Wondering where
the sun went, once
it flooded
the streets with
yellow
like taxis on
a Monday
Morning in
Manhattan.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Outsourcing his Future
"Whatever you're Thinking and Feeling, Right Now, is creating your Future," she told him.
He sat for a moment and tried to think about what he was Thinking and Feeling.
Then, after a long silence, he looked at her and said, "Look, I've decided not to Think and Feel for awhile because I'm clearly not any good at creating my own Future. I just keep thinking about my Past."
"Well, if you don't have Good Intentions for your own Future, you will get the Future that Other People want for you," she said.
"Perhaps, so. That had just occurred to me. But, the Truth is that that thought made me feel A Little Bit Better because that made me realize that all the big companies are outsourcing Their Future, so I should be ok with outsourcing My Future, too."
She laughed.
And for the next 20 minutes, they talked about A Hundred Possible Futures in unrecognizable foreign accents - much to the displeasure of many around them.
He sat for a moment and tried to think about what he was Thinking and Feeling.
Then, after a long silence, he looked at her and said, "Look, I've decided not to Think and Feel for awhile because I'm clearly not any good at creating my own Future. I just keep thinking about my Past."
"Well, if you don't have Good Intentions for your own Future, you will get the Future that Other People want for you," she said.
"Perhaps, so. That had just occurred to me. But, the Truth is that that thought made me feel A Little Bit Better because that made me realize that all the big companies are outsourcing Their Future, so I should be ok with outsourcing My Future, too."
She laughed.
And for the next 20 minutes, they talked about A Hundred Possible Futures in unrecognizable foreign accents - much to the displeasure of many around them.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
A Father's Voice
“I played that song that you sent me, Dad, on Mom’s computer today. Me and Spencer listened to it like ten times. I thought it was you, but Mom said it wasn’t. Spencer thought it was cool that you know famous singers in New York City,” the seven year-old said.
“Umm, Edison, that IS me singing that song I emailed you,” He said.
The little one looked confused for a moment and then said, “But, Dad, that can’t be you singing. Mom listened to it on the computer with me, too. She said it was that guy who signed that CD that we talked to on the phone after his concert that one night...”
“I promise you, son, that’s me singing,” He said.
His son was silent for a moment before asking, “How come Mom doesn’t know you sing like that? I know you sing like that and I’m only seven. I mean, you always sing like that with Esa and I – especially when we’re in the car or when we’re cooking in the kitchen...”
“Well, I guess I don’t know. I mean...” and this time his Father stumbled to find his Words, before continuing, “… I guess, maybe, I was just afraid to Sing, back then.”
Then after a little pause, his Dad smiled and continued… ”But, I’m pretty sure I might have sang in the shower when your Mom wasn’t around.”
“But, Dad, You knew Mom for like twelve years before you got divorced… you have an awesome Voice. You’re the Best Singer Ever and you would totally win American Idol if they let Old People on there. How come you never sang with Mom around?”
His Dad smiled a Little Smile as he remembered how old Everyone was when he was seven.
Then, seeing his son still looking to him for an Answer, he reached deep into his Pocket of Answers and pulled out The Only Answer Left and said, “Son, it’s kinda like this: sometimes we can’t sing until we find our Voice – and, maybe, sometimes it just takes a while for some people, like me, to find their Voice in Life. But, we all have a Voice, even you. Some people don’t even know they have a Voice. Some people just haven’t found it yet. Some people even lose it and are trying to find it again. But, the bottom line is that we each have to find our own Voice. Sometimes, though, you find it when you’re alone. Sometimes, you can find it with someone else. In the end, some people just find it Later than Sooner.”
His son looked back at him, even more confused.
Then, suddenly, the Confusion fell away from his sun burnt cheeks, and the little one turned around and walked away.
“I’m going to go find My Voice, Dad” he said, as he disappeared into his room.
His Dad chuckled and yelled down the empty hallway, “Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna find anything in there until you clean it. But shout if you need any help finding it.”
A few minutes later, as He passed by his son’s room, he could hear his son singing Songs to himself in his room – Songs that he’d never heard, before – Songs that maybe he knew when he was seven but had, since, long forgotten.
And in that moment, He hoped that his Son would learn Some Things from him that He had never had a chance to learn from his own Father. But, more than anything - in that moment - he was sure that his son would find his own Voice - with or without his help.
“Umm, Edison, that IS me singing that song I emailed you,” He said.
The little one looked confused for a moment and then said, “But, Dad, that can’t be you singing. Mom listened to it on the computer with me, too. She said it was that guy who signed that CD that we talked to on the phone after his concert that one night...”
“I promise you, son, that’s me singing,” He said.
His son was silent for a moment before asking, “How come Mom doesn’t know you sing like that? I know you sing like that and I’m only seven. I mean, you always sing like that with Esa and I – especially when we’re in the car or when we’re cooking in the kitchen...”
“Well, I guess I don’t know. I mean...” and this time his Father stumbled to find his Words, before continuing, “… I guess, maybe, I was just afraid to Sing, back then.”
Then after a little pause, his Dad smiled and continued… ”But, I’m pretty sure I might have sang in the shower when your Mom wasn’t around.”
“But, Dad, You knew Mom for like twelve years before you got divorced… you have an awesome Voice. You’re the Best Singer Ever and you would totally win American Idol if they let Old People on there. How come you never sang with Mom around?”
His Dad smiled a Little Smile as he remembered how old Everyone was when he was seven.
Then, seeing his son still looking to him for an Answer, he reached deep into his Pocket of Answers and pulled out The Only Answer Left and said, “Son, it’s kinda like this: sometimes we can’t sing until we find our Voice – and, maybe, sometimes it just takes a while for some people, like me, to find their Voice in Life. But, we all have a Voice, even you. Some people don’t even know they have a Voice. Some people just haven’t found it yet. Some people even lose it and are trying to find it again. But, the bottom line is that we each have to find our own Voice. Sometimes, though, you find it when you’re alone. Sometimes, you can find it with someone else. In the end, some people just find it Later than Sooner.”
His son looked back at him, even more confused.
Then, suddenly, the Confusion fell away from his sun burnt cheeks, and the little one turned around and walked away.
“I’m going to go find My Voice, Dad” he said, as he disappeared into his room.
His Dad chuckled and yelled down the empty hallway, “Yeah, I don’t think you’re gonna find anything in there until you clean it. But shout if you need any help finding it.”
A few minutes later, as He passed by his son’s room, he could hear his son singing Songs to himself in his room – Songs that he’d never heard, before – Songs that maybe he knew when he was seven but had, since, long forgotten.
And in that moment, He hoped that his Son would learn Some Things from him that He had never had a chance to learn from his own Father. But, more than anything - in that moment - he was sure that his son would find his own Voice - with or without his help.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Someone Else's
Finally, He looked Her in the eyes and told Her the only Truth he knew - that He wanted Her to be Someone Else.
And in the end, the only consolation he had, as he walked on Alone, was the Thought that if we all kept each other for the wrong reasons, we'd All be surrounded by a Sea of Someone Elses and maybe, just maybe, Her Someone was still out there, Alone, looking for Her.
And in the end, the only consolation he had, as he walked on Alone, was the Thought that if we all kept each other for the wrong reasons, we'd All be surrounded by a Sea of Someone Elses and maybe, just maybe, Her Someone was still out there, Alone, looking for Her.
How I Know
"Mostly, it's the little 'mmmm' sounds She makes when I kiss her cheek or stroke the palm of Her hand as we sleep... that's How I know She adores me," He thought.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Sent to Me Today
His mind is free from all thoughts.
His demeanor is still and silent.
His forehead beams with simplicity.
He is cold as autumn,
and warm as spring,
for his joy and anger
occur as naturally
as the four seasons.
- Chuang Tzu
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Pockets
He leapt into the cab, slid his soaked Tumi bag across the leather back seats, and launched his wet umbrella onto the floor of the back seat.
“44th and Third, please,” He said, “and thank you for stopping. It’s vicious out there, this morning. People aren't shy about fighting over cabs in this rain.”
“It wasn’t always like this, you know,” the cabbie said as his eyes gazed back at me, framed in the rear view mirror.
“Vicious?” the young man asked.
“We’re more like animals than our brothers and sisters in the forest,” the cabbie started… and paused to gauge the young man’s interest in conversation.
“Agreed.” Stated the young professional in the suit and tie, as if an agreement was necessary for the driver to continue. The suit’s interest had been piqued. And to confirm his interest in the conversation, he continued, “Sometimes, I’m not so sure we’re not just animals in a concrete jungle, here.”
The old cabbie smiled a Knowing Smile.
The younger man in the backseat, having caught a glimpse of the grey haired, dark skinned cabbie’s smile in the rear view mirror, gazed out the window, watching a single drop of rain slide down the dirty window outside, and began to imagine that the cabbie was a guru sent from some far Indian land to teach him for that moment. He imagined “his” personal guru adorned in ornate and colorful robes sitting on some dirt floor in an uncomfortably warm and humid room that smelled of...
“Take First Ave, right?” the cabbie asked, refocusing the urban professional in the back who seemed lost looking out the rain clouded windows.
“Ummm.. yes.. First Ave. First to 33rd and over to Third, please,” the passenger directed.
Then, his guru looked into the cab’s rear view mirror again and, seeing the young suit staring back at him, continued, “Animals only take what they need from this Earth. Animals do not kill unless they are hungry and need nourishment. Animals do not compete with animals to build nicer or fancier homes, they seek shelter in what the Earth has given them. Animals don’t wear clothes, with pockets,”
The younger man in the back seat, still wet from the rain outside, smiled and repeated the old man’s last word: “Pockets,” He whispered.
“Yes, pockets,” said the cabbie, and then continued, “We Humans changed when we gave ourselves pockets. We have shoes with pockets, socks with pockets, belts with pockets, shirts with pockets, and our coats and pants usually have 4-5 pockets each. Then, we made big pockets and called them ‘backpacks’ and ‘purses’ and all those pockets only have one purpose – to put My Things into. So, when we reach into our Pockets and they’re empty, we feel empty. And when they’re full, we feel full. Our lives have become focused on one thing: filling Our Pockets with My Things. Animals, they don’t have pockets…”
The younger suit was sure, now, that this was his guru, and interjected, “Agreed. Pockets could be the root of all evil and the bane of our existence.”
The cabbie looked at him for a bit and then broke the silence, “Near corner or far corner?”
The startled young man looked out the window and saw that they had arrived, and answered, “Yes, Yes… Near corner – right here is fine.”
“Eight dollars, please” said the cabbie.
“A small sum to pay for this ride – keep the change,” answered the young man, handing the cabbie a ten-dollar bill from his pocket.
“Thank you,” said the cabbie… and as the young man gathered his Tumi bag and umbrella and put his wallet back into his pocket, the cabbie looked back and said these final words:
“We aren’t animals. We are humans and we could learn a lot from our brothers and sisters who have no pockets.”
And as the cab disappeared into the sea of cabs on Third Ave, the young man looked around him and for the first time, saw a world of 100,000 pockets with empty people walking around inside of them.
“44th and Third, please,” He said, “and thank you for stopping. It’s vicious out there, this morning. People aren't shy about fighting over cabs in this rain.”
“It wasn’t always like this, you know,” the cabbie said as his eyes gazed back at me, framed in the rear view mirror.
“Vicious?” the young man asked.
“We’re more like animals than our brothers and sisters in the forest,” the cabbie started… and paused to gauge the young man’s interest in conversation.
“Agreed.” Stated the young professional in the suit and tie, as if an agreement was necessary for the driver to continue. The suit’s interest had been piqued. And to confirm his interest in the conversation, he continued, “Sometimes, I’m not so sure we’re not just animals in a concrete jungle, here.”
The old cabbie smiled a Knowing Smile.
The younger man in the backseat, having caught a glimpse of the grey haired, dark skinned cabbie’s smile in the rear view mirror, gazed out the window, watching a single drop of rain slide down the dirty window outside, and began to imagine that the cabbie was a guru sent from some far Indian land to teach him for that moment. He imagined “his” personal guru adorned in ornate and colorful robes sitting on some dirt floor in an uncomfortably warm and humid room that smelled of...
“Take First Ave, right?” the cabbie asked, refocusing the urban professional in the back who seemed lost looking out the rain clouded windows.
“Ummm.. yes.. First Ave. First to 33rd and over to Third, please,” the passenger directed.
Then, his guru looked into the cab’s rear view mirror again and, seeing the young suit staring back at him, continued, “Animals only take what they need from this Earth. Animals do not kill unless they are hungry and need nourishment. Animals do not compete with animals to build nicer or fancier homes, they seek shelter in what the Earth has given them. Animals don’t wear clothes, with pockets,”
The younger man in the back seat, still wet from the rain outside, smiled and repeated the old man’s last word: “Pockets,” He whispered.
“Yes, pockets,” said the cabbie, and then continued, “We Humans changed when we gave ourselves pockets. We have shoes with pockets, socks with pockets, belts with pockets, shirts with pockets, and our coats and pants usually have 4-5 pockets each. Then, we made big pockets and called them ‘backpacks’ and ‘purses’ and all those pockets only have one purpose – to put My Things into. So, when we reach into our Pockets and they’re empty, we feel empty. And when they’re full, we feel full. Our lives have become focused on one thing: filling Our Pockets with My Things. Animals, they don’t have pockets…”
The younger suit was sure, now, that this was his guru, and interjected, “Agreed. Pockets could be the root of all evil and the bane of our existence.”
The cabbie looked at him for a bit and then broke the silence, “Near corner or far corner?”
The startled young man looked out the window and saw that they had arrived, and answered, “Yes, Yes… Near corner – right here is fine.”
“Eight dollars, please” said the cabbie.
“A small sum to pay for this ride – keep the change,” answered the young man, handing the cabbie a ten-dollar bill from his pocket.
“Thank you,” said the cabbie… and as the young man gathered his Tumi bag and umbrella and put his wallet back into his pocket, the cabbie looked back and said these final words:
“We aren’t animals. We are humans and we could learn a lot from our brothers and sisters who have no pockets.”
And as the cab disappeared into the sea of cabs on Third Ave, the young man looked around him and for the first time, saw a world of 100,000 pockets with empty people walking around inside of them.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
a nice, Little Box
"I've been spending a lot of Time lately shopping for nice, Little Boxes to put Things away in," He said.
"What kinds of Things?" she asked.
He stood quietly for a moment and took inventory of all the Things in Life that were sitting on shelves throughout his house.
Then, he answered, "I guess, mostly Receipts, Small Little Messes and Little Things I Don't Know What to Do With that just can't be left out in the open for Everyone to see. But, still, they are My Things and they deserve nice, Little Boxes, to rest comfortably in."
"Oh, well, most people buy these boxes to put DVDs in," she replied.
Then, the nice little lady from Crate and Barrell smiled, took his credit card and signature, and sent him out of the store with One More Receipt and a nice, Little Box to put it in.
"What kinds of Things?" she asked.
He stood quietly for a moment and took inventory of all the Things in Life that were sitting on shelves throughout his house.
Then, he answered, "I guess, mostly Receipts, Small Little Messes and Little Things I Don't Know What to Do With that just can't be left out in the open for Everyone to see. But, still, they are My Things and they deserve nice, Little Boxes, to rest comfortably in."
"Oh, well, most people buy these boxes to put DVDs in," she replied.
Then, the nice little lady from Crate and Barrell smiled, took his credit card and signature, and sent him out of the store with One More Receipt and a nice, Little Box to put it in.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Apology of the Day
It has been quiet in the eMotion Cafe over the past few weeks. The randomness and clamor of Too Much Happening can create a certain White Noise, making Everything loud and thus, silencing.
During a pause, The Apology of the Day slipped out from a table not far from me.
Cute couple.
New.
And in a refreshing attempt to keep the Peace, he said this: "Look, D, I'm really sorry you had a tough night sleeping- those sounded like some crazy ass dreams. You really shouldn't eat spicy food after ten, you know. But, if it makes any difference, I'm really sorry for sleeping with all those women in your head last night. At the least, I can assure you that they meant nothing to me. Seriously. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I don't think I've ever even met any of them."
And She giggled.
And the Bad Dreams were forgotten for that moment.
During a pause, The Apology of the Day slipped out from a table not far from me.
Cute couple.
New.
And in a refreshing attempt to keep the Peace, he said this: "Look, D, I'm really sorry you had a tough night sleeping- those sounded like some crazy ass dreams. You really shouldn't eat spicy food after ten, you know. But, if it makes any difference, I'm really sorry for sleeping with all those women in your head last night. At the least, I can assure you that they meant nothing to me. Seriously. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I don't think I've ever even met any of them."
And She giggled.
And the Bad Dreams were forgotten for that moment.
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