Tinsel Town Has Rusted

I turned the Oscars off within the first 45 minutes. I always watch the Oscars, but this year, even with the controversy of no black nominees, I wanted to see glamour and acceptance speeches. I never watch “red carpet”…that’s torture, but the audience, the hosting, the wins, the losses, I do like to see the interactions in the audience. Instead of laughing, smiling and the occasional cringe, I found myself laughing just once and cringing the rest of the time. Tacky, tasteless, and rude came to mind and then my tolerance was maxed out. I was done watching.

It’s embarrassing enough that we have Trump; loud mouthed, arrogant, bully business man and reality TV star, Donald Trump, doing well in the presidential primaries, but now our elegant evening in Hollywood is reduced to immature, selfish and unbecoming dialogue and jokes? That explains why Trump is even still in the campaign. He should have been out long ago. The decline of the Oscars has been visible the past decade or more but this year was a big leap forward into the gutter.

What happened to elegance? What happened to respect?

Yes, I’m feeling old. Yes, I’m acting old. Yes, I realize now what my parents felt when they said they were “ready to go” because the world had changed too much for the worse.

I’m in limbo. I’m not old enough to be ready to die. I’m not young enough or energetic enough to thrive in today’s society. I feel like my writing won’t be relevant. I feel hopeless and depressed. But, I then remind myself I am not alone. There are people out there that feel similar to me. I can write for them. Hopefully, I can write for those that have given up and maybe I can inspire them to hold on a bit more, if not for themselves, at least for their children and grandchildren and society. Perhaps I can reach the younger “in” crowds, the fire in their bellies “it” people, the ones thinking their shit don’t stink and anyone over 35 is just too cantankerous and just an old fart. Those people. I’ve been there, done that and I was the fool.

So, now that I’ve reasoned this out, I will keep writing. I will not let a crappy Oscars show deter me. I will not let feisty, foul and often tacky writing make me feel out of place. I will continue writing my books and the occasional blog post and perhaps someone out there, someone with a gentle soul and the ability for connection will find my material relevant and will realize they are relevant as well. Let tinsel town rot in its own rust. I’m writing.

Grateful Host in the Perfect Guesthouse

Where are you? What are you feeling? What is God and/or the Universe presenting you with this year, month, day, moment?   The following poem says all we ever need to know so how can we possibly continue to write knowing the bottom line is already spoken? That’s not the question to ask however.  The real question is, how can we consistently be grateful for our “guests” and enjoy the visit(s)? That too is answered by Rumi, yet we all forget at times and try to “reinvent the wheel”.  Perhaps the better question is this:  Are we simply opening our hearts to others, attempting to entertain and welcome, while striving to be a better host?  Yes, I think that is the Q & A for the day.

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
 some momentary awareness comes 
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, 
who violently sweep your house
 empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out 
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, 
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes 
because each has been sent 
as a guide from beyond.

— Jelaluddin Rumi,

translation by Coleman Barks