It is nearly 7:30 in the morning, and it is still quite dark outside despite the snow and icestorm that is passing through. I have been up for several hours now, writing and studying music.

In other words, kindling the muse.

There is a song by James Taylor off of the New Moon Shine album called “Like Everyone She Knows,” and it struck me this morning at the right time. Here’s the point to the song:

Hold tight to your heart’s desire

Never ever let it go.

Let nobody fool you into giving it up too soon.

Tend your own fire.

Lay low and be strong.

Wait it out, let it come along.

These lyrics come to me at a time where I am returning to a simpler approach to life. I know this sounds crazy. Next week, I begin teaching a writing course in Howard County, and the following week the semester begins at Towson. My brother-in-law’s book comes out in a few months, and I’m preparing for my own official launch of my book, Cold Rock, in late March or April.

It seems like I should be forgetting all that muse stuff and that babble about simpler living, right? I need to be on autopilot and just push through these next sixteen weeks and survive. Isn’t that the right way to get through this craziness?

No. It’s not the right way at all.

I think that a return to the muse is the best way to stay focused, the best way to remain balanced through these busier times.

Writing and music touches the core of who I am. To lose contact with that core cannot be healthy for me (or for anyone else). It is through my strength, my connection to that higher spirit that I am able to do any of these things.

To abandon that now would be foolish in all ways.

So I am holding on tight to my heart’s desire. I am reconnecting with my muse and higher spirit through my own writing and music, and cherishing the simple joy and beauty it brings to my day.

The Gretsch G5120 Electromatic Hollowbody that I have pictured above is a beautiful guitar that I am looking at for late spring, early summer. Until then, I have an incredible acoustic guitar that I will play with daily, learning all I can, and reconnecting with my muse.

Playing guitar is the greatest complement to my writing for me; together, they open doors within me that I never knew existed. Through those open pathways, I find strength and balance to experience life fully, in the present.

But all I am doing is tending my own fire, laying low and being strong, and waiting it out.

The only way to letting it come along, come along. . . .

Lindsay, I am both proud and humbled by your work, and I know you will cease the fleet to live and love, at every door, along the way.

This is for you.

image: rus vanwestervelt, from photos taken at Gettysburg National Historic Site

RunSlamB r e a k

The doors I pass, all locked and sealed

with the rust of rush

of years gone by.

You, me, we as winds whip us through

so blindly we go

here, there, and every no-where.

But we–

we

RunSlamB r e a k

now

at every rush-rusted door

and live to love and love to live

and wash the rush with wishes made

here, there, and every-where.

Open doors, opportunities,

the sounds of suns sifting through red-yellow trees

seeping seeds of life and love made long to live. . . .

Carry the key always, Lindsay

and never let the rush of rust

push you by-and-by that once-opened door.

It was always meant for you.

For you, for you.

RunSlamB r e a k

for you.

A string of penalties and punishments associated with unsportsmanlike behavior, both locally and nationally, has crossed our news feeds recently, sparking spirited debates in backyards, school parking lots, and online forums. The point of discussion: Are school systems and professional sports organizations going too far in penalizing individuals and teams for showing emotional expressions of pride and elation?

Let’s get one thing straight right away. It’s not about you, Opponent. The fist pumps, the Bernie dances, the high fives — They have absolutely nothing to do with any of you. The winning team (have we forgotten that there will be a winner and a loser in such games?) is excited because they succeeded in a tackle, a score, a win. It’s not about you. It’s all about them.

This is yet another case of the establishment of a rule losing its original focus and purpose and falling into the hazy, gray area of interpretation, largely swayed by emotional parents and community members of opposing teams at the local level, and by over-controlling, power-hungry officials at the professional level.

A Little History Lesson on Unsportsmanlike Conduct in the NFL

• 1984: A rule was established in the NFL to curb individual or group celebrations that were “prolonged, excessive, or premeditated.” This was often referred to as the “Mark Gastineau Rule,” as it was believed by many that the rule was created to stop him from performing his signature “Sack Dance” every time after he sacked an opposing quarterback.
• 2004: NFL owners agree to institute an excessive celebration penalty in an attempt to eliminate premeditated celebrations. The excessive celebration infraction, considered unsportsmanlike conduct, carries a 15-yard penalty. Such choreographed performances like Terrell Owens pulling a Sharpie marker out of his sock or Joe Horn uncovering a planted cell phone are the target of the new rule. Any infraction ruled flagrant will constitute immediate ejection from the contest.
• 2006: Individual players are prohibited from using foreign objects or the football while celebrating. They are also prohibited from engaging in any celebrations while on the ground. A celebration shall be deemed excessive or prolonged if a player continues to celebrate after a warning from an official. Previously, players were not prohibited from using props or celebrating on the ground. Reason for the change: Promotes sportsmanship. [New NFL Rules for 2006]
• According to the NFL Digest of Rules, rule no. 32 defines unsportsmanlike conduct as any act contrary to the generally understood principles of sportsmanship.

Just last week, Ray Rice of the Baltimore Ravens was tagged with the same penalty for flexing his muscles after a spectacular run against the Arizona Cardinals. Apparently, the refs believe such acts are excessive taunts that are antithetical to the “generally understood principles of sportsmanship.”

So let me get this right: In the game of football, it is sportsmanlike to talk smack on the front line, grind my opponent into the turf with full force, push and shove after an intense tackle, and go helmet-to-helmet spewing insults and threats, but it is unsportsmanlike to flex my muscles after I did something I’m proud of?

At the local level, it is even worse. Earlier this week, the Perry Hall High School boys soccer team (Baltimore, MD) celebrated at the end of the game after scoring a winning goal. Parents of the opposing team (Dulaney High School) complained that the celebration was both “lewd” and “inappropriate.” The principal agreed with the parents of the opposing school and suspended the team from playing in any more games for the season — including playoff and championship matches. (Read/view the complete report HERE from the Perry Hall Patch.com site.) He announced yesterday at a press conference that he decided to reverse his decision about forfeiting the rest of the season (the team plays the semifinal championship game today against Blake at 2 p.m.), but he stands behind his original statement regarding disciplinary action against the team for “inappropriate behavior.”

Now, the Baltimore County Public Schools website provides the following statement from the Office of Athletics regarding sportsmanlike behavior:

The Baltimore County Public School Interscholastic Athletic Program is committed to promoting the proper ideals of sportsmanship, ethical conduct and fair play at all athletic contests. We oppose instances and activities which run counter to the best values of athletic competition in order to insure the well-being of all individual student-athletes. We support high standards of good citizenship and propriety, along with regard for the rights of others.

I agree with this statement. I hardly think anyone can find fault with such a general statement that promotes sportsmanship and strong athletic competition. Nowhere in this statement does it suggest or infer that players cannot be excited about the successes they experience on the field.

As a father of a child who has played team sports, however, I have seen winning teams making it personal, thrusting their arrogance into the faces of their 9-year-old opponents and focusing on the losing team’s weaknesses and challenges. Any act that is directed toward an opponent in a derogatory manner or that is focused on the failures of an individual player or team is, in all ways, unsportsmanlike and should be called as such.

But we’re not talking about such acts here. This is about end-of-game joy, personal-best celebrations, and emotional shouts of YES! for a job well done — none of which have anything to do with the opponent. Not a single one.

In our everyday lives, we celebrate personal accomplishments all the time, don’t we? A promotion, a personal best for a 5K, even answering the right question in a trivia game. We recognize and encourage demonstrations of pride and elation as strong contributors to personal wellness, self-confidence, self-esteem, and overall happiness.

Our cheerleaders promote and encourage emotional outbursts from our fans. Million-dollar scoreboards and video displays in our larger stadiums rally us to chant, cheer, and get involved. Even in other sports, like golf and baseball, fist pumps are expected, anticipated, and enjoyed by their fans. Yet, the very players for other sports who are on the field making the plays are restricted from doing anything that even resembles a fraction of such elation. It just doesn’t make any sense.

We are sending the wrong message to our sports teams, both professional and at the local level. Instead of discouraging and penalizing pride and celebration, we should be telling the refs and the parents on the losing side of the field to realize that this is part of the game. This is what you sign up for when your child plays a sport where there are winners and losers.

It’s not about you, folks. Leave the winners alone and let them celebrate their successes. Your time will come soon enough, and when it does, I hope you celebrate with the same pride and elation.

Well, I did it again, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

Not only did I leave Facebook and Twitter, I stopped my usual rounds of catching up on the latest football news, rankings, and predictions on the local news sites, not to mention ESPN, SI, Foxsports, and other national sports sites.

Finally, I feel like I can breathe again.

Not that I don’t miss chatting with my closer friends on Facebook, I do. But I imagine that, in the coming days and weeks (and it’s already started to happen with some friends), I will be finding other ways to catch up with them.

You know. In person. Face to face. Real time.

I don’t knock the social networks. They serve a purpose that can be both fun and meaningful for all kinds of relationships. But I know that, for me to be fully present for my family and still focus on my writing and photography, something had to give.

Already, I am writing more (I am here as well, which says a lot), my focus is better when spending time with others, and I am not glued to my phone or my computer.

None of these are any surprise to me. This is my third or fourth separation from Facebook, and each time I experience the same bliss.

Why even go back, then? Why return to the social-media time suckers that compromise the very things that bring me the greatest joy and allow me to live a most-balanced life?

I have no idea.

Maybe this time I won’t. I know that my book sales might suffer, and I might not have as many people see some of the photos that I have taken. As well, I know such a move goes against every marketing strategy that’s been devised in the last three years for artists who are trying to launch some kind of name for him or herself.

But my time with my family is too valuable to sacrifice for social networking and trying to “make it” as a writer and artist. I write and I take photos because it is in me; it is a part of who I am, and I cannot stop it any faster than I can stop breathing (thanks, Lacey, for that so many years ago). What is NOT a part of me is the whole selling of my work and playing some kind of game that gets me running with the creative consultants and gurus of the craft. Not when it comes at the cost of sacrificing time with my wife and children.

God bless the social gurus and network marketers. We need them, and they help so many undo the myriad blocks that have kept thousands and thousands from living a more creative, inspired life. I have family members and friends who are burning incredible new virtual paths in the connections they are making. These people are changing lives, and we are better off for their tireless energy and spirit.

Me, though? I need to do that networking at a distance. I will let my words and my images speak for me, and I will never turn down an invitation to converse about the things we love. But I cannot sell you me using social media as a device to further my passions. I just can’t.

So, you’ll see me around here more frequently. I’m still writing for Write Anything, I’m still working hard with my creative partner Cara Moulds at Cool Blue Souls on our daily Smash365 prompts and book reading club, and I’m wrapping up my book Cold Rock for release before the end of the year. I am looking for new venues for my photography, and I have a full line of competitions and deadlines for shorter writing submissions that I’m sending out on a biweekly basis. All of this is possible with the focus that is returning, thanks to my break-up with social media.

I’ll see you here and other places online and in print as well, but most importantly, I’d like to see you in person. Let’s hold on to the very things we should never stop cherishing: the embracing of life’s fragility, hand in hand, as we go along our way.

In February 2011, The Nielsen Company documented over 156 million public blogs in existence. In 2009, 1.5 trillion text messages were sent or were received (dhtech.com). According to Facebook’s statistics page (accessed at the time of this posting), there are more than 750 million active users, people spend over 700 billion minutes per month on Facebook, and they share more than 30 billion pieces of content (web links, news stories, blog posts, notes, photo albums, etc.) each month.Twitter, by its own claim, boasts that members are now posting in excess of 200 million tweets a month.

People are using writing and social networking to communicate more than ever before.

Consider the following passage from Jeremy Norman:

If we go back to the end of World War II in 1945, the year in which telegraphic use peaked in the United States, Americans sent 236 billion telegraph messages that year, seeming a huge number relative to U. S. population at the time. With respect to the amount of information transferred, numbers may be deceptive since telegraph messages were charged for by the word, and tended to be exceptionally brief, while the amount of text, audio and video information that can be transferred or exchanged in one minute on the Internet is incomparably greater than the amount of text that could be exchanged in the same time by telegraph. Because of the availability of increasingly rich and diverse information over wireless networks, the nature of telecommunication has changed. As of May 2010, cell phones, used by about 90% of American households, were used more for data, such as text messages, streaming video and music, than speech, and during 2008 to 2010 the average number of voice minutes per user in the United States fell. In his book, The Information. A Theory. A History. A Flood (2011, p. 395), James Gleick quotes Jaron Lanier dramatically describing the scale of the ever-accelerating flood of electronic information we are experiencing: “It’s as if you kneel to plant the seed of a tree and it grows so fast that it swallows your whole town before you can even rise to your feet.” (“From Cave Paintings to the Internet” http://www.historyofinformation.com/narrative/index.php)

Finally! People are writing more than they are speaking to communicate! After all these years, the written word has become king of the communication hill!

Or has it?

It seems to me that quantity has nothing to do with quality here, and in fact — all this “writing” is actually working against the production of any meaningful and significant written correspondence or communication that will survive a cache-clearing data dump of trivial information. We’re so caught up in instant communication in under 160 characters that we’re skimming the waves of our life experience. We are losing our ability to kill the motor, sink in the waters of who we are and what we feel, and share that with others in a meaningful way.

One staff writer for the Independent , who wrote an article on the state of love letters in the 21st century, posted this question last February:

Do people send each other love letters any more? Or is the exchange of amorous declarations between partners now forever delegated to the insulting greetings card, the fluffy-bunny message in newspaper classifieds, the wholly unpassionate email, the economical salutation of the text message?

The documentation of our lives, as only we can accurately record it through our own experiences, is becoming nothing more than an eWhisper, a vanishing trademark of communication that leaves us with nothing but the news, so immediately reported that we have little time to think or react to an event before the next breaking story pushes the previous one from our memories.

I am not totally discouraged. I was reduced to tears this summer when a fellow writer/teacher taught us all the art of digital storytelling, and how we can empower our students to do the same in the classroom. The integration of writing and images can be a powerful thing, and such historical documentation in a simple, digital format was not possible just a few years ago.

But I think this is the exception and not the rule. Even before programs like iMovie came along, there wasn’t a whole lot of non-digital storytelling going on either, which leads me to believe that the technology explosion is not necessarily killing all aspects of writing; it is simply revealing the ugliness of our society’s negligence in writing authentically.

We can change that. We can help each other turn off our motors and sink into the genuineness of our being.

The first step is to recognize the absolute importance of our existence, as well as the documentation of our understanding of the world around us.

Hard? I guess so. As Tom Hanks says in A League of Their Own, “It’s supposed to be hard; the hard is what makes it great.”

So who’s with me? Let’s accept that challenge, turn off the tweets and the updates, and sink a little. Then write.

I wonder what we’ll begin to discover . . . .

Eleven days ago, an earthquake rocked the Mid-Atlantic region. Then, five days later, Hurricane Irene moved through the area, bringing down trees and power lines that disrupted service to over four million people along the East Coast.

And now, looking at the weather forecast, we’ve got rain and thunderstorms predicted for every day through next Saturday. The ground is already saturated, and many trees weakened by the first two natural disasters in the last two weeks will struggle to survive the constant rains and winds that will trudge through the region at some ungodly slow pace.

These trees can take only so much before they surrender and fall to the ground — a life of 100+ years ended by the forces of nature.

Or maybe not. Perhaps all of our development has led to the rapid erosion of the areas surrounding our trees, making them more susceptible to oversaturation and high winds not buffered by a tough, surrounding terrain untouched by man.

This vulnerability — this quick breakdown of once-mighty oaks and evergreens — reminds me of what is happening to both our youth and our older generations alike.

We were, not too long ago, a tough breed. We had to move to live, to survive and thrive, both as children and in our adult lives. We were not coddled, over-protected, over-booked with too-safe activities. We took risks out of both necessity and desire. At any age, we didn’t expect anybody to do anything for us. As well, we didn’t think twice about helping others, because we had a basic respect, a faith and trust, in the people comprising our community.

The real tragedy here is this: Not that we’ve all been weakened by the lack of risk-taking movement and survive-and-thrive mentality; it’s that there are fewer and fewer mighty oaks and evergreens standing tall in our society. Tragically, we’re becoming nothing more than a conservative ground cover, staying close to the surface and being a little too territorial, pushing away others and seeing little of what the rest of the world has to offer.

We do our best to teach our kids to take those risks, but we’re now fighting an uphill battle. They have many expectations of what they believe is due to them, and they resist the challenge to move and take control of their lives, of their personal growth.

And let’s face it. They’re not the first generation of coddled kids; we struggle with this ourselves because, like it or not, we’re an MTV generation of remote controls, speedy drive-thrus, and pizzas delivered in 30 minutes or less. We are now desperately trying to reverse the direction in which we were raised. Not an easy task for any of us; so who are we to blame our own kids for expecting a little too much, and daring a tad not enough?

It seems to me that, if we expect a change in our children, we need to strengthen the roots in our own lives so that they have a few mighty oaks in their upbringing to show them how brave they can actually be in their own lives.

There’s a particular scene in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix where Dolores Umbridge takes over as High Inquisitor at Hogwarts. In a flurry of images depicting rules and restrictions being created and enforced, Argus Filch stands atop an old, rickety ladder and pounds proclamation statements into the school’s storied walls. Most noted in this montage are Educational Decrees 24 (“No music is to be played during study hall”), 30 (“All Weasley products will be banned immediately”), and 45 (“Proper dress and decorum to be maintained at all times”). The climax in this relatively short scene is when Umbridge is dismissing Professor Trelawney from Hogwarts, and Dumbledore challenges her on the dismissal.

Prof. Trelawney: For sixteen years I’ve lived and taught here. Hogwarts is my home. You can’t do this.

Umbridge: Actually, I can.

(Professor McGonagall enters to comfort Prof. Trelawney, and after a brief exchange with Umbridge, they are all joined by Dumbledore.)

Dumbledore: Professor McGonagall, might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?

Umbridge: Dumbledore, may I remind you that under the terms of Educational Decree no. 23, as enacted by the Minister–

Dumbledore: You have the right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the grounds. That power remains with the Headmaster.

Umbridge (after a long pause): For now.

As much as this scene in the movie represents the ridiculous power that Umbridge has been given (and misuses) at Hogwarts, Umbridge herself is a strong  representation of the equally ridiculous misuse of power right in our own communities.

Don’t see it? It’s everywhere, and once you begin to notice it happening in one part of your life, you suddenly recognize it in nearly every other aspect, too.

Not that this is anything new. It’s not. These demonstrations of the misuse of power accompanied by subtle-to-blatant intimidation (fought aggressively in our schools today and labeled as bullying) can be traced back (even just in the United States) to the days of colonization. Even 150 years ago, Native Americans were bullied into acculturation as we stripped them of their customs, rights, and freedoms. We forbade them to speak their native language, and families were separated as children were put in “civilization” schools. We created rules, regulations, and proclamations to steer them in a specific direction, solely for the purposes of our own benefits and desires.

It makes me wonder if this is in our blood, in our nature, in our internal drive to dominate, manipulate, and control any situation that we possibly can. It’s as if all common sense, all sensitivity toward other human beings, is shelved until a more selfish pursuit is fulfilled.

Why is this such an issue today? The dangerous mixture of this desire for power and a post-9/11 society hell-bent on creating controlled, positive experiences is threatening the mental wellness of every child in our society.

A Rule Is A Rule

Long before terrorists crashed airplanes into buildings and changed our lives forever, my terminally ill father-in-law was given 30 days to move out of the house he had been renting for over a decade. My wife and I were moving bags of trash to the curb for pick-up, and a woman in her mid-twenties, well into her third trimester of pregnancy, stopped her car and approached us. As we had put out a few lamps, I thought she was interested in taking them. When I greeted her and explained what had happened, she pulled out a camera and started taking pictures.

“I’m not interested in that. I’m the president of the Community Association, and I am documenting this direct violation of the Association’s contract with your father-in-law regarding trash disposal before 6 p.m.”

Any assistance offered, at least in the kindness of others because of her pregnancy? Any question about why the landlord would do this? Any effort to understand? None. In many small organizations like Community Associations, where people act more like dictatorial mayors than helpful and supportive neighbors, the entire purpose of the organization is lost in battles that border the ridiculous. Tell me, why does it really matter if the color I want to paint my front door is two shades lighter than your Association-approved chartreuse? Can’t we just say the paint faded years ago and move on to other, bigger issues? You know, like how many swings to place in the community playground? (Oh wait– I forgot. The Association deemed them too harmful in all ways to include in the playground blueprints.)

I remember thinking how detached from reality the whole experience seemed. I was glad that I was not part of that Association, and I vowed on that day to steer clear of such groups. I did not want my life dictated by such power-hungry individuals who had lost sight of what it meant to be human, to be bigger than a bunch of black-white rules that blocked all conventions of common sense.

I Don’t Like Your Tone

I failed in my attempts to steer clear. It becomes inevitable, I guess, when you have kids. Most recently, I have found myself in the middle of an organization that is more Umbridge-like than any other I have experienced. Within this organization, I am supposed to sign a contract that notes, among other things, zero tolerance toward personal expression. In the section titled, “Contract Termination,” I must agree to a statement (written in first person, oddly enough) that I have paraphrased here:

We understand that if there is ever a time that we cannot be a positive force to this organization, we will forfeit our place in this group immediately.

This clause was exercised earlier this year when one community family expressed concern about the organization’s direction. Because they did not exude a “positive force” in the community, they were blackballed in unprecedented fashion from all end-of-the-year festivities.

In other words, if you express anything but positivity about the organization, you will be punished severely. And that’s a proclamation you can bet on, ladies and gentlemen.

Is the Pursuit of Positivity Pushing Us Over the Edge?

In the July/August ’11 issue of The Atlantic, Lori Gottlieb explores the dangers of enveloping our younger generations with purely positive and supportive comments and opportunities (the front-cover headline, “How the Cult of Self-Esteem Is Ruining Our Kids,” is just as attractive as the article’s title, “How To Land Your Kid In Therapy”). She interviews a Swarthmore College professor of social theory, Barry Schwartz, who takes a big risk in proclaiming that creating an insulated, 24/7 Happy World for our children can lead to a very unhappy adult life. “Happiness as a byproduct of living your life is a great thing. But happiness as a goal is a recipe for disaster.” Gottlieb then poses the ultimate question: “Could it be that by protecting our kids from unhappiness as children, we’re depriving them of happiness as adults?”

The Point

I’ve said this for years now. The Post-9/11 mentality of most parents is, understandably so, one grounded in protection and security. We can no longer push our kids out the front door and tell them dinner will be ready when the porch light goes on (You better be back in this house 5 minutes later with hands washed and at the dinner table, mister!). We’ve felt guilty about this, as our childhoods were filled with adventures in exploration, experience, success, and failure. We took risks that our parents never even knew about (nor would they ever, we swore up and down). Our kids don’t have that necessarily, and we fill this need to fill that time with controlled experiences. We choose events and activities where our children will succeed, where they will experience happiness (or so we believe), and we will sacrifice nearly anything and everything to provide them with such opportunities.

In essence, we’re doing the very thing that I absolutely loathe about the above-mentioned Associations and Organizations. We are constructing guilt-freeing Truman Shows for our kids, controlling the outcome of every “risk” they might take.

I can’t do this. I can’t hold my tongue in fear of popping this happiness bubble that we’ve created with sharp words that might offend in this fragile time. Thoreau wrote many years ago, “Let us spend one day as deliberately as Nature, and not be thrown off the track by every nutshell and mosquito’s wing that falls on the rails.” We need to return to this toughness. We need to stop worrying about our kids’ happiness being derailed by anything that’s missing a soaring rainbow or happy heart.

Those of you who know me might see this as a deviation from my positive approach to living life. Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe in living your life fully and authentically. Thoreau also said that we must corner life and experience it fully–it’s greatness as much as its meanness. We, as parents, cannot remove that truth from a life lived authentically. As Schwartz said in The Atlantic article, happiness should be a byproduct of living genuinely, and not the ultimate goal.

I am guilty of inviting them, these distractions. I interact with Facebook friends on an hourly basis at times, especially when I am engaged in a rather exciting experience. Earlier this week, My wife and I took our two younger children for a Light Rail tour of Baltimore, stopping on three of the stops and exploring coffee houses, museums, and the lure of Camden Yards and the Inner Harbor. Along the way, I updated my Facebook status, “checked in” at each location, and uploaded pictures of each site.

In many ways, I felt as if my Facebook Friends were with us during the entire day-long trip.

I was the one who invited you. Nobody asked me to take them along. I just jumped in the stream and paddled with the current.

I am so happy and disgusted with this stream for so many reasons. I am not a black/white person; I believe in variations of gray, where flexibility and participation runs on an experience-by-experience basis. But I don’t think I have ever faced such a love/hate relationship with two extremes in my life.

I click on any of the news feeds, and I am bombarded with unspeakable tragedies–all in my own back yard. I click over to Facebook and agonize over status updates and how others are doing. I am both comforted by being in touch and overwhelmed by the stream of information that sustains this pulse with the rest of the world.

By doing this, though, I lose my own pulse and struggle with le seul mot juste, that one precise word that I can no longer find to capture my dizzying thoughts that have lost their ability to just slow down enough to appreciate the simple movement of the Earth.

Just the other day I had breakfast with a good friend, and I expressed to him the agony of trying to wrap up my book and get it out to the public. I have wrote and rewrote and revised and edited and changed and destroyed and recreated the ending dozens of times. And now, I find myself right back where I started when I had first drafted the ending. All of that rewriting–and for what? Was my motive to find the right words for me? For what I wanted to say? Or was it to please my readers? To give them what they wanted?

My friend reminded me that I cannot be bothered by any of that. As artists, as writers, as creators, we must work with and share what is the most authentic and genuine reflection of ourselves, whether it be fiction, fact, watercolor, or pastels. I nearly ripped out my hair when he said these words, the very same that I have been preaching for the last 20 years to writing students and colleagues. Why is it so hard for us to follow our own advice?

I know that if I unplug to find and retain my own pulse, then I risk losing that other pulse of the stream that feeds me.

But is that so true? Spending so much time in the virtual world has cost me time with one of the best people I know, and I miss our unplugged meetings at the Bean Hollow in Ellicott City. Facebook has reunited me with another wonderful person in my world who now lives in Maine, but would it be so hard for us to write letters? Call each other? Actually make plans to travel north for the first time 17 years?

When I visited the Walters Art Museum a few days ago, I thought of the time, energy, and commitment–discipline–it took to create those paintings, statues, and sculptures. We treasure these findings because they represent those individuals’ unique perspective on their time period–but collectively, the lot of them gives us a greater understanding of the struggles, the imperfections as well as the interplay between life and love, between love and war, between war and peace.

Do we have such depth anymore? What will be in our museum in 2,000 years? Status updates and cool pictures that have been rendered and manipulated by high-tech, low-cost apps that do all the work for us?

Where is the individuality? The hard work? The unique perspective that is not being filtered by some money-making program created by some individual who, like every other developer, is just trying to make our lives easier.

I don’t know if I want your help going down the stream. I don’t know if I want you to make my paddles of the finest wood or plastic. I don’t even know if I want your 21st-century kayaks and canoes that have been tested, thousands of times, to ensure my journey will be both thrilling and safe.

I don’t even know if I like this stream at all. But O! The pressures to stay with the current! To keep up and swim with the masses! I know Emerson wrote that the Great Man is he who can keep the sweetness of solitude with him in the heart of the city. But really, Ralph–did you ever imagine it would be this crazy? Thoreau would walk into town daily to meet with friends and buy his day’s groceries, but he never did his writing immersed in such travels. The distractions were isolated by physical spaces and distances. Today, we are tracked (and we track ourselves) by technology. Any lapse in response to text messages, emails, or the antiquated phone message casts immediate concern and inquiry. Where were you? Didn’t you get my message? Why didn’t you respond? You didn’t have 20 seconds to reply? What was so important that you couldn’t have answered?

Distractions, distractions, distractions.

We are living lives tied by the needs and desires of others, stuck in this whirlwind of what-do-you-thinks and why-didn’t-anybody-responds… (Guilty. Right now. Wondering who will comment, if anybody, and whether this post will click with my intended audience. Whether I will get support and encouragement to leave the stream. Whether this will be a popular decision. Absolutely guilty.)

Hey–I’ve already damned my connection with my reader at this point. I’m over 1,000 words, and most people won’t read beyond the 25-word blurb posted on Facebook’s status feed anyway.

(Have I offended thee, reader? Are you feeling insulted that I have lumped you in with the masses that I am railing against now? Please, do not be offended. I do none of these things. I merely write to understand this struggle within to stay with the masses while staying in my own waters.)

Even with these words, I am concerned with my reader, concerned that I have offended in my own struggles to understand this raging battle between the desire to please and the necessity to create.

I do not believe that an authentic life is possible blending these two. The Sweetness of Solitude can only come when one has learned fully who he is.

Distractions, distractions, distractions.

Will I (or any of us in this new era of distractions) ever be able to accomplish such a feat in our lifetime?

I am desperate for some good news.

All day I have been contemplating what to post this evening. I wanted to post something upbeat, happy. I wanted to share some not-necessarily breaking news but still happy thoughts that most people knew little about.

So, I went to my usual news sources and found the following lead stories.

Earthquake. Tsunami. Abduction. Rape. Arson. Drug Bust. Murder. Budget Cuts. Layoffs. NFL Breakdown.*

Ugh. See what I mean?

So let’s head over to happynews.com, my sister’s favorite news source, and see what’s happening.

• “30 Years Later, School Crush Leads To Marriage” Ooooh. That’s a nice one.
• “School Board Hero’s Purse Raises $26,000 for Charity” I like this one too. Remember that viral video where the school board member attacked the out-of-control parent?
• “Volkswagen Unveils New Version of Iconic Microbus” Woohoo! Now you KNOW I love this story! :)
• “Operation Smile and Smile Train Combine to Help More Children” This story makes me happy for so, so many reasons….
• “‘Snooki’ Cuts Hair for Locks of Love” What? Some celebrity not getting busted or suing somebody for 100 million? Shockingly wonderful!

That’s more like it…

I hope you all have a blessedly wonderful Friday night. Enjoy the ones who surround you, and let them know how much they really mean to you…

*(My thoughts and prayers continue to go out to those affected by all of these horrible stories. I mean no disrespect to any of them by not focusing more on their respective tragedies.)

The song, “On the Sunny Side of the Street,” was originally performed in 1930 for the musical Lew Leslie’s International Review. The Manhattan Transfer does a great job of bringing a refreshing, upbeat sound to this age-old classic.

It’s stuck in my head now, as this storm passes over our house; while our back yard’s rain-brushed lilac bushes are drenched in sunlight, the front of the house still remains dark and ominous.

I shift my chair to look out the back windows and keep to the sun.

My sister, my hero, has mastered this. In her two-decade battle with cancer, she shuns the evening news and gets her top stories from happynews.com (“Real News, Compelling Stories, Always Positive”).  She surrounds herself with positive people, positive messages, positive everything.

I have to admit, I’ve sought out comic relief lately to balance out some of the deeper subjects I’ve been writing about. Amy and I cycle through the various seasons of 30 Rock, Arrested Development, SNL, and even Weeds after the kids go to bed. There’s something about laughing out loud right before going to sleep that makes me wake up a little happier. A few weeks ago, we watched Seven Pounds with Will Smith, and–to quote Harry Potter in Prisoner of Azkhaban (the book–Ron said it in the movie), I awoke feeling “like I’d never be cheerful again.”

Who needs that?

I hope you find your way to the sunny side of the street today, despite whatever storms may be passing overhead. . . .