Knock knock knock

Sometimes it seems ridiculous to sit down and write without having anything much to say, like knocking on the door and there's nobody home, knocking on the door and there's nobody home, knocking on the door and there's nobody home. Eventually you'd realize that there's no sense knocking on the door. But of course I don't feel that way, as the 'door' is just a metaphor. Maybe it's the act of knocking that is the point. Knocking as a spiritual practice, perhaps added to the 'draw water, chop wood' and maybe knock on the door.

I like to tease kids when they do 'knock knock' jokes on me. They'll say, 'knock knock' and I say, 'come in'. This blows their mind a little bit, as they're all ready with the punchline, but I've changed the rhythm on them. They'll do it again, 'knock knock' and I'll again say, 'come in'. 'NO, YOU HAVE TO SAY WHO'S THERE!' I don't know why I find this interaction funny, but I do indeed. Eventually I'll let them tell me the joke, but I will invariably test them out with my reverse shtick.

I guess it's similar to when I know someone is goofing with me, by saying something that is obviously not true, I will usually goof back and pretend that I believe them, at which point, they'll break character and tell me, 'no no, I was kidding'. I guess it's some kind of competitive shtick, and once again, this is amusing to me.

But back to the knock knock knock, AKA writing purely for the act of writing. It's a way to shut out the noise and find a little peace and quiet, not that it's peaceful or quiet in there, but at least it's connected. At least it's lined up, aligned up. That's where the breath is, that's where the mystery is, that's where the surprises are. But I'm hoping for more, somehow, always looking for the 'next big thing', and wouldn't it be perfectly ironic if the 'next big thing' is just a little thing.... like going 'knock knock knock' every day.

I seem to be limited to about an hour a day of focused writing. It's a self-inflicted limit, as if I had an hourglass that says, OK dude, you focused for an hour, you can check it off and move on to the distractions that you seem to fill your life with. Which I have been doing lately, and which certainly are not as fulfilling as the one hour on the computer. Maybe it's time to stretch it out a bit, I don't know, shoot for an hour and a half, make it past the first and second inclinations to stop. I'll bet that would be some good territory to explore. Let's try that today and see what, if anything emerges.

But what would I actually be going for if I did that? What's the purpose of it all anyway? Is it to come up with material? Material for what exactly? Now songs? a book? Poetry? Validation? a Plan with a capital P? All of these ideas kind of depress me, and there is a sense that no, I don't belong on the computer, I belong in physical space, cleaning the house, acquiring and learning how to use technology, working on publicity, being 'successful' (gasp) being a master of something.

I often compare myself with a guy I grew up with in White Plains named Tod Machover. Dude is a certified genius, an incredibly prolific composer, creator, world figure, disciplined and justifiably very famous. Tonight for example, his opera 'Death and the Powers' is having its American premiere in Boston (after having opened in Monte Carlo last year). There are major articles about him on a daily basis, and I tend to hold him up as an icon of everything that I'm not, and could never be. (He's a nice person too, and hopefully we at least have that in common). But Tod is the personification of the brilliant, disciplined and accomplished creator, and I'm in awe of what he has done and continues to do. Google his name and you'll catch a glimpse.

I'm genuinely happy for his success, and I wish him nothing but the best. My question is whether there is a way to think about him without immediately comparing myself unfavorably. It's a mental and emotional exercise, because it's so easy to compare myself to all kinds of people, those in fulfilled relationships, those in successful businesses, those those those, external external external, suffer suffer suffer.

'Comparisons are odious' is an expression that I read in Dostoevsky, way back in the day, and I thought that he coined the phrase, but according to Google, it originated before him. Nevertheless, it's such an apt descriptor for the phenomenon of comparing oneself to others. That act engenders such a strong and 'odious' set of feelings, including low self-worth, jealousy, resentment and unhappiness. Since many great authors have borrowed the phrase, I'm guessing that it's a common occurrence around the world (or at least the western world). I'm likely not the only one who has suffered by comparing myself to others.

So what's the way around it? or through it? I just took a deep breath, and there's probably not a better answer than that act. Take a breath, let the air fill my lungs and in that breath is the spirit that enlivens this body and soul. In the breath is the unspoken understanding that every moment on earth is a gift. Every moment on earth is a miracle, every moment on earth is a blessing. We can fret and worry, scheme and plot, be consumed with jealousy and resentment, and I'm guessing that all of those 'strategies' are basically breathless. Because if I breathe in even one breath of gratitude, the mind games start paling in comparison to the simple fact of 'I'm alive, what a gift!' Knock knock knock...