20080524

Sunday

Midnight

OSWEGO

I was driving home from the Southeastern tip of Colorado with a Vacuum of emotions inside my heart.

Entering into the newly developed monster homes and suburban sprawl I passed a street called “Oswego”—which I have passed a few times before but had never noticed as ever existing…

Coming out at night, I was in a daze, unsure of whom or what was driving me: was I driving the car or was it driving me?

I looked up and saw “Oswego” once again, and against the Lisa Gerrard CD that I mixed and had playing in my car—my emotions took over and tears led their way….

I had been editing a self-portrait documentary called SPLICE for a few weeks now. And in doing so, I had to tour my past.

The doc is about my life in film school. Much of the footage contains my life with my best friend, Jack, who is also a filmmaker.

Jack and I were a “partner in crime.” We had a level of perversion like no other. We saw Life on the same level and were heavily documenting our lives on video (Hi-8 tapes at the time). We did so much video diary that we rarely saw each other without one of us with a camera glued to our faces.

This was back in 1994-95. Shortly after 1997, we stopped talking to one another. I resented him for some petty annoying habit he had that hurt me deeply and never spoke to him again.

While going through this footage to cut my documentary, all my memories of our friendship returned.

I realized that Life has been a very lonely journey—artistically since we stopped talking. No one in our lives ever understood us, our views on art, on sexuality, on pornography or Truth. It seemed like we were the only ones who understood the reality that was shared between us.

I didn’t realize what a Gap this had left in my life and now that over 10 years have passed—I decided that I must make peace with him. I began to see that our friendship was invaluable and that we were really “one of a kind.”

Some odd coincidences have happened in my life. After Jack quit his job at a publishing firm—it so happened by accident that it was the first job my brother found when he moved to New York. My brother is a writer and applied to numerous places and he ended up with Jack’s exact job, working under Jack’s boss.

Since my brother still works at the firm, I asked him to search for Jack’s contact info for me. All he was able to scrape up was an old email address of 2 years past.

I took a shot in the dark and emailed Jack.

Jack and I used to spend hours on end in Greek Diners of White Plains, NY…talking trash about every subject on earth. I loved hearing him bitch about his insane Redneck family in Oswego, NY—and the persecution complex he developed when the hillbilly neighborhood went on a homophobic witch-hunt and tried to kill him.

His life was filled with incredibly Miserable pain and Miserable drama to match.

It often boggled my mind how such an Intelligent and highly artistic gay man can be born from such an oppressive, different and ignorant society.

While editing SPLICE, my sentimentality began to deepen as I saw how our friendship unfolded in the project.

The part that really moved me was when Jack dressed himself up in freaky drag and told me on the phone a dream he had.

In the dream, a bunch of people was out to kill him along with a team of drag queens—but they ended up turning the knife on the persecutors instead. Then Jack said to me, “We liberated everyone.”

Our creative relationship was like that…that was all we wanted to do. We were making art to free something or someone—even though we weren’t sure what. We are driven by this quest for Liberation—and it manifested and consumed every particle of our lives.

I used to laugh at the hillbilly white trash food Jack would describe eating while growing up; they were outrageous “recipes” (if you call them that).

Jack happened to email me back…and I was pleased. He wouldn’t give me a phone number—because he claims he doesn’t have one. He is boarded up somewhere in a reclusive area in Maine.

I wrote him back and told him how magical I found Maine to be—that that’s actually where I went a few summers ago to heal (from my stressful life in New York).

Today I found out that the reason he’s in recluse because he is dying: of AIDS.

I cannot process the pain. I do not know what it is.

Is it the Pain of Love? or is the Pain of Loss? For I believe that God has given him the “Gift of Illness”—it is a Gift because that is the Sacrifice that was intended for his Karma.

It pains me to see someone so brilliant and young be this sick—not to mention the failure for this society to provide healthcare for the dying that can’t afford it.

Shakti asked me to reach him…because the day that I wrote him—was the same day he cooked a recipe I had given to him from my mom. He wrote me back, “I must have been inviting you over.”

He is losing his eyesight and doesn’t check his email very often.

Today I drove to Joseph’s house because he just graduated from film school and invited me over to celebrate with his family.

I met his very large family for the first time: Half Black and Half Irish.

He comes from a family of musicians…I believe his father used to be in a band that toured with Barry White.

His mother is this very austere well-mannered tall Irish Woman…and his grandmother is this magical very intensively active 75-year-old Irish woman whom they call “Bumba” (for grandma).

When I entered the house, they had a little “concert” going in the living room: his father and white man with a Pirate eye patch were singing bluegrass or folk music on acoustic guitars.

I spent the entire day with them and saw that his Irish grandmother loved taking photos.

Based on the angles she was taking—I was sure she was a gifted or professional photographer.

When I asked her about it, she was very humble and said, “it’s just a hobby.”

She told me that she would find these “blank boring walls” at the retirement home and decorate them with her photographs and quotes.

I said to her, “Ah—you’re a Graffiti Artist!”

She denied it; but I could tell, she was very innovative.

I sat closer to her and for whatever reason I began to have a spiritual discussion with her.

I love spiritual talks, especially with much older people.

She told me that she creates books of her favorite quotes that bring deep meaning to her life.

She went to get the book and explained to me that she has a very deep relationship to Light. She said, “I love Light, I always have.”

She told me her first memories of her relationship to Light since the age of 2, her childhood and the dreams that she had about Light for the past 20 years.

Her book was gorgeous: they were pages of Audubon—illustrations of birds of all kinds on the left side—and on the right—her beautiful hand written black ink quotes (she jotted down) from writers, artists, saints of all races, all centuries and all kinds.

She had a blank page in her finished book and I asked her, “Can I write you my favorite quote? I know it seems egotistical to write my own quote—but I’d really like to contribute to it.”

She was highly enthusiastic about this. So I wrote in it: “Truth is the Lamborghini of Films.”

I wasn’t sure if she got it…so I explained it to her. “My feeling is that film is the most powerful artistic medium to mankind. If you’re going to work with light—you should be telling the truth.”

Once she heard the word Light again and its implications—she got incredibly excited again!

I explained to her that her book is filled with “Shakti”—that everything speaks of it.

She said, “Please write down this word and a quote about it.”

I told her, “I can’t quote Shakti for you.” She said, “Well, please write down the word.

I wrote down “Shakti” underneath my quote…and then she tells me, “I will show you one my most favorite quotes from this book.”

She turned the page and once I saw the name written under it I smiled and said, “That’s Shakti. The woman you quoted is my spirit guide—she is a saint that devotes her entire life as a medium for Shakti—giving people Shakti. Your book is already filled with Shakti—you should name your whole book Shakti. You don’t need me to explain it.”

So she took her pen and wrote “Shakti” largely over the front cover and scribbled some funny shapes around it.

I began to talk about my spirit guide with her…and in the background, Joseph’s sister was staring intently at what I was saying: stunned and mesmerized.

I would be overly presumptuous for me to say this, but I have noticed the following repeat occurrence one too many times (and must come to terms with it): I believe that I might have a the gift of giving Shakti…that certain people who are meant for it—get it automatically (from Grace) through me.

I have no control over who gets it—but I noticed that when certain people get it: I can see it on their faces.

I did not speak to Joseph’s sister all night—but for some reason—Shakti chose her.

I recognize this “Look”—and it is a look I cannot explain. It is not something I “consciously” intend to do…but it enters into that person—and changes them Forever.

I told Bumba that Shakti chases you forever once she finds you…She keeps manifesting: it is the Love of the Divine Mother; the Feminine Creative Power—Grace Herself.

Then Bumba quotes something about how Love or Light “Hounds you” down—and you cannot hide from it once it finds you.

I said, “That’s Shakti. No matter what religion people practice or not practice—it is the same exact experience.”

Joseph’s Grandmother is one whom all Old and Young people should meet: this is the beauty of Aging, the meaning of Life—the place to look forward to.

It is not the Aging seen in the 50-60 year olds today who still want to act like 20-year-olds whores that get tons of plastic surgery to mask their unhappiness or undeveloped self.

By the end of the evening, everyone started to Dance to some music and I saw Bumba partying away—dancing and enjoying life. She is so active, so filled with Life, so vibrant—and so beautiful and adorable!

Earlier, while I was watching Joseph’s dad and his friend perform, I realized that I was experiencing something like “World Class” performances in this living room.

I had also forgotten that Joseph is a musician and grew up as a choirboy.

He had a gorgeous friend from high school that visited him today.

On the surface, I thought she was just another pretty girl. But they had written a song together when they were 16-years-old…it was sophisticated beyond belief!

Her voice was unbelievably pure and she hits notes that I can’t even describe…Although I am not a musician—I have a very discriminating ear—and I tell you, all the talent in life is in hidden private places: NOT on American Idol, on the radio or TV!

During a folk song that was being sung—I felt as though a scene from a film was playing through my mind: I began to see Jack unfolding in my heart and his whole life story manifesting in cohesive form within me.

The contrast of Pain and Joy was like Hot and Cold temperatures mixed at the same time: like sitting outdoors in a hot tub in the winter—or floating on a cool natural lake in Maine basking under the warm Sun…It is like sucking on an ice cube in a hot steam bath…it was that type of strange concoction but in human emotional (form).

I saw Jack’s life against these beautiful alluring uplifting and simple songs…and it tore me to pieces.

I had to go into the bathroom to Isolate myself—because I couldn’t process the magnitude of these emotions.

I knew that ever since I decided to embrace my Kundalini energy that Shakti was preparing me to Feel more deeply than I have ever felt.

When I accepted this responsibility to accept Reality in its pure form—it meant that I should see ALL Meaning as being Equal…whether it is happiness or suffering: it is all an expression of God.

And the purpose of this—is not for myself, but to uplift Humanity—to hold up the Truth in one form or another. What that form is in exact words or shapes—I do not know, therefore cannot say.

I do not have the language to describe it; but it feels like a “living” organism inside me.

Perhaps to Bumba it is the manifestation of “Scintillating Light.” For me, it unfolds in me as a finished Movie—that I do not know how to articulate in thought nor speech.

The films I want to make: I cannot script or write—it is something living that can only be done by executing…spontaneous, like a documentary you can only outline—but the rest is a Dance and process of Witness. Revelation is the key attribute to such a filmmaking process: the creation and capturing of this type of Pulsation is itself the miracle of Life.

I feel an intense responsibility to Jack—to his purpose in life, no matter how short or long… I don’t know why his karma is filled with such intense suffering which offered absolutely Zero relief.

I realized that the Pain I feel is not filled with any sense of pity of his plight or condition, but of a Love that I had forgotten.

If Shakti hunts you down: it is meant to give you strength, to open the Heart.

Tonight, I cried driving home: not because of my own self-pity, not because of my fear of Loss and not because Jack is dying.

I cried because I Love him and because based on the video diaries (memories) I’m journeying through—and what I see today: I came to the realization that people do not come into this life as humans.

People come into this life as Saints.

People come to this life to offer something to the Table: whether they realize it or not, whether they want the responsibility or not, or whether they want to believe it or not.

In every form I see this: even in my Cat—who has given me the greatest Knowledge of Love that I had ever known.

What I know is this: what Jack can or cannot finish in his life—I must Finish.

I don’t have a choice…Shakti will get the word out. She must complete herself.

Therefore my Pain isn’t so much about myself or even that much about Jack.

My pain is for his Soul (which represents Humanity)—and what he has to go through as a Human Being as a Gift as well as Sacrifice.

I do not wait for Death to look me in the Face to see Value and Meaning in Life.

When I was editing SPLICE, what Jack said about “Liberating Everyone” pained me enough.

The Meaning I experienced had nothing to do with him being Dead or Alive.

Those words alone meant something to me: revealed to me something about him, something about us…and something about this quest for Truth that fundamentally drives humans to sacrifice…to love and to give.

Those who go against their own Truth do not realize the Unimaginable Waste they present to life.

Grace is the worst thing any living thing can Waste; even organisms will not waste it.

When a Human Being wastes it—it is the ultimate crime against humankind. It bruises God—and our concept of a God. It says in short that we Don’t Exist.

And this: is Untruth.

We are only Worthy while we are alive: the rest is Spirit.

No matter how Great you are in life—when you Die—your spirit goes—but the “Great” person is a just a lump of immateriality…skull and bones.

Look not to Greatness in others but to the Essence of one’s own Greatness. It is the only thing that is Real…because what you leave behind—is a road left for Others to tread, and nothing else.

For me, Jack has already passed away. It is only a matter of Time that his body goes too. It is the same with so many Passing Moments in Life.

In this thought I have seen him as an Angel—and as a Saint.

These things: they are not a mystery in life, they are real. For His Presence is with me and within me—whether I like it or not.

Shakti absorbs and delivers everything: all Life contained in Her.

She is Reality Herself—and when you come to Know her, she will never Desert you; she teaches you that Love is transcendent of Joy and Pain—just like how a Memory, a Light, an Image or a Song can carry you through a Storm.

It is a mistake to Judge life based on what is Good or Bad. All health and illnesses are Gifts of God. Shakti is an expression of everything: She is the Carrier.

When I said Goodbye to Joseph’s family tonight, some of his family members ran out the door to hug me.

I looked back and saw in the mix of all these people: Joseph’s sister’s face, transfixed like a lone still object against a whirlwind of events behind her.

She stared at me as though she was the last image at the end of a film.

I pretended not to notice: but Shakti’s got her…She’s got her Back.