Retro; The Mind's Favorite Rut.

 The Mind’s Favorite Rut

It takes a great deal of nothing to waste life away trying to figure out what it is all about in the end. For most, it is a matter of having lived life as profitably as one possibly can and being able to say:

"Look at all that I have been able to accumulate—my wealth and my fortune, my good health and my progeny, my fame and my charitable virtues."

At the end of the day, if one can claim all these as life's merits, perhaps one has lived far better than most.

As for me, all I can say is that I have failed at most of these. I cannot claim I have "lived" life, not by these measures. I am a disappointment to myself and likely to others. If given another chance to live this life again, I would most probably continue making the same errors, ending up right where I am now. And so, hopefully, this will be the final cut, the last act of living in this realm of mediocrity and wastefulness.

I am my worst critic—I’ve been told this often enough. I should stop comparing myself to others who I deem successful, whose lives are lined with merit and material. I am who I am. I have been up and down this road doing what I can to make the best of the worst, and I’ve avoided being sucked into the same rut most have slipped into. I’ve done my damnedest to be different. I have refused stubbornly to accept what is “the norm” and taken chances, believing there is yet another way of looking at life.

I have trodden roads less taken and wandered down streets that led to nowhere, just to find out—just to prove to myself—that I was capable of getting my fingers dirty when needed. I’ve been frowned upon and hated; I’ve earned my share of love and respect, too. But still, there is an empty hole in my heart that has yet to be filled. It has been aching for a very long time.

Will I ever find the peace and tranquility that man desires? Or will I simply be buried with questions unanswered—like so many before me?

Have I taken too many wrong turns to ever find my way back home?

Who am I?

What have I accomplished?

What good am I to humanity—having occupied this planet for sixty-odd years?

Is this it? A state of limbo at the fall of life’s curtain?

I could go on playing this melodramatic violin concerto, hoping to find some form of solace, some grace of God. But enough is enough. Like a broken record, I just need to shift the needle out of this groove into the next.

I must get myself out of this rut—the mind’s favorite rut, the rut that leads to despair.

It’s safe to say that in this day and age, most of humanity is stuck in this same groove. Enough is never enough. The endless seeking, the endless wanting—this has become our endgame. What’s missing is mercy, kindness, sharing and giving, thankfulness, and compassion.

What’s missing… is genuine, unconditional love.

I have little to give or share, except these ramblings. And in these never-ending twists and turns of thoughts and reflections, I hope to offer a small piece of myself. A piece that, in some small way, may be of significance in someone else’s life. I hope that in exposing myself, someone out there may shed light on their own quest.

I’ve been told I’m good at turning the negative into the positive. I’ve sifted through my thoughts for years. Perhaps this self-digestion has its fruition—a glimpse of my Buddha Nature.

Perhaps this is my legacy: a life lived in public, shared in the raw, for anyone willing to listen.

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And What is Wealth?

Having lived 21 years in the United States and three years in Japan—those were not cheap places to live. Having spent time in Dubai, basked in its extravagance for over a year, I know that too is not a poor man’s journey. I’ve wandered through parts of Europe and South America.

So what is wealth?

Is it not relative? Is it not a matter of perception?

As for accomplishments, I have been there, and I have done that. I have been acknowledged as a respected artist among peers. I have had several solo exhibitions across the world. I’ve worked countless jobs—too many to keep track—and each one taught me something about living, about making a living, about being human.

I may not be a religious man, but I have had my share of spiritual dives and awakenings. I’ve dared to question, and I’ve dared to embrace—whenever the moment called for it, to satisfy my conscience and to seek out truth.

And God?

Allah?

God is always behind me. Watching over me. Loving me. My Lord, the One I believe in, is a God of Love and Compassion. That is my faith.

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My Progeny

I leave behind four great individuals. My children were born of three extraordinary women—two American, one Swiss.

How?

Well, keep reading this lengthy blog, and the pieces will start to fall into place.