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.

Omaha (part 2)

       My buddy Kevin is the Ipso Facto Mayor of Omaha. At least that’s what I call him. He’s owned several businesses in the city, including what used to be the best rock club in town, “Sharky’s”. He was also the PR Director for the baddest local rock radio station; written a book, Conversations With Hunter S. Thompson (Hunter was also his friend); and published his own comedy newspaper, The Great Red Shark, a rag that me and my friend Cusa used to write for. Given his pedigree, it came as absolutely no surprise to me when the two of us wandered into an Omaha bar called Parliament, and Kevin knew the band. Professionally and personally.
       Kevin introduced me to the Spurgeon brothers, who lead one of the hottest cover bands in the midwest, The Confidentials. Highly sought after on the corporate event, wedding, and club circuit, The Confidentials are a slick and powerful ten-piece outfit that play classic funk, disco, Motown, and contemporary R&B hits. I was immediately impressed by them.
       When I met the brothers, we hit it off right away. Steve, who also plays rhythm guitar as well as co-fronting the band with his brother, was even wearing the same belt as I was. No small coincidence. Because this was not your generic run of the mill belt (none of mine are), where your odds of actually bumping into somebody wearing one just like yours are fair. No. This is a rather ostentatious rock n’ roll type of belt, studded with large silver pyramids. You don’t see many dudes wearing one. But Steve was. Just one of many things that jelled that night.
       After a few drinks and some music talk, Steve said “I dig you, Clint! I want you to sit in and play drums with us!”.  I was completely, but very pleasantly, surprised. Being asked to do this, under these circumstances, is rare. At least on the east coast. This dude literally just met me, has never heard me play a note, and he’s asking me to drum for his very tight, very hot band. I’m sure some of it had to do with our mutual friend; Kevin gave me instant credibility. And, some of it had to do with, well, I’ll get to that in a moment. Truly flattered and honored, I thrillingly accepted the chance to jam with these masterful musicians.
       One of the bed rocks of this blog, which reflects one of my core philosophies, is that you show up for life as vibrantly, as expressively, and as authentically as possible. Show more. Hide less. Be you, and be you big. We are all unique, so living like that looks very differently for each of us. But, no matter who you are, when you do that, you will make more of an impact on people, and those who connect to you will connect to you in a powerful way.
       And, you may turn some people off. Because showing up like that isn’t playing it safe. It’s not trying to be liked. It’s turning yourself up, not down. It’s wanting to really touch and connect to those who hear you, see you, and get you. And those who don’t, or won’t, or can’t (and the dynamics of each of those is different, and I’ll write about them some other time) well, thanks anyway. But I’m going to spend my time and energy resonating with those who hear my song, instead of constantly trying to rewrite my music so that more people dig it. I’m not interested in being more popular. I’m interested in being more fully and more vibrantly me.
       When we show up like that, our life happens in a bigger way. In a better way, in a more fulfilling way; with more fun, more passion, more excitement, more meaning, and more emotional richness. From the board room to the bar room, from between the sheets to between the grocery isles, it all gets more colorful. Life gets simultaneously broader, deeper, and richer. It becomes at once more playful and more intense. It expands on the X axis, the Y axis, and the Z axis. Like getting more horsepower, better gas milage, and cleaner emissions, all from the same gas.
       I’m far from perfect at it, but I try and live this way. On this particular night, by showing up loud and clear, I connected with a stranger. I earned the opportunity to play with a totally killer band. I created the chance for something great to happen. And it did.
       Please stay with me for part three.


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

Omaha (part 1)

       If Omaha, Nebraska wasn’t in Omaha, Nebraska, it would have a better reputation. Meaning, because it’s in the middle of the country, it gets a “country bumpkin” rap by those who live on the coastal United States. Which is to say, population wise, most of America. Talk Omaha to anybody living on the coast who hasn’t been there, and they most likely conjure up visions of a podunk, quasi-city with not a whole lot going on.
       The reality, however, is that Omaha is a vibrant little city. It’s got a hip area called the Old Market District, which is teaming with very cool shops, restaurants, bars, and nightclubs. The turn of the century brick architecture, well thought out and attractive storefronts, and wide, cobblestone streets give the Old Market District plenty of character. The University of Nebraska/Omaha, with it’s spacious, sightly campus, means a constant influx of youthful energy and fresh ideas.
       Granted, Omaha is nothing like New York or San Francisco or Boston. But it does have a very appealing vibe all it’s own, and for me, that’s what defines a city. Part of that vibe is a thriving music scene. Recently, I not only witnessed that scene, but serendipitously participated in it.
       I rolled into Omaha via Des Moines, Iowa, on Friday, January 10, on my way from Boston to Colorado. Spending the winter writing my book, skiing, and gleefully galavanting all over the western United States, I expected my drive out here to be rather uneventful. I had five days to drive 2100 miles, and I was on the clock, because I had reservations in Colorado that began on Sunday, January 12. My plan was to get up early every morning, work out, and drive. That’s it. I wasn’t sure I would have time to do anything else.
       Before I left, though, it was clear to me that there was something else I wanted this trip to be about. I thought it could be a perfect opportunity to live the principles I write about in MuscleHeart, and then share my experiences that resulted from living those principles. After all, the book I’m penning on this trip is based on the concepts and approaches I’ve been writing about in my blog for the last five years. I knew there existed a synergy between my book and this trip.
       I’m traveling alone for over two months. It could get lonely. In fact, that’s a running fear that started even before I took off. If I don’t put myself out there, take risks, live as vibrantly and expressively as possible, organically seek connections, basically practice what I preach in this very blog, then I could end up singing the lonely boy blues. And, skiing and writing aside, I wouldn’t have much adventure on this adventure. Traveling alone effectively provides a sort of moving laboratory for what I’m writing about.
       I figured that experimental process would begin once I got to where I was going. It didn’t occur to me that it would actually begin the moment I got into my car and headed west. Because I didn’t envision anything at all happening on my five day drive.
       They say that life is what happens to you while your making other plans. I wasn’t so much making other plans as I was anticipating them. And, like it always does, life happened. In Omaha.
       Come back for part two.    

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