Giving Up Music

 Waking up around midnight, grabbing my phone to see what day it was, I felt depressed for the first time in maybe 3 weeks.

I had eaten some Shredded Wheat™ type cereal, before going to sleep; giving me my first taste of sucrose (white sugar) in probably about 3 weeks. Hmm, that's interesting. I've read that there is a correlation between blood sugar levels and things like depression...

But, I woke up, ready to start my day at a little past midnight.

I found myself gearing up to brave the 46 degree temperatures, and go to the store for alcohol.

I was tying my shoes when it dawned upon me that this was an unconscious, robotic action. I was going to run for alcohol because I had started drinking again, and it had become a habit, and a subconscious one, at that...

Part of my depression involved thinking about how I have been spending money faster than it's been coming in, lately.

It seems that I will do things to benefit myself, like buy vitamins and nitric oxide boosters for energy, and glucosamine chondroitin pills for my joints and cartilage and buy a new juicer to make healthy concoctions with; kratom to help me focus, guitar strings, a new harmonica, books and data for surfing the web and gaining knowledge -often done, with the intent of putting the money to good use, while I have the will to, and before I might become tempted to spend it otherwise. Someone with an addictive personality has to be on guard.

Then I will be set up for success -blessed with not having to go out and busk every night, with all the free time that I could ever hope for, and will be on the verge of doing good things with my existence.

Then, I will start to feel so strong and bullet-proof that, what harm will getting a six pack of beer to drink while watching the Superbowl or something do me?

It's easy to make the decision to turn over a new leaf, clean up the place and go back to a routine of getting good sleep and good food and becoming productive again, after waking up hung over and dehydrated and with the thought: I'll never do that again in mind.

But, in the feeling great and bullet proof state of mind, there is danger.

So, here I was, lacing up my sneakers, preparing for my nightly...wait, my nightly? run to the store for beer...?

I wasn't feeling that great, was worrying a bit about money, it was past midnight and I had already started to intuit that I was pushing my luck walking a half mile through the dark in a city that has de-funded its police; where the viral videos of black people just randomly attacking whites on the street have become such an inspiration to so many of the "woke" people of color here; and it was all for...beer?

Beer that was going to do the job of making me feel great again?

I thought of a concept that was introduced to me by one of the priests at the high school I went to.

He was very learned in music, theology, scripture and psychology, and, although he was one of those Catholic priests who liked to fondle young boys; there was; like almost all the shitty people I have encountered in life, a silver lining to him.

He would ask these Zen Buddhist type questions like: "What will happen if you don't run to the store for beer?

I thought about it, and it all seemed positive. I, at least would spend less money than what came in that day; wouldn't be in a viral video being beaten by uncivilized savages; but probably most importantly, I would have caught myself in a thought-construct based unconscious habit, and curtailed it. No more: Well, I'm awake and ready to get on Youtube, time to run to the store for beer and nicotine, here we go again.... type of stuff.

Those are the times when something rears its head to smite you and you wind up thinking: It happened so fast; I was walking to the store and all of a sudden these guys in hoodies just jumped me...type of thing..

And so I stayed in and decided to grab one of the 88 books that I have scattered around, and lo and behold, came across the following parable.

 The First Principle

When one goes to Obaku temple in Kyoto he sees carved over the gate the words “The First Principle.”

The letters are unusually large, and those who appreciate calligraphy always admire them as being a masterpiece. They were drawn by Kosen two hundred years ago.

When the master drew them he did so on paper, from which workmen made the larger carving in wood. As Kosen sketched the letters a bold pupil was with him who had made several gallons of ink for the calligraphy and who never failed to criticize his master’s work.

“That is not good,” he told Kosen after the first effort.

“How is that one?”

“Poor. Worse than before,” pronounced the pupil.

Kosen patiently wrote one sheet after another until eighty-four First Principles had been accumulated, still without the approval of the pupil.

Then, when the young man stepped outside for a few moments, Kosen thought: “Now is my chance to escape his keen eye,” and he wrote hurriedly, with a mind free from distraction. “The First Principle.”

“A masterpiece,” pronounced the pupil.

And in it, I gained knowledge and moved one step closer to enlightenment.

In this, I realized I have been Kosen.

When I have been working on music, or even writing this blog, I have been distracted by the creation of an imaginary audience in my head. I have gone about the business with the intention of showing up my nay-sayers (Alex in California) or trying to impress the other musicians in New Orleans by trying to capture my best performance on tape, like catching lightning in a bottle.

And have decided that doing music is off limits for me; it is keeping me bound to some kind of karma, or whatever the Buddhist term is.

I don't ever have to touch the guitar again.

"What will happen if you don't do any more music?" type of thing. Is it all positive?

Unburdened by the distraction of trying to show people like Alex "what I can do" I am sure I'm going to have less suffering, as the Buddhist put it...

 We see in other people either A: something we admire and want to emulate or B: some fault in ourselves that we need to work on.

Alex is apparently burdened by approval seeking. It seems like he is the runt of his family and feels like an embarrassment to his sisters, who are like lawyers and doctors or something, I forget.

This is the fault in myself that I need to work on. Other people's approval is like dirty rags, it goes away as they do. When they are on their death beds, they might say: "Yeah, he made some really cool songs, but, so what?" and then die.

I'm putting all my music stuff in a closet, which will create a simple open space where I can live a simple life, like a monk.

That will help rid me of intoxicants, because catching a buzz and then playing music is like love and marriage, you can't have one without the other. Just ask Miles Davis, or Janis Joplin...