By Michael Friedman © 2010
I'm not sure which is scarier, trying to make a change or being afraid of the possible outcome of those actions.
I realize now that the mind is a terrible thing to waste after having accepted that I spent way to much time hiding in the shadows of my subconscious on a daily basis in the past.
Once paralyzed by morphing realities, I previously tried to navigate my way through my waking dreams only to find that I've been standing still the whole time. I am now aware of my past misconceptions.
Wise sages suggest that purgatory occurs when a person living on Earth knows the things they must do to bring an end to their suffering, but despite having this knowledge, they refuse to change and often experiencing the torment that troubles many who can't find peace in this life as a result of their refusal to take the necessary steps towards personal redemption.
I was once one of those people who desperately tried to control the outcome of my realities so that I could find a moment of peace here and there. It never worked and it brought me to my knees on a number of occasions.
Eventually my need to ask eternal questions led me to the conclusion that the only way to get out of purgatory was to flow with life instead of trying to isolate my many momentary lapses of reason on a regular basis.
Upon the realization of this concept, my attachments to my fears and self-induced anxiety began to dissolve piece by bloody piece, and my universe began to expand dramatically now that I could finally see the horizon line.
The reality that the sun would shine whether I was here or not was possibly the most freeing realization one can ever experience.
Becoming aware of one's insignificance and accepting that this is reality is one we choose to construct is humbling at first, but then it sets fire to your heart like a lightning strike that shocks the soul into action.
For people like me, it is impossible to deny the self-acknowledged truth that we find when we finally decide to pay attention to the small print of life.
I keep telling myself to abide by the philosophy of Caveat Emptor because you only get one chance on this thrill ride. I now know that it is not whether you win or lose but whether you enjoyed playing the game along the way that is key to finding nirvana in this life.
Once you realize that the world is what you make of it and you come to accept that you manifest your experience through your words, thoughts, and actions, you can find ways to take control and take a leap of faith that will let you enjoy the ride before the music stops.
At the end of the day, the only person who has to be comfortable with you is you. Accepting this philosophy and finding a way to act upon your awareness that we are the creators of our destiny offers inquisitive souls like us the forbidden fruit that the rest of the world hungers for.
I find it is strangely ironic that we all have the ingredients for salvation inside of us, yet it seemingly takes forever to taste this universal concoction's luscious nectar. For many like me, once they've drunk in the succulent joy juice of the universe, it becomes easier to achieve that state of mind on a regular basis through vigilant practice. I call it bliss on tap.
Although I am still a learning Jedi master, I find solace and comfort with every life-altering step forward that I take. I gain more and more control each time I master my emotions.
Like the girl said in the movie, "Run Forrest, run."
Life is like a box of chocolates stuffed with crack so be ready to roll with the highs and the lows. If you can keep from overdosing on your ego, the world is your proverbial oyster and you will find that you have achieved heaven on Earth.
At least, that's what I keep telling myself.
Michael Friedman is a writer from Las Vegas, NV.
Showing posts with label Michael Friedman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Friedman. Show all posts
February 03, 2010
August 05, 2009
Maui Rescue
By Michael Friedman © 2009
To make the most out of life, you have to be open to the lessons that universe provides you, regardless of the crazy ways in which they come. Whether it is people, a situation or a circumstance that has manifested in order to teach you a how to grow as a person, one has to be open to the messages that these experiences bring. A great example of this occurred to me on my recent trip to Maui.
After taking a 2:30AM flight out of Las Vegas, the wife and I arrived early the next day. Exhausted and hoping for some time to catch my breath, the owners of the bed and breakfast thankfully let us check-in early. After taking a quick nap, we decided to go get dinner and watch our first sunset on the island. Although I had managed to get a little rest, I was still spent and really just wanted to relax, however I caved into my wife's desires as I often do and we headed off for our first sightseeing trip.
After driving 20 minutes, we found a pull-off that offered a beautiful view of the sunset. The only problem was that when I was backing up to turn my car around to face the sunset, I backed over a mound that consisted of macadam, dirt, and rocks. As soon as I went over the mound, my back right tire began to spin and I realized I was stuck. I had managed to get the back tire completely off of the ground as the mound crushed the bottom outside panel of our rented Dodge Charger. We referred to the car as "Battlestar Galactica" because it was so big, so I knew there was no hope of me getting the car free by myself.
I immediately began freaking out. Tired, dazed and somewhat disoriented from the flight, the last thing I wanted was to be stranded on the side of the road on a stretch of highway that had no lights with no clue where we were and almost no cell phone reception. I completely lost my cool and started thinking the worst. My wife had to walk away to let me cool down and regain my composure because I was raging like the Hulk on crack.
After furiously trying to dig us out with my bare hands (which only let to a bunch of cuts) and blaming our situation on the fact that we should have gone back to the bed and breakfast and just skipped stopping, I did my best to calm down. I took out my cell phone and called my rental car company's roadside assistance number. The sun was on the verge of setting and it was starting to get dark. The somewhat incompetent roadside assistance people kept asking me where we were. I became even more flustered because there were no signs posted to help us give a location to tell them where to go. After giving the best possible description of where we were, they told us it would be an hour to an hour-and-a-half before they could get to us.
I was on tilt thanks to the length of time we would have to wait before we got help. I continued to assess the damage to the car, and even though I knew I had insurance to cover the situation, I lost once again lost my composure, thinking the worst. My wife was now laughing and taking pictures of the scene of the crime, and kept telling me to relax and enjoy the sunset because everything would be okay. I felt like strangling her as she just kept repeating her words. My frustration over our situation continued to mount instead of doing what I should have done, which was listen to the wise words of my wife. I kept thinking the worst, refusing to enjoy a single moment of the beautiful sunset.
Twenty minutes passed and I was still frustrated with my predicament, but somewhat humbled after having had my ego crushed by my embarrassment over the situation. I finally relented and tried to take in the remaining moments of the sunset. There was nothing more I could do. A few minutes into appreciating the vivid colors a small, beat-up purple truck purple pulled along-side of my car. Both fear and adrenaline began pumping through my veins. Having lived in cities on the East Coast most of my life, I had heard numerous horror stories about unsuspecting people being robbed on the side of highways by people they thought were going to help them. My heart almost pounded out of my chest when two 300-plus-pound Hawaiians got out of the small truck.
I stood there completely stunned with visions of me having to fight these huge guys if they had decided to rob us. My wife started talking to the defensive tackle-sized gentlemen. Once I finally snapped out of my paranoia, I realized they had stopped to help us. Within a minute, the three of us lifted the back end of the car over the mound and we were free to drive away. Completely shocked at what had happened, I graciously thanked the gentlemen repeatedly and let them know how stupid I felt.
"Here I am, this city kid who prides himself in keeping his cool and I totally screwed up. I don't know what we would have done without you," I said.
"No problem guys. You're on vacation. Have a good time. Mahalo," said the driver of the purple truck as they got back in and drove away.
I watched them drive off and began to rethink everything that had happened and how I reacted. I was brutally honest with myself and quickly admitted that I had handled the situation poorly. Despite being someone who believes in positive outcomes, especially when it comes to relying on oneself, I relented to fear and paranoia and became caught up in negative emotions that proved to be completely unproductive.
Looking back at the situation, I realize that my wife had handled things the right way. Calm, cool and collected, she focused on the positives, never lost her composure and managed to keep me from jumping into the ocean. I learned a lot from her actions and I'm amazed at how easy it is to slip into the negative. In the end, I just needed to calm down, focus my thoughts and trust that things would work out if I took control of the situation.
I've learned a lot of lessons from this experience. The universe once again provided me with a first-hand opportunity to understand both myself and my thought process. The only problem was that it came in the most unexpected way, but I guess that's just the way it is supposed to be. I am now confident that I will handle things differently the next time something like this happens.
Michael Friedman is a writer from Las Vegas, NV.
To make the most out of life, you have to be open to the lessons that universe provides you, regardless of the crazy ways in which they come. Whether it is people, a situation or a circumstance that has manifested in order to teach you a how to grow as a person, one has to be open to the messages that these experiences bring. A great example of this occurred to me on my recent trip to Maui.
After taking a 2:30AM flight out of Las Vegas, the wife and I arrived early the next day. Exhausted and hoping for some time to catch my breath, the owners of the bed and breakfast thankfully let us check-in early. After taking a quick nap, we decided to go get dinner and watch our first sunset on the island. Although I had managed to get a little rest, I was still spent and really just wanted to relax, however I caved into my wife's desires as I often do and we headed off for our first sightseeing trip.
After driving 20 minutes, we found a pull-off that offered a beautiful view of the sunset. The only problem was that when I was backing up to turn my car around to face the sunset, I backed over a mound that consisted of macadam, dirt, and rocks. As soon as I went over the mound, my back right tire began to spin and I realized I was stuck. I had managed to get the back tire completely off of the ground as the mound crushed the bottom outside panel of our rented Dodge Charger. We referred to the car as "Battlestar Galactica" because it was so big, so I knew there was no hope of me getting the car free by myself.
I immediately began freaking out. Tired, dazed and somewhat disoriented from the flight, the last thing I wanted was to be stranded on the side of the road on a stretch of highway that had no lights with no clue where we were and almost no cell phone reception. I completely lost my cool and started thinking the worst. My wife had to walk away to let me cool down and regain my composure because I was raging like the Hulk on crack.
After furiously trying to dig us out with my bare hands (which only let to a bunch of cuts) and blaming our situation on the fact that we should have gone back to the bed and breakfast and just skipped stopping, I did my best to calm down. I took out my cell phone and called my rental car company's roadside assistance number. The sun was on the verge of setting and it was starting to get dark. The somewhat incompetent roadside assistance people kept asking me where we were. I became even more flustered because there were no signs posted to help us give a location to tell them where to go. After giving the best possible description of where we were, they told us it would be an hour to an hour-and-a-half before they could get to us.
I was on tilt thanks to the length of time we would have to wait before we got help. I continued to assess the damage to the car, and even though I knew I had insurance to cover the situation, I lost once again lost my composure, thinking the worst. My wife was now laughing and taking pictures of the scene of the crime, and kept telling me to relax and enjoy the sunset because everything would be okay. I felt like strangling her as she just kept repeating her words. My frustration over our situation continued to mount instead of doing what I should have done, which was listen to the wise words of my wife. I kept thinking the worst, refusing to enjoy a single moment of the beautiful sunset.
Twenty minutes passed and I was still frustrated with my predicament, but somewhat humbled after having had my ego crushed by my embarrassment over the situation. I finally relented and tried to take in the remaining moments of the sunset. There was nothing more I could do. A few minutes into appreciating the vivid colors a small, beat-up purple truck purple pulled along-side of my car. Both fear and adrenaline began pumping through my veins. Having lived in cities on the East Coast most of my life, I had heard numerous horror stories about unsuspecting people being robbed on the side of highways by people they thought were going to help them. My heart almost pounded out of my chest when two 300-plus-pound Hawaiians got out of the small truck.
I stood there completely stunned with visions of me having to fight these huge guys if they had decided to rob us. My wife started talking to the defensive tackle-sized gentlemen. Once I finally snapped out of my paranoia, I realized they had stopped to help us. Within a minute, the three of us lifted the back end of the car over the mound and we were free to drive away. Completely shocked at what had happened, I graciously thanked the gentlemen repeatedly and let them know how stupid I felt.
"Here I am, this city kid who prides himself in keeping his cool and I totally screwed up. I don't know what we would have done without you," I said.
"No problem guys. You're on vacation. Have a good time. Mahalo," said the driver of the purple truck as they got back in and drove away.
I watched them drive off and began to rethink everything that had happened and how I reacted. I was brutally honest with myself and quickly admitted that I had handled the situation poorly. Despite being someone who believes in positive outcomes, especially when it comes to relying on oneself, I relented to fear and paranoia and became caught up in negative emotions that proved to be completely unproductive.
Looking back at the situation, I realize that my wife had handled things the right way. Calm, cool and collected, she focused on the positives, never lost her composure and managed to keep me from jumping into the ocean. I learned a lot from her actions and I'm amazed at how easy it is to slip into the negative. In the end, I just needed to calm down, focus my thoughts and trust that things would work out if I took control of the situation.
I've learned a lot of lessons from this experience. The universe once again provided me with a first-hand opportunity to understand both myself and my thought process. The only problem was that it came in the most unexpected way, but I guess that's just the way it is supposed to be. I am now confident that I will handle things differently the next time something like this happens.
Michael Friedman is a writer from Las Vegas, NV.
June 16, 2009
Morrison's Lament
By Michael Friedman © 2009
I sit here alone watching the movie The Doors wondering where my inner Jim Morrison has gone. I use to talk with him so much. We would frequently share stories of excess and divine intervention while trying to figure out exactly who I wanted to be. The '60s icon walked the fine line of my soul and he fell close to my natural instincts when it came to figuring out why we do the things we do. I find I miss him desperately these days.
The ghost of Morrison on the television screen reminds me of how I desperately want to stand up and scream to the world that I am a drunken buffoon who is high on the universe, but all I can do is remember distant visions of what it was like to get lost in the desert. I think this is the time to repent, but ironically I find myself regretting less and less these days. The song says that we can't get much higher and yet I still find myself yearning for what I know I ultimately can't have.
As I peer through the illusion of my existence, I find myself jonesing for another taste of divinity. I've burnt the candle on both ends and I am once again forced to find my place in this monochromatic world of subtle delusion. Society no longer values the divinity of the self, so I find myself amiss all of the technology, discontent, and terror and although it takes only a moment to imagine that I am free from the nastiness that the universe leaves on my lips with every gut-wrenching soul kiss, in all honesty, the taste on my the tip of my tongue never really disappears.
I am the lizard king and I can do anything, so long as you remind me of who I am and what I have seen in the many journeys of my soul. I constantly find myself asking how many people know that I'm alive and yet I have no answer for the shaman that asks why I shed a tear every time I think of the world's pain.
In this life, I have learned that if you kiss the snake, you will come to understand your place in the divine comedy. Just as long as you are willing to make the sacrifice that comes with showing the world you have mad genius. A dharma superstar has to willingly let his or her words drip drops of psychedelic madness on empty canvasses while the God in them pisses freely into the cosmic fountain of youth that lays on the distant shore of life's transcendent psychosis. Remember kid, out here, we is stoned, immaculate.
It is time to fall off of the cliff again and take the journey to the forefront of my mind so that we can taste the succulent juices of Gaya's insanity. There is danger on the edge of town, so that's where I'm headed first. I'm rolling like a soldier on Ecstasy, conflicted by my life's mission and thoughts of the nirvana that lies in the unknown.
Where is the God of rock and cock when I need him? It's time to once again slip off into the sunset as I slowly slit my wrists and watch with a smile on my face as I begin to bleed my divinity onto the floor. I start to drown in life's cosmic juices as I try swimming my way free from the belly of the beast. I try desperately to hold my breath as I continue to sink deeper into my madness when my limbs fail to move to life's rhythm, but I fail miserably.
Even though I know that we manifest this experience, I feel as though I can't control any of what is happening to me and as a result, I frequently find myself reveling in my inability to do the thing my soul needs in order to sustain itself during my trip through this lifetime. I just can't seem to figure out why I choose to repeat this mania over and over again. Some say I have a disease and that I'm slightly deranged. I don't think they are far from the truth considering we live in a universe of impossibilities that seem to happen all of the time. It's time to find a way to get back to the middle path.
The streets are up even when you are down. Isn't that the truth brother. I've been tossed out and spit up so many times that I can't remember the last time I wasn't bitch-slapped into this destiny. Here we all sit, wondering whether we are who we are or whether we are simply playing a role in someone else's fantasy, so let's sneak away from this place and try to find our innocence once again. We will quickly fall into our roles as modern nomads, psychedelic dreamers who steal away in the moonlight.
If you love me two times, I promise I'll do my best not to strike out on my third swing for the cosmic fences. I'm not saying I give up by any means, but I have to admit that it is a lot harder to put it down than it is to pick it up. I frequently find myself struggling with my inconsistencies on a daily basis, so you'll have to give me time to find out which way is up if I have any hope of finding the yellow brick road of my subconscious.
Please forgive me my daydreams as I continue to spew nonsensical tidings of a life that seems to escape me on a regular basis. Is everybody in? That's the million dollar question and I'm still searching for an answer. I'm sure as hell here and I have once again woken up to my soul's angst. It's time to do something rash before I split open and melt. I had better slay my inner demons before I burn another hole in the very essence of my being.
It's time to wake up motherfuckers as we trip the light fantastic yet again and this time, make sure to remember to bring your sunglasses because it's bright on the other side and the sun shines 24-7. I've finally realized that there is nowhere left to run inside my head and I have accepted that I no longer need to try and set the world's record for being the fastest mentally challenged sentimentalist alive.
I don't want much my friend, just enough of a taste to give me my fix. Please Mr. Bodhisattva sir, may I have another? Inject me with your hedonistic opiates and purify me with your narcotic love because I need some dirty justice and I need it now. Just jam it in my veins and let me feel the rush of the inner mind's eye as it fills with visions of paradise on Earth and memories of momentary bliss. I'll willingly admit that I'm a metaphysical junkie, but the way I see it, if you have to be hooked on something, why not be hooked on destiny?
Michael Friedman in a writer from Las Vegas, NV
I sit here alone watching the movie The Doors wondering where my inner Jim Morrison has gone. I use to talk with him so much. We would frequently share stories of excess and divine intervention while trying to figure out exactly who I wanted to be. The '60s icon walked the fine line of my soul and he fell close to my natural instincts when it came to figuring out why we do the things we do. I find I miss him desperately these days.
The ghost of Morrison on the television screen reminds me of how I desperately want to stand up and scream to the world that I am a drunken buffoon who is high on the universe, but all I can do is remember distant visions of what it was like to get lost in the desert. I think this is the time to repent, but ironically I find myself regretting less and less these days. The song says that we can't get much higher and yet I still find myself yearning for what I know I ultimately can't have.
As I peer through the illusion of my existence, I find myself jonesing for another taste of divinity. I've burnt the candle on both ends and I am once again forced to find my place in this monochromatic world of subtle delusion. Society no longer values the divinity of the self, so I find myself amiss all of the technology, discontent, and terror and although it takes only a moment to imagine that I am free from the nastiness that the universe leaves on my lips with every gut-wrenching soul kiss, in all honesty, the taste on my the tip of my tongue never really disappears.
I am the lizard king and I can do anything, so long as you remind me of who I am and what I have seen in the many journeys of my soul. I constantly find myself asking how many people know that I'm alive and yet I have no answer for the shaman that asks why I shed a tear every time I think of the world's pain.
In this life, I have learned that if you kiss the snake, you will come to understand your place in the divine comedy. Just as long as you are willing to make the sacrifice that comes with showing the world you have mad genius. A dharma superstar has to willingly let his or her words drip drops of psychedelic madness on empty canvasses while the God in them pisses freely into the cosmic fountain of youth that lays on the distant shore of life's transcendent psychosis. Remember kid, out here, we is stoned, immaculate.
It is time to fall off of the cliff again and take the journey to the forefront of my mind so that we can taste the succulent juices of Gaya's insanity. There is danger on the edge of town, so that's where I'm headed first. I'm rolling like a soldier on Ecstasy, conflicted by my life's mission and thoughts of the nirvana that lies in the unknown.
Where is the God of rock and cock when I need him? It's time to once again slip off into the sunset as I slowly slit my wrists and watch with a smile on my face as I begin to bleed my divinity onto the floor. I start to drown in life's cosmic juices as I try swimming my way free from the belly of the beast. I try desperately to hold my breath as I continue to sink deeper into my madness when my limbs fail to move to life's rhythm, but I fail miserably.
Even though I know that we manifest this experience, I feel as though I can't control any of what is happening to me and as a result, I frequently find myself reveling in my inability to do the thing my soul needs in order to sustain itself during my trip through this lifetime. I just can't seem to figure out why I choose to repeat this mania over and over again. Some say I have a disease and that I'm slightly deranged. I don't think they are far from the truth considering we live in a universe of impossibilities that seem to happen all of the time. It's time to find a way to get back to the middle path.
The streets are up even when you are down. Isn't that the truth brother. I've been tossed out and spit up so many times that I can't remember the last time I wasn't bitch-slapped into this destiny. Here we all sit, wondering whether we are who we are or whether we are simply playing a role in someone else's fantasy, so let's sneak away from this place and try to find our innocence once again. We will quickly fall into our roles as modern nomads, psychedelic dreamers who steal away in the moonlight.
If you love me two times, I promise I'll do my best not to strike out on my third swing for the cosmic fences. I'm not saying I give up by any means, but I have to admit that it is a lot harder to put it down than it is to pick it up. I frequently find myself struggling with my inconsistencies on a daily basis, so you'll have to give me time to find out which way is up if I have any hope of finding the yellow brick road of my subconscious.
Please forgive me my daydreams as I continue to spew nonsensical tidings of a life that seems to escape me on a regular basis. Is everybody in? That's the million dollar question and I'm still searching for an answer. I'm sure as hell here and I have once again woken up to my soul's angst. It's time to do something rash before I split open and melt. I had better slay my inner demons before I burn another hole in the very essence of my being.
It's time to wake up motherfuckers as we trip the light fantastic yet again and this time, make sure to remember to bring your sunglasses because it's bright on the other side and the sun shines 24-7. I've finally realized that there is nowhere left to run inside my head and I have accepted that I no longer need to try and set the world's record for being the fastest mentally challenged sentimentalist alive.
I don't want much my friend, just enough of a taste to give me my fix. Please Mr. Bodhisattva sir, may I have another? Inject me with your hedonistic opiates and purify me with your narcotic love because I need some dirty justice and I need it now. Just jam it in my veins and let me feel the rush of the inner mind's eye as it fills with visions of paradise on Earth and memories of momentary bliss. I'll willingly admit that I'm a metaphysical junkie, but the way I see it, if you have to be hooked on something, why not be hooked on destiny?
Michael Friedman in a writer from Las Vegas, NV
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