me on keeping it real

It hadn't rained for a long, long time here. It rained today. Riveting rain.

And I ask myself: What is this tug of war with the heART? It is our hEARTH, it is the warmth of our home.

The Voice of the Rain
by Walt Whitman

And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form'd, altogether changed, and
yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck'd or unreck'd, duly with love returns.)

I almost wrote an email to a heart-centered friend last night. (My Enneagram experts might classify them to be a Romantic/Artist Type 4, sometimes tending toward that tragic romantic cliche). Reread the email: Cute, flippant, maybe endearing. Ultimately flat, florid. FAKE.

Fake: my new four-letter-word.

I have a couple of friends that you just don't even think of sending fake B.S. to because we're keeping it real. (They're realer than I am. I'm unlearning, but it's tough on air-elemental knowledge-accumulating Geminis.) Wrote the whole shebang, gearing to hit "send" and something hesitated. It's that same something that realized, whoa, I've been too much in my head lately.

Nice pat getting back on Techmeme again, but really Evelyn, you know that game. My gift to the world is not piling on more polemic, more rhetoric; it's sparking more poetry, more rhyme.

Japanese maple, fiery petals scattered like bouquet tossed in nuptial rains - me, on Twitter today

Today I ran across this marketing campaign. It's cute, flippant, maybe endearing. It rings flashing red lights FAKE. Equating marketing to dating is a fair analogy. Though the campaign couldn't win my heart - let alone my friends' (and they're probably 66.6% male).

They are brutally romantic. They can spot a Chinese wall around your heart three thousand miles away.

This lack of soul, this lack of heart surrounding us day in, night out may explain why Langston Hughes chucked every one of his books into the Hudson River one day - except Leaves of Grass (yes, The Voice of the Rain is in there). It's probably why restless Buckminster Fuller almost chucked himself into Lake Michigan before an inner voice pulled him back, You belong to the Universe. You can't throw your self away if you tried.

What I need to recognize is when I do the same. When I shut my soul out. When I barricade my heart. When I'm fake these friends do me a huge service. They don't call me on it - they ignore it. An email has to resound to the bottom of their hearts before I hear a peep from them. So if I'm missing their voice, it's time to sink into myself, not pour on the charm or even quote Mary Oliver.

Yes: You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. And then, and then, love in kind, love in kindred, responds to itSelf.

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
...

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day,and if you can source your own life from its presence." - Oriah Mountain Dreamer, a snippet of The Invitation

Art credits Thomas in the Rain, by jclutter; Japanese Maple by +Mike+; Recumbent Nude, by Hilary Page.

Bonus: We be keepin' it real here, you hear. In case that was too syrupy heart for ya, often  it's a fiery hEARTHh too. Saul Williams is Soul Williams:

Comments

[Marilyn]

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living." I was struck by that line because it reminded me of the line I use in my Squidoo profile (at my long-neglected lens): I care less about what we do to make a living than about what we live to make our doing. Sometimes I need to remind myself about myself...if you get my drift... ;) I related to a lot of what you wrote about the keeping it real stuff...and have started wondering if that's what's got me avoiding socializing...I just don't seem to have the energy for the superficial anymore...

[Evelyn Rodriguez]

Marilyn,
I like that: What we live to make our doing.

I feel same about the "socializing." I hardly go out these days. I'm fine with small talk to a point, but somewhere sometime in those hours something spontaneous, not filtered and passed muster with your censor, please? Something vulnerable? Something quirky you? (I use "you" in general here.) I find the solution is not turning down all invitations - and I tell you not having a car is a handy dandy excuse - but now I am stepping into creating the invitation for keeping it real to emerge, even if that wasn't the "plan" for the event whatsoever.

[Atao]

Choice is a big mystery. Choice of karma, choice of your body, choice of sending and receiving frequencies in your brain, your mind, your soul, your spirit. That is why The Matrix is such an breathtaking film. Art has a problem with choice. Maybe Art is already dead, Evelyn. An this just some 120 years after death of God :-)
Sorry it's a little cryptic how I write this.

[Darren Barefoot]

Hmm...could you give me a litle more reflection on why you think our marketing campaign is fake? That is, why it's not genuine?

Just to give you a little more background: we hand-wrote nine letters to nine bloggers who we read and like (and, in some cases, I know). They were playful little notes on pink paper, reflecting the dating=marketing metaphor you referenced which is central to our book.

They're personalized, genuine, thoughtful, individual and authentic. Yes, we're trying to get these bloggers to write about our book, but we're totally transparent about that. I think this is as about bona fide as marketing can get, but I would think that.

So what's fake?

[Michael Pokocky]

Me on keeping it real:

i am no one important+

i don't buy into any dogma/ i'd rather create/ i want courage/ i will tell stories/ i want to live passionately/ i want what i got/ what i got is who i am/ i don't try to be anyone else/ i will eventually be found out/ i wonder is creativity an illusion/ is courage in our genes/ what really is originality/ creativity/ courage/ what is what i want to know/ i don't know if any of this is real/ all i know are my feelings/ are feelings all we really got/ everything else seems to be just an illusion/ i am not shy/ i want to share the sky/ i think no one is superior/ we are all in this together/ i am no one important/

essence+

“We are by nature an evolution of cultures and therefore subject to the rule and law of nature and the infallibility of human nature.”

[OLE_SHIP]

UMMM!
Yuh Umami, the once-obscure “fifth taste”...
.. a fifth element may apply to our taste, "savory" in meaning of taste.
Worded in Japenese is the umammi, better english can put a spin to the appetite of pallet.
(space)
What of the other senses?

(space- java is forebidden)
Of course i believe there is love that can be applied to some level of taste, and to almost anything, how we say "a labor of love", love is the ingredient; that is, by some grace it is the answer, dispite what it is that Lennon song says we "gotta let it gooo".
Oh my! For context I had to refresh myself with the lyrics..
and you know what? You know that for sure!
I didnt intend to input the song theme,,I'll drift it in here and get back(ouch)
For others, love may be waiting for their time to grasp it.
(another space)
I did here a song last night and looked it up, and now share, simply, for a comment i saw described it as "and the proverbial chill"..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0O_fCs5Buwg
(back to my way-out-in _ space)
"On the surface" alone, and as satire; snow or rain, fluries or frost, a gift of a voice that warms the heart; the burning sensation that comes to by thought in parilous moments, how or why did they say that! ; diligent for the cover is satire at times, for whats really under the surface?
Cute, flippant, maybe endearing, i accept it as is..
"... it's just a fleeting glimpse of a multidimensional being. But here goes..."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"When it rains it pours", equating dating; cute, flippant, maybe endearing..., of all things.
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
"""Not to miss interpret""" "" ""
(-;:-) //////
"Raindrops keep falling on my head", just in general...
The Invitation, The Call, and The Dance
OF: "In order to converse with the wild feminine, temporarily join the world that inhabits that state of aloneness in the oldest sense of the word."; "When writers talk to each other, what they ask each other is always to do with this space.." ; from me to you anyway, I'm glad I'm not a writer, Now That relieves a little of the stress for me.

The GIFT----
...to make one day more, for whatever we would like it to be...
..have you found a space, that empty space...
My utterly lost mind now gains some soul, thanks to some Curiously writing(strike that) "narating", some things about space and alone and intuition and snow in the midst of this season.

It is really the season, and maybe the an "every cloud has a silver lining" could ring in for you in a special way this year. How much I see of the thanks tou you from others here already; for what I would say..your showing us some of those "space" places of our own, and giving us some clicks to see them for ourselves.

Of Writing and reading books and literature,, that brings a raven to mind.(..I dont really know why?, it just came to "my" mind)
Anyway, I remember the story of it as once white or silver. Everthings not always so black and white, as in writing.

Silver Bells, Silver Bells,... hope you hear, ya' hear!
----------
Okay, you've twisted my arm(pen)(mouse)(keyboard)...
WITH SPACE!

I will send you another email.
OLE SPACE SHIP!

[Siona]

I love you, Evelyn. Your whole being is such a gift to the world. And, for whatever reason, I'm in the same social boat these days. It's funny to witness these cycles.

And Darren? I had that same squidge of discomfort around your campaign. For me it's not what what I *think* is wrong with it, but a more deeper, visceral reaction. It just feels contrived; as though it's marketing for marketing's sake rather than communication from a place of passion. I wish I could explain it better, but for me, there's a palpable transmission of love in messages that are genuine. For whatever reason I didn't get that in your project (or experiment or exercise or whatever it was). I don't think there's anything wrong with the approach, and I'm sure it's effective. It just puts me off. That's all.

[Darren Barefoot]

Let's remember that this is on the scale of marketing. When did you last feel 'a palpable transmission of love' from an advertisement or flyer?

I'm certainly not claiming that our little project was more genuine than, you know, an actual love letter. Or a movie or novel or whatever. In the world of marketing, however, I think it's definitely at genuine end of the scale. And that's the best I can do as a marketer, I think.

[Evelyn Rodriguez]

Hi all, I'm in midst of moving (yes, over the holidays) and will be driving down to LA in less than an hour. I don't feel quite satisfied with my comments, but they do keep the conversation flowing...

Michael, Thank you for your poetry.

Atao, For me, concepts of God and concepts of art - and concepts, period - are dead as far as I'm concerned. And not dead as "over with" but just dead as in there's nothing vital, nothing beating, nothing pulsing, nothing there at all. "Art is the means by which we communicate what it feels like to be alive." - Antony Gormley. The art I tend to care about is very alive, very living, and doesn't really have much to do with the Art World. Each minute we breath, and how we express that life racing subtly through us could be called art.

Darren, It's going to be next week before I have the bandwidth to address your question properly. Maybe I shouldn't have really picked on your campaign particularly as 99.6% of marketing communication sounds fake too - yet I just a) happened to read it then b) and since I feel social media sets a higher standard in valuing conversations and making organizations, businesses more humane through human faces to interact with, it was actually harder to swallow than say, a telemarketer calling me at home. And yes, a lot of dating is rather contrived too. For a case study of blogger and community relations done well, check out Loic Le Meur and Seesmic. There's a quality of engagement there and I'll have to mull on to distill it better.

Siona, It is soooo good to hear from you.

Blessings to everyone for a miraculous holiday season and much beauty, mystery and joy for 2008!

[donna]

Darren, maybe it's because your entire purpose is the marketing instead of simply the communication.

I thought your emails above far more "real" than the pink letters, myself.