Creatively Organized

       At the beginning of this weekend, I hadn’t thought of myself as an organized person. I’ve thought of myself as creative, imaginative, spontaneous, kinetic, artistic. I know that about myself. It’s what comes natural to me. And I consciously and unconsciously polarized those qualities with organization and order. I put “artistic" on one end of a spectrum and “organized” on the other, as if the two were mutually exclusive, as if the two could not coexist. As if I couldn’t be both.
       It’s sort of a set of stereotypical archetypes that I bought into. You know, The Super Creative Type who’s studio is somewhat chaotic, as opposed to the Button Down Type who has a place for everything and everything in its place. I somehow created a fear within me that if I was organized, I would lose my creativity. I’ve probably done that my whole life. And my living spaces have reflected that. This paradigm that I set up inside myself became physically manifested. That’s the way it works. And I know that. But I had a block around that wisdom when it came to creativity and organization. It was a blind spot.
       But I’m moving into a really great new apartment in a terrific building. It’s brand new, and nobody else have ever lived there. When I got the place, I made the decision to create this new space with a new vision. I wanted it to reflect who I was, but I also wanted it to be somewhat sparse and definitely uncluttered. I was therefore only going to bring with me what I really wanted and really needed, not just whatever I had. That decision created the necessity to go through everything I had and make decisions about what I wanted to bring, what I wanted to leave, and what I wanted to nuke. And I dreaded having to do that. But because my new vision of my new place was so compelling and so exciting, it necessitated such actions.
       Part of my dread was based on this idea that I can’t be creative and also be organized. I was doing to myself what many others have done to me, what many of us do to each other, namely polarize, or set up a set of mutually exclusive qualities. Like, for example, a well built man who goes around shirtless can’t possibly be warm, friendly, caring, and intelligent (I wrote about this in detail in a recent post, Carnival Part 1). And until this weekend, I wasn’t even aware that I was in fact polarizing myself.
       What a difference forty-eight hours can make.
       I am nearly finished going through every drawer, every box, every bin, every everything. And I have actually enjoyed it.
       What happened? What shifted? I asked myself these questions as I noticed that I was starting to dig the process.
       The shift actually started happening before I was aware of it. It began when I set the intention of my new place and unfalteringly committed to that vision. That intention, that commitment, actually started moving things inside of me before I knew it. Then, as I held that vision through the initial process of going through everything, I realized that I was serving a higher purpose. Kind of like those days you go to the gym when you don’t want to because you have a vision of what you want to feel like and look like. Kind of like sticking to your strict nutrition plan instead of getting the pizza for the same reason.
       As I went through shit, my active mind started to become aware that I had been polarizing myself without even knowing it. Once the awareness kicked in, and I was involved in the action of organizing everything for this higher objective, it all clicked. I wouldn’t say it was an epiphany, but it was close. Because now I’m writing about it. And I’m actually thrilled that I am close to having everything all sorted out, in its place, and know exactly where it’s going.
       I have come to realize that I have much better organizational skills than I thought. I have come to know that I actually like being organized. And I have come to understand that I can be organized and still be one creative son of a bitch.


©2104 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved. 

Fire Straight

I didn't write this, but it moved me so much I just had to post it. When I read it, I connected to it immediately, and experienced a sense of community that there are other people on this earth who's heart and passion burn this hot, and who express that so nakedly and directly.

“I love being horribly straightforward. I love sending reckless text messages (because how reckless can a form of digitized communication be?) and telling people I love them and telling people they are absolutely magical humans and I cannot believe they really exist. I love saying, “Kiss me harder,” and “You’re a good person,” and, “You brighten my day.” I live my life as straight-forward as possible. Because one day, I might get hit by a bus. Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s scary. Maybe it seems downright impossible to just be—to just let people know you want them, need them, feel like, in this very moment, you will die if you do not see them, hold them, touch them in some way whether its your feet on their thighs on the couch or your tongue in their mouth or your heart in their hands. But there is nothing more beautiful than being desperate. And there is nothing more risky than pretending not to care. We are young and we are human and we are beautiful and we are not as in control as we think we are. We never know who needs us back. We never know the magic that can arise between ourselves and other humans. We never know when the bus is coming.”
                              - Rachel C. Lewis

Your Beautiful Darkness

The following quote inspired my poem:

Your Beautiful Darkness

To those I love
I see your darkness
I see your shadow
You have shown it to me a thousand times
Even when you didn’t know you were showing it
Even when you thought you were hiding it
No matter what
I still see
Your unhealed wounds
Your night sweat fears
Your darkest dreams
Your unmet needs
Your hardest struggles
I see yours
Because I know my own darkness
I know my own shadow
Your darkness does not frighten me
And your shadow does not negate your light
That which you try to hide does not push me away
It connects us
Your precious flaws
Just make you more real
Love is
A continuous revelation of our deepest selves
Of our truest selves
Of our most wounded selves
Of our highest selves
To those I love
My arms are always open

                       - Clint Piatelli
 

Bullet

       About thirty years ago, my older brother Lee and I were sitting around my Aunty You-You’s kitchen table during one of her epic summer pool parties. Aunty You-You was my mom’s sister, and although she didn’t have any kids of her own, she was a second mother to not only all of my siblings, but to most of my cousin’s as well.
       Her parties were the blueprint for the mayhemic soirees that my twin brother Mike and I would start throwing just a few years later. There was a festiveness and a palpable love that swirled throughout these events (and always, always, always, live music), and it was my goal to replicate that energy at our own events. My aunt loved to entertain. My whole extended family does. We’ve all taken that ball and ran with it, as anyone who’s ever been to one of our parties can attest to.
       On this particular night, Lee and I were getting pretty looped when our discussion turned to love. Lee laid a phrase on me that has stuck with me ever since. This phrase summed up, albeit crudely, how I feel about some of the people I truly love. He said to me, “Some people, you love so much, you would take a bullet for them.”
       I got it right away. It was something I already felt, something I already knew, even though I had never articulated it. The idea of stepping in front of a bullet for someone I loved rang so true that I felt an echo within me; like the energy of the words literally sledgehammered a piano wire within that had never been struck, but I was aware of nonetheless. I knew exactly what he was talking about.
       It was the very first time I had even heard love put that way.  
       There are a number of people in my life that I would in fact take a bullet for. I’m hoping they know who they are. Some of them are likely reading this. As soon as the opportunity is right, in a quiet moment, I will tell each of these people that, just so that nothing this important goes unsaid.
       This choice of who I would take a bullet for is not so much a conscious decision as it is an energy that I feel between someone that makes me perfectly willing to put their welfare ahead of mine in a life and death situation. These people mean that much to me. These people touch a part of my soul that is somehow reserved for them. It’s like a switch that only they can turn on inside of me, and the mechanisms behind that are not fully known to me. For there are many people in my life who I deeply love. But there is something about The Bullet Crew that sparks a protective nature in me that isn't completely conscious. It transcends the physical.
       I never had kids, but I imagine this is the way good parents feel about their children. And part of this is physical. Part of this is my Manhood DNA wanting to protect and keep safe those who mean the world to me. Even though I’m not a parent, I am connected to that energy, and therefore I am connected to that which wants my loved ones to be safe, even at my own expense.
       Maybe some of it has to do with how I see myself: A strong man who could absorb a bullet and not die from it. That may be a completely erroneous assumption, but it’s not the fact I’m plugging into but the feeling of willingness to do anything to keep these people from being harmed. The desire to take care of people I love. I will step in front of this bullet, whether it’s a physical bullet or a metaphysical one, and take it on. I will deal with the blood, the pain, the suffering, or whatever else comes from it. As long as you are safe. As long as you are spared. I will deal with this. I will do this for you. Because I can. Because you mean that much to me.
       Over the years, Lee and I have had our ups and downs, to put it mildly. We’ve at times been at what I would call war, or as close to war as I’d ever want to get. And yet, even in those times where I could not stand the thought of him, I knew, deep inside of me, that, if it came down to it, the bullet would hit my body before it hit his. It was precisely that kind of feeling that made it so agonizing to be at such odds with him. I would say the same thing about my twin. And Mike and I have been in court, at opposite tables.
       I honestly do feel this way about certain people in my life. That doesn’t make me a martyr, it doesn’t make me better than anyone else. It just makes me aware of what I’m willing to do for the people in my life who I frankly can’t imagine living without.
       Who would you take a bullet for? Tell them, someday. That’s something they need to know.

    
 ©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing.

Race

       Last night, I attended the multi-media solo performance of my writing coach, Anika Nailah. Her performance blended poetry with images, film clips, audio recordings, and music, to raise awareness on racism. It was a powerful and moving show on a topic that I rarely give much attention to. But it worked. Because I've been thinking about it a lot since last night.
       After her performance, the experience got interactive, as Anika and someone from the Amherst College Multicultural Resource Center took questions and talked about prejudice, discrimination, and racism. The audience then went to another room and had access to all sorts of art supplies, where we were asked to create something based on what got moved in us by the performance. Then we got to share that up on stage if we wanted.
       Experiencing what people wrote and drew and created as a result of the show was as impactful as the performance itself. The whole experience has raised my awareness about my own prejudices, and how those translate into my life. Thank you, Anika, thank you everyone who participated in the evening, for helping me wake up to some of my own bullshit.     

RACE

The Human Race
is just that

A Race

trying to get somewhere
as fast as we can

We Just Don’t Know
WHERE
The Fuck That Is

sometimes i wish we were all the same

all the same color
all the same height
all the same weight
all the same speed

then we wouldn’t race would we?

sure we would

So Let’s Not Change
The Human

Let’s Change
The Race

let’s start racing towards each other
instead of away from each other

I Will Not Push You Away
Just Because You Are Different Than Me
I Will Move Towards You

that’s
MY
Race


©2014 Clint Piatelli, MuscleHeart LLC, and Red F Publishing. All rights reserved.