GRATITUDE

The temperature has been on a steady decline for several months now. For the first time in nearly a decade, I've been able to experience the natural course of autumn. The brilliant procession of deciduous trees; leaves falling to earth, southern migration of our feathered friends. To me, the cooling climate is a natural element of the arriving holiday season, and it has been sorely missed for some years now.

Before leaving California, I met an older gentleman from Michigan and spoke with him about my plans for Chicago. While 90% of the people I'd spoken with about my move looked at me sideways, this gentleman's instinct was to focus on the great value of winter. Not in the cycle of life capacity, but its effect on personal relationships. He spoke of how harsh weather promotes convening indoors, causing us to "slow it down . . to appreciate what we have". I remember the perplexed 90%: how could I even consider leaving paradise? How would I survive a climate that contains rain, snow, sleet, hail, and temperatures below freezing?

Bill Hicks had a great bit at the beginning of Revelations on the subject; "Los Angeles . . every day, hot and sunny, today, hot and sunny, tomorrow, hot and, for the rest of the . . hot and sunny, every single day, hot and sunny . . and they love it. 'Isn't great, every day, hot and sunny?' What are you, a fucking lizard? Only reptiles feel that way about this kind of weather. I'm a mammal, I can afford coats, scarves, cappuccino and rosy cheeked women".

"Slow it down".

The message is simple . . yet crucial. The long standing "gathering around the campfire" is a key element of the human connection. Banding together to battle adverse conditions seems to be a dying trend in our society. The care free mentality I witnessed in California was seemingly impervious to everything short of an earthquake. Protecting from cold builds character, it generates appreciation for clear warm weather when available. The person who best adapts to his surroundings, who stands fast from one extreme to the next, is the most balanced. Seasons are a part of life we all must endure; mentally, physically, and emotionally.

The first decade of the new millennium is coming to a close, and this holiday season comes with a special merit. Along with reintroduction to winter, my relocation has placed me in an environment with the smallest support system to date. Well before the move, I knew the circumstance I was placing myself in. I knew the move would greatly refine and clarify my friendships. As I've always said, we have no contracts. We are free to follow our intuition, and are best served so to do. One reason for the move, among many, was to break new ground. To start from scratch, socially. As I begin my thirties, I enjoy the prospect of making fresh contact with like minded individuals. 2010 will surely be one of the pivotal years of my life.

Irrespective of faith, one thing cannot be denied . . cold weather or warm, the end of the calendar year sets the table for the greatest understanding of what matters most in life. Individuals place different amounts of stock in different compartments of their lives . . some will be overcome with grief at the absence of what means most to them. Yet even times of great sorrow can be taken as experiences of great understanding. My old friend Celso made it clear to me many years back; "Times like these, make you feel, most human". I've long found great peace in those words. Identifying pain, and from where it originates, is key in a persons mental well being.

I send my wholehearted thanks to the inspirational. To the men and women throughout history who took risks and marched to the beat of a different drummer. To those who saw the way the rest of society was doing something and identified its limitation. Those who speak only in truth, often appearing as a voice from the wilderness, risking all they've earned for the all-important purpose of righteousness.

To my family. My parents, grandparents and all who came before. To those who's DNA I am compiled of, whose great qualities I aspire to best represent. Who's hard work paved the way for all of us who came after. To my aunts and uncles who's influence continue to shape my parents and their children; my cousins, coast to coast, unique traits and multifarious journeys abound. To my brother; the greatest man I've ever known, and his incredible family . . beyond words.

To my friends. From New Hampshire to Boston, Maine to Connecticut, Los Angeles to Chicago, and everywhere in between. Though contact may be limited or even extinct, each and every person I've ever called a friend has had an incalculable impact on my life. On this planet of immeasurable personalities and perspectives, my time has been favored with invaluable opportunities to meet some of the greatest characters who ever walked. I am in each and every one of their debts.

Most of all, my heartfelt thanks to the love of my life. The dependable, commonsensical, delight of a woman who's devotion and comfort is unparalleled. The one who's energy has taught me so much about the human spirit, provided such harmony in a world of perpetual uncertainty.

The time I will spend in New England this coming month could not come at a better juncture. For those I will have the great pleasure of spending time with, it's been long overdue. For the rest, I shall enjoy the prospect of crossing paths in the not too distant future. All of my very best, as ever, to you and yours as we move forward.

Together.

PURPLE HEART

April 13, 2009. Monday. Opening day for the Dodgers at Chavez Ravine on a beautiful afternoon in southern California. Record breaking crowd on hand scaling between a steady murmur and a roar with the events of the day. The Dodger legends are announced and walk out on the field one at a time to thunderous applause. Next come the staff, trainers, coaches, and your 2009 Los Angeles Dodgers. Back to the stadium from a commercial break; roar temporarily subdued, voice of part-time play-by-play announcer Charlie Steiner begins to sound over the P.A. system. It quickly becomes clear who's being introduced. Today marks the first game of the 60th season Vin Scully will grace us with his broadcast. The intro ends with the greatest line Steiner has ever delivered;

"It is my great honor to introduce, quite simply, the greatest baseball broadcaster who ever lived, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Vin Scully" The place erupts like 1988 with Kirk Gibson rounding the bases pumping his fist. I had chills from head to toe as one of my true idols walked out on to that field.

When I left everything I knew in Boston, and arrived in Los Angeles late summer 2002, few things brought me a sense of home. First, there was the champion of all Mexican fare, Poquito Mas, but more importantly, the legend of the Dodger Stadium press box. When I arrived, the team was in the basement of the NL west. But the man with the resounding voice welcomed me to the southland, and tuned me in to Dodger baseball.

Fast forward 7 years, opening day, Vin is preparing to throw out the first pitch. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm Dodger Stadium welcome, to Los Angeles native, United States Army Officer recently returning from his second tour of duty serving our nation with the armed forces in Iraq, Sergeant Jeremy Ortega". Vin stands smiling next to the mound as the fully uniformed soldier makes his way forward with a limp in his walk and a cane in his hand. With in a few feet, the Sergeant extends his hand, Vinny steps forth, arms wide, and embraces our returning hero. I broke into tears.

A month or so later. I'm surfing the channels and I come upon a PGA open series event on one of the networks. Tiger, "Lefty", and many other superstars of golf are there, lining the fairway as an announcement was made.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a round of applause for United States Marine, recently returning from his third tour of duty protecting our nations' freedom in Afghanistan, quadruple amputee, Specialist Jeremy Carter". Sitting in a wheelchair, pushed down the center of the fairway, stumps for arms, stumps for legs. Dressed in uniform. Our war hero.

Chicago. August. Avenue Hotel. Men and women of varied ages, races, and disabilities fill the lobby. Some blind, others deaf. Some paraplegic, others quadriplegic. All bearing injuries from one of our current Middle Eastern conflicts. Governor Quinn, Mayor Daley expected to make appearances, offer some words of thanks at that nights ceremony honoring our veterans. The governor comes through for one half hour, the mayor couldn't make it.

I'm sure everyone has been exposed, either in person, or on television, to something like this. A soldier returns from war after suffering a life hampering injury in battle, and becomes a mascot for his respected branch of service. Purple Heart. Full discharge. Many thanks for your service to our country. When I became emotional watching opening day, it was the release of tension built up over many nights spent weighed down by the root causes of war. It was all the thinking I had done about the WWII generation and their children; our parents. Thinking about Vietnam. Thoughts of elementary school and Desert Storm. Our first televised insight to Middle Eastern events, though I was far too young to read between the lines. I thought of all the sacrificed Americans since the Revolutionary War.

Vin's embrace meant welcome home. Glad you're still with us. I know war is hell and life is a topsy-turvy ride. Thank you for your contribution. How many people in Vin's life have been effected by war? How many close friends has he lost during his 81 year ride on this planet? How many important men has he met? Politicians, Generals, religious leaders, soldiers, entertainers. Vin's reaction triggered in me the collection of so many stages and value systems I've held over the years. In my youth, I was very interested in getting involved in Military action and or Law Enforcement. I was intrigued by the strength and power one has in a position involving such authority. I'm sure the action movies of the 80s had a great deal to do with it, but until about ten years ago, brute force and American policy had my 100% support and commitment.

I've grown up a lot since then.

I hope that soon we will all be able to identify that the wars our nation involves itself in, are rarely, if ever, fought for the reasons written in our history books. I salute and support each and every member of the United States Armed Forces; and wish them all safety, security, and victory in all encounters. However, more than anything else, I want them to come home. I want them here with us, working to preserve our world from where they're most effective, from where they hail. Once we can collectively acknowledge the true problems we face in need of resolution, concentrate our energy on them; then we will be well on our way towards achieving our goals as human beings. My heart goes out to all those who have lost loved ones in war.

"The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun". -GEORGE ORWELL

THE SPIRIT

Soul. The essence of all living beings. The animation of the physical, energy of the heart, and spirit. No living person knows precisely where the spirit goes at the end of ones life. Many religions have come to many conclusions since the beginning of recorded history. This entry has nothing to do with the great mystery which begins at the end of our holiday on earth. Instead we will focus on the living spirit alive inside each of us, its power, and its potential.

For much of my childhood my dog Emma was one of my closest friends. During my formative years, a great deal of time was spent hanging out with her, learning her tendencies, her moods and behaviors. To me, dogs are the most user friendly way to begin to understand the soul in its living form. Dogs' senses of sound, smell, and awareness are generally more sensitive than humans'. In turn, they are very much attuned to our moods, feelings, and behaviors. Much like our ability to train a dog and predict its behavior, the dog is constantly learning about its owner, and the nature of man. Watching dogs reacting to people is a great pastime of mine . . the dog can tell from fifty feet away what you're all about. If you are afraid of dogs they will growl, snarl, bark and try to get after you. If you're on the level, they will pant, wag, and generally try to jump up and lick you. Have you ever seen a dog react to a crying member of your family? The dog can sense adjustments in attitude, the chaotic, dark, and confusing energy generated by sadness is like a siren to the dog. He senses the sorrow, takes one look at his owner, and moves to the furthest corner of the house. It's never pleasant to bask in the energy of sadness, for man or animal.

Though not part of school curriculum, we have the ability to read each other as dogs read us. We are the sum total of our thoughts, we generate our own individual connection to the world around us. We fine tune our senses each day based upon our own personal feelings and desires. If we hold no interest in people, animals, or nature in general; it will be impossible to advance our understanding and connection. But, as all you students of Earl Nightingale out there know, "we become what we think about". If we sincerely desire a connection to any aspect of life, the only logical result will be to achieve that connection.

Now, what is the point of identifying this energy? In what respect can this be put to practical use? Think about it. If we all worked to be more aware of the feelings and interests of the living things around us, might that alleviate some tension found in daily life on earth today? Of course this task is huge . . it might even seem impossible in lieu of the division found in our society today . . yet it is crucial. The only way to begin the arduous process of reversing the course of history currently underway, is for all people to see the world and its illnesses from the same set of eyes. So much of what we do is based on closing ourselves off from the world around us . . based on fear. As long as we continue to let religions, creeds, and boarders divide us, there can be no unified organization towards peace and preservation of our planet. We have the ultimate power over ourselves, through thought and action, and over the fate of our existence.

A few months back, HBO aired a particularly moving episode of Real Sports with Bryant Gumble. The segment most impacting revolved around a teenage girl named Jacklyn who had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor at age nine. She was a die hard lacrosse fan, and took great fascination with the women's team at Northwestern University. Her father sent a letter to the team, and soon there after she was made an honorary captain. She formed personal relationships with each of the players on the team, exchanging e-mails and text messages, appearing at as many games as she possibly could. The Wildcats won the women's NCAA championship the first season she was with the team. As the relationship between Jacklyn and the team progressed, so to did the teams success. To date, the Northwestern Wildcats women's lacrosse team have been NCAA champs 5 years running . . . all of the years Jaclyn has been a member. As her energy has lifted the athlete's around her, the teams energy has clearly made an impact on Jaclyn's journey towards a full recovery. With the mutually beneficial relationship identified, the young girl's father started "Friends of Jaclyn", An organization connecting critically ill children with NCAA teams. At the time they filmed the show, there were not enough sick children to meet the demand created by eager colleges and universities. The point raised by this fine story should be quite clear; the human spirit knows no boundaries . . . it has the capacity to overcome all odds. Our concentration of energy towards achievement can yield miraculous results, and wouldn't you know, it comes from within . . . It's up to us.

Once long ago, overwhelmed by the tragic loss of a schoolmate, I went to my father for solace. I asked him what he though heaven was like: how we might reconnect with loved ones, what it would feel like. His response was something to the effect of; "I don't think you can physically see and touch the people you hope to reconnect with . . . you can just feel their presence . . . like when I'm at the office and I walk around the corner, without seeing into a cubicle, I can sense a persons' presence". I was half my current age when we had this discussion but it clearly struck a chord. Since, we've had a handful of conversations about "the collected unconscious" which I've found comfort in over the years. It's all part of the same thing . . we are all part of the same thing. Our bodies are our temples, our vehicles for navigating this physical, finite, fleeting period of time on this blessed planet. It's the soul, the spirit inside each of us that is of greatest importance. We choose what to make of ourselves, our beliefs and actions based upon them will determine our individual composition, our contribution to the collected unconscious. They say something like 90% of illness is derived from stress. Stress is the product of our our own mental and physical reaction to the events of our world. As members of earths community, we are responsible not only for our personal surroundings, but for playing a role in the fabric of all events on our planet. Because we are all members of "the great flywheel of society", only in banding together in mind and spirit will we be able to make the push . . to create the change required to live in a world based, as god intended, on peace and love.

PUMP UP THE VOLUME

When I was a child, Sony debuted its Mega Bass technology. Other electronics manufacturers followed suit with their own versions; Bass Boost, Max-Bass, Dbb, Bass X-tend, etc. The majority of the music I listened to while growing up was hip-hop. Some of it was considered "gangsta rap" and centered on violence, oppression, and life in the ghettos of America. Most of the listening was done through headphones, plugged into a Walkman. Maximum volume, maximum bass, no sound distortion. All tapes, all day. In retrospect it's interesting, thinking of the hardcore lessons, messages, and beats drilled into my head from such depths of the underground. As I was growing up, right next to me was the evolution and commercialization of the art form. Before rap music became the new pop music, the education derived from nearly all recorded artists was incredible, especially by today's standards. In looking back, YO! MTV Raps is the greatest example of how times have changed. The videos played and studio guests were the best, and most respected of their time. Though rocking the freshest styles of their era, these men and women were on stage for their talents, not for the degree to which they sold out, how many commercials they appeared in, or how many award shows they attended. Can you remember when MTV stood for rebellion and original creative expression? It seems like forever ago. I guess it was forever ago.

In my early teens, I began to take great interest in movies, how they were made, and who made them. I was intrigued and clued myself into aspect ratios, film stock vs. video, filmmakers, actors, and perhaps above all, sound. Film scoring became a fascination of mine. Instrumental music, largely from the movies, was one of my first real passions. In my opinion, soundtracks remain one of the most under-appreciated forms of music in the world. In the beginning of middle school I began to fully understand the way stereo components worked. It was then that I connected my family VCR to the home stereo. Realistic brand receiver, wood housed 2-way floor speakers, Hitachi 4-head hi-fi stereo VCR. Bass. Treble. Volume. I credit this single move with generating my interest in film making. All of a sudden, watching movies at home became awesome.

Thus began the trend of Pumping up the Volume. I had been blasting music in my earphones for years, but this was the start of something new. This was also the birth of the "turn it down, it's too loud" people. From headphones, to automobiles, to home entertainment centers . . . theater quality and quantity audio became the benchmark. The only variable; noise pollution; interfering with others sleep, disturbing the neighbors. I'm not sure of anywhere I've lived since at home in high school where I didn't receive at least one noise complaint . . as usual, keeping it real yields disadvantages as well.

The theme of the essay is simply this; life happens in full volume. The events of your day do not have a volume control knob. When in a movie theater, at a ball game, or at a concert . . you do not have the ability to reach for the remote. The volume is loud and proud as it was designed to be. Whether you're seeing a country, hip-hop, or classical performance, the volume has been carefully engineered and calibrated . . and it is loud. When a lion roars, a fire trucks' siren is blaring, a crowd erupts in applause, or the sky explodes with fireworks . . there is no volume control . . or mute button. That is life happening, full tilt, full stereo surround sound. Nature, and the artists aligned with it, recognize the value of volume . . and the fact that the audience has no say in it.

We have gotten so very accustomed as a people to get what we want, just when we want it. We have "the power" to change the channel on news we don't want to hear, "to block" messages from those who's postings have gotten to annoying to bare, to select what we will from countless options worldwide. Immersion is the action. Absorb the world around you. Grab existence by the horns. Live life to its maximum potential. Turn the volume up, not down.