listening for the answer) could actually change the way we live…}

So blog: I think I’m embarking on a project. i’ve realized that there is too much that people have inside them that never gets let out to be shared. Much of this realization stems from the fact that I understand all too well what it means to have thoughts that go unsaid and ideas that go un-acted upon. So I wondered- if I, just one young person, have so much to give that has yet to be given, then so must everyone else, and probably to an even greater degree! Particularly those who have lived much longer and fuller lives than myself..
So in short, I’ve decided it’s necessary for me to begin writing letters to a variety of individuals, basically prompting them to let out whatever it is they feel they have to say, whatever it is they feel needs to be heard by others before their time on earth should end.
I guess an inherent challenge in my prompt could be this: that many people don’t even know they have something of sparkling value to offer to the world. Don’t know they have something brilliantly unique, be it complex or simple, that needs to be heard.
BUT! It's only logical that if you validate someone (mind you, it must be genuine and not contrived brown-nosing) in their hidden wisdom, it’s more likely that you’ll extract some of it than if you left it up to them alone- i feel the majority of people don't even know that they have things to share and ways of voicing those things like nobody else is capable of. That may sound confusing. But I’ll step out on this limb to say that I’ve felt before like I had something valuable to say, but didn’t. didn’t because I either thought nobody would care or because I myself didn’t care. If someone had been there to prompt me, to nudge me, to kick me in the ass in encouragement then maybe I would have been more willing to open my mouth. Now I don’t think I’ve missed any life altering experiences because of reluctance like this, BUT.. just think- there must have been a devastating amount of lives that have indeed ended on unsaid wisdoms. Unshared perspectives. Unexpressed beauty..
The unheard magic of those individuals is about as tragic as tragic gets.
So I thought well ya know maybe I could do something with a few people sort of as an experiment ya know… just throw something out there, lay the groundwork for someone to bring into the light that which may be standing on the sidelines of their life. I do not believe that I am someone with any sort of prestige, but I think that is irrelevant in this particular venture. I hope to serve simply as a commissioner in this..
Well, I think I’m viewing this little endeavor of mine as small battle in the war against that stifling of humanity that we impose on ourselves and others. This would be the same war that serves to defend the truth of creation, the fact that each individual exists for a purpose having to do with much more than his or herself.

Uncle Will once told me that I need to be interviewed. I said, “I think I’ll have to establish myself as a ‘somebody’ first before anyone would want to interview me.”
“No,” he said, “you just need to find someone who will ask you all the right questions. You find someone who knows what to ask, and it’ll prove you’re someone worth interviewing.”

---well I suppose I am just setting out to be the person who asks the right questions, with hopes of drawing out wisdom offerings, perspectives and words, the life beauty that is another from me, because the truth is, everybody is worth interviewing.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

{and now for a medley of unrelated thought streams}

I’m finding there is momentous fragility in this venture to express.
I feel christened with imperfection. And I’m basking in the birth of this unpolished truth.

I envy the liberation of non-committal instability. But then, I know that the inherent uncertainty of such a state would drive me to a search for security. So I throw in the towel. I choose, for now, to give up on this unceasing game of running in circles chasing my own tail, nipping at the tail that is ‘control’... only just before it’s pulled from my teeth again.. I’m running too fast.

Again, it all comes back to perspective I suppose. I can decide to look at this all as simply, the way it unfortunately is. Or, I can decide to view where I’m at as just another place to spend curiosity, exercise creativity, and cultivate a story. So sometimes it’s as simple as laying yourself down on the day, and whispering to no one and everyone- ‘Go. Do. Shut up and just be.’

Irrelevant and purposeless development of the day: from now on, when entering info on itunes, I think I’m gonna end all the song titles with punctuation. I feel like names of songs look much more meaningful with the closure of punctuation :)

Summer Olympics! I’m watching 3 swimmers from different nations standing in font of the podium right now waiting to get medals.. how funny to think that they probably couldn’t understand a word of the others’ languages, yet they share as profound as having spent much of their lives, poured out their time, sacrificed and persisted in pursuit of the same goal.

So dare I say that it could be this way on much more frequent occasions, and not restricted to the rarity of glory-filled Olympic ceremonies? I mean when we’re waiting in line at Starbucks no, there may not be the bold-faced barrier of verbal language, but perhaps I don’t speak the language of divorced, as the guy behind me; or of workaholic, as the lady in front… rather than our words, maybe it’s our struggles that don’t translate. and how often am I so caught up in the anticipation of waiting for my medal, or latté, to be served, that I fail to acknowledge that the three of us are shoulder to shoulder in the midst of a strikingly similar battle- the one to stay afloat in a sea of change. 2 days ago someone preached to me that change is the only constant in life. And thus it’s one of the few few few things in life that every living and breathing human has in common. So regardless of the mistranslations we do or do not recognize, I’m confident there is always some other gem of common ground to be found and credited..

So good old Phelps is awaiting another gold. And it’s kinda wondrous and inspiring to imagine that maybe he feels goose bumps all over not just for his victory, but for the common thread that links him to his podium-mates.. a thread not of swimming, no not of the object of sport, but of the connecting parallel of passion.

better late than never eh?

i've been camping in the eastern sierra mountains for the last few days and let me say, the thoughts were flowin.. it's late and i gotta be up for work in the morning but i'll jot some of this down because it was from this morning and i think it deserves to get put somewhere before the close of the day...
{now this was a thought process that began as an observation in my mind and then apparently desired so badly to become a descriptive piece on my morning kayak ride that i drafted the entire thing in my head while out on the water, and felt compelled to say it over and over.. and over, to remember it once i got back to shore, where i could get my hands on a pen and paper. Although the paper didn't come so readily. once i found a pen i quickly scribbled some key words on my thigh to help me re-draft it in scrappy entirety a little later..}

it's 5:50 am. way too early and way too cold to be sitting in a puddle of icy water.
i'm an electric orange vessel on a body of heavy blue true glass. and i mean true, and i mean glass. there's this ethereal fog that neither my camera nor my pen can translate. And the sun's creeping up and in..
it rises. i paddle. it rises. i paddle. i'm chasing something that's chasing me.
{i've said it before and i'll say it again: it's a tragedy not to have a pen when you need one}
In this moment i realize my marriage to writing is yes, often neglected, but by no means unrealized.
In this moment I almost want the beauty to cease for a bit, or else i'll keep wanting to write and keep not being able to.
In this moment I wonder why i spend so much time squandering the fullnesses of life, because if ever a moment were full, it's now.
"whooee, there it is. so bright. there it is," she said from behind.
I’ll commit to myself, to commit to memory, the magnificence that is now.
It’s the start of a day you just know will be technicolor through and through.
it's electric.
i'm ecstatic.
and giving out silent 'hoorahs!' for seeing and for breathing.
the delineation between the lake, the light, and the pausing of my wayward worries, is positively undetectable.