Creation, Validation and Inspiration: Part 3
“IT IS THE STARS, THE STARS ABOVE US, GOVERN OUR CONDITIONS”
And so this brings my tale to the recent past. On June 1st, 2008, I wrote my Bourbon Street landlady my rent check and I had a $200 balance left in the account: not even enough to cover food or utilities.
I had spent the last year re-wiring, pro-actively burying my dreams, and finally placing a headstone on it’s metaphoric grave, but at that moment I was right back at the same crossroads I was 18 months ago.
After all that work, all that drug induced catatonia, and all that soul searching, the only viable option was to pull the .45 out of the drawer and stop all this shit once and for all.
So I looked up at the sky (in reality, the ceiling: I’m a full blown agoraphobic by this time) and I said:
“Look…I know I don’t talk to you too much, and I’ve never asked you for a damn thing. But I have made thousands of people happy at the expense of my own happiness; I have made considerable deposits in the Karma bank, and quite frankly, if you’d like your presence known, I want to make a sizable withdrawal from my Karmic Bank account right now.”
Five minutes later, a promoter from Syracuse (of whom I hadn’t spoken to in years) called and offered me $ XX,000 to re-create “Little Georgie”, for one night only.
Was this the handiwork of God or Satan? I didn't know but in either case, both of them have a wickedly cruel sense of ironic humor. Brothers. Who can figure?
Now you can interpret this anyway you want to, depending on your belief system, or what particular dogma you ascribe to. But here’s mine:
The Universe and all the creative power contained within in its infinite expanse had finally had enough of my self-absorbed shit and hit me over the head with a sledgehammer of synchronicity. But it wasn’t going to deliver the blow until I asked for it.
I HAD made a lot of people happy over the years. I had rocked bodies, rocked souls, and rocked minds. I used to be a Shaman, and I gathered a tribe of thousands around me who had valued these gifts It was time to stop running away from the thing you do best, Jack. You will not receive any gifts of abundance until you start to be abundant yourself and throw it back, into the Universe.
“Ask and it will be given, Seek and you shall find, Knock and the door will be opened to you” Matthew, 7.7
OK, here it is. It’s real. But old Matthew left out a crucial part of the equation:
Once the door is opened, you have to be aware enough to step over the threshold into the great unknown and out into the Universe: The “Leap of Faith”, as it were.
I’m not the best piano player, or singer, or songwriter in the world, but music was the chosen delivery system, and for whatever reason, of everything I created, those creations were born with the utmost of sincerity and truly an open heart.
This translates into the ability to communicate ideas and philosophical concepts to large gatherings of humanity.
This where my true creative powers are at their most concentrated form. That is my gift.
I am a storyteller. The Universe told me to re-visit my creation, the source of all pain, to understand the value of creation itself.
No matter how hard I tried, the little zombie boy would not die quietly.
"Don't you know you can't kill something that's already been dead?"
I wrote that line, and yet foolishly, thought that I could get away with ignoring it.
My own personal Frankensteinian monster wasn't quite through with me yet.
"You may shoot for the stars and end up in a back alley behind Pluto, beaten and bloodied, but at least I dare to dream, and that’s better than being Earthbound, mired in the muck of mediocrity.
I judge my forward progress and success by the crushingly epic nature of my failures.
The more epic the crash, the more I’m convinced I must be doing something right"
AS ALWAYS: PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE, AND SHARE THIS BLOG ADDRESS VIA COPY AND PASTE IN AN EMAIL, THROUGH THE TWITTER OR FACEBOOK "SHARE" BUTTONS,WORD OF MOUTH, FILTHY WHISPERED GOSSIP, FALSE NARRATIVE, TIN CAN AND STRING CONFIGURATIONS, PONY EXPRESS, OR CARRIER PIGEON. WITHOUT FEEDBACK OR ACTIVE "SHARING", WHAT YOU JUST READ.... DOESN'T EXIST!
THANK YOU KINDLY,
COLONEL BEAUREGARD "IRON THIGHS" JEFFERSON, A.K.A. "THE MANAGEMENT"