The Screaming Maples of Kripalu

Sounds like a good name for a band.........

Sharing An Ocean Kayak Sunrise

       When I was younger, the idea of sharing my life with a woman felt like a prison. Today, it feels like a form of liberation. A way to free up all of the passion, fire, and feelings I have for a woman when I love her. Letting her in on all of that good stuff inside me, like sharing the sunrise, changes the very nature of the experience. And sharing actually creates more of what you’re sharing.
       Tell me that’s not magic.  

 

Osprey

   

       When we open ourselves up to childlike fascination, wonder, excitement, awe, and curiosity, we increase our capacity for love. And we increase our capacity to experience the world anew.
        Think of how a little kid might look at this magnificent Osprey, maybe for the first time. The jaw dropping gleam in their eyes surpassed only by their complete rapturous engagement. They would stand there, transfixed, by what appeared to be a magic animal from a different realm. They would stare, simultaneously studying the animal and also engaged in a mindless awe.
       I know this, because this is how I experience not only this bird but lots of life. Whether its nature, the music I’m listening to, the woman I’m with, or the conversation I’m having, I strive to bring that passionate involvement, that sense of awe, wonder, curiosity, and fascination, to all my life.
       My summer at Omega and Kripalu opened up my heart and deepened my connection to my truest self. In the process, I experience both a quieting of my mind and the ignition of an engine within. I want to bring more of my fire to the world, and I want to help others find and ignite their fire. The book I’m writing will be a platform for that. But my whole life can be a platform for that too.     
       So here I am at fifty-one. I find myself with more capacity to love, more capacity to let love in - in all of its forms and manifestations - than ever in my life. I find myself with more capacity to experience the world anew. Furthermore, as I learn to more fully engage, as I learn to more fully allow, my capacity for love will only increase as I get older. Isn’t that fucking exciting? Isn’t that better than the other, conventional party line paradigm of diminishing returns of love as we get older? Isn’t the potential life altering expansions and experiences that are possible from the increasing love paradigm worth the risks? Fuck yeah.
       Fuck yeah.


©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.

Magician's "Mistake"

      The flash that went off when I took this picture not only created the dazzling snowflake reflections in the foreground, but it also somehow allowed the rich pink and sepia tones to more vibrantly explode in the background. I saw the illuminated tree, and the spotlight of fuchsia, before I looked through the lens. But I didn’t see it like this.
       The camera did its own thing. It engaged the flash, even though I thought I turned it off, and it interpreted the rest of the scene the way it wanted. So this picture looks something like what my eye saw, but not exactly.
        I didn’t see the stark contrast between the tree and the rest of the environment. When I look at it now, it appears to me that the tree was literally pasted into the scene. Physically pasted. Not digitally. The way we used to do things before Photoshop.
       When I see a scene that strikes me and I take a picture of it, I want it captured the way I see it. So that I can communicate exactly what I see. But what I’m reminded of here is that my desire is just another way of me trying to control something that doesn’t need to be controlled. To control something that really can’t be controlled. What my eye sees and what the camera sees are sometimes very close, sometimes not. Sometimes I’m grateful that the camera caught it as I saw it. Sometimes I’m grateful the camera did its own thing. Like here.
       One of the issues I struggle with is allowing. I often resist, try to control, and put tremendous pressure on myself to be perfect. All in an attempt to make everything come out the way I want it. To make everything come out “perfect”.
       As I write my book, those struggles show up in my face every time I sit down to write. What that looks like is me trying to write the final book before I write any drafts. I’m trying to write the book in my head first, then just spit the final version onto the page. Sometimes I do that with life. Sometimes I try to create my life in my head, “perfectly”, then just spit it into existence. Like I’m some sort of fuckin‘ magician. Like all I have to do is create it in my head first, because my head is so omnipotent, then just wave a wand and, voila! There it is! There’s the book! There’s my life!
       What this picture reminds me of is something I heard in Al-anon years ago: “I’m responsible for the work. Not the results”. Now, that saying is not to be taken out of context. It doesn’t mean that I’m not responsible for creating my life, or that I’m not responsible for my actions. What it means is that I do not have complete control over what ultimately happens as a result of my actions. For example, when I write my book, a book that I love, a book that I’m proud of, I still have no control over how it will be received. I can do everything in my power to make it the best book I can, and I can do everything in my power to promote it and do all the other things that need to be done for a book to be successful. But the actual success of the book, the result of the book, beyond it being actually written, is out of my hands.
       It’s not up to me if you love the book or hate it. It’s up to you. Anymore than it’s up to me whether you love me, or hate me, or are completely indifferent to me. That “result” isn’t up to me. My actions are my responsibility; trying to be the best person I can be. Raising my consciousness. Making mistakes, and making amends. That’s my “work”.
       This post itself is a great example of what I'm ultimately saying. It started off as a picture, with an intention of maybe saying a little something about it, maybe not. But when I started writing, all this other stuff just started coming to me, then coming out of me. The end result of this post is not due to my controlling the flow of my writing so much as it is putting the effort in, and guiding that effort as best I can. Like an energy that is mine, that I can harness, but that I don’t completely control. I can bring the best of myself to each moment, and from that, the energy gets guided, and thus what it produces, gets shaped into something I’m proud of. I don’t so much control the result as I do bring my best to the process and allow other forces that be, forces that I don’t understand, forces that I can’t see but can feel, do what they’re gonna do.
       Geez. Maybe I AM a magician. Maybe we all are.



©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.     

Fuck Normalcy

       Beauty is all around us. No matter where we are, it’s everywhere. If we don’t see it, or hear it, or smell it, or feel it, it’s because we’ve gone numb to it.
       Our personal appreciation for beauty gets drummed out of us, in countless ways, throughout our lives. From the time we’re practically infants, we’re systematically drilled by authority figures, peers, and the media about what’s beautiful, what isn’t, and exactly “how beautiful” something or someone is compared to something or someone else. Those judgements are dictated by powerful and omnipresent cultural norms (“cultural norms”....now there’s an oxymoron, with the emphasis on moron). But those “norms” often have little to do with our own personal experience.  
       And there’s the rub. Because, beauty is not a fuckin’ competition. It’s an experience. And a very personal experience at that. In fact, one of The Most Personal Experiences we have. Just like most else that is deeply personal, however, once it’s expressed, it gets criticized, ridiculed, and possibly even attacked, if it doesn’t conform to accepted norms. It thus gets depersonalized, in a cultural conspiracy to normalize beauty.
       Now, most would agree that the picture I took and posted here depicts a natural scene that is “beautiful”. So, in this case, my personal expression of beauty falls well within culturally accepted constricts of beauty. But that external cultural constrict has absolutely nothing to do with what this picture, or my personal experience of it.
       I felt this picture before I took it. When I walked out of wherever I was at, on my way to wherever I was going, the beauty that I captured in this picture was already there. All I had to be was be open to it. But that phenomenon is not particular to this picture, or this moment, or this anything. That phenomenon is particular to life itself.
       In terms of what’s beautiful, My Personal Experience of Beautiful is all I have to go on. Not only as an artist, but as a human being. Because what’s beautiful to me is so very personal, that if I can’t, or don’t, or won’t, connect to that, then I lose a piece of myself. I lose a piece of what sets me apart as an individual in this overwhelming vast, homogeneous ocean of conformity, acceptance, and.....”normalcy”.
       Across the board, without exception, my personal philosophy is “Fuck Normalcy”. Because, in most cases, it has nothing to do with reality. At least not my reality. Or, and I challenge you on this, maybe yours......  

©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.