I'm standing here in the lot adjacent to the Times Union Center, eating a rather excellent, sorta crispy burrito (wheat tortilla, cheddar, black beans, salsa, and fresh spinach). It's 42 degrees and threatening rain. Here's what's on my mind:
-- Inspirational reading today said:
We don't ever have to wonder what our next right thought should be when we view all actions as symptoms of either the love or fear that's being felt. The guesswork is removed. Being hopeful for ourselves and one another is the remedy for all situations, large or small. It's the only solution that will promote peace.
Cultivating Hope, Karen Casey, 2009
Talk about ninja lot attitude. Walking around this tight, hectic, frosty lot, icy drizzle beginning to come down, I'm struck by how ridiculously naive I am. Over a decade of Phish shows, and residency on the post-Dead, Phish-fried, Bisco-fied counterculture, and it still occurs to me to tell the truth and deal straight, rather than cook schemes. This is how it was even when I wasn't sober! So, you can see why I rolled with phans and got my tix through people I knew, or friends of friends, and not places or things -- I figured at least that way I got a human connection, rather than a manufactured experience, and probably stood a better chance of not getting scammed, terrified as I was of the big, bad, never completely "kind" world...
The above-quoted life-stance is not easy to practice. It goes on to say, "The trust we need to develop to move on requires love, particularly for ourselves. It doesn't mean loving the unknown itself, which is never easy; it does mean trusting in our readiness to cultivate hope and the belief that all is well, that each fearful situation presents us with the opportunity to develop our ability to build that trust." My fear-based mind tells me that this method won't get me MSG tix, or Miami, or a boyfriend, or...see where I'm going with this? With some judicious studying of seating charts and a little good intention, I'll end up where I need to. The real problem is thinking I know where I need to end up. In the past, I'd knock the edges off that fear with mood-altering substances. Now, I try to practice acceptance.
The tickets I ended up finding are just off-center, Page-side, along the back of the arena. The folks I bought them from fell into my "don't freeze to death" time-limitation clause, right around 5:55PM when the sun was gone, and the hot carbon monoxide blast from the lot generator wasn't keeping me warm enough anymore (and, what's more, was stated to have the ability to possibly cause *actual death* on it's safety label). They were three nice, fresh-faced twentysomething kids, and I was clearly the fill-in for The Friend Who Bailed. Koo-koo! I gave them the half-face they wanted, and they said, "You'll be sitting near us! That's the bonus!" Interesting. I can live with that. I'm still getting used to the whole, "Embrace the light, not the darkness" concept. It's kinda working for me.
-- Thinking about what to write about on this blog, especially on tour, is a pain in the ass, especially when you're a petfectionist that thinks everyone's watching. The best thing about Phish reuniting and inspiring me to write a blog, is that I'm like the Chris Kuroda of Bloggers. Phish emerged, and summoned me through the forces of beingness, to expand and extract my art, and the only hindrance being exercised is that which I impose on myself...which can be, as I said, MANY.
Neil Armstrong didn't shoot from the womb to the Moon, although that would've been something to watch. Being, and writing, are enterprises I've given up trying to achieve perfection in, and the less I seek to master them, I think the more relaxed and surprised I'll be.
That said, hair is back, luggage is stowed, batteries are charged, I'm hydrated and rested and it's cool, cool business here in the Times Union Center. Albany is ready to put Phish back into a New York State of mind.
-- Inspirational reading today said:
We don't ever have to wonder what our next right thought should be when we view all actions as symptoms of either the love or fear that's being felt. The guesswork is removed. Being hopeful for ourselves and one another is the remedy for all situations, large or small. It's the only solution that will promote peace.
Cultivating Hope, Karen Casey, 2009
Talk about ninja lot attitude. Walking around this tight, hectic, frosty lot, icy drizzle beginning to come down, I'm struck by how ridiculously naive I am. Over a decade of Phish shows, and residency on the post-Dead, Phish-fried, Bisco-fied counterculture, and it still occurs to me to tell the truth and deal straight, rather than cook schemes. This is how it was even when I wasn't sober! So, you can see why I rolled with phans and got my tix through people I knew, or friends of friends, and not places or things -- I figured at least that way I got a human connection, rather than a manufactured experience, and probably stood a better chance of not getting scammed, terrified as I was of the big, bad, never completely "kind" world...
The above-quoted life-stance is not easy to practice. It goes on to say, "The trust we need to develop to move on requires love, particularly for ourselves. It doesn't mean loving the unknown itself, which is never easy; it does mean trusting in our readiness to cultivate hope and the belief that all is well, that each fearful situation presents us with the opportunity to develop our ability to build that trust." My fear-based mind tells me that this method won't get me MSG tix, or Miami, or a boyfriend, or...see where I'm going with this? With some judicious studying of seating charts and a little good intention, I'll end up where I need to. The real problem is thinking I know where I need to end up. In the past, I'd knock the edges off that fear with mood-altering substances. Now, I try to practice acceptance.
The tickets I ended up finding are just off-center, Page-side, along the back of the arena. The folks I bought them from fell into my "don't freeze to death" time-limitation clause, right around 5:55PM when the sun was gone, and the hot carbon monoxide blast from the lot generator wasn't keeping me warm enough anymore (and, what's more, was stated to have the ability to possibly cause *actual death* on it's safety label). They were three nice, fresh-faced twentysomething kids, and I was clearly the fill-in for The Friend Who Bailed. Koo-koo! I gave them the half-face they wanted, and they said, "You'll be sitting near us! That's the bonus!" Interesting. I can live with that. I'm still getting used to the whole, "Embrace the light, not the darkness" concept. It's kinda working for me.
-- Thinking about what to write about on this blog, especially on tour, is a pain in the ass, especially when you're a petfectionist that thinks everyone's watching. The best thing about Phish reuniting and inspiring me to write a blog, is that I'm like the Chris Kuroda of Bloggers. Phish emerged, and summoned me through the forces of beingness, to expand and extract my art, and the only hindrance being exercised is that which I impose on myself...which can be, as I said, MANY.
Neil Armstrong didn't shoot from the womb to the Moon, although that would've been something to watch. Being, and writing, are enterprises I've given up trying to achieve perfection in, and the less I seek to master them, I think the more relaxed and surprised I'll be.
That said, hair is back, luggage is stowed, batteries are charged, I'm hydrated and rested and it's cool, cool business here in the Times Union Center. Albany is ready to put Phish back into a New York State of mind.
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