April 2, 2010    

Wow.

Yesterday's proclamation of DEFIANCE has become a proclomation of DEFEAT.

I printed out the proclamation I wrote yesterday, folded it up and tucked into my suit jacket.

For masonry, I've begun making many compromises. I stopped wearing a tie in 1984. I also stopped wearing watches that same year. Last year, 25 years later, I started wearing ties and even tuxedoes, to fit into Freemasonry.

All the free cds I gave out last year, and the weekly performances in the lodge meetings and rituals added up to nothing.

i did not read my proclamation, because I realized before our Stated Meeting began, that no one cared. They laughed and they giggled at my haircut. "There's a new person in our lodge." "What happened?" asked the most beligerent of them all. "I need money," I replied. "Good," he said.

Latins come from a slave culture and still treat themselves the way the Spanish and the French treated them. That's how they treated me. Success was being beaten into submission. They were all VERY HAPPY to have me join their self-imposed servitudes.

I was very disappointed. Not one single Mason brother was concerned about my record company. Not one single Mason was concerned about my Kung Fu school.

The master of the lodge said, "You should do some free seminars, so people can get to know you." I calmly replied, "I can't work for free any more." He turned away and chatted with someone else.

My heart was broken. Not one brother cared about my dreams, my life, my aspirations, my creativity, my art, my music, my writings, my books, my publishing, my websites... not one.

i was the maverick who was now heralded for giving up my independence. They celebrated my conformity. They were pleased with the defeat of my enterprises.

My self-determination was transformed into self-disgust. I didn't do it to become a slave, but that's what made them happy.

i woke up this morning with the tattoo of a slave on my face. I wore the Star of David like the Jews in Germany. I was the Native American trying to fit in with the white man. I was disgusted. As I rode the bus to my morning Tai Chi class, I looked around at the humans on board and felt like an alien from another planet--unable to truly blend and not capable of even mating with this earthly species.

I remembered the scene from the LAST SAMURAI movie when Tom Cruise returned to the city after spending a winter in the Samurai village. The son of the chieftan was forced to bow and have his topknot pony tail cut off. The crowd looked on unsympathetic as the police laughed and kicked him. That was me today.

I briskly walked in and out of the YMCA without chatting with the staff. I did not need any more humiliation or compliments on my servitude.

When I walked past the storefronts and looked in the windows, my face was puckered. No matter how much I tried to relax it, I looked like I was sucking on a lemon.

Slavery does not suit me.

When I shaved my head in 1997, I did it for ME. I wore my chrome dome with pride. My abandonment of the hair was a sacrifice, but I did it because it was part of my plan, not someone else's. The resulting bald head of a monk, was a pride in itself. I enjoyed my baldness.

But this time is different. I did it for money.

That's not who I am. I don't work for money. I work for art. I work to help people. I work to make the world better. I work to improve myself. Sure, I want to be paid, but I want to be paid because people WANT to pay me. I am not a clown to be paid for wearing funny costumes and amusing them at my expense. I give freely of myself, but what I give comes from my esteem and richness, not compromising my beliefs.

But that's the world I live in. If my job was to wear a dress and pantyhose, people would expect me to do it as they laughed at me--then they'd give me my paycheck.

I am not a clown. I love to make people laugh. I can even make self-deprecating jokes, but that's because I love myself and know I am a good and upright man.

What a slap in the face.

I don't have any desire to slap back, despite my resentment and bitterness--but I do realize that I cannot ever blend in with the cows in the pasture, happily chewing all day as they await their sundown. I prefer to climb to the top of the trees or mountain and view the sunrise, feel the warmth of the midday sun, enjoy the artistic colored sky as the sun sets, and feel the cool breeze of the night. All life is special to me.

Yesterday, I realized again, that although it feels like humanity has divorced me, I am just not a part of normal human existence. I live in a dream world of music, poetry, words, thoughts, concepts, and without the limitations of time, I explore history, fantasy, and the present moment.

i am truly different.

My brother Tom called me yesterday. "If you add up the intelligence of everyone in our family, we still don't equal you bro." I thanked him for noticing. He added, "You just need to use your smarts to get you some success."

He's right.

That was one of motivations to cut my hair. But cutting my hair also pointed out that I was joining the rank and file of the serfs, slaves, and idiots. This is not where and how I want to be successful.

"Please. Buy my books and buy my albums. I won't be able to make any more of them, until I can grow my hair again."