Freedom vs. Independence

             As many Americans get ready to fire up the grill, crack open a cold beverage, and gaze upon a sparkling display of exploding flowers in the sky, I’m sitting on my living room couch thinking about the meaning of Independence Day next to my 8 year old son who works furiously on a 300-piece Beatles puzzle.

            Two hundred and thirty-five years ago, the men who came to be known as the Founding Fathers took a stand against an oppressive system. They put their lives on the line to create a future in which their progeny might determine their own destiny rather than have it predetermined by their caste or their parents’ position.

            This fight for independence runs deep in my culture and in my life. I can trace the essence of many important personal decisions down to a sentiment of, “I’m doing this my way, and nobody is going to tell me differently.”

            But what happens once independence is won? Do you keep fighting or begin living?

            Some protection may be in order, as kings don’t give up power easily, and when you completely let down your guard, they may try to step in and reestablish their repressive empire.

            But any fight for independence once you have already established it, beyond maintaining healthy boundaries, becomes a self-fulfilling witch-hunt—if no oppressive king is trying to tax your tea, you’ll go out and find one who might and wage war against an imaginary threat.

            Freedom, unlike independence, is not reactive. Freedom is a creative spirit that must be practiced, used like a muscle, for an end beyond itself.

            To me, freedom is a feeling and an approach, a quality of life that expands well beyond independence. Freedom allows me to experiment, make mistakes without feeling ashamed, explore and discover new truths on the open road of my life’s journey. Freedom emboldens me to try, try again, even if I have failed countless times. Freedom gives my words and deeds a quality of joy and humor—I do something because I can, not because I must.

            Independence can be won, but freedom must be lived.

            Happy 4^th of July.

Achieving More By Doing Less

It takes less effort to do things well and more effort to do them poorly...I haven't yet mastered this principle in life yet, but I subscribe to it whole-heartedly because of what I have discovered in music.

When I started out playing the piano, I would gasp when watching the speed and fluidity with which great pianists played. "If only I could do that," I thought.

I eagerly took the scales and arpeggios that were given to me by my piano teacher, turned on the metronome, and began to build the velocity that was implicitly promised by the Hannon and Czerny exercises I was assigned.

After a few months I noticed that, even with the correct fingering, after a certain tempo I could not go any faster without building up an increasing amount of tension in my hands--specifically my knuckles and wrists.

It wasn't until years later, after I was shown the structure of the tendons in the hand, that I learned that speed was not so much the result of effort, but a natural result of alignment between fingers, wrists, elbows, shoulders, and torso--all of the areas of physical rotation.

I learned that, as these components of my body moved in harmonious relationship together, there emerged a natural flow to my playing and that a lot less effort was required to produce exponential musical results.

Adding to this realization the principle of recovery, which states that for every action there must be an equal counter-action, such as a reverse rotation of the wrist to the left after an initial rotation to the right, and I began to uncover a great musical secret: it is easier to play correctly than it is to play incorrectly.

Over the past twenty years, I have tested out this concept in as many arenas as I could--cooking, walking, communication...it seems as though I have found a touchstone of any skill, known in some Zen traditions as "effortless effort."

Almost every day I find myself challenged to apply it to a new circumstance where effortless effort is called for: expressing more meaning with fewer words, re-engineering a mundane task from three steps down to two steps, or carefully reading the instructions and assembling the tools before assembling a piece of IKEA furniture.

Another potent musical example is finding the "sweet spot" in the recording studio--where the instrument, the acoustic sound environment, the microphone, the preamp, and the console settings are all working harmoniously together, allowing for the maximum musical punch with the least effort put on the performer and engineer.

Examples of effortless effort are endless.

I will end this post with the koan presented to me by a business mentor, John Eggan, who received it from one of his teachers:

"A student achieves less and less by doing more and more, while a master achieves more and more by doing less and less."

Only Next Steps

I long for the big solutions that would address all of my perceived problems and give me an updated operating system for my life without any bugs or glitches (or baggage or ditches).

But life has shown me that, more often than not, all you get are two points of view: that of where you are and that of where you would rather be. From those two points of view, you have the opportunity to discover and take NEXT STEPS. Even when those next steps seem like leaps or entrances into black holes, they are only next steps on a journey with no clear beginning and no known end.

Even dying doesn't guarantee an end of NEXT STEPS. There is no such thing as final success or final failure in any endeavor. You still wake up after the wrap party or the funeral and wonder what you are going to do next...

This seemingly obvious fact changes everything if you let it. It takes away hope that you will ever complete everything on your "to do" list and it takes away fear that you might have missed the chance to do something really important.

I want to live with the awareness that every moment is a NEXT STEP and let each step carry me closer to my true home.

The First Step (On A Journey of A Thousand Miles)

I have taken the first step on a journey of a thousand miles...in the midst of three snowstorms and with a family of five.

We have pulled up our stakes, left our familiar life in Woodstock, freed ourselves of about two thirds of our material possessions, completed a bunch of projects, and set up a launching pad in rural western Massachusetts (cohabiting with dear friends).

Over the next several months, we intend to plan, prepare, and equip ourselves for an extended family adventure/book tour/homeschooling excursion around the continental US, eventually setting up a new home base.

Cora and I began our relationship over 20 years ago on the open road and we now plan to share the spirit and expression of that freedom with our children. If not now, when?

Father's day

(Taken from an email sent to about 50 friends, family members, and associates on Father's Day, 2008)

I woke up this morning with an impulse to share some thoughts and feelings about fatherhood with a group of friends and associates in my life who are also fathers. I hope you are digging the ride and enjoy this day where we are recognized and appreciated (or so it says on the calendar). The musings below come out of a reflection after 15 years of fathering and the growth of the Pearl kid collective—from one to two and from two to three—that has effected every part of my life.

I apologize in advance if any of the sentiment borders on Hallmark or overused clichés, but clichés are often true. So happy father’s day to you.

I hope you can identify as I testify.

JP


Fatherhood Changes Reality.

I became a father a little over 15 years ago. Everything changed in an instant. In no other relationship do you go from having never met a person in one moment, to embracing them as one of the most important people in your life (for the rest of your life) in the next moment. It’s completely weird, no matter how common or natural.

It’s not like being a mother, where you physically grow, carry, and feed the kids directly from your body, gradually adjusting to the shared life. Becoming a father is a sudden shift and being a dad is often an indirect experience. It’s more like a being a deeply involved bystander—one who stands by, ready for any one of the thousands of side jobs that might spring up at any moment...cleaning something up, fixing something broken, comforting someone in distress, answering someone with a question.

Mostly it’s about being close enough—geographically and emotionally—to be called upon when needed. It’s a cross between being an umpire, a court jester, a vice-president, and a manual laborer. Bewilderment and beauty—twin jokes, sometimes laughing with you and sometimes at you...

Of course, there are tremendous rewards.

Kids are fun.
I get to re-experience each stage of life from a different, hopefully more mature, vantage point.
Just being called “Dad” is quite beautiful and watching as these children grow into the mystery of who they are becoming is the best show on Earth.
Every spring something new is blossoming out of this human garden and I am honored to be a caretaker.
Being a dad has also made me appreciate my solitude more.
The freedoms that I used to take for granted are cherished, the sense of purpose amplified.

And then there are the costs...

Becoming a father was the most expensive decision I ever made.
From then on:
Every mistake would carry a much greater price to pay.
Every dream would be filtered through a responsibility.
Every decision—when to go to bed and when to wake up, what to eat or drink, where and how to live, what hours to work—would carry with it the added dimension of needing to take better care of myself so that I might be able to take care of the others who would be depending on me.
Every character flaw became more exposed, every strength called into service for someone else.
...all of this and the added experience of having to adjust to the woman who I used to see only as my lover, suddenly becoming a mother, too (though I am fortunate that she has integrated those two roles nicely).

I don’t really get it. There are too many details to keep track of and too many unknowns in the future to even begin to feel any true sense of control.
There is only one thing I can say for sure:

It’s worth it.

JP

Music, Tea, and Philosophy

These are a few of my favorite things:

Music which frees the soul from the shackles of repression

A hot cup of fine black tea with a small splash of milk

A Saturday morning to sit, contemplate, and enjoy the stillness

A private laugh upon recollection of a line from The Big Lebowski

How about you?