Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Life, the only game I got

Day 5 of the grand blog experiment continues, and I must say many things have come to the fore. I am circling around so many thoughts, and found that I have got sucked into what may be seen as a cynical trap. In order to insure the balance needed to maintain perspective I have decided to address my skepticism, and what could be seen as negativity. Let’s just say I am an extremely positive person disillusioned by the nature of this world I’ve lived in. I always felt a bit like an outsider, lost my dad at 5, an only child, raised by a mother with mental illness. These things seemed to be a big part of what formed me. Then you have the tumultuous years of my teens. There was outright rebellion, and disgust with the world. I identified with angry voices at odds with society. This culture seemed so fake, and lacking in substance. There is the feeling that something is not right, and nobody wants to acknowledge it.

As a city dweller I got pushed away from nature, and it pained me. I feel like a country boy trapped in a city boy’s body. Thank goodness my mother sent me to a wonderful summer camp, Shire Village, which gave me the respite from the traffic of urban life and helped form my sensitivities that allowed me to become the grounded balance person I claim to be.

Balancing the masculine and feminine is such an important component of either sex. When I go into this topic I am brought to the idea that it is not fair to put people in these gender boxes. I hated being put there growing up. As a sensitive young man I felt like I had to fight my way out of situations and all because I wasn’t a tough guy. I did have the eye of the tiger way about me. There is something in me that is much bigger than my stature, as evidenced by all the big dudes I scuffled with in my younger days. In many ways I had no fear. On these streets they call it a big heart. You could see it in the way I played basketball, jumping for rebounds alongside taller foes, diving for balls that were about to go out. I remember once a guy asked why I was playing with such intensity in a meaningless game. I told him that is the only way I played. I never got into organized sports so for me this was the ONLY game.

I punished my body, whether it was in fights, mosh-pits; kill the man with the ball, or basketball games. I got jumped twice, mugged a few times, and also almost died on the train tracks, and another time hit by a car when I fell on a median while rushing to get across the street. I also got shot by a pellet gun a few years ago and that really woke my ass up.

A week after getting shot twice, one an inch from my groin, and the other in my rear as I turned to brace myself I went on a month long retreat (dathun), changing my dressings three times a day, and sitting in a chair for the first week because I couldn’t keep my legs bent on the cushion. A woman in front of me had a pinched nerve and had to keep lying down to sit. I could really see her discomfort as she kept trying to lessen the pain, and find relief.

After I got shot by a young kid probably more scared than me. I charged him like a bull and he scattered. This is the way I have always dealt with life, going right at it when the pressure builds. This is the type of intensity I have always had, and it also the intensity I bring to my rhymes.

As a rapper I never fit in to the box they like to place these sorts in. I became a firebrand in secret, and never wanted people to know what I was up to. In the early days I was terrible and didn’t care. I was what I call a cat in the hat rapper because of the simplicity of my rhymes. Over time my styles became more complex, the topics I covered vaster, and the release I got from it more profound. Over the years I can cite my rhymes as a lifesaver. Besides my never-ending quest for spirit, knowledge, and self-improvement, that is the one constant. I passed though many forms of music as a fan, but as a performer it has always been rhymes, and dancehall reggae. The passion for the art never leaves me. Now as I look back at how little I shared this talent I feel like in a way I have been selfish. Part of that is because people didn’t appreciate what I was doing, and thus I felt like they didn’t deserve it.

As a matter of fact I eventually began to introduce my rhymes with, “I’m gonna bless y’all” I really feel like that is what it is like when you summon these powerful energies, put them to a point, and just give it to people with no concept of if it is good, are they going to like it, or any of that peripheral stuff. No, I was giving the gift, and it comes from the absolute space, not the relative space, and in that way it is hard to define.

As life went along I have found pockets of people that appreciate my talent. And I also have had small victories on stage where I turned around crowds that were so caught up in how white, and un-hip-hop I looked, not ready for the explosion of words, and feeling that smothered the room. I am used to being the one overlooked, who once given the opportunity to express myself takes people out of their reference points and into a state of shock. My art and my talent always felt personal, and thus only got shared with those that matter to me.

Although I don’t fear being straight up and open, I hate being stifled and part of that is because I know how claustrophobic it feels. I also know when I tell people these stories they tend to get immersed in these tales. I’ve been through a lot and have a lot to share. I feel like so many people have had experiences like these that can identify with, even if it is not the details, but the emotions associated with it.

I have a lot to offer people and there are a lot of shy, introverted people like me who need to escape from their mental prisons and in that way I can be a model to them. I know when you express yourself it can be dangerous to people, who become quick to judge. Many people place moral overlays on situations, not allowing their depth to sink in. I see this over and over. The world seems immersed in a surface game and the deep ones are the ones that get pushed to the margins. People don’t like to be reminded that they are scared to death, and that their lives may very well be losing meaning as they move forward.

In the land of publishing where we have catchphrases and polish, the real stuff seems swept away by smiles, and false composure. I know there are people out there who really are walking their talk and are really doing their thing but I feel like they need to be unearthed, held to scrutiny, and evaluated to prove they cut the mustard. I put myself in the public eye through this social media vein ready to be evaluated and scrutinized. What I see all too often is that the people putting on this happy, composed face don’t want to get dirty mentally wrestling in a verbal gymnasium where many of their sanitized, cleaned out concepts will be challenged.

I think of the Law of Attraction study I did. When you hear about “The Secret People” they are told not to expose themselves to negative influences. They seem to be whitewashing their lives with false perceptions and not seeing things for what they really are.

I too want to improve my life, and focus on the good. I too want to stay in touch with my goals and all that other good stuff, but I am not going to ignore the people that need me. There is a gap between so many segments of society and so many people fall into a narcissistic game. I don’t want to be sucked into that. Well as I look over what I have just written I realize once again that my anger has not truly subsided, and that my version of positivity comes from seeing the negative, and getting activated mentally. I can only keep travelling on this road to authenticity, challenging the norms, and creating new integrative spaces as I see them.

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