On Religion
I seem to have this on going fight with the idea of religion, or religion itself. Even in the definition of religion. A friend of mine has the same issues, yet the other way. She keeps being friends with people who are like me, without religion, and it flies in the face of what she “knows”. Her definitions are getting all mixed up, and it is difficult. I find that whenever challenging ideas or belief, there is some push back. For me, I like ritual. I even like the catholic church for this, the incense, the robes of the priests, the music. When they started getting all laid back, that bothered me somewhat as it challenged what the church was for me. I like the pomp, while I’d rather it be in latin, you know a language mysterious and unknown, when only a few words are close to what is recognizable as my native language. I’d rather not know that what they are saying goes against my fundamental being that loves and supports everyone in their quest to be whomever they need to be.
I fill my world with ritual: the morning stretch, the thoughts of the day, my glorious cup of tea, writing. I am lucky that my work is my passion is my ritual, and that there is tea.
I spoke with a lovely man yesterday for whom I am not an option… we had this fun, energetic, kind and loving relationship all in a matter of hours, it ended when the idea of his religion got in the way. He has not been married and he wants children, I have had mine and he wants to father his own. He lives in a land where his religion is not even glorified by a structure to house those who believe what he believes. He is Hindu, and there is little room for anything but the christians here in this pent up little town. Where I have found people who accept me is with the unitarians.
I support and accept all systems of belief, to the point that they do not hurt anyone. And keeping people from exploring their own hearts and minds does do damage. When a person is unable to explore who she is in the world, what fits, how her mind flows and dreams and understands, that is a separation of spirit, and any religion or system of belief that would deny her the ability to search and find and accept, is, in my very humble opinion, at fault.
I am safe here, in these United States of America, knowing that I get to speak this way, I get to say Acceptance is better than dogma. I get to have my truth and stand in it, because this country we live in is housed in the belief that all are created equal and this is not a hindu, or jewish, or muslim, or christian, or sikh, or buddhist, or satanist country. It is a country of Acceptance. And that is worth standing in your truth for, if you didn’t already have a reason – You know, like being human.
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Wednesday, August 24, 2016
A Writer’s Fantasy
1.
I write non-fiction and I read fiction. I kind of glorify those who write the tales of the lovelorn and beautiful moments that are attained only from imagination, creating a perfect white piece of paper into a keeper of sanity.
What I write is honest and sometimes poetry. Some say my words are lyrical, yet others have tried putting them to music to no avail.
So, I continue to delve into the words of others and dream of saying in my writing, funny, lovely things that make people feel the way I feel when I read Gaskell or Tropper — and since Tropper is my contemporary, I pictured him as his main characters; a less than fit kind of ordinary man who has a vibrant way about him, just below what he shows everyone else – and to me – he would burst open, show only me the true beauty and wonder that lies beneath the shield of ordinary that saves him from getting too close to those in the outside world.
And one day, my deep red wine, shimmering in my clear crystal glass flows in sips that taste like wonder and carry my mind to a place less ordinary and I think of Tropper and how he would like to join me in this moment. I google him and find the place on the site that says “contact for media”. Since I am lucky enuf to get to interview people made famous by some arbitrary moment or other, I get to call the agent, and she is kind and says “sure, why don’t you give him a call directly so you can map out the details” and then — there it is — a phone number that, if I call, he will answer, and not only that, he is expecting my call and if I do not call, and in the next few minutes, I am risking my professional credibility.
From my glass of elixir I sip once again and dial.
2.
Friday — Noon
I breathe and wonder, as the phone rings, what is he really like? Am I just setting myself up for another coward in my life; lately littered with cowards? I see the best of people — always— and I am coming to realize this ability is, in actuality, the deepest of flaws. In seeing the best, shining with such a brilliant brightness, I am blinded to the glaring expanse of their apparent insanity – apparent to everyone else that is.
All of this flashes through my brain as the phone rings for the fourth time and Tropper answers.
“Hello?” – Tropper
“Hello Tropper, my name is Alex Spenser, and your agent gave me your number; said you might be interested in being interviewed for my show” – Me
“Yes, she let me know you would be calling” – Tropper
“Great.” – Me
(Other Tropper fans will notice that, in reverence to him, I am using his technique in dialogue edification. This is a slightly skewed homage to the master)
“What would you like to know?” – Tropper
Of course, at this moment, I can think only — What I really want to know is what your lips taste like and are you an accomplished kisser — what I say is:
“Well, I’d like to know if my style of interviewing suits you well. Some people are a bit taken aback by it.” – Me
“What is your style?” – Tropper
“I like to have a conversation, kind of feel you out, learn what makes you… you. I’ll warn you, more than a few men have cried in my interviews. I tend to find the place where life touches them with all of its strength” – Me
“Well – That’s not intimidating.” – Tropper
“You can listen to some of my past interviews if you like.” – Me
“That’s okay. I’m up to the challenge.” – Tropper
I can hear him smile.
“Well, thank you. Just so you know, I usually pre-record an interview so that it can be edited, just in case I get too close and there is anything you would rather not let the world know about.” – Me
“That is considerate.” – Tropper
“I try.” – Me
Now I am guessing he can hear me smile.
“When will you be available? My show is anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour, and you can have as much of it as you would like. I would like, if you don’t mind, to read a few passages from your book. There are some brilliant moments. Unless, of course, you would rather record them, or read them during the interview. I know not everyone likes to read their own work aloud. I myself remember avoiding a particular bar in Dallas because it meant reading my work. It terrified me. Now, I am a microphone hog. I used to have microphonophobia; since self diagnosed and treated.” – Me
“You write too? What have you written?”- Tropper
“Mostly, these days, I write for the radio show and my blog. When I am writing for me, it is prose-poetry.” – Me
“Nice. I’d like to read some of your poetry.” – Tropper
“That is very kind, and it really isn’t necessary.” – Me
Okay, now that wasn’t fair, he is bound to say…
“No, really, I would enjoy reading it. Why don’t you send some over. My email address is: tropper@gmail.com” – Tropper
Okay, so now I have his phone number and his email address, and he sounds like he is interested in doing an interview with me… flash of Donahue interviewing Marlo Thomas and falling fast in love and living happily ever after.
“I’ll send you a few pieces then, thank you. I’d love to know what you think (- – beat – -) I love your work.” – Me
“Thank you.” – Tropper
I am hoping he is genuine and isn’t tired of people saying “I love your work” .
“Would you like to schedule a time for the interview now or wait until you respect me as a writer?” – Me
“Are you in New York?” – Tropper
Hmm… he wants an in-person dialogue. – Nice.
“I could be, or we could do it over the phone.” – Me
“Why not meet at the Mayrose and maybe do the interview in the park after lunch.” – Tropper.
Wow! I love that place – I used to work there, back in the day, while I was writing my first book. I used to walk down Broadway in that neighborhood, and covet a $3000 writer’s desk in a window. When my book sold I was going to buy it as my splurge gift to myself, and then, life happened.
“That sounds great, though what about a falafel from Mamoun’s and eat it in Washington Square Park?” – Me
“Man, I haven’t thought about Mamoun’s in ages. That is perfect.” – Tropper
“Oh, well, it’s an ongoing dream of mine. Great food in the center of the universe. Having to wipe tahini sauce off my chin with the thinnest napkins ever made is one of the world’s great equalizers.” – Me
“Perfect.” – Tropper
“Perfect. What day are you free?” – Me
“Is tomorrow at one too soon?” – Tropper
“Tomorrow at one. I’ll meet you at the Arch in Washington Square Park” – Me
“I’ll see you then. It has been a pleasure to chat with you Alex Spenser.” – Tropper
“And you Tropper.” – Me
He hangs up. I do not. I am standing there, phone to my ear, in stunned silence. A cacophony going off in my brain. He is doing the interview. Great. I am going to meet him. Fabulous. It is one-ish here on my porch in beautiful Klamath Falls, Oregon. I am to meet him at one tomorrow afternoon in New York City, New York. And there is a three hour difference, and not in a good way. I asked him to go to Mamoun’s because I haven’t been there or anywhere in the City since I left in December of 1999. Oh My Goodness! (said in the voice of Shirley Temple, age 8)
3.
New York City
So, I am now sitting on the tarmac in Medford, Oregon. It is 8:42pm and the plane is taking off a little late. We, my fellow passengers and I have been assured that we will have an easy time making our connecting flight in LAX that will take us cross-country to Kennedy Airport in New York. This, of course, does not surprise any of us since our lay over in LA is three hours. Just enuf time to realize we can’t leave to meet our friends and get back through security in time to make it on the next leg of the flight.
I am telling myself that I am actually saving money because I will not need to rent a car, as I am staying in the City. Nobody needs a car in the City. With Taxis and the subway, and an easy, though sometimes long walk to get anywhere (I know there are busses too… I don’t count busses, I really do not like busses. Sorry Transportation Union dudes – truth.).
And so, $666.30 later, (I am hoping the thirty cents detracts the ominousness of the other numbers) I am on my way to catch an over-night flight to Kennedy Airport, where I will take the shuttle to the Midtown Hyatt. (Wanted to stay at the Plaza…that will be when the next book sells) I’ll nap until I take a cab the 30 blocks or so to the center of the universe, Washington Square Park.
Now I have arrived at LAX. Ready for an intense few hours of people watching. Thank you Starbucks for everything you do. I Love You!
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Saturday, October 21, 2017
Something Wonderful is Happening!
On the cover of my journal I have written “Something Wonderful is Happening!” and, therefore, it is. Words are magnets and these words I read every time I look at my journal give my brain the fodder it needs to begin creating the positive moments I want to live in.
The power of our minds to create our lives is amazing!
We, here in America, and reverberating across the planet, have endured more than our usual share of disaster from the mass shooting in Las Vegas, to the wildfires in California and Oregon, and the devastation in the wake of Hurricanes and Typhoons across the planet. We are all reeling from the destruction of lives and the pain and suffering of the aftermath. Still people are homeless and without electricity and clean water by the tens of thousands in our own Puerto Rico, a month after hurricane Maria blasted the small island. Signs throughout Las Vegas remind us to be “Vegas Strong” and fires still burn as we find 220,000 acres decimated, 5,700 structures destroyed and at least 40 people dead over more than half a dozen counties in Northern California.
And the front cover of my journal says: “Something Wonderful is Happening!”
When the fires began on October 8th, I was at a beautiful Hot Springs in far eastern California, and, as the day pressed on, more and more evacuees came to rest and breathe in the tranquility of the sanctuary. I had planned to be on the road in Northern California that day, and the plans changed without reason and, as so often happens, the reason revealed itself in a very unsubtle way.
I was enjoying the solace of the hot springs and was a witness to two different views of the fires. One woman was acting as if she were there, being engulfed by the flames, all the while recounting her knowledge that her home, her things and her family were safe. Another woman, while looking into the beautiful fire of the cast iron stove said: “…It’s beautiful, and this is what my home looks like right now – and this is beautiful, and one hundred percent contained…” with a slight smile in her voice.
The first woman was devastated in the beautiful place. The second was grateful to be so fortunate to be where she was. And both reactions to the situation were real, valid and worthy of my respect.
They were both great teachers.
Our minds are creative and we can choose how we see the world. We can look at the things that happen around us and accept and allow the flow of energy to be as it will, or we can rage against the things we have no control over.
There are actions we can take to secure ourselves against future disaster: Common sense gun regulation and care for our environment can make a great difference for the future and now – we must continue to breathe; continue to care for ourselves and those around us; and continue to love and give our brains the option of something Wonderful happening.
Today Something Wonderful is Happening!
-Alex Spenser
www.WordsWithWings.com
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