Who are you? Leaving out any specifics of your human and ego identity, YOU are a singular, perfectly unique, limitless ball of potential. You are so far beyond what I lovingly call your “meat suit”. Don’t get me wrong, your physical identity is beautiful, clever, cool and stylish. But I’m talking about the higher YOU. That calmer, all-knowing, confident and focused YOU. That part of you who remembers: You’ve been a 280 foot Sequoia inside a 4 mm seed since conception.

YOU are the living, breathing incarnation of what Deepak Chopra calls “pure potentiality”. We all are. When challenges arise, no one can get in your head and trigger your memory on this. Only YOU can. When you factor in the unique social advantages you were born into, and better yet the disadvantages you have overcome, your singular value to the rest of us explodes. Nature and nurture continually refine your offering. THAT is how important you are to the rest of us, and to the expansion of All That Is.

The only problem is that we get so hell bent on not believing any of this. The world around us is determined to hook our attention, and mold us toward its own ends. Part of us wants to believe the fear mongers, the haters, the well-intentioned worriers, sworn “protectors” of our well being, and the media. All of that noise can seem really compelling, and important. But it’s only distraction from our potential.

Marketers will tell you you’re ugly and then sell you beauty. Tell you you’re ill and sell you wellness. Tell you you’re limited and sell you a sense of freedom. Tell you you’re aging and sell you youth.

We are blessed to have family and friends who love us, who typically see us for who we really are and what we’re trying to become. I love and appreciate all of their input, encouragement, and critical advice. It has helped shape, influence, guide, and improve me.

But I can’t help feeling like Dr. Emmitt Brown at the end of the first Back to The Future. I blast back down the street, process some of the world’s garbage in my Mr. Fusion home energy reactor, and start hovering. Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads. My parents couldn’t hand me a fully charted course, because one didn’t exist.  I probably love them more for that than the countless opportunities and gifts they’ve given me. We get to swing our machetes like crazy fools in this jungle every day, carving out our own path. “Oh, but that sounds hard, and scary.” But doesn’t it also kinda ROCK?

Your success can only be personally defined. My favorite, most simple definition of success comes from Earl Nightengale. He was one of 12 surviving Marines aboard the USS Arizona that was attacked by the Japanese in Pearl Harbor in 1941. He went on to become a world famous broadcaster and motivator, writing and performing more than 7000 radio broadcasts. His most famous audio program, entitled “The Strangest Secret” is considered a cornerstone of personal development and was ripped off for the Law of Attraction DVD “The Secret” a few years ago. Its premise is simple: “We become what we think about most of the time.” Anyway, Nightengale defined success as “the progressive realization of a worthy ideal.” Here’s the Lesson: only YOU can evaluate and measure your progress, and only YOU can define your worthy ideal.

There are a lot of well-meaning people who think they know what’s best for you, but they are wrong. You must draw your own map. You must write your own score. This is your immense, singular gift to the world. This is your contribution. You should be wide open to new knowledge and opportunity. You should listen lovingly to the input of your parents, teachers, and peers as they share their dreams for your life. Genuinely thank them.

And then ask yourself if the input they’ve offered truly resonates with YOU, based on your own continued assessment and reassessment of who you really are. Think critically from your deeper place of knowing. I swear to you that YOU are in there somewhere. I see YOU when you laugh your ass off, close a big sale, when you rock the house, ace a test, and fall in love. That part of me can’t help but notice the 1.21 gigawatts of YOU, because it’s the dragon I’m chasing. It’s all I try to look for.

A 300 foot Sequoia tree produces 11,000 cones on average, each of which contains hundreds of seeds with that ridiculous potential. Only a precious few achieve that height.  It takes a delicate chemistry of earth, oxygen, water, and fire. Even the park rangers let these 3000 year-old trees burn.

Once you spot your opening in the canopy, sink your feet deep in the ground. Welcome the fire. Welcome the wind and rain.
It’s all here to help you remember who YOU really are.

Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.

——————————

Please leave a comment with any ideas on my next topic. Thanks.

Where do these urges to rage and riot come from? Even as an adult I tap into my stockpile of Insane Suburban Energy. It’s the equivalent of a thousand fucking Energon Cubes, and I’m feeling more Starscream than Prime.  My Molotov Cocktail of energy was perfected beyond the watchful eyes of parents, over the houses of fellow latchkey kids. It was stirred up at the intersection of boredom and the lack of any adult supervision, and it lives on inside me. In a single day we  might build a fort, burn it down, pee on it to put it out, eat 15 boxes of Sprees, (that we should’ve been selling for school fundraisers), and jump every fence in the neighborhood like we were hurdling for gold.

Sometimes when I’m talking to my neighbors I feel like throwing a David Lee Roth high kick and then knocking over their trash cans.

There’s a mischievous wind that blows in when the seasons change in Ohio, and it stirs up all sorts of giddy, fantastic and frisky shit within me. I’d like to think that I’m much more constructive with how I channel and focus this energy these days. There aren’t that many sleepovers where I could flip the Wiley Coyote Switch and involuntarily unleash some good old collateral damage. Sometimes you just really needed to break shit to find something new and exciting.

The Insane Suburban Energy had to be locked down somewhat, at least enough to socialize and carve out a path in the conformity-lull of adult life. What’s the equivalent these days? The “demo” portion of home improvement? Siiiiigggh. Sounds like another trip to Lowe’s or Home Depot. This could be why I’ve had my psycho/spiritual car up on blocks in the yard, ripping out the tranny like I know what a goddamn transmission should look like. My radio blasts Whitesnake though, because the Red Dragon always runs better eventually. Here I go again, on my OWNNN.

It’s YOUR job to reach within and stir it up once in a while. That’s all this is, it’s not some exercise in boredom and predictable drudgery. Too many of us take the opportunity, the BLESSING that is where boredom intersects a lack of supervision, and we yield to the voices and rules around us. I’m as guilty as anyone to feeling like my options are so limited on any given day. <In my male Daria voice> “Well, I have my work, and the gym, or cleaning this or that… Maybe I’ll strum my guitar if I have a few minutes.”

The wind shifts and whispers “Fuck THAT, homes!” 60 boxes of Sprees? Check. Fort materials, matches, pee, and snacks? Check check check. Microphone? Check, boom boom.

Run and sun and fun and fun and somehow all the work gets done. My sweet baby soul is budding. Something beautiful and new always blossoms out of the chaos. 100% of the time, it works every time.

I’ve never dug this deep into whatever it means to “be an artist”, and all the little milestones and discoveries have been mind blowing. It feels like I’ve been in an accelerated learning program since last November, and some days I wish I could skip class and go get fucked up. It started with figuring out new, exciting ways to get my current album out into the world, and has evolved into a full reassessment for how I perform, write, create, and market my art. I could have probably shared more about this journey, but it all felt pretty mundane to write about when I could be using that time to implement what I’ve been learning. At some point we have to admit that much of this digital media contributes to the overglorification of a lot of uninteresting shit.

Not that I would ever consider myself to be uninteresting or unworthy of overglorification. Hahaha. Damn you, Krissy! You added “the” before your name, followed by the “show”  years ago and suddenly everything is up for grabs? I’ve said before that when we’re experiencing consciousness or clarity, the great news is that everything is up for grabs. We can dive into anything and become it, embody it, achieve it. The shitty news is that when we’re lost in the weeds, everything is up for grabs. We teeter endlessly between second guessing and self doubt, feeling vulnerable to all the voices around us who push conformity.

And so it has been these last 4 months. I needed to quit drinking, (yet again) in an effort to remove any and all distractions from, or filters between my true Self and that trusty, crusty old bastard, my Ego. I whiff no hint of bullshit when I tell you that it has been a humbling process. Around the first of the year I completely re-wired my looping set up. I tore apart all those pedals and pedal boards, patch cables and redesigned my signal chain. The irony is that when I played in Akron last December 11th, it felt like I had “arrived” in some way, in the long-delayed completion of “Season II” and in the presentation of whatever my “art” is. The show that night was loose and fun, but sonically fat. It was everything I ever wanted to present.

In preparing for NACA/college campus shows though, I needed to make my whole show and rig portable. I needed to be able to travel and fly with it while also increasing all the sonic and tweaker potential. Maybe I needed to do a lot more with a lot less fuss and hassle?

Somewhere along the way I must have over-identified with that signal chain, because in the dismantling and cleaning, the rethinking and regaining of a new perspective, I dismantled myself as an artist, a musician, a performer and a writer. I’m more comfortable playing my bass, or just my guitar and singing, or singing a’capella for that matter. I’ve found a deeper trust in my songwriting that’s not dependent on gear, yet I’m more excited than ever by what the proper gear can add to the mix. My heroes and influences visit me every day, but none of them have a road map for what it is I’m here to do. This is my singular path, and I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable with the solitude and seclusion the path requires. It’s those rare little quiet moments when the velocity hits us: In the methodical, seemingly mundane, polishing, learning, and collecting of data… We’re growing faster than we could have worked out on paper. I could never play another show or write another song, yet still I will have lived my path. Don’t get me wrong though, this whole thing is all about playing way more shows and writing way more songs.

2011 is already 25% in the can, if you can believe that. Much of it has exceeded my expectations, and much of it is still taking shape. So far the theme this year is “creative process”. My new friend Steve, whom I met during my last trip to Chicago is obsessed with “process” versus “outcome”. I’ve ridden my own ass like a micromanager for too long, looking for more golden eggs or clever contributions to the lives around me. This time has been about building a more enjoyable and fulfilling process around the design and release of the eggs.

I trust the process. I trust my Self to recognize the path and stay on it, especially when the Ego wants to take us off-roading through Turdsville.

There are days and weeks when I can ratchet myself into such an insane level of good feeling vibes, that opportunity and synchronicity shine in every peripheral corner. It can be unsettling to tell you the truth, like when you want to start crying because life is that freakin beautiful. I’d rather be committed to the nutterhouse for these reasons than for all the others. Leaving the gym yesterday morning I was hovering in some sort of slow motion, completely outside of time and demands. There was a grin on my grill, and sunshine was everywhere. Is it out of the ordinary to feel the vitality of  every cell in your body, adding up one by one to the whole of you?

We feel that way when we experience new love, or a remembrance of true love in our lives, the promise of a new little life on the way (we’ll hear our ultrasound today), or even in the loss of someone close to us. It’s the stripping away of all extraneous noise and clutter in our heads, leaving only the essence of something All Powerful. I judge the quality of my life by how often I can sense the presence of whatever that is. Lately I’ve been getting some beautiful emails from friends, clients, and coworkers. My favorite phrase, or the currency of my relationships: “that made my day” or “you made my day.” We’re only hear to mix up and combust with other peoples’ energy. You make my day all the time.

It’s funny how something simple like moving your bulletin board can stir up so many thoughts and emotions. The bulletin board in my office has become the keeper of  big ideas, big plans, or big sources of pride. It would probably give the best indication of who I’m trying to become, or the things I love to anyone who didn’t know me. If I happened to fall off the shitter while hanging a photo for instance, hitting my head and subsequently sketching the means of time travel (ie the flux capacitor), I’d likely hang that sketch on my office bulletin board. It’s where my brain vomits coal and my soul fashions diamonds. In times of trial and error, I can’t even bring myself to look at it for fear of not living up to ideals published in more inspired moments. Yes, total and complete, beautiful madness.

Yesterday I unearthed 21 Suggestions of Success, which I sent around to our company. Today I found a couple expressions of condolences, one written by my Grandfather for his best friend whose son committed suicide. The other was a note I drafted for one our best friends who lost her young niece in a tragic car accident. I am so eager to get into my scramble this morning, with so much to “get done” before this or that needs to happen. It just never ever slows a bit. Rereading these stopped me dead in my tracks though. I’m taking pause to reflect on all that matters to me, the profound appreciation I feel for every emotion that tears through the heart.

These are the magic moments of my life. I’ll hear our new baby’s heartbeat in an hour, I’ll shake off the work of the last few weeks and bask in its rewards. Everything is truly improving immeasurably despite my effort or resistance. I couldn’t work hard enough today to make my life any better than it already is. Inspiration carries us infinitely further than we plan on going anyway.

The pieces below may seem sad, but the sentiment felt really good to me today. Everyone and everything shines on and on and on, because there is no death. All these spirits visited me in this moment and reminded me of The Mission. We’re the eternal expression of something All Powerful. Never stop creating. Never stop expressing. Never stop inspiring, and never stop being in Awe of the beauty around you.

I felt you reading your own words through my eyes this morning Pops. I’m doing something right if I can connect with your level of energy. I miss you so much partner, but your message & example will flourish through my continued practice. Internal/Eternal.

How comforting is that?

Damascus – One Day in May
A Sonnet from the Heart

Handwritten :: To Bayard for Roland – valued friendship with irrepressible pride; Natural, unspoken conversation with feeling and Love… But this time tainted with tears. – LEB

This was the hardest thing of all to bear.
That no bird ceased its singing when you died,
That bees and myriad insects strummed the air,
And children’s laughter filled the valleys wide,
That men and women walked their usual ways
And talked and sang as though you not lay still -
No interruption to their active days.
Your ashes strewn on a river past a lonely hill,
But no gray, grieving shadow dims
The brightness of the sun; No bright star tore
The blackness of coming night; the radiant sun rims
The darkening hills in splendor as before.
Yet so hushed is my heart at the thought of your restful river bier,
It seems the universe could be pausing here.

- Luis E. Bejarano

Condolences for Gwena McCormick
2009

There are no words to properly convey
the depths of our condolences, our regrets,
our sympathies, or our empathy as parents,
your friends, and your extended family.

We are deeply saddened by the loss of Gwena’s
Beautiful young life. It’s beyond comprehension.

Yet, if this pain is the price of knowing someone
so precious, of having been witness to
her bountiful joy, and the love and comfort
she brought to your family in your Father’s passing,
our hope is you’ll find peace in time.

We’re lucky to recognize these angels passing through.
We’re lucky to have known pure, unconditional love,
and to have the blessing of giving love in return
to such a beautiful young girl.
We’re lucky to have known her, if only briefly.

Our hearts are with you always, with unending love
and support to the McCormick, Grandolfo, and Cataldo families.

With love and hugs,
The Carters

Some new lyrics, thoughts on my Chicago Release Show Tonight…

Shit, I’m still so enamored with you, Music. You saved me from latch-key kid abandon and set me on the creative path. I’m on the 12th floor of this gorgeous hotel overlooking the Chicago grid below. I see no difference in my grid of frets and strings. All I see are possibilities.

In the beginning of 2010 I hung a 3×5 card over the door to my office that read “Make time to FINISH”. The album had consumed my energy and creative output for far too long, and it was time to evict that bitch. I was  happier with the final product than I had envisioned, mostly based on the accumulation of love, hours, and focus that went into it. You can’t keep your life from expanding past your documentation of it in the meantime though, and it’s easy to get caught up in your “present” self second guessing your “past” self. I’ve seen that little conundrum screw with so many artists’ heads, but dang, just the sense of completion and getting art out into the world feels amazing.

Tonight is my album release show in Chicago. A few weeks ago, in the beginning of 2011 I replaced the 3×5 card above my door with a new one that reads “REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE”. Last Wednesday I finished meditating and was just blankly looking around my office. The sun was pouring in every window, blazing through the frost outside. I was milking the feelings of oneness and appreciation. Inevitably the phone starts ringing, the emails and texts start pouring in. Life, Work, and other humans remind us that our care and attention are required.

Before diving back into the fray the reminder above my door caught my attention. Remember Who You Are. I looked at it for a few seconds and really connected with why the hell I would write that to myself.

There’s been this freaky, disco/funk groove I’ve been kicking around on my bass for the last year or so. It started looping in my mind with some weird sort of crackling intensity. My bass was downstairs but it was like I was playing it vividly. I feverishly typed out the following, a maniacal grin on my grill:

————————————-

THIS MORNING IN THE CITY I TOLD THE CABBIE RIGHT THERE! STOP
SAW A GUY I THOUGHT I KNEW IN THE WINDOW OF THE COFFEE SHOP
WE STARED FOR A SECOND THROUGH THE GLASS  I COULD TELL HE MIGHT KNOW ME
I SIZED UP THAT CORPORATE JACKASS, SAID LET’S JOG YOUR MEMORY

BEFORE YOU WENT TO COLLEGE OR COULD EVER AFFORD THAT SUIT
BEFORE YOU MET YOUR WIFE & KIDS OR RON BURGUNDY ROCKED THE FLUTE
WHEN THE INTERNET WAS FARMLAND FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE
YOU’D LOCK YOURSELF UP IN YOUR ROOM AND ROCK PURE ENERGY

YOU PLAYED BASS – YOU DIDN’T HAVE NOTHIN BETTER TO DO
YOU PLAYED BASS – AND THAT WAS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU
YOU PLAYED BASS – ANY OF THIS GETTING THROUGH?
YOU PLAYED BASS – MAN I ALMOST DIDN’T RECOGNIZE YOU

BEFORE PAUL RUDD OR SCOTT PILGRIM FAKED KNOWING HOW TO PLAY
OR A MILLION BANDS HAD COME AND GONE LIKE SMASHMOUTH AND SUGAR RAY
BEFORE YOU EVER FILED TAXES, TRIED MICROBREWS OR WEED
BEFORE YOUR PARENTS SOLD YOU ON EVER NEEDING A PLAN B

YOU PLAYED THE BASS – THERE WAS NO BETTER PLACE TO BE
YOU PLAYED BASS – LIKE IT MADE UP YOUR CHEMISTRY
YOU PLAYED BASS – AREN’T YOU GLAD YOU RAN INTO ME?
YOU PLAYED BASS – THIS MOMENT ON,  BROTHER WE ARE FREE

——–

It’s not entirely done, but I rehearsed it mostly in my car, on my drive to Chicago. I gotta play it tonight, seeing I’m here for the dual purposes of destroying my goddamn set and leading a portion of sales training. It provides some hard fought sense of balance.

Shit, I’m still so enamored with you, Music. You saved me from latch-key kid abandon and set me on the creative path. I’m on the 12th floor of this gorgeous hotel overlooking the Chicago grid below. I see no difference in my grid of frets and strings. All I see are possibilities.

Thank You to everyone who has nurtured this in me. I just wanna feel every note and every lyric tonight, and feed off your beautiful energy.

That’s why I keep at it. To all my homies still rocking their shit, you inspire me. You’re in my fingertips and I’m in yours. Never let up, and call me anytime you need a reminder of who you are.

love,  ROCK, grooves and goosebumps,

kc