Thanks for your post as well, Curtis. I loved it all, but the part about finding the little girl in the pink dress just charmed my socks off. More realization in that moment than one is likely to see in the TM movement in a year.
--- In [email protected], "curtisdeltablues" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > Thanks for the generous spirit of that post Turq. I think one of the > nicest things you can do for someone is to give them an excellent > reputation to live up to. Very cool. I had an outstanding day and > I'll honor your post by describing some of it for you. > > Today in Northern Virginia it was Spring for a day. For the last 10 > years or so, I have used such days to play my music in Old Town > Alexandria, on the boardwalk right on the Potomac river down the road > from ol' G. Washington's crib in Mt. Vernon. I think he is famous for > being on the one dollar bill or something so people around here make a > big fuss over him. Old Town is an international melting pot of > tourists as well as an upscale Yellow Labrador kind of place. On days > like today, the board walk is full of our fellow humans strolling in > the beauty and looking for something to do with their kids that > doesn't involve fist fulls of G. Washingtons flying out of their > pockets.. They accept the minor ass whipping of a family feed at Ben > and Jerry's joint and then they enter my world. I call it my world > because my job is to turn strangers into paying customers within a few > minutes of eye contact. The set up is that I am playing my bass drum > and hi-hat cymbals to a nice 2/4 rhythm as naturally as a walker's > gait. My National Steel resonator guitar is very loud and I slash the > slide along the stings to find all those in between notes that > bluesmen love. I have a harp on a rack which I play from the depths > of my diaphragm ( I really should switch to the pill) so it is also > freak'n loud. On top is what is referred to in Kindergarten as my > "outdoor voice", projected out like my heroes did for the sole purpose > of stopping traffic. It used to be hard juggling all this but that was > a long long time ago. Now it is just like driving my car and talking > on my cell phone. It all purrs along all on its own and requires a > very small part of my conscious attention. So what do I do with all > that free awareness? Here is where it gets interesting. > > What I am doing is looking into the eyes of strangers as they walk by. > For an instant most people will look into my eyes and and express > their appreciation. Girlfriends out with their dudes give me the sly > looks out of his sight at the bawdy lyrics "I'm a king bee baby, > buzz'n around your hive, I make good honey baby, why don't you let me > inside". (Slim Harpo) By Summer they will all be in tissue paper > dresses. Older couples who still feel the groove, white, black, > brown, Asian, whitebread, they are all out and about and walking in on > my concert. > > My job is to wink, nod my head, connect with these passers by, and > most of all to get kids to join me by playing maracas. This is where > social outreach of preserving the blues has one too many drinks with > pure mercenary agenda and they end up at her place with their cloths > off. At first it was a gimmick for me to get the people to stop and > listen. Then the kids started teaching me what it is really all > about. Through the years I have developed a lot of tricks and bits of > business to get a shy kid to join me with the maracas. I get plenty > of confident kids who come right up, but my personal mission is to get > the shy kid to come up and experience performing. Sometimes I use the > ruse of spotting a girl in a pink dress and scanning the crowd telling > them that I need one girl in a pink dress to complete the band. I > look everywhere but where she is until the whole crowd is pointing at > her and she is jumping up and down like she won the lottery. It is a > magic moment. The kids shake the maracas along with the song and they > really open up. In between verses I talk with them and build trust so > that at the end of the song I can ask them all (it can be up to 20 > kids) to hold the maracas over their heads while they jump up and > down. In this finale I play a very fast shuffle and go wild on the > harp. Every kid jumping up and down looks like they are selling soap, > big big smile, face lit up with joy, and then I shift my attention > back to the crowd and watch it spread through the adults. A yagya of > pure joy and happiness with a bunch of strangers, a shared moment that > all comes back to me. In the end I point to the kids and ask the > audience to give my percussion section a big hand and the kids look > out at an audience clapping for them. Each kid hands me their maraca > and I give them a high five telling each one "you are good at music" > as our hands connect. Then the parent's dollars start flowing... I > repeat this miracle for four hours, till my lips are chapped from my > harp, and I just can't push my voice out at that volume any more. I > earn more dollars than any local club pays, and sold a bunch of CDs to > people who often show up at my club gigs requesting specific songs. > It ain't VH1 fame, but it totally kicks ass for me! > > I come home physically tired but my heart feels like I have taken 2 > hits of Amsterdam's finest ecstasy. I picked up a nice hunk of Salmon > on my way home, so I can crisp the skin and eat it raw on the other > side. I still am looking into people's eyes in the store as if I am > performing. It takes a while to shut it all off. So I continue to > get strangers looking into my eyes for real, hitting me with the > "isn't life great" smile. I am beaming, I am flowing with everything > the crowd gave me. I appear too calm to be deranged (at leas this is > my hope!) so even the sour pusses give in and return a smirk. When I > got home I turned on my computer and read your post. Shit brother, if > it got any better than this I would surely get arrested! > > I could spend some time talking about the magic moments when disabled > kids come up, or when an supernaturally coordinated 4 year old dances > like Beyoncé, or about my local fans who live in the streets and get > greeted by name for the first time that day, but that would be > overkill. I do hear you on the human appreciation angle. Loving our > fellow man is a choice. I am doing my best to choose it as much as I > can. I didn't create what happened today. I just set up the > conditions so people could let their best hang out and I got to surf > the wave they created. > > Thanks again for your post Turq. > > > > > > > --- In [email protected], TurquoiseB <no_reply@> wrote: > > > > Curtis, I'm kinda writing this to you because I > > think you'll understand. Today was sort of a Bad > > Day. It started with me logging on to an Internet > > discussion forum (not this one) and finding some- > > one I actually know talking about the problem of > > illegal immigration in the United States. > > > > This fellow was born with a silver spoon in his > > mouth. He was educated at all the best prep schools > > and then his parents paid for him to go to MIT, > > where he studied math and computer science and > > artificial intelligence. He almost certainly makes > > over $200K a year in the latter field. And he calls > > himself a Buddhist, because he studied for years > > with the same Rama fellow that I did, and Rama > > called what he taught in his last years Buddhism. > > (It wasn't.) > > > > And so what this guy is spending his time doing > > these days is lobbying for stiffer laws against > > illegal immigration. What he wants to do is round > > everyone up, put them in confinement camps until > > transportation arrives, and then "send them all back > > where they came from." He has very logical reasons > > for doing this, and is willing to expound upon them > > ad nauseum. > > > > It's disheartening, dude. Like you, I've sat down > > and had long conversations with "common folk," > > many of whom were illegal immigrants to the US or > > France. During my lifetime I have had conversations > > with bums, with whores and pimps, with a murderer > > (who was a TMer, by the way), with atheists and > > with total materialists. Not ONE of them was any > > less "spiritual" than any of the "spiritual" people > > I've met in over 40 years of spiritual seeking. And > > to be honest, most of them were nicer people than > > the people I know who consider themselves spiritual. > > > > The teachers that many of these "spiritual" people > > revere taught compassion, and performing good works > > for those less fortunate than you are. Wasn't it > > Jesus who said something about a man being measured > > by the way he treats "the least among us?" > > > > All this talk, talk, talk on Internet spiritual forums > > about how highly evolved we are, and how special we > > are, and how much we're doing for the world just by, > > well, being US. And then I read something like what > > I read this morning coming from one of these special, > > highly-evolved people. And then I think about the > > illegal aliens and the bums and the pimps and the > > whores and the murderer and the atheists and the > > materialists I've talked with, and I remember how > > they walked the walk of *their* lives, and I just > > shake my head in wonder. > > > > I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's really a > > pleasure to encounter someone like you -- and a few > > others on this forum -- who actually seem to walk the > > walk of their talk. > > >
