Go Forth

1. "From the moment I fell down that rabbit hole I've been told who I must be. I've been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and stuffed into a teapot. I've been accused of being Alice and of not being Alice but this is MY dream and I'LL decide where it goes from here."

"If you diverge from the path - "

"I MAKE the path."


2. "Have I gone mad?"

"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I shall tell you a secret. All the best people are."


Something very exciting inspired me today at work.

Months ago, during the previews for a film at a theater, I saw an ad for a Levi's commercial for Braddock, Pennysylvania. It was immensely compelling to me, for a variety of reasons.

All my life, I've tried to understand the big questions: who are we? why are we here? what is the nature of existence?

As I grew older, and was exposed to different ways of thinking, coupled with certain threads of discovery and wonder that I'd appreciated since childhood, I started to think in these terms: is it possible we are divine? that, there's no set reality, now nor in the afterlife? that it's all what we believe? well, how do you develop the best beliefs? what makes us happy, and how is this tied into our belief system? can we liberate ourselves from a certain locked reality? what are the consequences of doing this? and how do you reconcile our divinity to our humanity? how do you meet heaven with earth?

For so long - still, now - I have searched for the meaning of life.


I've discovered, Don't complicate it. Don't ruin it by overthinking. Do what makes you happy. Address needs. Know whom to admire. Know yourself. Get rid of what doesn't work. Don't let anyone fuck with your happiness.


I was raised Jewish. There's a very critical concept in Judaism called Tikkun. It means, correction, or really, "the repairing of the world." That there is work to be done in our lives, not because it is Biblical law, but because it prevents social chaos. We have to work to restore order.


I've always been resistant to work. Homework. Chores. Schoolwork. Actual work, like, at jobs. I can do it when I have to, or when there's a purpose, but just to do it? Or because someone asked? No. My rebelliousness, my disobedience, my refusal to be disciplined has destroyed me. I couldn't be broken, I couldn't do the job. And I wonder why I am where I am, with the little education I have, with the little money I make, and why I can't do pull-ups. Well, I haven't put in the work. And it's always what has actually made me the most happy. My mom always said it was true, and she's been right: hard work is what makes you happy.


I fell in love with Jesus in my twenties. From an intellectual perspective, and from a human perspective, it was especially for these reasons: that he believed in equality for men and women. That he believed in sacrifice. That He represents what we possibly, probably are: Divine. That we are God(s), come to earth. That we have incredible powers that we need only open our eyes, to see. That we must protect our thoughts, because those are what define and cause everything else. That when he said "I am the Truth, the Light and the Way," what He meant was, "View yourself as I view MYSELF." Whoever has the innate capacity to say "I Am" - which is anything that exists - is God. Is also the child of God. Is immortal and protected, and is created to be good, and cannot be destroyed. That there are ways to undo pain and loss and destruction.


I recently went through a hard break-up because I was not taking care of myself, and had not addressed some very serious needs that I'd been avoiding for years. I was always trying, and failing, at doing it on my own. I had been so afraid, ever since I'd first heard the concept, of "giving myself over to God", because it seemed to me like handing over your brain and your soul to something that I knew literally, nothing of. Something about it frightened me in the same way that a person who knows they're sick, is afraid of going to the doctor; where awareness is more frightening than the disease itself. But as years have passed, and I've seen first-hand my poor choices, and how much I've defeated my own happiness, and how much my mind, upon overthinking, and obsessing, has gotten in the way of my actions, of doing the things that will bring me happiness, I've had to admit that it was mostly God who was bringing me anything good, and it was mostly me who was chasing down all the wrong things and destroying what God gifted to me. It got so bad, because of this break-up, that I hit the lowest point that I'd been, since two years ago when a loved one passed away. I found myself crying, again, uncontrollably, and saying to God, "I give up."


I had put all my eggs in one basket of a chance for happiness, and had no idea I was doing so. And I realized, not for the first time, that one person's attention was not enough to satisfy this huge void inside of me. I have come to accept the fact that I need to spread the wealth in order to survive and more importantly, thrive. Direct it at a variety of things and places and people, because otherwise, I destroy what I love. The energy I'm capable of directing at one person is so intense, that no human being could handle it. No one should - because if they could, it would mean they're as broken as me. And I get frustrated, and so angry, when I direct it at someone who IS healthy enough to be able to say "this is too much for me." So, I can no longer afford to do this, because, I am what I love. And if I love you and hurt you, then I've hurt myself.

So what did I pray for, only days ago? The chance to work, to rebuild, to direct my energies towards something that needs it, instead of trying to create a need, in an unhealthy way, in someone. I want to go where the best parts of myself could be wanted, and maybe even needed.


Seemingly off-topic, but is not:
I knew very little about Alexander the Great until a few years ago, when he crept up on me by way of a variety of different influences. I'd heard of him when I was younger, and never learned enough to be impressed to learn more. Why was he suddenly so compelling to me, later in life? Because he believed he was half God. And as my cousin once explained, when we were discussing how thought affects action, "He thought he was a God, so he acted like a God." I immersed myself in learning about him. I became enamored with one particular story of how Alexander tamed a particularly striking but stubborn stallion, whom no one else could tame. Alexander's unique insight - demonstrated in seed form at the age of 12 - was that there was a reason this horse was so unmanageable: he was afraid of his own shadow. Alexander turns the stallion towards the sun so that he cannot see his shadow, and is able to soothe him enough to climb up. He rides him straight across the fields to the awe of all the grown men around him, and when he returns to the cheering crowd, his father, King Phillip, rejoices to Alexander, "My son, ask for yourself a new kingdom, for that which I leave is too small for you." Alexander goes on to conquer the known world. And imagine that, when he was a boy, he had once complained to a friend, "My father has done everything! There is no frontier left for me to conquer."


Seemingly off-topic, but is not:
About two years ago, I was at another particularly dark point, when I began painting, out of "nowhere." It was completely cathartic, and nothing, literally, nothing made me feel as good, then to decide on certain colors, and to pick out a canvas, and get to work, and see what unfolds; because though I start off with one thing in mind, it ends up somewhere else, and it works. One day I was thinking about painting, feeling a desire for more, and I let my mind wander to the furthest reaches of what would be possible for my art; the biggest declaration, the loudest expression. Using a brush? Not enough. Throwing paint at the canvas? Close, but not enough room to do this in any given house. I wanted to shoot the canvas with paint, essentially, and literally capture what comes out through the other side. What I imagined, required a building that would have to be an abandoned warehouse. But, a) where would I find such a building? and b) how on earth could I afford it?

For months I've been thinking of how it might be, to get to some place, maybe in Pennsylvania or someplace in the east, and work on a farm, maybe move in with a family, and learn discipline. To really work. To start over, to learn how to plant, to learn how to grow, to wake up every day, and to go outside, and to put in effort. To push myself, and to know that at the end of the day, I gave it my all. I look at my life and my clothes and toiletries and cell phone and I think of red tape and bureaucracy and taxes and paperwork and I just want to escape to something very, very simple. Very fundamental. Very literal. Where I plant a seed, literally, and I lead a sibling life to that seed, as we grow. Where I learn what it means to build, rather than to destroy. Something outdoors. When I went camping two months ago, I found myself incredibly comfortable with the removal of all the comforts of modern life. I came home and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, and put my hands on the edge of the sink, and I didn't accept any of it. I was still in the woods, surrounded by an open sky, trees, leaves, and the smell of fire.

At my job, lately, there hasn't been as much work to do.
But there has been much mention of Pennsylvania because of the formation of a state licensure board, which is a big deal in the industry in which I work. Things hit a critical mass for me today, for these reasons: 1. there's a space, because there isn't much work to do, and 2. I had a desire - a space - to learn about something, to immerse my mind in something, because the thing that I've been so consumed with, is no longer occupying so much of my mind. I got a call from someone in Pennsylvania and it suddenly occured to me. I remembered the Braddock ad for Levi's, and how incredibly meaningful it was to me. And because Pennsylvania, for me, reached a frenzy, I decided to engage. And I researched it. And while I'm researching Braddock - literally, there's a picture of the mayor of Braddock, standing in an enormous, paint-peeled abandoned warehouse - my management team comes around with Christmas gifts for us. My office manager hands me a gold box with a red ribbon, from a place called Leonidas. I open it and I see four chocolates. And the one that immediately catches my eye, because I am so familiar with the outline, is the one engraved with the profile of Alexander the Great.


"Maybe the world breaks on purpose, so that we have work to do."

There are people in all parts of the country headed to Braddock to focus on the things they enjoy, because they can purchase homes for dirt cheap and get enormous spaces and can do a different type of work. The mayor of Braddock is intent on ushering in a renaissance for the town and is drawing those specifically from the arts and green technology communities, because the potential - the space - is there. He has personally purchased abandoned warehouses and renovated them into residential lofts. He's housed at-risk teenagers there, who are too old for the foster care system. Artists have come to share studios and there's an organic farm that's being cultivated to feed the community.

Here is a man who sees beauty in something broken, because he sees, not what is, but what could be.

"We were taught how the pioneers went into the west.
They opened their eyes, and saw how things could be.
People think there aren't frontiers anymore. They can't see that frontiers are all around us."