I'm truly excited about 2011. For a variety of reasons, I believe it’s going to be a very positive and productive year and that it will mark the functional beginning of many good things for both of us. 2010 has been a particularly educational and watershed stretch, but we are grateful for the experiences that have helped re-direct our course on par with a life that we truly want. Entering the New Year seems like a good time to review a few of the biggest lessons that I’ve personally picked up in the past 365 days:
I’ve learned that the difference between practice and being is largely a matter of personal commitment.
I’ve learned that life is very much about every day, and every little moment - and not just about grand, distant plans.
I’ve learned that you can never really know who your friends are until they have to sacrifice something for you.
I’ve learned that in order to move toward real satisfaction you have to build the career and the life that you actually want, and not the one that you think it would be smart to have.
I've learned that I really enjoy tea, and that champagne depresses me.
I’ve learned that other people are rarely worth being dressed uncomfortably for.
I’ve learned that most of what is sold to us as new is in fact simply cleverly repackaged fetishizing of the past.
I've learned that it's nice to have some tradition and ritual in your life.
I’ve learned that unfortunately it is in fact the loudest voice in the room that most often wins, but also that it’s not wrong to fight fire with fire in defense of a good cause.
I've learned that dogs tend to offer better therapy than clinics.
I’ve learned that in terms of pure dollars and cents, my time is worth far more to me than it is to anyone else.
And though I believed it before, I’ve learned that you can choose your family.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Three Favorite Children’s Books
Shaun Tan’s The Arrival is the most recent discovery here. This clever story creatively employs a magical realist perspective toward conveying the immigrant experience. A treasure in its art and originality, The Arrival’s principal victory may be its thoroughly effective and authentic use of the silent narrative voice.
I think one reason that I am still in love with Robert C. O'Brien's Mrs. Frisby and The Rats of NIMH is simply that it was one of the first books that helped me to fall in love with reading. More than one of my childhood pets was subsequently named after a NIHM character. However, I do have to say that I was disappointed with the film adaptation’s portrayal of Jenner, as well its unfortunate and unnecessary rewrite toward the demise of the Nicodemus (which DOES NOT happen in the book). Anyway…
Generally a fan of the body of Chris Van Allsberg’s work, I nonetheless think his most beautiful and magical piece remains The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. This book found me in third grade and it’s been the kind of gift I’ve wanted to share with other people ever since.
So, Merry Christmas, my dear fellow perennial children. Here’s to another year of imagination, adventure, and refusing to grow up.
I think one reason that I am still in love with Robert C. O'Brien's Mrs. Frisby and The Rats of NIMH is simply that it was one of the first books that helped me to fall in love with reading. More than one of my childhood pets was subsequently named after a NIHM character. However, I do have to say that I was disappointed with the film adaptation’s portrayal of Jenner, as well its unfortunate and unnecessary rewrite toward the demise of the Nicodemus (which DOES NOT happen in the book). Anyway…
Generally a fan of the body of Chris Van Allsberg’s work, I nonetheless think his most beautiful and magical piece remains The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. This book found me in third grade and it’s been the kind of gift I’ve wanted to share with other people ever since.
So, Merry Christmas, my dear fellow perennial children. Here’s to another year of imagination, adventure, and refusing to grow up.
Friday, December 17, 2010
First Christmas
I haven't bothered to get a Christmas tree since I first started living on my own. It always seemed pretty pointless. That was about 11 years ago.
When I was living in the basement apartment in Cambridge, I used to string up Christmas lights all through the exposed pipes every winter. I’ve always loved Christmas lights, and I used to leave them up in my place following the holiday until all the bulbs had finally burned out months later. I don’t really know why, but Christmas is still my favorite holiday.
A lot has changed in the last few months alone, and for a number of reasons life is much better now than it has been in years. Redhead and I are both finally doing what we really need to be doing. And personally, I feel like the music I’m writing is something I’ve been trying to write for a long time.
I recently picked up The Fountainhead for the first time since I was an undergrad. God bless Ayn Rand. I remember finishing Atlas Shrugged during a graveyard shift as a community college-attending security guard. It was a gorgeous night, and the book made me feel like anything was possible. I’ve never gotten over that. Reading The Fountainhead again recently, I was touched by Roark’s words in the first chapter: “I have, say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standard—and I set my own standards.”
Recently, Redhead and I bought our first ornaments for the artificial hand-me-down tree I’ve strapped to the bookshelf in lieu of a stand. The ornaments are little snowmen frames in which she put photos of us and our dogs. In so many ways, my wife is what makes us feel like a family.
This morning I took a walk with my beautiful dogs through the crisp LA winter morning—like a light New England Fall, almost raining. Witnessing my dogs' joy in the outdoors, I just took my time and enjoyed thinking about the music I would get to write today.
When I was living in the basement apartment in Cambridge, I used to string up Christmas lights all through the exposed pipes every winter. I’ve always loved Christmas lights, and I used to leave them up in my place following the holiday until all the bulbs had finally burned out months later. I don’t really know why, but Christmas is still my favorite holiday.
A lot has changed in the last few months alone, and for a number of reasons life is much better now than it has been in years. Redhead and I are both finally doing what we really need to be doing. And personally, I feel like the music I’m writing is something I’ve been trying to write for a long time.
I recently picked up The Fountainhead for the first time since I was an undergrad. God bless Ayn Rand. I remember finishing Atlas Shrugged during a graveyard shift as a community college-attending security guard. It was a gorgeous night, and the book made me feel like anything was possible. I’ve never gotten over that. Reading The Fountainhead again recently, I was touched by Roark’s words in the first chapter: “I have, say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I’ve chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I’m only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standard—and I set my own standards.”
Recently, Redhead and I bought our first ornaments for the artificial hand-me-down tree I’ve strapped to the bookshelf in lieu of a stand. The ornaments are little snowmen frames in which she put photos of us and our dogs. In so many ways, my wife is what makes us feel like a family.
This morning I took a walk with my beautiful dogs through the crisp LA winter morning—like a light New England Fall, almost raining. Witnessing my dogs' joy in the outdoors, I just took my time and enjoyed thinking about the music I would get to write today.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Evidence of Value
A value is derived ultimately from either an internal or an external source. While in actuality most motivators consist of a messy hybrid of the two, a single overriding authority will nonetheless tend to dominate every human decision.
People generally survive on some combination of externally and internally oriented values. On one hand, some modicum of practical, externally based validation and cultural awareness seems reasonable. To exist in any functional economy, for instance, requires a person to be in some way concerned with externally based values.
However, to depend principally upon the validation of outside opinions or forces is not only unhealthy, it is dangerous. Regarding the artist and his or her artistic work, this tendency is simply a contradiction in terms. The ultimate motivation and validation of the true artist approaching the creative product begins and ends internally.
For my part, I refuse to understand an individual’s belief system as existing separate from his or her track record of actions. When a person continually professes to believe something in contravention to what he or she actively incarnates, that person is either lying or simply doesn’t understand he or she actually believes. However imperfectly, internal value is evidenced in the life of the individual over time.
It is in the worst moments, under turmoil and duress, that an individual’s truest values are evidenced. Particularly here, what I am is truly what I believe. I have also come to hold the notion that adamance alone can assign incredible meaning and value to a thing, and even to a life. Macroscopically, the adamance of lone individuals has repeatedly altered the course of world events.
Money is also a signifier of value. I have heard artists dismiss money as corrupt, and cash remains a popular scapegoat for a variety of human concerns. However, currency is simply a reflection of collective value, a placeholder, a mirror – and what it reflects in the end is its respective user’s particular values. In fact, money’s only significance derives ultimately from our collective belief in its worth. In this sense, money is perhaps the chief example of an externally based value.
Money is simply a tool, not an end in itself but a means to something else. It doesn’t make sense for money to be worshiped or despised, just as it doesn’t make sense to hate a hammer for its inclusion in some crime. Money is amoral, and remains subject to the values of its masters. And while money is an important feature of human economy, it is crucial to remember that to base one’s values on money alone is to base them on an external and therefore an ephemeral source.
The real value of money is what it can do to improve our lives, whatever that really means to each of us. Money allows the greater potential engineering of desirable situations, but it remains the individual’s responsibility to execute moral decisions directing this instrument. As with philosophy, a misunderstanding or ignorance of money will tend to lead to an unfortunate shift toward the lowest common contextual denominator.
It can also be difficult when one's values are based principally upon internal motivators that do not translate conveniently to outside initiatives. For instance, an individual who carries a true passion for the art of real estate investment will likely need to worry less about additional income then someone following a passion for experimental sculpture. For these latter individuals in particular, the reality and consequences of one's values remains very present.
For a variety of reasons, the older we get the more our real values tend to become actualized. Time allows our choices the opportunity to incarnate and compound exponentially, and the results of our truest values grow increasingly evident as days stretch to years. The values people command seem far more real to me now then they used to, in large part because I’ve had the opportunity to witness what various philosophies do to real lives.
We all have only the time and space for a relatively limited set of real priorities, and it seems that significant value in our lives over time can only be achieved through the deliberate act of searching out these real priorities and actively placing them at the forefront of our daily choices. Emerson cautioned “Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” No, we can’t worry about the path; if we're on a path, it's likely we may already be lost. Instead, we can only move toward a greater discovery of what each of us truly values, and then strive to live and to remain involved with those people, things, activities, and ideas.
People generally survive on some combination of externally and internally oriented values. On one hand, some modicum of practical, externally based validation and cultural awareness seems reasonable. To exist in any functional economy, for instance, requires a person to be in some way concerned with externally based values.
However, to depend principally upon the validation of outside opinions or forces is not only unhealthy, it is dangerous. Regarding the artist and his or her artistic work, this tendency is simply a contradiction in terms. The ultimate motivation and validation of the true artist approaching the creative product begins and ends internally.
For my part, I refuse to understand an individual’s belief system as existing separate from his or her track record of actions. When a person continually professes to believe something in contravention to what he or she actively incarnates, that person is either lying or simply doesn’t understand he or she actually believes. However imperfectly, internal value is evidenced in the life of the individual over time.
It is in the worst moments, under turmoil and duress, that an individual’s truest values are evidenced. Particularly here, what I am is truly what I believe. I have also come to hold the notion that adamance alone can assign incredible meaning and value to a thing, and even to a life. Macroscopically, the adamance of lone individuals has repeatedly altered the course of world events.
Money is also a signifier of value. I have heard artists dismiss money as corrupt, and cash remains a popular scapegoat for a variety of human concerns. However, currency is simply a reflection of collective value, a placeholder, a mirror – and what it reflects in the end is its respective user’s particular values. In fact, money’s only significance derives ultimately from our collective belief in its worth. In this sense, money is perhaps the chief example of an externally based value.
Money is simply a tool, not an end in itself but a means to something else. It doesn’t make sense for money to be worshiped or despised, just as it doesn’t make sense to hate a hammer for its inclusion in some crime. Money is amoral, and remains subject to the values of its masters. And while money is an important feature of human economy, it is crucial to remember that to base one’s values on money alone is to base them on an external and therefore an ephemeral source.
The real value of money is what it can do to improve our lives, whatever that really means to each of us. Money allows the greater potential engineering of desirable situations, but it remains the individual’s responsibility to execute moral decisions directing this instrument. As with philosophy, a misunderstanding or ignorance of money will tend to lead to an unfortunate shift toward the lowest common contextual denominator.
It can also be difficult when one's values are based principally upon internal motivators that do not translate conveniently to outside initiatives. For instance, an individual who carries a true passion for the art of real estate investment will likely need to worry less about additional income then someone following a passion for experimental sculpture. For these latter individuals in particular, the reality and consequences of one's values remains very present.
For a variety of reasons, the older we get the more our real values tend to become actualized. Time allows our choices the opportunity to incarnate and compound exponentially, and the results of our truest values grow increasingly evident as days stretch to years. The values people command seem far more real to me now then they used to, in large part because I’ve had the opportunity to witness what various philosophies do to real lives.
We all have only the time and space for a relatively limited set of real priorities, and it seems that significant value in our lives over time can only be achieved through the deliberate act of searching out these real priorities and actively placing them at the forefront of our daily choices. Emerson cautioned “Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” No, we can’t worry about the path; if we're on a path, it's likely we may already be lost. Instead, we can only move toward a greater discovery of what each of us truly values, and then strive to live and to remain involved with those people, things, activities, and ideas.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Organizing Principles
It’s always been difficult for me to understand precisely how anyone is able to teach another individual the creative act of music composition. Though I’ve been very lucky to study with a number of exceptional composers, I’ve nonetheless never stopped wondering at how anyone could be so insightful regarding the artistic work and unique journey of another person. Consequently, I am not really sure how I would teach music composition were I ever asked to do so. Maybe I would just try to share a few fundamental principals that I’ve collected so far and that I continue to find useful. To that end, following would probably be the first ten from an ongoing and perpetually imperfect list of things I think I've learned about the creative act of writing music so far:
1) Do whatever you want to do that you’re most frightened to do.
2) Anything can be elegant.
3) Commit to the principal of Kaizen: a continual, incremental improvement.
4) Find your own process, perfect it, and then remain faithful to it. The process is the ritual and consistency of process, not local quantity, is the key to long-term progress and truly significant results.
5) Move beyond the need for external validation toward your creative work, particularly if you harbor intentions of accomplishing anything that is in any way actually new.
6) Strive to be utterly honest and brutally critical with yourself. No one else can critique your work in the way you can. Alternately, if you let yourself off the hook then no one will be there to hold you completely accountable and the work will suffer. You are the only real standard as well as the only real enforcer by which the standard is maintained.
7) Take all the time necessary to get this one moment absolutely right before you move on. Once it’s perfect, it’s perfect forever.
8) Anything that the creator experiences can serve to inform the artistic product. Nothing remains off limits or beyond the perimeter.
9) Imagine the body of work that you want to be proud of twenty years from now and get started on it immediately.
10) Cut, cut, cut away. Nothing is sacred but the very end product.
1) Do whatever you want to do that you’re most frightened to do.
2) Anything can be elegant.
3) Commit to the principal of Kaizen: a continual, incremental improvement.
4) Find your own process, perfect it, and then remain faithful to it. The process is the ritual and consistency of process, not local quantity, is the key to long-term progress and truly significant results.
5) Move beyond the need for external validation toward your creative work, particularly if you harbor intentions of accomplishing anything that is in any way actually new.
6) Strive to be utterly honest and brutally critical with yourself. No one else can critique your work in the way you can. Alternately, if you let yourself off the hook then no one will be there to hold you completely accountable and the work will suffer. You are the only real standard as well as the only real enforcer by which the standard is maintained.
7) Take all the time necessary to get this one moment absolutely right before you move on. Once it’s perfect, it’s perfect forever.
8) Anything that the creator experiences can serve to inform the artistic product. Nothing remains off limits or beyond the perimeter.
9) Imagine the body of work that you want to be proud of twenty years from now and get started on it immediately.
10) Cut, cut, cut away. Nothing is sacred but the very end product.
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