Love and Pain are One in the Same

28 03 2016

[photo by vaughn brown – model Cydney Young]

575813_527037100669051_2081773692_nLove is a two way street. It flows and it ebbs. It gives and receives.

Love does not take.

Anger takes and anger abuses the loving places withing our heart spaces where love once lived, from where love was given.

If love is not given back to fill empty love places within our empty heart spaces our hearts break and make sad faces.

Do not take love unless you have love to give.

Only receive love if you want love to help your life live.

Then plant that love in your heart to let it grow, then let your heart flow unto another space within loving heart’s grace.

So that beauty may abound with all hearts around in a loving place to give loving grace in the heart space where love once lived and was given to another to fulfill a dream and uplift a spirit to dream and cast away fate and find unimaginable joy with another’s love, to be entangled in a beautiful tapestry of colorful, creative joy and compassionate kindness to help us find wisdom and beauty around to abound in a rainbow like dream where our thoughts can unwind and our cares fall away like the cocoon of a new growing butterfly’s wing.

To take flight through the grace of a loving Creator’s stroke of a colorful brush of life to breathe and to grow to flow and to know and to be and to see and to give back and never attack but defend to the end without hesitation or trepidation encumbering ways for selfishness pays a recompense that cannot be accounted for when the heart is given away and broken down forgotten about for a short time of thoughtless pacification and selfish abandon of the fortress you used and abused to take flight in the night when you were scared and unprepared to survive or to thrive through the battle of another love-storm where you were forlorn to take from the heart of a man who would live and give and give back and not attack or demand but sit empty and destitute when the war was over because you got yours and were protected by him given dreams fulfilled in the fantasies of your mind to use his loving grace and compassionate face to hold up and show up then throw away when he was a man with empty heart spaces having given but never received because he was never fulfilled or refilled after giving his love and his life to fill your empty spaces you tossed him away like a horse out to pasture with laughter and sought after another to fill your empty heart space because you took his and did not use it wisely and killed his heart like a murdering Jezebel or thief in the night taking what you saw that could get you by for another day with no regard for the hurt you left behind and the anguish and pain you filled a loving man’s heart spaces to fall away and have nothing more to give or receive.

But he did not die because his loving Savior replaced the false ugly waste you filled in the place of his empty heart space.

You killed me and left me for dead because my heart was hurt but I gave it to you to refill the empty spaces taken from the abuse of the man before me and you killed my heart and took my children and trashed my name when all I ever did was work hard and fill the empty spaces in your heart.

But you got filled up and fulfilled and then you saw chinks in my armor that were put there, battling for you, battle scars to save you from a monster who abused you and I only loved you and gave my life to you and when I was battle weary you cast me away like an old worn out shoe or a battle scarred coat of armor that once shined to protect your gentle and loving heart.

I gave my strength to you to use to rebuild your esteem and when you sprouted up, back into life, you cast me away like an old broken down tool and took our children and played out a new narrative to pacify your mind after having destroyed my esteem after I gave you my all and all of my love to you without asking anything in return.

And I self medicated so that I could be strong for you but you did not want to understand why or give a thought about how I could do that to give my heart space out of compassionate grace to an angel in need a beautiful princess whose beauty I found unimaginable and so I gave my heart to it because she was in need such beauty to see and to love and to receive and give back in return for she was the passion I desired in love and it came without bounds and filled my empty heart spaces when I was broken down and hurting and trying to fill my heart spaces with something good and her beautify and love fit me like a glove in those spaces so nice and made me feel like a prince.

Alive once again to take flight on the wings of a dove to get my life back and attack all that had gotten me down until I almost drowned in my own iniquity and sorrow having lost at loves battle from a woman who promised for eternity to be honest but did not fulfill the bill and used her free will to kill my heart and ill my life to take from me my livelihood grace and demand more from the courts like a whore where she wrote laws and forced law and like cat paws on my skin to cut within and give pain and drain me from my resources so that she could fill her empty heart places with things she did not understand or try to comprehend until the end as she covenanted with me and the angels on high through God’s grace pacify my wounds she would not but took from me like a hook in fishes mouth to lead and bleed from all that I needed to keep her pacified until I die she will always deny the truth she abused from a loving man’s heart that she killed with a knife like a thief in the night.

I gave what they demanded of me to pacify their needs to fulfill their heart’s dreams not asking for anything in return, nor expecting anything to be paid back but all I got was abuse from the lack of love to be given to fill my heart’s empty spaces after letting them lean on me and fill their empty heart spaces with my love to combine and move forward in time without me, to be free, cast away like a flea, to never be remembered or given honor in heaven, just to be used and abused to be amused in life without strife not a wife or a husband to be loved with the beauty above but ugliness on the ground all around to expound upon his giving grave when you tossed it all back in his face to make haste with a race you could not keep up nor sleep up in time with a fellow not mellow whose beauty unkind not like mine to use and abuse throughout time.

But I will not forget the morning sunrise to recollect and ponder upon a perception you asked how could a love last as it was given to you to fill your empty heart’s place like a puzzle from grace from the space that we made and had when we were glad about life without strife coming down to abound all around our hearts measure to never deliver the deceiver within with a pen to take down to the end and give back in attack when your heart’s Cadillac could not track the traces upon faces you left ingratiated.

There are times in my mind when I find so unkind the love of a Jezebel who put me through hell to dwell upon cases out of court without braces.  To pacify a need in time with mine taken from my heart spaces, the children we love, who fit us like a glove to love and give love but you used it to attack like cat scratch on a mat that left me to bleed and supersede the throng that went on and on in my mind throughout time never again to be born or forlorn from a heart’s loving grace to make emptiness space.

And if it were not for the grace of a loving son’s face, my savior he saved me from societies game.

The love and compassion from my greatest brother from above, the great I am, yes indeed  Sam I am, with green eggs and ham.  He pacified my lonely heart’s break never again to undertake a carpenter’s will without bill or some skill to be used and abused without will to fulfill until the last day when we all pray for blessing above to help us to recover enough to be strong and unwind without bounds to be around and not frown but remember the loving uncovering endeavor you took to make space without grace in his face.

And it’s time to unwind from your  mind second time to give rest to all recompense to get love when lost love was taken to trash that you trashed for your won battle axe

And now it is time to unwind and dine upon feast without grief like the thief she gave relief from a good loving man whose hand was bound to the ground for monetary’s sake must we break bread to undertake the pain of love lost for a scorn.

And now you are confused because you abused without muse or pacification all around like a clown showing off with a frown to be sad and not glad.  To under achieve for a need for your greed to succeed to be trained and left out to hang out and be without but not without love from above to help a man who has a plan but you demand an agenda from on high that abides like a mouse in his sleep to keep me from knowing, not growing and lonely forlorning like a glove from a dove this amount does not count and again you are confused by rules that you enforce with divorce.

Rights taken but not given will live on in Heaven where love will abound without you like a clown in need, yes indeed my pretty princess subside.

But if you will with your skill try to fill my bill with a thrill I will allow you to explain with the pain that remains because Christ has come over me from Christi to Erica Gandy and I am allowed to be proud and not let my mouth give a frown.  To be undone to undermine is not the cause because love was given then driven into the ground without women.

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The Godfathers of Guitar

18 02 2011

There’s a progression in music, much like the generations that pass as we raise our children, pass on our values and go forward into the world, having influence on so much.  We might feel insignificant while we are bogged down in the drudgery and seemingly mundane detail of every effort it takes to produce what it is we are striving for.

But it’s all worth it!  It pays off, maybe not in the peak of our lives as we would like, but if we persist, endure and do it right our lives and what we create become a crescendo that builds a foundation for those who come after us.  What we do is not lost on the demands of daily life as long as we keep our eyes on the distant goal.

Before I get too far off course, I’ll reel my thoughts back in and start talking about a man named Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson was born in 1911 and only lived to the age of twenty seven, but what he did for music is something that cannot be measured.

This brings me to another point of irony; the great music artists who made a huge splash and shook up the status quo of music in their day, dying at the age of twenty seven.  Robert Johnson, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain.  There I go again getting ahead of myself.  It’s all in my head, but I need to lay it out in some order for it to make any sense.

Everyone has heard the story of the guy who sold his soul at the crossroads for talent, fame and glory.  Charlie Daniels brought it to us and told the story well in his classic song, The Devil Went Down To Georgia.  Did you ever wonder where the story of Johnny and the Devil came from?  It wasn’t Johnny and it wasn’t a fiddle.  It was Robert Johnson with a guitar.

Robert Johnson was a good blues guitar player but he wanted more, he wanted to be the best.  He studied with one of the greats of the time, Son House and used to try to emulate his idol but was unable to play as well.  When Johnson was nineteen he disappeared from Robinsonville, Mississippi for several months and when he came back he had a new guitar technique that nobody had ever played before.

This is where the story gets told, that Robert Johnson, for his passion of wanting to play the guitar so well, took his guitar to a crossroad near the Dockery Plantation at midnight where a large black man appeared to him.  The man took the guitar from Johnson, tuned it, played a couple of songs, and gave the guitar back to him along with total mastery of the instrument.  He was given the gift he sought but in return for this gift Johnson exchanged his soul.

This story makes for great PR but there’s another story that is probably what really happened.  Another player of the time named Ike Zinnerman spent a lot of time with Robert Johnson playing in the local cemetery at midnight, reportedly because it was quiet and nobody was around to disturb them.  This is where Johnson honed his mastery of the instrument, and the cemetery isn’t a bad place to come up with a story about selling one’s soul to the devil in exchange for fame and glory.

With the fame and glory came a tragic end.  Robert Johnson had been playing a certain gig for a few weeks and was flirting with the juke joint owner’s wife.  The man offered Johnson an open bottle of whiskey (he had previously been warned to never accept an open bottle but replied to the man who told him that to never knock a bottle from his hand) and he drank from it.  Reports tell us that the bottle was laced with strychnine and over the next few days Robert Johnson fell ill and eventually died.

Robert Johnson did leave us with an incredible catalog of recorded music that artists of the future would learn from and grow with to produce greater and more influential musical creation for us to partake of.  One in particular, and the one who most all musicians would agree is the standard for rock and roll and blues guitar is James Marshall Hendrix aka Jimi Hendrix.

Jimi Hendrix was born Johnny Allen Hendrix, November 27, 1942.  When Jimi’s dad came back from Europe after World War II he changed Jimi’s name to James Marshall, after his late brother, Leon Marshall.  I’m not sure where the James came from but I like it because we get Jimi spelled in that unique way.  Maybe it was just time to break from the chaos of the past and make things new.  Jimi always had a bright outlook on things and I think Al, his dad, was instrumental in teaching him correct principles.

On a side note, I had the honor of shaking hands with Al Hendrix in the fall of 1991 at a club in Seattle called the Rockandy.  It was a type of gig the Seattle bands put together to follow a theme of the godfathers of rock and roll and this night was Jimi Hendrix theme night.  Twelve Seattle bands came together to perform two Hendrix tunes of their choice and of their interpretation.  No, we didn’t have Nirvana or Soundgarden or Alice in Chains or Screaming Trees or Pearl Jam or Mudhoney or any of the huge list of big-shot Seattle bands you might wish were a part of this story; yeah, and I wish too!  How would that have been?  To meet Al Hendrix and watch Soundgarden knock out a couple Jimi covers for a six dollar entry?  But it wasn’t to be. Although we did get a dramatic performance from a band called The Sky Cries Mary, an obvious reference to Jimi’s song The Wind Cries Mary.  The Sky Cries Mary had some accolades and even made an appearance on the David Letterman show, but for some reason they didn’t receive the strong and wide spread recognition a lot of the projects coming out of Seattle did, which is a cryin’ shame because to be honest their expression through music was far more complex and layered than most everything else, especially at that time. They were never part of the ‘grunge’ scene, nor do I think they ever had any desire to be. They stood head and shoulders apart from the rest of the dank and dirty rock and roll genre that swept through Seattle at that time..

 
I sat with Roderick Romero, a member of The Sky Cries Mary, that night and we talked of musical expression, the layering of sound and the experiences obtained through the use of mind expanding particles introduced to the creative process. It is a conversation that has stayed with me through my life and throughout my creative endeavors. It was a great night, and I am grateful to have had that moment with him; he is an inspired and remarkable artistic visionary.

And there I go again, getting off track.  When it comes to music and the things I’ve seen, I can talk for hours and find myself down the goofiest tangents.

Jimi’s mom died when he was nine, from complications due to her alcohol abuse, and he moved up to Vancouver, BC for a while.  This is where he acquired his first acoustic guitar, from a pawn shop for five dollars.  His dad got it for him because Jimi had been air guitaring on an old broom stick and playing a broken ukulele his dad found while cleaning the garage.

Eventually Al rounded up enough dough to get Jimi his first electric guitar.  In 1958 he got a white Supro Ozark 1560 S, single pickup from Myer’s Music in Seattle, Washington.  He didn’t have an amplifier but Jimi did what he could with what he had and that’s why Jimi Hendrix is the legend he is today; because he felt it and what he felt, he was able to let out his arms and through his fingers, through his guitars and into our ears for the expansion of minds around the musical world.

Jimi took what the godfathers before him did, like Robert Johnson, Son House and Ike Zinnerman and added a new flavor to the mix.  It’s an evolution, and as society in Jimi’s day evolved in technology and industry, so did music in intellectuality.  Thank God Jimi Hendrix was there with his electric guitar to express this new knowledge given us from The Field in the form of music as the floodgates opened and the new energy rolled forward.  The minds who were paying attention and who would not immediately dismiss this new horizon as rebellion and sedition from normalcy opened to the influence of this musical microcosm that had previously existed only in science fiction and in the fantasies of artists.

He had the audacity to play The Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock, and regardless of what most white collar conservatives, flashing down the street, pointing their plastic fingers at Jimi believe, he did it as a tribute to this great nation, not as a desecration of something sacred as our national anthem.  Just because the squares of the day didn’t get it doesn’t mean his art form was nothing short of God’s grace shedding brilliant talent down on a generation of artists to shake up the status quo.  That’s not to say his lifestyle was anything to emulate; maybe something to be learned from, but the authorities of the day tried to dismiss what he was doing as a mockery when it was merely a new form of expression.  And to dismiss the art because of the artist is a shame.  If we were to do that then we might just as well throw out Mozart, Hemmingway and Van Gogh.

Jimi did live fast and died hard.  On September 18, 1970 at the age of twenty seven, Jimi Hendrix died.  It was that night that he had attended a party in London and was picked up by his then girlfriend, Monika Dannemann and driven to her place at the Samarkand Hotel at Notting Hill.  It was no secret that Jimi had an affection for amphetamines and this night he downed nine Vesperax, a German brand sleeping pill whose dosage was one half of a pill.  A few hours after midnight Jimi began to vomit from the overdose but was unconscious from the high dosage and asphyxiated on the red wine that was in his stomach.  Eeeew!

That’s a tragic end to a lifestyle lived.  God bless Jimi Hendrix and may he be forgiven for any trespasses upon the Natural Law.  He was a man of vision and an artist that many followed after.

And after Jimi came many, and there were other masters who deserve mention as Jimi’s peers.  Eric Clapton, Carlos Santana, George Harrison, Jimmy Page and in the years beyond the great sixties and early seventies we had mega freaks like Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhodes, the Schenker brothers and Stevie Ray Vaughan and even some disgustingly, technically perfect, so perfect it’s not even enjoyable listening, like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai.  But then, thank the heavens; we were blessed in the late eighties with a new son of pure guitar art form who played only because it’s the only thing he could do.  Not for the glory, not for the fame, not for the money; he played from the heart and he gave it everything.

On June 25, 1988 Hillel Slovak, guitarist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers succumbed to the horrors of heroin addiction and left a gaping hole in the world of music.  One of their fans, John Anthony Frusciante had been playing guitar since age nine when he became infatuated with The Germs and learned to play along with their record, GI.  Shortly after that, one of his instructors turned him on to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and John proceeded to emulate Hillel Slovak’s guitar style.  John went on to master the blues scales at then discovered Frank Zappa.  At the age of sixteen, with the permission of his parents, he dropped out of high school after taking a proficiency test and enrolled at the Guitar Institute of Technology.  At one point Frusciante was set on trying out for Frank Zappa’s band but heard that Frank wasn’t too keen on chemical refreshment so John decided, as he knew he was going to indulge in the hedonism of rock stardom, not to even give it a shot.

Frusciante had become friends of the Chili Peppers as their shows were more intimate in the early days when the fans would go gangbusters slam dancing (before it was called moshing) and rarely experience the show visually.  There was a band in LA at the time called Thelonious Monster who was auditioning guitar players.  Anthony Keidis was friends with Bob Forrester of Thelonious Monster and arranged an audition for John.  After seeing the audition, Anthony offered Frusciante a position in the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

John Frusciante was eighteen years old and they called him Greenie.  He fell in quick with the band and followed in Hillel’s footsteps without missing a beat.  It was almost as though he had channeled Hillel’s spirit he played the Chili Peppers’ material so well.  As Slovak was greatly influenced by Jimi Hendrix, so was John Frusciante, and like Hillel, John approached the guitar from a minimalist angle, which likely came from his punk and new wave roots.  And I say God bless you John for not being another over playing virtuoso and laying it down cleanly and simply and beautifully as you have for the years.

The music that John has created with The Red Hot Chili Peppers has given me insight into things that I knew were going on within my own life, but I was unable to touch upon them in any coherent manner.  But when I listened to Californication in February of 2000 while driving from Vancouver, Washington to Salt Lake City to look for a new career, and move my family back home as the wife requested, I heard Anthony telling me about parallel universes and that was something of a catalyst to my thinking toward my belief that this band has in fact, paralleled my entire life with their songs, the stories they tell within the songs and all the drama and in fighting, with Dave Navarro coming into the band during that time I was adopting my two daughters, Tayslie and Ali and I did  not treat them right.  I didn’t have the tools or the skills to be a tender and nurturing parent.  But as time has passed I have grown in knowledge and wisdom and I pray that those beautiful young women forgive me some day of the faults of a young man who was trying his best to do what he was told by those around him and echoing the environment in which he was raised.

And here we are today, loving Stadium Arcadium, again following the patterns of my life.  Every song on that recording speaks profoundly to me at some level of my life at the time it was recorded, from my relationships with younger women and She’s Only 18 (and it actually tells the story of my relationships with Jayne Pederson exactly as it happened, and with another girl named Raquel; it just blows me away how precise the words are to us) to Warlocks when I spent my time in Portland with the hedge witch, Tami to the soul touching song Hey, the last track on the first disc, Mars of the Stadium Arcadium masterpiece; that song, Hey tells the story of the communication between me and my ex wife to the T.  And the song, Charlie is totally Marlene, my angel and my healer. And not to mention their unreleased b-sides recordings that speak directly to me with profound exactness every time I stumble upon them.

I could go on and write volumes.  This means nothing to many and it’s just silliness to some, but for me it’s profound and this is my life.  All things happen for a reason.  There is no such thing as coincidence.  All things have purpose, if you have faith enough to believe on things greater than yourself.

So, from Robert Johnson to Jimi Hendrix and on down through the cacophony of glammed up rock star virtuoso guitar players we are blessed with the tenderness of John Frusciante who expresses the truth right through his instrument and into my ears to resonate with me and validate my existence.

I love you John.  Thank you for everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve given us and everything that is to come.  John Frusciante is a master beyond recognition.








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