Who Are You Imitating?

I'm choking on something and I'd like you to help me spit it out. I swallowed something in large amounts and toxic to my mind. It's this word, imitation, a word that has me all fired up. Who is it that wants to be imitated? The thought burns my chest even more now. How did I become the definition of imitation? Who's thoughts, actions, and beliefs have I been imitating? Why has this seemingly natural concept been revealed to me like a punch in the mouth? It's only natural that we learn from others through imitation right? I mean, we grow through imitation; brushing teeth, tying shoelaces, writing the alphabet, cooking a family dish, and learning to speak a language.

What are you tripping out for, you ask? Simple. I used to have a very common illness: Fear-O-Writing. Writing; the voice of the soul, the release of suffering, thoughts untangled and broken free from jail, creativity, juice, flow, originality, grace...you know, writing. I couldn't do it. The thought of a blank sheet of paper and a #2 pencil used to induce enough panic and fear in me to wipe out a small town . Just to reiterate and allow you the time to dismiss the thought of this being a pity party, Fear-O-Writing, though a new term created by me ;), is more common than the common cold.

Where did this fear come from? What does this have to do with imitation? Well, what happens when you give a kid blank sheet of paper, an assignment to dissect the theme of Huckleberry fin, and a five-point writing outline to follow? Argggg. Choking! It puts the kid in a box. Dark. Stuffy. Small. Creative self expression and exploration is totally hampered if not cut completely. The assignment asks the student to imitate another individual's creativity, structure, and interest! Many of us were taught that way and continue to feel the anxieties that arise from expressive writing as a result.
On a side note: To many this may be a shocker but red tape, conformity, and regulation are not my cup of tea. ;) My rebelliously curious nature guarantees teachers, local police officers, and authorities from my youth will forever, and ever, and ever, and ever remember me. Education in a box , packaged for profit by bureaucrats was an idea my little mind wouldn't comprehend. Dry class content and lack of teacher enthusiasm was painful torture. Each time I wrote, I was strongly ridiculed by my teachers for being, "too imaginative", "too outside the box" , "unable to follow the structure", and "too opinionated". I stopped writing completely.

Let me cut to the point. This method of teaching is irrelevant and always has been. It's time for a change. Change you say? Oh, what a beautiful word. How? By realizing the truth of how we've been teaching each other. Let's say a school teacher, parent, babysitter, tutor, grandmother, president, governor, whoever has not seen the spirit of inspiration, creativity, and unity in their life. They were taught to imitate THEIR teacher's version of what was right, wrong, liked, disliked, and truthful therefore defining their experiences and beliefs through shallow watered credence. From this, their ability to inquire within was truly damaged. It is now only appropriate to seek outside the self for knowledge, inspiration, and creativity.

The big, infected, ugly scab of a problem in this is, people learning through uninspired imitation, are taught not to seek or challenge the rules. Therefore, they don't know. Therefore they pass this on, and on, and on. A chain of forced, uninspired, imitation style learning grows link by link, until... the confusion's source is recognized and the chain snaps.

The confusion lies in the elusive realm of what brings an individual happiness. Get selfish, get self centered, forget about selflessness for a moment and dig deep. We need you to do this! I'm done with defining happiness in a way that makes it appear well, elusive. A smile sneaking onto my face, the taste of freedom and cherry snow cones, Van Morrison on the radio, old men bickering over chess, the sound of a swamp cooler in the summer, momentary eternal moments of bliss, laughter, good hugs, too much wine and the conversations that follow... these are my moments of joy and I use them to write. I use them to express my self.

Cut red tape with out asking permission, toss the rules, write without those damn conditioned judgements created in your youth. Inspire yourself so you can inspire others and change the way we all learn. Drink in the sun, soak up as much passion as possible so when you're filled up it spills out on the rest of us. The answers you look for in life are born from letting yourself discover what you truly enjoy. This in turn makes a beautiful, glowing, laughing, no bullshit teacher of you. Break the chain... ask yourself where your likes and dislikes have come from.

After a youth of imposed imitation and a secret rock star passion for something more, I began to seek inspiration and pick up my pen again. This explosion of life, vivid color, music, light, and love has it's grip on me. My heart throbs for it and I do have what's called a perma-grin. My life is mine and no one else. I call the shots. My voice is beautiful, my thoughts are inquisitive and carry strength, my words are pregnant with life, and I feel the blood pump through my veins now when I hold a #2. My passion is potent so watch out. This is how I choose to live, learn, and inspire.


So, What have you been thinking about today?

Thailand Travels & Irony

Boon, Korea's famed illustrator of children's books, helped me recuperate after an ugly motorbike accident in Pai Thailand this past July. We sat in hammocks drinking Lemongrass and Ginger tea, my leg propped up and Boon applying herbal oils to my wounds. She showed me her current masterpiece, freshly painted illustrations for the Korean version of The Little Prince. Her English was the best I'd heard in months. After days of painting lessons and philosophical twisters, we sadly said our goodbyes. I offered her a book I had finished reading on tantric philosophy and she handed me a book titled, Holy Cow by Sarah MacDonald.

A week later, my wounds were healing and I could actually move without groaning.
I had blown through Holy Cow the day Boon handed it to me and the scenes constantly rolled through my thoughts. Holy Cow is a hilariously personal account of Sara, a female Aussie reporter whom decided to move to India for a year with her soon to be husband (also a reporter). Her brutally honest impressions of India and it's people colliding with the massive sales and popularity of the book angered and embarrassed enough Indians that she now refuses to return to the country.

Anyway, I laughed... hard. Point being and the relevance to this article's title is, I ran into quite the ironic moment after reading the book. Traveling further north by bus, foot, and motor bike ;), I landed at You Sabai, a community farm and cooking school ran by two of my closest buddies, Krit and Yao. I learned Thai cooking and taught yoga class at dawn with the sun breaking over the lone Buddhist temple built atop quiet hills and among chirping grasshoppers.


One night after way too much Mango Sticky Rice and Mau Soi (...and cheap Thai beer...blah) we were all speaking about India. I mentioned Holy Cow and Azrial, a unique man with a full blown Jewish past and a major player in our Eco-villages movement, whipped around and said, "Holy Cow? You've read Holy Cow? Well, what did you think??!" Well, at that moment I thought he was off his rocker. Then he asked if I had read chapter 13. Considering there were 21 chapters in the book, I relied yes.
"Do you remember what it was about?" He asked. I said no.

Lo and behold, it was about him. Sarah and he had met and traveled together for about a month through central India. Blown away, I asked him if he remembered the conversations he'd had with her. He remembers her being incredibly curious and wide eyed. She had never mentioned she was a writer, or a reporter for that matter. When the book was published, Azrial's close friend handed him a copy of Holy Cow. Thinking the book was below his intelligence Azrial stuffed it in his bag and only months later on a LONG flight did he rediscover the book and read it.

Well, being on a flight and reading about yourself in a very popular novel not knowing your a large part of the content, is enough to freak anyone out. Azrial told me his heart pounded beneath his chest harder than he thought possible and his face dropped beads of sweat onto his plane tray. Nothing negative had been written about him. He just couldn't believe a blip in his memory was now a tangible quality for millions.

I find myself writing about this experience only because often I wonder where my words stick and my conversations echo. Where do they fade? What I know know is, they don't fade regardless of having a writer, reporter, newscaster, agent, friend, or lover around. Words and actions influence, inspire, or inflict. Be wise with your words and actions, they may multiply on you. I love multiplication. ;)

Enjoy!