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Everyone’s heard that expression, “Life is for the living.” I’ve always assumed living in this context was a noun referencing all people currently alive. Now I’m looking at it as a verb. Think of it as a verb, as an action, as I say that life exists not for the dying of it, but for the living of it. Well, of course, right? Living occurs right now, in the present. Life is a gift.
Acknowledging that gift in the moment is gratitude. One may focus their grateful perspective through a religious or spiritual practice, but it’s not essential. We can ask ourselves how we feel to be alive; we are biochemically, bioenergetically thankful.
For me, gratitude is fundamental to happiness and is an intuitive perspective. People think they’re really sharp and have everything figured out when they’re being pessimistic. Negativity gives us a bloated sense of confidence, while gratitude arises naturally in the gut. The feeling we get at this time of year is a natural one that we should strive to have permeate our psyche year-round.
Stepping Into the Moment With Jazz Geniuses
“Do not fear mistakes,” said Miles Davis. “There are none.” What the heck did that mean? Well, it’s about resolution. It’s not an error on that note because you can resolve it.
What’s important is that any played note, at any time, can be brought into the fold of the song. Just considering that, logically, errors do become impossible (and then once you start bending time within the continuum, your space-age perfection is doubly fortified).
Thelonious Monk said, “A genius is the one most like himself.” (He actually scribbled it on a page of tips on how to play a gig.) I believe he meant that a person who fully trusts themselves is then more able to intuit their way forward into uncharted territory. It’s interesting to think of the primary reference point being one’s own experience, other than any external entity or factor.
Do we ask other people what to do, or do we consider what’s possible? When our experience is the primary reference, that actually conceals the depth, if we’re keen: through that self-referral, we are actually referring to life. In fact, we are referring to the limitless possibilities of potential and situations, a reason to feel awe.
One With the Birds
Charlie Parker was called “The Bird.” I’m a songbird. I really, really am. My best proof of this is a video in which a bird can be heard singing backup vocals to me on Willie Nelson’s “All of Me.”
I’m extremely passionate about the current, present, now-ish aspect of existence. Music also courses through me, having taken 14 years of piano lessons. Today, though, singing is how I capture the moment, a lot of the time. And I can’t quite explain it.
I know how it started: I started rapping because I realized this dude from school had become moderately successful as a rapper; he and I built a treehouse-style pulley communication system within my first week at school. I started rapping his solos (Jonny 5; Flobots’ “Handlebars”).
After that, I started singing every day, sometimes for hours. Singing is a way for me to feel alive. I need to learn how to dance, too. Dancing feels similar, especially if it’s combined with the music (something I’ve never done but intend to, since I want to play and sing in a Hollywood biopic. I told you my dream, now share that with Daddy Warbucks).
If you think about it, expressing your talents is a way to show thanks. It’s also a reason to be thankful. Engaging your talent and what you love is important so that you’ll be happy and fulfilled, giving the best of yourself to the world.
Harnessing the Now-verse
What I’m doing when I rap and sing is living within the moment, absolutely. Certainly, I’m in flow (as when I’m climbing trees). “Well, open up your mind and see like me,” sings Jason Mraz. “Open up your plans and damn, you’re free.” The song is “I’m Yours.” He’s giving himself to someone in the song; he’s making himself available. And part of that is not having any plans.
Lack of plans is magical. One critical way to feel alive is to be mindfully in the now-verse, the name I’m giving to the universe of potential within the current moment (a place of limitless opportunity and potential).
You can do anything, within reason, in the now-verse. You could learn another language online or put together a puzzle. It’s a comfortable environment to be in, the present, provided I let my mind intuit part of the path forward.
Gratitude Essential Reads
I very much try to trust my schedule and to-do list, in a general sense. I think this is key to momentum. However, I am quick to give myself any time I possibly can to play. And I really do mean that. Whether it’s climbing trees or singing or puzzling or whatever else, play is something I really believe in. I’m starting to believe more in work, but my fundamental faith will always lie with play.
The Root of My Homelessness?
I had it in my head for a while that I would post all these incredible social media videos of myself combining singing and tree-climbing. I know, it’s a perfect idea. I know.
The only issue is, it’s hard to find another person to climb the tree with you, so then I’m doing the selfie thing. And it’s DIY. And it looks, you know, vaguely mentally ill. This is a bit frustrating when the intent is to showcase the love I have for nature and for art (and for myself).
I have been both climbing trees and doing parkour, coinciding with my homelessness, which was on and off for about two years through September. Maybe these things, playful activities, and not having a place to live have something in common. My singing and jumping, and arboreal ascent were how I used my time rather than looking for work.
However, I was not just standing on tree limbs with my hands on my hips while singing both the Bieber and Ludacris parts of “Baby.” I was also drinking (ding-ding-ding).
From the Treetop to the Workforce
I lived in a flophouse outside of Philly, a converted pre-Depression convent full of Airbnb rentals. I climbed a tree there avidly. You can actually see the Tree of Amazingness here, with the convent behind it and the church on the left.
Philly was a moment when I was loving life the best I could, even though it was rough as hell. Philly was me exhibiting gratitude when I was down and out, and often not on my own side.
Here I am today, talking to you folks and working 40+ hours a week. The nitty-gritty is the labor that gets me to where I need to be. Plus, people have helped me enormously throughout the year, making it easier for me to stabilize.
“I still believe that people are really good at heart,” wrote Anne Frank. Perhaps a recognition of that sentiment, that we’re surrounded by love, is the greatest reason to give thanks.
