...on a peaceful evening. Centered is the goal. Sign me, mister mythter, Hermes, dad of Pan.
gratitude survives
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
A Whole Bunch of Nothing aka Crap For a Good Cause...
****TEAM HERMES RAISES A COUPLE OF HUNDRED BUCKS!!! WRITE ON!!! FEEL FREE TO DONATE STILL BY LINK (WRITE 'IN SUPPORT OF CRAIG HERMES WRITEATHON') OR TEXT 'WRITE' TO 20222 AND $10 BUCKS WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR PHONE BILL. BELOW IS MY ATTEMPT AND PLANNED SPONTANEITY******
2:58pm August 26, 2010826 Valencia Write-a-thon
Hmmmm. What to write, what to write... Funny how the Gemini with verbal diarrhea seems at a loss for words. Maybe I shouldn't have committed to 62,500 words, but I figured, "What the hey? I can do AT LEAST half a day of my Facebook update activity in the name of a noble non-profit..."
So here I sit, canoodling with my broken paw, glad that I have a seemingly credible excuse for slow, awkward one-handed typing. There is something shameful, dark, and incomprehensible about a writer and journalism major who never learned to type. Disturbing and unfathomable--like Britney Spear's success.
My hunt-and-peck has served me well, though, helping me spill my guts and creepy New Age optimism across thousands of pages, blogs, emotions, life situations, continents and near misses with tragedy. But to be a journalist who can't type? Ridiculous.
Okay, back on point... Ooooh. Look over there... something shiny.
Where was I? Sometimes my insatiable curiosity coupled with my hyperactive Gemini-which-is-Mercury-who-is-Hermes-which-is-Gemini quadpolar nature AND a freakish ability to notice everything, EVERYTHING in my path, makes me seem at my worst, a bit like Rain Man, or at best, bit scattered. You see, I languish from/am blessed with global vision. Imagine what fun it was to have this quality during my The Shadow Knows period of a speed dalliance.
[Insert :10 PSA] "Do you love information? Have the ability to anticipate disaster? Try Crystal Meth(TM)... Stay awake for days, seeing how you can fix EVERYTHING but your own situation! 33 percent more feeling like you're falling the Universe, with 200 percent MORE time to stew on it!!! Crystal Meth(TM). Go Nowhere Faster!"
Now back to our regularly scheduled though seriously derailed train-of-thought...
I can't type. Never could. Was just 'splaining to my pal Tom, who is sitting across the table from me also trying to poke the muse with a stick, that I can hunt-and-peck really fast but have never been able to type the 'correct' way. I think it's probably tied to my math anxiety and to the fact that I cannot read music but I can play by ear. Fond childhood memories #103--age of 7 with piano teacher listening to me play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', a waiting pause, inhaling and saying, "Craig, have you been tested? Are you mildly retarded?"
Perfect question for a shy, pathologically self-defecating people pleaser like me. Probably turned me gay. Stupid hag. No, not really. The hag probably wasn't stupid. Dumb, fatty kid couldn't play. And I REALLY was asked if I was mildly retarded. Couldn't wait to jump ahead four years and learn I couldn't play saxophone either.
What a disturbing story. Thank God I am not able to really think about it as all these awful, noisy children are junking up the pristine writing environment. Why are they HERE? Oh. Nonprofit. For kids.
Totally kidding about the kids. I love the enthusiasm and energy they bring to learning and to life. I am getting a kick at watching the faces of childrenless writers "tut-tut"-ing and looking down their noses disdainfully at the "chaos" of enthusiasm and play, blaming it for their inability to create on demand. Kind of like business class travelers who haven't had kids. "How could you inconvenience me so?!?"
You know, for me, if the muse is whispering in my ear, something like the repetitive drumming of the woman across from me who typed one word in the past hour, it wouldn't really bother me. When I was traveling through India, many times the din was amazing, the humidity and heat way to the far left of oppressive, malaria, HIV and pneumonia thumbwrestling for my attention, but the words, the muse was there. She just stepped up her game a bit and shouted her song. I am grateful for my banshee/harpy muse and her insistence on my spreading her message.
Today she wants me to reiterate my gratitude for the events of yesterday. Through the kind and skillful assistance of Mark Chernev and the AIDS Legal Referral Panel, I was to absolve $60,000 of debt accrued during my three periods of lay off in San Francisco. The crushing stress of trying to remain insured and on meds in our broken healthcare system brought me to the edges of illness, insanity and homelessness. My total debt was medical related. I know many a raised eyebrow is posing as such because they think, "Lots of travel and fundraising..." I paid that out of pocket, cynic eyebrows. With $900 a month COBRA coverage, which was so expensive I couldn't afford my co-pays or quarterly blood draws, I quickly hit a point of no return.
After missing ONE monthly premium, my policy was terminated and had to stop my HIV meds after 13 years of complete compliance. My undetectable viral load spiked to around 750,000 and T-Cells went from moderately low 500 to near AIDS defining 200. So, yeah, bankruptcy on top of deteriorating health, tenuous work and the following disability brought me to the point where I had to realize there were situations that even I, Superflawed Superman, couldn't handle. And that it is not only okay, but actually required me to learn to accept help from those who wish to do so.
Case in point, one week after a particularly stressful week of having Fugee croak on the sidewalk a couple of times and the requisite vet bills, I found myself 8 days away from my next disability check and with only half a tube of Saltines and a stick of butter. On Day Five of greasy saltines, I received an anonymous card with a gift certificate for groceries from Trader Joe's. The only enclosure? A Post-It(R) that read, "Charity is love."
The Universe is a challenging and beautiful place.
The HUGE relief of a tabula rasa credit history affords me the time and attention toward establishing a more balanced life and a more wholistic health approach. Even Fugee's passing, while I miss him dearly, allows me much more flexibility in working and living options. For the first time, probably since leaving Virgin over a decade ago, I feel I can take a more proactive, less reactive approach to creating my future.
You know, I've had a long, fascinating run in the Play of Craig Hermes, Phoenix Boy. Amazing, nonsensical opportunities to create, change, try on philosophies, jobs, personas. As much as I have tried to fit into a niche I've realized I don't fit into any niche, but possess enough of the actor and the curious nature to blend into most. I have had so many near death experiences that death isn't scary to me. I think of it as a fascinating adventure. Would prefer not to croak today, but if I were to look up and see a comet hurtling toward my head, I'd take a bow and say,
"Holy Shit. What a great run!"
So... what's next? Maybe a massage intensive so I can re-up my certification and and have a skill I can barter in bad economies and use as ancillary income if I go back to school. I'm kind of thinking that my next foray will be following Mom's footsteps--no--NOT teaching bellydancing, floating around with milk jugs, or getting gall bladder cancer and dying at 53--but creepy, New Aged mind/body/spirit healing. With my empathic nature, heart connection and Vidal Sassoon-like tenet of "If you don't feel good, I don't feel good", I'd like to help folks and the world remember our intrinsic ability to attain wellness. In our perfect mirrored universe, as I help others attain balance and wellness, I gain it myself. Throw Wounded Healer on the Archetype pile: "WH, meet Phoenix, Chiron, Messenger, Shadow... have fun!"
So here I sit, on the edge of dawn of a new day, actually having the latitude to consider things like going back to school, pursuing my writing, actually becoming the full figured model/porn star I was meant to be. I feel I can breathe freely for the first time in ages.
Colour me, a colourful, complex, human soul, certainly NOT perfect, not ashamed, not regretful for having been dealt a few crap hands, but deeply grateful for having been given any hand at all.
Gratitude survives.
Craig
"D'Ohhh!!!" -Homer J. Simpson, aka FishBulb
Write A Better World. I like happy endings. Join me in creating one?
Howdy Friends and Family!
I have a quick, eleventh hour request for your attention for five paragraphs. <---This sentence does not count, nor does this one--->.Thanks in advance.
Just about to crash after a long LONG exhausting day/week/year/decade. Grateful for the range of experience, emotion, love and loss, kindness and support that I have encountered in this most excellent course in Humanity 4.0. Do I hold great regret or would I have made different choices in the University of Life? Probably a few more informed choices, but I do NOT regret ANY of my life experience. Shadow IS our greatest teacher for bringing us to the light, thanks Ram Dass, and the conflict, complexity and foibles and fables are what make us whole, human and interesting. My heart has opened in the presence of pain, failure, and loss, my empathy grown as an appropriate response to establishing heart connection.
I have done TONS of fundraising for AIDS, breast cancer, wildlife causes, and the environment. I often ask for your support or consideration in sharing the great good fortune of what we have. It doesn't take hundreds or thousands to be significant. Many times, just your awareness of an issue is a most valuable contribution.
As a pay-it-forward response after receiving the lifesaving $60,000 bankruptcy settlement today, I thought, "What can I do TODAY to make someone's day better?" Enter an email from great friend Tom Phillips of Sports Basement fame. He let me know about a great event in support of 826 Valencia (8/26 Writeathon) http://www.826valencia.org/writeathon/8_26_Day_Write-a-thon%21.html. 826 Valencia is an outstanding nonprofit founded by Dave Eggers, which provides the opportunity for kids to write after school. Tom walks the walk in support of the arts and nonprofits, so does Dave Eggers. I admire both men. Tom and I and hopefully a few wordy pals will be ruminatin' for the Rumi Nation tomorrow.
Would you give up a beer or movie to support this great cause? Just click this link https://www.gifttool.com/donations/Donate?ID=1767&VER=1&LNG=EN and enter '--Supporting Craig Hermes in Writeathon'. Easy peasy, Bob's yer uncle. (Let me know if the links are duds. We'll work something out. Maybe the next Shakespeare, Sedaris, Eggers or Emerson will be inspired and given a spot to hone their craft because you took the time and the heart to care. That is the world I choose to believe in. If you decide to donate and you let me know about it, I will send you a copy of what I write--along with loads of great karma, a deductible donation for your taxes, and my undying gratitude. If you donate $1,000, i will do an interpretive dance in the nude. For $10,000, I will wear clothes...
Thanks in advance for giving this appeal your attention. It means the world to me and to the kids you're supporting.
Namaste and Gratitude
Craig
"Tipping Sacred Cows Since 1962 (TM)"
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
So Grateful...
...$60,000 in debt released. Tears do not always denote sadness. Thank you, Mark Chernev and AIDS Legal Referral Panel.
gratitude survives
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Nightlife...
...at Cal Academy of Science. Booze, DJs, larnin' and fun!
Got in bike accident on way here... Maybe I broke my arm? Who knows...
Got in bike accident on way here... Maybe I broke my arm? Who knows...
gratitude survives
Started Counseling ...
...with creepy, New Age folks like me. I seem to amuse people.
gratitude survives
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Gratitude Survives...
...even MY idiocy. My old diet of diet Coke, crystal meth, and sadness is being replaced by air, water, yoga and smiling. Seems like a good upgrade.
gratitude survives
Monday, August 16, 2010
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Cycladian Tempest that Felled the Fleet Footed One.
I love you. Not a choice. My beautiful, distant Argonaut. I wait for you to come true.He sailed away, Aegean shores, was it a dream? It seems a dream.
Caught between mythology, heart and the hopeful tomorrow,
I am confused, sad and still an idiot of melancholy optimism.
I Am...
Good
poerty
makes the Universe admit a
secret:
"I am
Really Just a tambourine,
Grab hold,
Play me
Against your warm
Thigh."
~Hafiz, the Gift trans. Danial Ladinsky
When...
When
the words stop
and you can endure the silence
that reveal's your heart's
pain
Of emptiness
or that great wrenching sweet longing,
that is the time to try and listen
to what the Beloved's
Eyes
Most want
to say.
~Hafiz, the Gift trans. Daniel Ladinsky
Thursday, August 05, 2010
Love Love Love. Love is all you need...
...and all there is.
I was surprised by how deeply I was moved by the celebration in the streets for the overturning of Prop 8's anti-gay marriage Californian clusterfuck. I was chatting with a guy from Ames, Iowa (home to 'Pajama Game' cornfed folk--who COULD get married in their state...Where the FUCK had we gone wrong?), and he was nonchallant about Iowa's fair play. In any event, however we got there, WELL DONE California. It took you a while, but you came around to social justice.
When the proposition was up at bat before, I was kind of apathetic as I was fighting for my life in our broken healthcare system. Yeah, tell me I can't marry and it will hurt my feelings and get my hackles up, but tell me I can't have healthcare and it potentially ends my life. Very quickly. Exhausted from a decade of having to justify my exisitence and right to it, I kind of equated the two issues as , "Would you like air to breathe or a comfey velvet snuggie? Your choice." The two issues were miles apart. In the immediacy of crappy health and no access to treatment, they seemed so. But in reality, they were not.
No one, no ONE, in America should ever be made to feel less than. We are equal, beautiful, vital parts of the whole. The issue of marriage and the denial of the opportunity boils down to religion driven-, fear based bullying and bigotry. I kind of think if Jesus were to meet the buffoons condemning His people in His name, He'd just shake his head, sigh and say, "Moby was right. Everything is wrong."
How could religion, in good conscience, deny anyone the ability to sanctify and legally protect their union? Spirit is expansive, inclusive and made at its very core of the soul sole ingredient of ALL--love. To legally deny love the right to exist is as senseless as a Britney Spears hit. Just utter nonsense.
Tonight, as I wiped back tears at the surprising emotional tsunami I felt, I actually thought, "Wow. Not that anyone could stomach the thought of a lifetime of me, it sure is nice to have the option..." {well, actually, the one I'd choose would rather have an unanaesthantized root canal than imagine a lifetime of me, but such is life...}
Knowing that I could have the right to legally and spiritually announce and protect my love, just like everyone else in America, made me happy, peaceful and no longer a sad member of the Less Than- demographic I had previously been designated to.
For today, social justice won the day and said, in a clear and loud voice, all people are created equal and shall be treated as such.
Wow, that rings a bell. Novel concept, huh?
I was surprised by how deeply I was moved by the celebration in the streets for the overturning of Prop 8's anti-gay marriage Californian clusterfuck. I was chatting with a guy from Ames, Iowa (home to 'Pajama Game' cornfed folk--who COULD get married in their state...Where the FUCK had we gone wrong?), and he was nonchallant about Iowa's fair play. In any event, however we got there, WELL DONE California. It took you a while, but you came around to social justice.When the proposition was up at bat before, I was kind of apathetic as I was fighting for my life in our broken healthcare system. Yeah, tell me I can't marry and it will hurt my feelings and get my hackles up, but tell me I can't have healthcare and it potentially ends my life. Very quickly. Exhausted from a decade of having to justify my exisitence and right to it, I kind of equated the two issues as , "Would you like air to breathe or a comfey velvet snuggie? Your choice." The two issues were miles apart. In the immediacy of crappy health and no access to treatment, they seemed so. But in reality, they were not.
No one, no ONE, in America should ever be made to feel less than. We are equal, beautiful, vital parts of the whole. The issue of marriage and the denial of the opportunity boils down to religion driven-, fear based bullying and bigotry. I kind of think if Jesus were to meet the buffoons condemning His people in His name, He'd just shake his head, sigh and say, "Moby was right. Everything is wrong."
How could religion, in good conscience, deny anyone the ability to sanctify and legally protect their union? Spirit is expansive, inclusive and made at its very core of the soul sole ingredient of ALL--love. To legally deny love the right to exist is as senseless as a Britney Spears hit. Just utter nonsense.
Tonight, as I wiped back tears at the surprising emotional tsunami I felt, I actually thought, "Wow. Not that anyone could stomach the thought of a lifetime of me, it sure is nice to have the option..." {well, actually, the one I'd choose would rather have an unanaesthantized root canal than imagine a lifetime of me, but such is life...}
Knowing that I could have the right to legally and spiritually announce and protect my love, just like everyone else in America, made me happy, peaceful and no longer a sad member of the Less Than- demographic I had previously been designated to.
For today, social justice won the day and said, in a clear and loud voice, all people are created equal and shall be treated as such.
Wow, that rings a bell. Novel concept, huh?
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Come! Just Listen by Rumi
Come!
Just listen.
We know a way from
your scene
to the Unseen. You've
lived too long in that
gloomy house. This
path leads to a garden that will lift
you right out of your self.
The gardener is an old friend,
the cyptress and jasmine, too.
Every day
we come and gather
a hundred blossoms
here to scatter
among you.
Don't worry, there
are no hidden motives,
just too much love
blooming to
keep for ourselves.
These words are fragrance escaping
from this garden. See
how the world is softened
by their sweetness. Hear
them whisper,
Come! Come! It
really is like this!
When we first caught
the scent, it
swept us away, then
gave us greatness.
And even if we are
nothing more than
servants of love now,
take care! Like love,
we wait in ambush.
You mean, it's actually warm somewhere...
...summer. What a concept.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
Monday, August 02, 2010
Fifty-five degrees...
...of summer in San Francisco.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
I said...
...yes already. Sheesh.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
The Universe has a LOT of patience...
...with its stubborn, resistant idiot children. Yes, tomorrow on the yoga...
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
Sunday, August 01, 2010
How's about...
...everyone for everyone. Tolerance is sexy.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
A different world...
...count your blessings.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
Mercury SF...
...is who/where I am.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
Never forget...
...all are One.
Smooch. You've been Hit and Run Craiged. www.hermesalchemist.posterous.com
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