share
this section is a bit more personal. it really has no format, just things i want to share.2007
I resolve to live more in and from my heart. From this place everything else will be taken care of.From this place
From the place where I stand
To the place where you are
It's not that far
Not as far
As you might think
The ocean between us
The clouds that surround this atmosphere
Seem endless sometimes
In the space between
you and me
sometimes it's hard to see
the face of love
the endless grace
from above
from below
just open your heart and you'll know
From the place where I stand
To the place where you are
It's not that far
Not as far
As you might think
Differences
Are only in the mind
It's the heart that finds it's way
From there
To here
It's love that takes the fear away
Touch knows something
The eyes can't see
When the distance
Between you and me
Disappears
We know we're near to love
***
commitment
all right, so i'm hungry again
we all get hungry
don't we?
i want to go shopping
but i remember that bit of wisdom that says
"don't shop when you're hungry"
me?, i go to the grocery store
and, i walk through the aisles
and, my hunger is growing
on the way to the "fresh produce" section
i pass some candy bars
i've eaten candy bars before
i suppose, everyone has
haven't they?
sometimes I'm seduced by a "snickers"
sometimes i succumb to "mounds"
they're a quick fix for curbing the appetite
ever so convenient
lots of fun
and imminently disposable
I'm picturing the moment of truth
that first kiss of tongue on chocolate
the luscious flesh yielding
under the sheer brute strength of my oral advances
where i am instantly overcome
by the unbridled blast of nougat
the wild surprise of nuts
and the primal tug of caramel
alas, the sweet storm passes all too quickly
and i am left with only a faint linger
a fading tingle
on my tongue and fingers
but she
she is not easily forgotten
she continues to insinuate herself
into my chemistry
first
i regress
and i get giddy
then
i laugh
and i feel dizzy
then,
i stop
and i feel
empty
and then,
i start thinking
and
i
feel
guilty
it's a moral dilemma
caught
between candy and organic produce
but i want to keep my options open
so i toss yet one more candy bar into my cart
and keep the fresh produce for reserve
i'm now at check-out
admiring my bounty
ahh! spring mix
ooh! red cabbage
mmm! butterfingers
on the way home
she is perched on the cilantro
she's staring at me
she's preying on my hunger
beseeching me, "bite me! eat me! i'm yours!"
she lives for my attention and the cheap thrill of self-validation
her irresistible glistening wrapper relentlessly begs me
to play
and play
and play
in my mind
i fast forward
to the familiar scene
where i've been home for a while
and the phone is ringing
but i don't answer
because i'm in the middle of a candy bar
i don't want to do that one again
there was a time
when i ate a lot of candy bars
while my produce sat still in the fridge
going limp after my first indulgence
wrinkling after my second
withering at my third
when i was finally ready for salad
i found the lifeless mass in the crisper
consumed with neglect and anything but crisp
it is now the defining moment
i'm holding candy in my hand
she's trembling with desire
I'm doing my best to stay in my head
in a moment of desperation
i decide to read the nutritional information
it guarantees to contain less than two percent
of anything but pure fun
i already know this all too well
in my right ear, I hear a voice:
"don't do it! don't do it! you know where this is going"
in my left ear, a very different voice:
"ah! come on! have some fun! life is short!"
but this time
I just can't
I can't
I
can't
i pull over and deposit candy in a mail box
that way i can't go back
with no regrets
i take a deep breath and head full-speed home
i think about how my salad makes me feel
sure she's a bit more work to prepare
sure she's not as flashy in that cheap kind of way
that the cheap part of me finds so appealing
but she is refreshing and colorful
she has fiber
and more textures than ten candy bars
and the best thing is:
i can get my fill of her before going to bed
and still respect myself in the morning
"she's good for me" i tell myself
"she nourishes me" i affirm
she sustains me
she stays with me
in those long solitary stretches
between meals
she waits
in the fridge
dancing
in the tupperware
i'm rinsing the radicchio
the red pepper swells with pride
the sprouts are triumphant
the phone rings
i answer with wet hands
my heart is in my throat
it's...
the voice
and she asks
"what are you doing?"
i swallow my residual guilt
I clear my throat
i muster a bit of composure
and with a sigh of relief I reply
"why darling
i'm making us a salad."
***
The Power of Letting Go (lyrics)
I once was a leaf among leaves on a tree
Where I grew and I shaded the things beneath me
When the wind blew strong, I held the tree tight
When the sun lit the heavens, I reached for the light
I passed many days without worry or care
Till asleep, I awakened to change in the air
And the wind brought a chill, I grew stiff in the cold
My color turned pale and my hands wouldn't hold
Now a leaf that is free, I spiral and float
To the water below, which I ride like a boat
And I'm carried to places I never would know
Through the power of letting go
I once was a wave that was steady and strong
In the rhythm of ripples, I travelled along
And I covered great distance that all looked the same
A wave among waves in a place with no name
Time went by, and a shoreline appeared
Whispering of changes and endings I feared
And I couldn't turn back, and I wouldn't go under
So I rode to the sand in the foam and the thunder
Now a splash from the wave, I dance to the skies
Where the sun makes me vapor, and weightless I rise
And I float off to places I never would know
Through the power of letting go
***
scattered
it must have been a rugged landing
I woke up so pitifully scattered
broken and brittle
crumbled and tumbling
my thoughts, homeless and renegade
found no place to rest
my projector snapped a sprocket
my images went all jittery
and the sound was out of sync
and it was only the day before
when I thought I had touched perfection
but today was perfectly strange
I was out of tune, watching myself fume
muttering ungraciously
stubborn in my refusal to diffuse this resistance
insisting that heaven could never look like this
and so I wrestled with myself
and so night fell
and found me
eyes to the sky
transfixed
in a revelation
of stars
all
perfectly
scattered
***
Here I am
No matter how well I know myself, no matter how astute my perceptions may be, in the end, I simply am. I am the embodiment of an incomprehensible motivation known and unknown to myself and others as "me". And here I find myself, full circle, playing music again, sharing words, poems, related fragments of an archeological dig driven by my innate hunger to know something of this unique individual culture that I inhabit and embody. And here I am, forever walking a shoreline, collecting shells, and pebbles, and fragments of humanity left to drift. In turn I send messages in bottles out into the waves in some natural and silent hope that I will be noticed, discovered, and acknowledged as a part of a greater whole, and in the face of the greater whole may one day forget the I in me and simply be.
***
In words
I used to be quite intellectual: in other words, very in my head. At that time words were my tools and my weapons. I lived for the next great metaphor and I pleasured myself over poetic phrases. I wrote lyrics and poetry and was far too serious for someone my age.
At a certain point, it occurred to me that I was living the idea of a life, and that somewhere within my reach was the direct experience of life itself. So I packed my concepts and headed to the warmer climes of my heart. I began to express myself through music without the interpretive encumbrance of the verbal. Somehow this seemed more direct, more pure, and it worked well for quite some time. But after a while I came to face myself in an honest enough way to ask, "who am I to believe that I am out of my head, beyond words. I'm just like the rest of the human race, tight-roping between thoughts and feelings, and only really out of my head during life threatening experiences or orgasms which are pretty much the same thing and even then I'm only out of my head half of the time."
So I went back to my head, somewhat apologetically, as if returning to a former lover that I had abandoned. And I knocked on the door of the house of words and little by little, as if learning to trust me again, it opened.
Now I use words, like a feather, to tickle the stubborn chin of habit into a life-giggle. I utilize words, like the scalpel of the heart surgeon I always wanted to be.
But in the end, it doesn't matter which way I come in or go out, the spirit is behind every door, behind every word, every note, every color, every gesture. Spirit is encrypted in all things and connection is the simple decoded message. Connection is the imparting of a vibration so familiar that it forgets itself and once forgotten is never quite remembered in the same way.
nikola the village of lefkes is dead quiet. in the square, the old cafe is for sale. a young man and woman are removing fixtures and furniture. there's a large old tree that shades the tables and chairs and an old man sits, all alone, flipping his worry beads like the steady pendulum of an antique clock. there's nobody left with whom he can play a game of backgammon or exchange war stories, except for nikola, who sits across the street like a house cat curled up on a caf chair. his eyes are warm and soft. his skin is translucent and patchy and his prominant ears protrude from his wide bald head, he looks at me and smiles. he says to me, "esai kuklos" ("you're a doll") and asks me where my woman is. i answer, "far away". i ask him the same and he just gestures with a single flip of his wrist that insinuates an unimaginable distance. i had become confused in the labyrinth of narrow streets and had stumbled upon the square and i now ask him how to get back to the main road. he says, "what" so i try again, "the main road, where can i find it?" his face lights up. he smiles again and tells me he'll show me. he gets up and slowly leads me back through the maze till he stops at a rather random-looking place on an unmorable street, and indicates for me to continue. i thank him and wish him the best. i continue a short distance only to
find myself at the edge of town on a dirt path that ends in a field of unkempt grapevines and chicken coops. poor nikola! he's more lost than i am. my disorientation is local. his is universal. i turn around to make my way back and find nikola, a little ways down the road that led to nowhere, looking around. THINGS SPIRITUAL
I live in a town where there is a lot of talk about things "spiritual". I consider myself a spiritual person, but I'm starting to see that "spiritual" is not something that can really be pointed to nor spoken about without corrupting the essence of what is being experienced. So, as of late, I am skeptical of any packaging of spirituality whatsoever. In fact, I've really gone dead on "spiritual" people, "spiritual" retreats, "spiritual" disciplines, "spiritual" relationships, blah, blah, blah. I like to replace the word "spiritual" with the word "human". "Spirituality" is really "humanity". It is the integral component, the essence of being human. Separating spirituality as something from my humanity makes the statement that "life' and "spirit" are not inseparable. Ultimately, this perspective is un-spiritual, anti-spiritual. This is not to say that all the practices, all the literature, all the ritual is without value. It all serves to teach us about ourselves- what we are, and what we're not. It's a dead concept to go to church every Sunday to fulfill the spiritual component of my life if I return to work on Monday and practice bad business ethics. Spirituality, like humanity, must be a living practice. Everything I have ever experienced as so-called "spiritual." has just brought me closer to the awareness of my humanity, which in turn changes my life from that point on. What this seems to do for me is make me aware, more and more, of my connection to all things. Spirituality goes dead when I regard one person as being somehow more spiritual than another. I know this statement challenges the premise and disarms the political structure of most religions, and perhaps that is my point. Spirituality humanizes me by making me aware that all of life is equally sacred. Religions and so-called spiritual practices create a congregation of the dead unless they empower every participant from within. It makes me wonder, if there be a purpose to all of humanity, if it isn't to reveal it's own nature to itself.
*** *** ***
I'M JUST NOT MY SELF ANYMORE
The self is really overrated, especially in our culture. So much of what is valued in America at this time is based on individual achievement and acquisition. I have achieved and I have acquired, and trust me, it's not everything they tell you it's going to be. I'm not bitching here about owning stuff or fulfilling goals, it's a bit different than that. Think of the concept of "self-help." Well, the self will always need help because it is a premise without a conclusion, a pretense without substance. I've done plenty of "self-help" and I have found that the greatest achievement of my "self" is it's own annihilation. Essentially, my "self" is high maintenance, demanding, and never satisfied. I have fed it, clothed it, housed it, transported it, fucked it, entertained it, indulged it, loved it, nurtured it and completely spoiled it. I have also starved it, stripped it, exposed it to the elements, contained it, chastised it, bored it, ignored it, hated it, left it to fend for itself, and disciplined it. It's all the same. Sugar rushes, cheap thrills, steppingstones on the path to no one. I'm not past it all, nor am I above it. I still do the "self" thing more often than I'd like to, but I am more aware now of my voluntary forays into self-indulgence.
My greatest, most memorable moments have been moments when I wasn't even there. When completely saturated with life, there was no more room for me. These were moments of connection, connection with people, connection with nature, connection with something that the boundaries of my "self" could not contain. Included in this is inspiration, passion, authentic lovemaking, giving and receiving (which are, in essence, one and the same), loving and being loved, appreciating, basically anything that in timeless moments moves me to forget that I could possibly exist as an individuated entity. I get lost to be found. I surrender to win. My concept of "self" is thrown out the window only to return as a refreshingly inconceivable notion of my essence and my substance being connected to and completely integrated with everything at all times.
This was inspired by an inquiry from Kristin Sinclair.
*** *** ***
all content 2005-2006 chris spheeris. unauthorized duplication is a violation of spiritual and judicial laws.
friends & links
this is where i will add friends sites and links that i consider valuable. please feel free to invite me to your sites, but please don't ask me to add a link. it's a very intuitive process and i will do so if it comes to me.http://www.duncanentertainment.com/
At the heart of Duncan Entertainment, is my dear friend Chip Duncan. He is perhaps the most prolific and multi-talented person that i know. As a result, his company puts out fascinating and pertainant documentaries, many of which i've been lucky enough to score. His productions have received more awards than the keys on my piano. The subjects are always inlelligent and generally spiritual or political in nature.
http://www.worlddharma.com/
Last October, I attended a one-man show called, "Spiritually Incorrect" by a man, Alan Clements, who i had never heard of. Generally, i have a hard time listening to anyone talk at great length without drifting into my own thoughts or excusing myself. In this case, i was truly spellbound by the depth of this man's message, delivered with such vulnerability, such intelligence, such committment, and such subtle wit. I am now reading his book, "Instinct for Freedom" which i am finding very inspiring. Alan is a treasure within the vangard of contemporary spiritual thought.
www.paulvoudourismusic.com/
Paul Voudouris has been a friend of mine since we went to middle school together in Athens. We began our music careers together and recorded several cds including ENCHANTMENT and EUROPA. I think my favorite of Paul's works is SPEAK TO ME, which collages bits of telephone conversations and music. Paul is a fascinating person and artist.
http://amidarecords.com/
this is the website of tina malia, an exquisite singer and songwriter with the voice of an angel. when i went through a rough period for my heart, i found her cd "silent awakening" quite restorative.
http://www.avafleming.com/
The first time i watched Ava dance, i stopped breathing for the entire 10-minute exhibition of her grace, skill, artistry and sensuality. She really took it to another level for me. If you ever have the good fortune to experience a performance of hers, i'm sure you'll understand why she was awarded "Belly Dancer of the Universe 2004".
http://www.ericzang.com
Eric is one of the most remarkable musicians i have ever encountered. Whatever he touches, turns to music. i feel fortunate to know him and to have had him perform on my recordings.