The Giving of Thanks

I'm going to open up this blog with two parables. The first is Buddhist, the second Christian. Before you flip out (or don't), fully read them. Soak them in and the underlying message that they tell. And, since Thanksgiving is tomorrow here in the States, I thought it would be most fitting if the two parables (and the subsequent post following them) be about gratitude and being thankful.

Here is the first:

"An honor student, frustrated with his life and with school, worried about what tomorrow may bring, approached his teacher asking for some guidance.

“The story goes,” says the teacher in response to his students request for help, “That a Buddhist Monk was walking through the mountains one day. Then, out of nowhere, a tiger appears, chasing the monk towards the edge of a cliff. The monk, in his quest to escape the tiger, runs to the edge of the cliff and climbs over the side, where he sees five other tigers 15 feet below him, waiting to eat him.

So the monk is just hanging there, holding on to a vine on the side of the cliff, waiting there for the little chance he has to escape or for his imminent demise. Then, as the monk hangs there, exploring his options, he turns to the left and sees a strawberry.

He smiles, “Wow what a magnificent strawberry!” he says to himself. So, he picks it and he eats it.

The student waited for his teacher to continue but it was clear that the teacher was done with the story. “That’s it? That is it the story? The monk is about to be eaten by tigers so he reaches out to pick and eat a strawberry?” the student exclaimed.

“What’s the point?” he added.

The teacher replied, “The lesson is to know and embrace the experience of being alive. You must be alive every second you are alive.”

The student responded, “But teacher, everyone is alive when they are alive.”

“No,” said the teacher. “It’s the experience of being alive in each moment, in each experience, good and bad. We must be alive every second we are alive and not simply exist and live out our days.”

The student, confused, questioned his teacher, asking, “But everyone alive is alive, aren’t they?” he insisted.

“No. Look at you now,” explained the teacher. “You are running around being chased by tigers, consumed with your thoughts of how it could be better, how you could be better if only things were different. Yet, you have shared with me over the past year several difficult situations, in addition to the circumstances that I have observed, how you were about to be eaten by tigers and how you have been saved in each situation. You can’t be alive if you are living in fear and if you’re living in fear you can’t see and experience life; the magnificence of your life that is right in front of you in each moment.”

The teacher asked, “Are you running around, grinning over the feeling of being the luckiest, most fortunate and appreciative person in the world because of what IS  present in your life today, or are you consumed with fear, what you DON’T have in your life or what may possibly happen some time in the future?”

The student thought for a moment, looked up at his teacher, smiled, and continued on with his day…"

Here is the second parable:

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them.

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living.  After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need.  So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs.  He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death!  I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’  So he got up and went to his father.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate.  For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing.  So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on.27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’

 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him.  But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends.  But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.  But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

 Both parables have three characters. The first has the teacher, the student, and the monk. The second has a father and his two sons. Both parables have extreme conditions, which lead to serendipitous outcomes. The first has the monk finding a delectable strawberry. The second has the younger son coming to his senses and returning home. And both parables have a character who does not understand the series of events and experiences frustration. The first is the student and the second is the older son who stayed behind.

Life, whether you are born as a rich child in a castle or a poor child in a hut, is a difficult journey and rarely gives us the "answers" that we demand from it. Events, both good and bad, unfold that defy all concept of what we consider to have reason. They say that hindsight has 20/20 vision; but that isn't always the case, either. Yet, when we do have the luxury of hindsight and we see the pieces that have unfolded into the path we are on now, we should give thanks. 

The true spirit and meaning of Thanksgiving is not about feasting on turkey; any more than the true spirit and meaning of Christmas is about giving gifts. The true spirit and meaning of Thanksgiving is about being grateful for what we have and what we have overcome. Myself, for example, I have overcome being let go from a company that I loved, friendships ending, a cancer scare, and a brief bit of homelessness. In just this year alone. But I am grateful for the job that I have now and the team that I work with, the friendships I still have, seeing my sister and her family (which is a rare treat) this summer, and the fact that I have a roof over my head and food to eat. This year has not been the easiest, but I have survived it and more importantly learned from it. With each storm is a lesson to be learned, an opportunity to move on and move forward, or both.

There is no "easy button" when it comes to life. To presume so is not only folly, but an invitation for catastrophe. You may have woken up today, but there will be a day where you will see your last dawn. You may have plenty to eat, but there may be a time when you find yourself hungry and unable to fill your stomach. The money you have in the bank, the job that you hold (or don't), the place where you live, and most importantly, the people you have in your life-all that will change. Many times. Most times, without warning. 

So, give thanks. And be thankful. Life may not be easy; but I promise you it is entirely worth it.

The Plight of Hank Moody

I'll set the scene for you: Here I am, sitting in front of a computer. There's coffee in my cup. I've closed out of Facebook and cued up Tool on YouTube. There's a Word document open and I'm set to start writing. My fingertips start pounding on the keys and I instantly start creating literary magic. Things are going smashingly...until I stop. Three paragraphs in.

People think that writer's block is simply the lack of ideas to write about. That's definitely a big part of it. But it's also equally the lack of desire to continue writing. Struggling to come up with the urge to write is just as strong, if now stronger than the desperate search for words after months of searching for the right plot or character.

It takes a certain type of broken soul to constantly generate the lives of others.  Not in the tormented, hell-bent, solely narcissistic creatures that Hollywood portrays writers to be. Well, certain ones are, I'm not going to lie. I do share a trade with those who's sole focus is themselves and the image they love to project upon others. But, one trait, one universal characteristic that we all share is that we have the lives, fully developed people-entire worlds, even, living constantly inside our heads. And yet...there's times when those worlds disappear. Just vanish into the fog of day-to-day existence. Slip into the fold of mundania that can be innocously necrotic to the creative juices. Which is how the demise of many a novel and short story comes to be. The Great Fount of Literary Brilliance will sometimes just completely dry up and refuse to flow. Three paragraphs in. And, this the writer is truly blessed and lucky, they will know the circumstances in which their purpose decides to fly the coop. Most, including myself, are rarely, if ever, that fortunate.

There is a show that used to be on Showtime (it's now on Netflix-where I discovered it) called Californication. The main character is Hank Moody, a one hit wonder writer who's book became a big movie. The show takes place as Hank is going through a severe bout of writer's block. His "wife" (although they never got married) is in a strong committed relationship with another man and this devastates Hank Moody to the point of putting a bullet in his Muse. He, quite simply, can't write. He has talent and the vocabulary. The fan base to propel him back into the literary limelight whenever he wishes. He just...can't. His life is in perpetual turmoil (most of which is admittedly self-inflicted) and he longs for the ways and days of yesteryear. When he had everything that he ever wanted. And didn't realize exactly what he had until he lost it all. And, future reference, if you do check out the show-the first season is undeniably the best.

I know the plight of Hank Moody all to well. I sympathize with him and his complete lack of ability to do the one thing that he was put on this Earth to do. He doesn't lack the words (he's incredibly articulate and verbose), he just cannot translate that into putting forth, once again, the Great American Novel. He's suffering from, for lack of a better term, literary constipation. He's spinning the wheels of his fantastic lexicon and wasting in on the pointless diatribes on living in LA. I know his struggle all too well (although, I don't live in LA and have zero desire to) and I can honestly say that I am doing the same thing (albeit his...poor decisions I do not, and would not, ever consider pursuing). It's not that I lack the desire to create. I just can't. I love writing-don't get me wrong, but I know all what it's like to have life eternal swallowing up any and all desire to forge literary greatness.

Which brings me to this blog. If I ever had a digital lifeline, this is it. I had two other blogs, but this one is my most honest one. I said in the beginning that it would be no-holds-barred. I meant that, not only for your benefit, but my own. The complete ability to have full-on candor is, refreshing. A breath of fresh air. I love that I can come on here and be contemplative. Or vent. Or both. The fact that I can come on here and the words don't escape me. There is no cause for them to flee just as I'm reaching for them. It is here, on this blog, that I can finally and fully become the writer I always dreamed I would become.

Which also brings me to my (and Hanks' dilemma). Write a blog is good and all, but it's also a world away from writing a novel. Giving birth to a creation that the world entire will judge (good or bad), is paralyzing, to say the least. Calling or not, when the time comes to actually do what I was put on this Earth to do...I choke. Plain and simple. I get all up in my head (and not in the good, creative way) and I begin to overthink. Unintentionally overwhelm myself. Which is the breeding ground of doubt. Which is surefire death of all literary greatness.  Or even just mediocrity. Either way, I become my own worst enemy. And, thus, the inevitably cycle begins once again.