Brigadoon and The Beloved Community

Today is the day when we remember and commemorate one of the greatest Americans, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I find it unfortunate that it took so long for the country to get around to honoring this man. When I was in seminary 30 years ago, my boss at a youth center in San Francisco used to close the center for the day in order to make the point that it should be a holiday even before it was made one. Even now many places (maybe even most places) do not honor this day as they do so many other holidays; a day when we are given the opportunity think on, and to live out, the meaning of Dr. King's thoughts, words, and deeds. Unlike most other holidays, this is not a day of rest and recreataion, but a day when we are called - by example - to change the way we live our lives, both individually and collectively. A day when we are shown - if we will but choose to see - what it really would be like to live as The Beloved Community.

To me, this day comes around every year like Brigadoon, a Scottish legend about a magical town that appears out of the mist for one day every hundred years. Like the village in that story,this day when we honor Dr. King gives us a glimpse of what we could be; a glimpse of what we CAN BE. Having seen the vision and glimpsed the prize, it is then up to us to decide if we will seize the reigns of opportunity and seek to build a truly fair, just, right, and compassionate neighborhood, nation, and world.

It's not an easy thing to imagine, and it's even harder to create. If the world were otherwise, Dr. King (and so many others) would still be alive and this day would be just another Monday. And THAT is the point. Today is NOT just another Monday. It's a day to look up from our pettiness, our racism, our cowardice and our greed and ask ourselves, our neighbors, our God, and the Universe "what then must we do?" If we take the time to ask the question, listen for the proclamation, and then wait to truly hear the answer, we will KNOW what to do and then we will be compelled to do it.

The change has already begun, and while so many things seem to cry out against us, the fact is the day is coming when the New World is revealed.

We WILL get there... The time WILL come.

In the meantime... Keep Your Eyes On The Prize... Hold On!

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

M's Uncle Don died this week.
He was a baseball player.
He pitched for the 69 Mets.
He pitched a NO HITTER in Wrigley Field for the Chicago Cubs.

This is the Holy Grail of American childhood dreams... He was an American mythological hero.

I wrote some more about it on a new blog I've begun with my production partner Zach because Zach is a major baseball fan and it seemed like the proper place to put it.

Go there... Read it... and Remember. If you can't remember... Imagine.

Buy me some peanuts and CrackerJack... I don't care if I EVER get back.

I'm Gonna Paint A Sign So You'll Always Know...

Yesterday was my daughter Jennifer's 26th birthday and when I came into my office yesterday morning I found the above image from StoryPeople.

It pretty much says all I have to say about what Jennifer means in and to my life; what she has ALWAYS meant in and to my life.

Back 26 years ago I was a pretty serious person - some folks would suggest that this is still the case, some would suggest I'm being delusional to even suggest it - and I really did not only WANT to "change the world as we know it," but I was pretty sure that I was, somehow, going to do so. I also figured that if I didn't pull it off I would at least (and probably) die trying. Those expectations (even desires) are not as intense as they once were and the realities of time, age, frustration and disappointment have shown me that anything that one is likely to accomplish along those lines will probably only come to fruition in ways that you can't really plan and certainly can't foresee.

Hence, the story of my daughter.

I know it's a cliche... and I'm sure that the several men I know who have recently seen the birth of their own daughters are feeling pretty much the same thing tonight... But it is really true that my life is divided easily and cleanly (well sometimes not so cleanly) along the meridian of January 14, 1982.

Jennifer really is my best thing, my greatest love and my true hope for good in the world. She carries, sometimes consciously and sometimes less so, the hopes and dreams I have for justice, truth and beauty, and along with that she's pretty good at moving around, making funny noises, and making me laugh my hardest and cry my deepest.

So yeah... It think that maybe I really did change the world after all.

And Jennifer... From butterfly kisses, to dancing on my toes and riding on the back of my motorcycle, from Great Books and choreographing to Janet Jackson, from Danger Mouse to Angry Angry Beavers, from Montessori to UCSC, from boogey boards at Ocean Beach to Triathlons at Lake Berryessa, from worrying about you walking to the corner to journeys to Ireland and England and beyond... It's really true that there could never be a father loved his daughter more than I love you.

Every Little Bit Helps

Last Thursday a little touch of New Orleans rolled into Petaluma's Mystic Theater. It was a rockin' night of blues when Henry Butler came to town and the show was another of those weird "Mystic Moments" when a person I've seen dozens of times in all kinds of environments pulled off the best show I've ever seen him perform.

There were two delights in this. The first was simply the chance to have that little touch of New Orleans all the way out here on the west coast (where I am significantly more comfortable than I've been in a long time, though I still feel somewhat in exile). The second was the show itself, witnessed by less than 100 people in a theater that - in it's intimacy and comfort - feels a lot like a club in The Crescent City. It was a good night, a good show, and I was in very very good company.

These really are the moments that matter, the ways in which I hold on to my sanity when all else seems to be disrupted and chaotic.

Putting Away Christmas

Last night at K's house we took down the Christmas tree.

She had actually wanted to take it down back on the first (pretty much like everybody else) but she deferred to my obsession with the dates of the season and let me keep the damn thing up until Epiphany. So last night, accompanied by my astonishingly perfect Egg Nog, we peeled the lights off the tree and said goodnight and thanks to the tree.

Today, after a week of semi-solace and a few unanticipated difficulties, I am moving on to continue my relocation project. Due to somewhat unforeseen circumstances I had to move out of the place I've been living in for the last eighteen months and while I've found a place to work, I have yet to actually find a place to live. I'm not sure what this means right now, and the thing I take most comfort in is that I'm used to this state of reality.

After Katrina, I spent over a year with no "permanent place of residence." The thing I most learned from that time is that the idea of a "permanent place of residence" is a complete absurdity. It's somewhat the same as the strange fantasy of immortality that most of us spend most of our time living with. There is no safety... there is no solidity... there is no solid ground and all the attempts that we make (each of us in our own ways) are absurd and doomed to fail because ultimately... LIFE is a fatal disease. Or as Woody Allen put it, "Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon."

Everything in Our American Way Of Life (capitals intentionally added ) is created to maintain the fantasy that we can spend, fight, pray and force our way into security and stability, safety and prosperity.

But you can't... I can't... we can't.

That Jesus guy we claim to celebrate at this time of year already said it. To find your life... you've first got to lose it.

Well... here we go again.

In the meantime, I think my fellow Sonoma County resident has the right idea... "Always keep a diamond in your mind."