Tradition, Not Antiquated

I'm sitting on a green blanket in the middle of the grassy field at Pritzker Pavillion in Milennium Park, Chicago, Il. It's 5 o' clock, and I am 2 1/2 hours early for a free concert to be held here later this evening. Being early is relative as I am "write" on time to put pen to paper.

Fifteen minutes go by, and I realize though my mind is bubbling with ideas, so far there is but one paragraph written on the page. Yup, here we go. Complete static. There is a veritable traffic jam of words and phrases in my head, and the traffic cop(me) isn't sure where this one begins or ends. A bitch of a quagmire, and already I'm way too much in my head. For me, it feels like I'm driving on a street that is a 2-sided cul-de-sac, with no exit. Something has to shift, so I recall immediately the only set of rules I enacted for this still young writing journey, 1)Writing is to be a joy 2)When writing is not a joy, re-read rule #1. With that, I take out my medicine bag, offer a pinch of tobacco to the land, and say a quick prayer of gratitude for all that is. I meditate for a couple minutes.

I chuckle at how I used to think one needed to be on a mountain with a robe on to meditate. Or that I couldn't possibly like watching Bears football on Sunday AND be spiritual.

I feel my feet in the grass, the warm sun on my skin, look at my hands and am thankful just for having hands.

Shift happens.

My creativity pipe has been snaked, and the energy is now free to flow. I spend a moment admiring the pavillion structure. It is modern and metallic, and though I'm not entirely sure of what I am looking at, the feeling it evokes is that happy point of all places that is simple come full circle through complexity. Like a good chili that has many ingredients, and many tastes that converge into one delicious dish, the building transits seamlessly into the cement jungle that is the city skyline. A bridge from the science of the material world to the artistry of nature. When I consider all the artistic creation that the pavillion has birthed, calling this structure a portal that connects the celestial heavens to the Earth, the stars to the ground, doesn't seem so far-fetched.

The day has been one of symmetry, synchronicity, and flow for me. I went to study and just be with the butterflies at the nature museum. On my way there, I stopped to get a smoothie at the local Jamba Juice. My smoothie is delivered 45 seconds after I ordered it, and I realize the barista was working on it before I came in the store.

"Did you know I was coming?", I ask, "or are you simply the Luke Skywalker of smoothie baristas?" She smiles, and gives me a mischievous wink that says, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." I smile and walk out. Suddenly, the whole, "what came first, the chicken or the egg debate?" makes sense to me. Neither. Or both.

I am the chicken. And the egg.

After leaving the museum, I go home to clean up, and have an intuition to head down to Milennium Park. They often have free concerts at the downtown outdoor ampitheatre, so I check online to see what tonight's fare is.

A band named OTTO.

Palindromes are cool. Sold.

I get to the park and see 2 drum sets and lotsa brass instruments. Double sold. I've been to hundreds of music shows and double percussion(2 drum sets) is at the top of my list for, "This band is not gonna suck" clues. A brass section is a close second, followed by electric violin, and then a backup R&B section with 400 lb black women.

My leg falls asleep from sitting on it for 30 minutes. I ponder for a moment if it was REM sleep, and if legs can have dreams.

I digress.

Sitting on the fresh green grass, I feel pretty connected. Seven different people in a span of 20-25 minutes walk up and introduce themselves. I recognize this past weekend was the 40th anniversary of the Woodstock peace and love music festival. It feels like many are tuned in to that vibrational frequency, or "radio station".

The show is still 30 minutes from starting. Fifty yards to my left, there is an operatic singer informally practicing her arias in front of an entranced audience of thirty people. Children to my right are playing and laughing. A cute couple straight ahead are play wrestling in what seems to be some strange mating ritual. There is another man with his shirt off doing some form of bizarre interpretive dance. He looks like a rhino trying to have sex with itself is the best way I can describe it. This field is alive with all sorts of things.

There is one man who has a real curious energy. He glances at me, and gives me the "stink eye". Sorry, Charlie. No room for that energy here, that is all yours. He looks like he's just done something wrong, or is about to. I remind myself not to judge. Mostly, I can just see the pain in his eyes, and I say a prayer to myself that his pain not be suffering.

I reflect on the notion of "pain."

Pain, like life, is temporary. Pain can be one of our greatest teachers if we just lean into it a little bit. If we can sit with it. Be with it. What happens when you have a kickass workout at the gym? The next day muscles are incredibly sore. This pain is from the process of the muscle breaking down, scarring, and building back up even bigger and stronger.

The same thing happens with our emotional body, too, as long as we let it. Emotional scars can morph into emotional muscles. The name of this blog, 'The Gift is in the Wound', means exactly that. There is medicine, or wisdom, in all of our traumas, or wounds. And they are gifts. The universe sends us 'teachers' in many forms, so we can learn, evolve, and be even more connected to our true path. Western society, in my humble opinion, has been conditioned to mute pain, or make it go away, or run/escape from it. Treat(drug) the symptom, rather than sit with the source. Us humans often do that with the emotional body as well, only we find distractions, diversions, escapes, rationalizations, heck, how 'bout a dozen chocolate chip cookies and a cup of hot fat to go with it? Retail therapy, anyone?

Pain is Ok. Pain can be transformative. Suffering is often time a choice we make. We make choices based upon our belief systems, systems that are inherited from generation to generation. These systems can be incredibly limiting, and many times, don't represent who we truly are. We then go through our life journey trying to remember. Who we are. Why we're here. When questioning my belief system, I ask simple questions: Is this a joyous tradition, or is it stuck and antiquated? Is this for the best and highest good of all? Is this coming from a place of love, or a place of fear? Traditions, customs, rituals that are handed down from one generation to the next are the essence of life. That said, they can also outlast their utility in an ever-changing world.

The great paradox of tradition, is that every tradition starts with a first year. And that we can make a choice at any time to change or shift how we perceive the world.

I am in sync right now. I am outside at a concert, with a beautiful friend who creatively inspires me. I am in nature. There is music playing that moves me. I am creating. People all around are happy and smiling. I'm really feelin' it. I am just being. Feels like the seeds of a new tradition. A shift.

This moment is truly perfect.

And I couldn't be in this perfect now, without all of my previous less than perfect 'now' moments.

Which kinda makes those moments perfect, too, doncha think?

Aho.

Eric