We All Should Be as Happy as Kings

And the leaves that are green turn to brown. Yes, they do- but on the way, they turn red and orange and yellow and all sorts of mystical Nameless (and thus more mysterious and powerful) colors.

It's a cold, drizzly sort of morning here in Colorado- one of those sloppy mixes of snow and rain that, upon first view from the bedroom window, made me think, "oh, don't tell me I have to go out in that". You know what I'm talking about- temperatures above freezing, but just a smidge, ground covered with wet leaves that will stick to your shoes and not come off until you're standing on the carpet you just vacuumed yesterday. The kind of day where a full winter coat is too much and the sweater you're wearing isn't quite enough to keep you from shivering.

And for a good twenty minutes I let myself succumb to the joys of boo-hoo-ing about it.

But I just can't do that for too long. I don't know why, exactly, but the world always seems to me to be this really beautiful place, full of color and sensation and magic. I look up and down my street and see Fall in all it's glory- crisp and real and alive. I go inside and have a cup of coffee and contemplate what to listen to on the stereo while I do my morning's writing. I go with Copeland's music for Our Town. Copeland rocks.

How could I complain about anything, really? Yes, I could use more money, warmer clothes, cleaner shoes- but holy shit am I lucky. Lucky to have been born where I was born, lucky to be in fairly good health, lucky to have married someone I love very much, lucky to have the friends I have. I mean, I must have somehow gotten that bowl of Lucky Charms that actually gives you good luck. Thanks, Leprechaun dude!

There's this really great DVD called 1Giant Leap, which was basically this project these two guys put together, wherein they wrote a bunch of songs about universal themes- love, death, time, sex, God- and then went all over the world recording interviews with different people from all walks of life talking about those themes. They also layed trackes with musicians from all over- so one song might have percussionists from Thailand playing, along with vocalists from South Africa- really groovy, world music kind of stuff that if you listen to on our ipod in the right frame of mind can make you feel like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia after he puts on the Sorcerers hat- powerful and overwhelmed. Anyway- in the segment on time, one of the many people they talked to was Dennis Hopper- and he goes on this tear about how we are all miracles, when you think about it. Here we are on this little planet, shooting through space at incredible speed as we orbit the sun- and somehow, there's life, and music, and people. It's a miracle. We're all miracles.

I feel like that today. Like a miracle.

Of course, my life is pretty good right now, so it's easy to feel like that. I mean, I have a play running in Prague that keeps selling out; I just found out my one act Hela and Troy is going to be published by Playscripts, inc.; I teach children theatre for a living. I don't want to say that life can't be hard- I know that there are days and weeks and months and years that suck ass. There is intolerance, and misery, and sorrow all over, non-stop. There are children starving right now- millions of them- and at the same time, Rush Limbaugh sits on his fat ass and gets paid enormous amounts of money for spouting hate and the soft bigotry of being an asshole.
But still, in spite of everything- I find this world beautiful.

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote, 'The world is so full of a number of things, That we all should be as happy as kings.' He had it pretty good, too- but I think he was right.

I guess the thing to do is revel in this world, and try and help as many people as we can.
And not complain about something as mundane as a change in the weather.

Shake It Up

Seriously. Shake it up. Not to honor the old song by The Cars, though there's nothing wrong with that notion, but to get the proverbial juices flowing. Get out there and do something different for a moment, an hour, a day. Twist the scenery of your daily pageant and taste something new. Order a different drink at the bar, add cream to your black coffee or salt to your grapefruit.

That's right, salt your damn grapefruit. This has become a blog of daily confirmations, exhortations, and exhilaration. Why not? We let the world say the same old thing, day in and day out, every freaking day- and I have had enough.

More things that we all should do:

Buy the album Vinyl by D'Haene- up and coming band, will rock your soul.
Go to Prague and see my show, Cesta Horiciho Muze- because Prague rocks, and so does my show.
Talk to a total stranger. That's right- even if they have candy.

This isn't a new idea, I know- but it's one of those things we manage to learn and forget over and over, ad infinitum.

Example: this past week, my good friend Jack- resident genius of Jersey City's Art House Productions- came to visit. One of the many great things about company is that it forces us to change our routine, to vary the daily grind- you know, to shake things up.

So shake we did, along with some rattling and rolling, and good times were had by all. Amoung the many excellent things I/we experienced this past week was some great art at the Denver Art Museum. An entire room painted red, with grey foxes running wild. A strangely serene painting of a little girl that supposedly haunts the sixth floor of the North Building- at least that's what the security guards tell me. And this installation by Bjorn Melhus that was friggin' amazing. He basically took a bunch of sound bytes, mostly from Star Trek, and created this Beckett like series of vignettes, with three characters standing on a desolate planet pondering life, love, and our eventual deaths. Very funny, unique, and ultimately moving. And, we got to watch the whole thing while sitting on bean bag chairs.

It was one of those little moments in life that I knew, as it was happening, was for some unknown reason, important to my thread of being. I know that, years from now, I'll think of that artwork and smile, perhaps even be inspired in something I am working on, to new levels of brilliance.

All because of a slight variation in schedule.

Shake it up, baby, with all you've got.

And then see where the paint spatters have landed.