8.21.13

  Wow guys, 1,023 page views as of this morning; this is truly amazing, and it's all thanks to you. Seriously. So far, this is just beyond my wildest dreams, and I am truly grateful that others can enjoy reading my stuff, and maybe even relate.
 
  I have no grand scheme, no get rich quick scheme or any other reason in particular as to why I write; it's something I need to do, it's a pressure release valve in a way. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, so that is what makes it so special for me, it also took a lot of encouragement from a lot of amazing people in my life to finally convince me I'm worth a damn and I have a talent that should not be wasted.
  The words just come to me, but it's not always so easy to write. I still give in to that nagging little voice inside me who says I'm not good enough, or my shit sucks but I've gotten much better at just letting him talk now, and paying it no further mind. I still have no clear idea of where I want my writing to take me but it is figuring itself out as it goes, every day and so I will let it progress on its own naturally, organically.

  I don't want to make up stories. I feel like there's enough fantasy out there already, that we all need that healthy dose of reality (be it harsh or not) to keep things in check, to keep it "real". That being said, however, I still enjoy losing myself in a well-told story, it's just not me at this point and so until that day comes or does not come, that distinction will be let up to those better capable to tell them. I come from a background rooted more in philosophy and the realm of the spirit, so I want nothing more than to have a discussion, ultimately with myself.
  Yes, writing for me is a very selfish practice that ultimately benefits others as well, in some way. I'm ok with that. I want to be happy and I want that for others too. There's so much pain and confusion in the world already, I certainly don't want to contribute to it; I just want to try and show you that it doesn't always have to be pretty to be beautiful. Beauty is in the balance struck by opposing forces, at least to my mind.
  Sometimes stories come together on their own but most of the time, I just want to have an internal conversation with the heart and mind; cut right through to the core of the matter. The practice of writing allows me to be direct and focused intellectually in a way like no other, so I can effectively get what I'm trying to say across without the emotions or ego getting in the way; It's one soul talking to another.

  This experience has exceeded the little expectations I had going into it, so it validates my practice and the need to continue doing so. It's just funny how it took me so long to find my path when it was right under my feet the whole time. Life is like that, though; you notice things when you stop looking so hard for them. The rest happens on its own, when you're ready.

  Thanks for reading friends. Y'all come back now, ya hear?..

  Yours truly,
   Shane

 

 

In the meantime..

  Man, are these days getting shorter or am I just piling on more things to do in a day's time? I'm happy to have been keeping a fairly consistent post schedule, and can only hope to continue to improve. I also want to take a moment to thank all those of you who have stopped by or continue to stop by to see what my brain cooks up next; it is really wonderful to have my stuff be read and I really can't tell you how much it means to me, even if you hate it. Thanks.

  Now, I've had a busy week here with no signs of slowing until next weekend. I'm going to have to finish packing for Peach Music Festival at Montage Mountain in Scranton (PA), which I'm going to with my lovely girlfriend, Rachel, who also happens to be the reason anyone is reading this right now. The idea to blog itself did not come from her but the support and gentle push to really start did, and she helped me set up Letters of Love, Letters of Life. With her continued support and inspiration (and amazing cooking), I hope to go farther than I ever could have dreamed of going just on my own. There is definitely something to be said about surrounding yourself with the right people in your life.

  Thanks so much, again, for stopping by and reading a piece or two, giving my words a chance to be heard. New site in the works! Check back later for more details!!

  But in the meantime...

"I think you should just keep writing. Don’t force it of course, and like you’ve said and I agree the best writing comes in bursts of strong energy when necessary. However I think you should try not to be as concerned with the style of your writing and whether or not it is yours or not and just let it flow, because I think it is doing something for you that you may not be aware of yet. Something like I said, therapeutic.."

-Thank you, Jane. 
Always a true inspiration!

The Yoga of Ink

Imbued with this feeling of gratitude shining forth from my chest that’s nearly ready to burst with the goodness of it all…

I didn’t tip my tattoo artist.

I didn’t know I was supposed to—it was an entirely new experience for me and I learned as I went. Two sessions. The first session was for the initial consult and I was scared shitless. Yet I was invigorated to show someone my art, which I wanted permanently displayed on my skin.

It’s not so much a piece of art as a coat of arms. It says something about a person, and mine seems to inspire questions and wonder in those who gaze upon it, so I feel that’s fitting for me.

But I have a problem with exchanging money for such a positive and enlightening experience as I had there, and I’m not exaggerating one minute amount to say it was life-altering. Definitely affirming. I wanted to do something. Hippies don’t exchange money, but hugs only go so far

A basket filled with hand-picked organic fruits and vegetables, preferably local, is what I decided on. Also, some other vegetarian and vegan staples—lentils, quinoa, nuts, seeds—clean food.

To my mind, me picking these items out by hand, and with only the best and most positive intentions is the only true way to show someone how much you really do appreciate their efforts. I paid cash for the work itself, but I want to repay the artist with heart and soul. I want her to feel what I could not even hope to put into words or express in artwork. Some would call it paying it forward. The semantics of it are unimportant, all that matters is the expression itself.

How can you put a dollar amount to sitting sunken in to a well-worn couch, waiting patiently and unhurriedly for your tattoo artist to arrive, who is 30 minutes late, when the owner of the shop walks in the front door locking eyes with you in a split second of complete spiritual knowledge?

You just know where each other are coming from without any formal exchange of words. This is the reason you chose this place, you say. Nice work, he says. A simple thank you, and he goes off to begin his own work.

You still sit there, completely content and having not a care in the world. You simply thrive in that space and time, caught between moments of past and future.

Later, when your artist arrives and is actively scratching ink into your skin, he says how he knew something awesome would happen today, not only for the amazing piece of art on your arm, but also for the complete calm you exuded in waiting. Total acceptance. He says you were just being. Being. I could have cried and in fact did feel a slight sting in my tear ducts. Happiness.

Little moments like that just validate your whole goddamn existence, they do, and the beauty is overwhelming to me. Words really fail at times like that, but no positive action falls on deaf ears. Your every fiber of being seems to remind you, so you don’t forget and soon you feel compelled to do something good yourself, for someone else. Good decisions that lead to more good decisions by others.

After much spiritual and philosophical conversation, all of it meaningful and with purpose, he shares a glass of kombucha he brewed himself, a direct exchange of life and love from one organism to another. Let food be thy medicine, and so shall be my gift to my artist.

It won’t be fancy but it will mean something. It won’t pay your bills but it will nurture your body and spirit.

Sadly, we miss this experience anymore. Shopping complexes only complicate matters.

Live simply, live well. Most of all, live with a goddamn purpose—a meaning, and make it good.

Buy two of something and share it with your neighbor—spreading your joy even if they don’t offer anything in return. The gesture, though not reciprocated instantly, will not easily be forgotten and maybe one day, at your funeral, they will speak up about the time you did something really nice for them and that they never forgot it and this speech will sparkle in the hearts and minds of all in attendance, and it will inspire someone there to do something nice, just because.

It all comes back around, the good and bad.

There will always be those that tell me I’m going to regret getting this, because it’ll be with me for the rest of my life and what it might look like when I get older, but I really don’t care. I’m not there yet, am I? Even if I were, I would still never regret it because it was something I waited to do for years, patiently waiting for the right time and place and person to translate it to my skin for me.

It’s symbolic of why you shouldn’t rush things, and it reminds me that things will almost always work out somehow, some way, even if it’s not exactly what you thought you had in mind.

I look in the mirror and I see life reflected back at me, I can see the love in it, the peace and tranquility and see it bristling with positive affirmations.

To most, it will always just be a lot of ink on my arm. Permanently.

I’ve never been one to enjoy life inside the box, though, and I will never regret this experience because it found me truly feeling this moment.

Permanently.