It's a funny relationship I have with traveling. I guess it's my vice, whereas, I love it more than anything, yet it comes with a cost. Obviously financial costs, but, I wouldn't trade-in my debts and take away experiencing sunset on the Pacific, a game at White Hart Lane, and shit, being in Kansas City on a Wednesday in May with my Dad watching the Royals play the flippin' Twins. Wouldn't think for half of a second about it. No regrets. Thursday afternoon roadies alone to see Detroit play in Cleveland -- my favorite shit on the planet.
The REAL cost is that it gets in me and stays in me and it can't get kicked. The hangover sucks. It's a big part of this whole shitty equation that I'm trying to figure out. I love the road, I hate what it does to me when life has to happen...and life does have to happen....I'm not delusional.
What it is, I know what it is. It's hard to say, and it's hard to think, only because it can be completely mis-interpreted. I'm happier alone. I don't mind being around people...I like people, but, I've never, ever found someone who I was completely drawn to that I felt the incredible urge or neediness to always want them around at all costs....but I don't think I ever will meet that person. And that's OK. I've put a lot of people off because of that, and by no means has it ever been intentional. I guess I'm flaky, whatever people would call it...but, how I identify with the world has nothing to do with any other person on the planet.
Only in this spot though can compassion truly make its way in...and true, real love. If you live for somebody else, even your kids, you stop living for yourself...you can't do that. Give me real deep thought on this for a second -- day to day, everything is the same for most folks. They claim to be happy, and yet, whenever I have come across anybody whose ever gone out of their way to tell me how great things are, an incredible sadness is in their eyes. To brag, to be a billboard of happiness is outright phony.
It's completely bi-polar living to think of yourself as happy. Because underneath that is always the opposite, waiting to bite you. It'll bite you when your car breaks down, and it'll break you when you get shit on at work, or if say, Leodis McKelvin fumbles....(I'm just sayin', relax Buffalo).
If you weren't happy, what would you be? Sad, angry, broken, depressed, fucked up, whatever.....Where is humility, silence, stillness and compassion? It's so simple, yet painfully rare. You're just setting yourself up happy folks. When I hear someone tell me how happy they are, I shudder, because that mental construct of happy is not ever, ever permanent.
Happiness is in your soul. You can't think of yourself as happy. The greatest words to articulate this have already been taken:
"There is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way.
There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.
There is no way to enlightenment. Enlightenment is the way." -- Thich Nhat Hanh
It's no THING, it's no BODY. It's nameless, faceless. I'm there at moments. In those moments, that's where I find true grace, and it can be in such simple things. You know where my latest memory of grace comes in? And I look forward to this every time I am home -- when my little niece, 8-year old female Jerry Seinfeld, sees me, she yells "Dee, Dee!!!" and sprints full speed, usually tripping on her flip flops, or dropping her backpack, and leaps right into my arms. It's so pure, and I can understand where parenting can be transcendent in moments like that.
