Respect My Oh-thor-ah-tie

        What does the word “Authority” conjure up for you? Take a moment and reflect on that. See what I just did? By telling you to “Take a moment and reflect on that”, I sounded authoritative. At least, I felt so. Did you? Did that phrase sound bossy or pushy? Or did it come off as just a simple request? Whatever we brought into this little exchange regarding authority colored our experience in that moment.
         Because I have a significant problem with authority, here’s what happened for me. The moment after I wrote “Take a moment and reflect on that”, a voice in my head said “Don’t tell people what to do. That makes you sound like a pushy, overbearing jackass. Just like all authority figures. And you don’t want to be that.” So I have this piece of me that was so wounded by people in authority that he views all authority figures as the Anti-Christ. He hates being told what to do so vehemently that he can view a request as a command and immediately go on the war path. Just as significantly, this part is hyper-vigilant and paranoid; he’s going to make sure that I never become an authority, and therefore never an authority figure, because that’s the worst thing I could be.
         So, in his misguided way, this part of me is protecting me from becoming an overbearing asshole. He’s trying to help me. His methods are twisted, but he’s trying to prevent me from becoming that which he most loathes. In doing so, however, he taints my experience. If I feel as though I’m being the least bit authoritative, I hear his voice. And then I struggle with sounding too much like an authority. Even if I know what I’m talking about. Unless I get mad. Then I have no problem being authoritative. And ironically, it’s then that I have the potential to become that bossy jackass. All on my own, I’ve internally created a bit of a conundrum.
         It’s what I bring to the situation that has the most impact on how I experience it. The other person may not view my actions as authoritative at all, and even if they do, may not have a problem with authority. Regardless of how they feel about authority, it is my attitudes, beliefs, thoughts, and old tapes about authority, not theirs, that determine my experience in that moment. But most of us aren’t aware of that while it’s happening. Some of us aren’t aware of that at all. Ever. I call those people “family members”.
         When I know what the hell I’m talking about, my inherent nature is to be authoritative and confident, but not cocky or overbearing. If I bring all of myself to the experience, I’m compassionate and helpful at the same time I’m providing firm guidance. Or solid information. I’m asking you to trust me, because I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m saying. Listen to me on this. Follow me down this leg of the path. I know where I’m going, and we can both get there together if you have some faith in me.
         I’m a teacher. I’m a healer. And the best teachers are themselves students in the same moments they are teaching. The best healers are themselves being healed as they heal others. Inherently, I see and I understand the symbiotic, synergistic, give and take relationship between student and teacher. Between healer and those who need healing. I know that all of us are both. It’s just that some of us become over-identified with one role or the other. We get stuck in the notion that “I am the teacher, you are the student, and thus the information and the learning flow but one way: from me to you.” In that lies the potential for the classic authority figure who abuses their authority. That’s what many of us saw growing up. That’s what many of us still see. But we can choose to shift that paradigm. First within us, and then out in the world.
        In this blog, I share my heart and ask you to listen. I do it because I want you to know me. If I go deep enough, I’ll see that ultimately I want you to love me. But it’s even bigger than that. I’m asking you to trust me as I attempt to re-introduce you to your own heart. If you already know you’re own heart, I’m asking you to go deeper. I’m asking you to follow me. To come with me. Share part of your journey, if you like. In that way, I have the opportunity to follow you. Take the journey however you want. However works for you. But take it. Go. There is in fact no destination. But the lessons and gifts along the way are priceless.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and an authoritative number of Wrongs) Reserved.

Planet of Addiction

        Substance abuse destroys thousands of lives and families every year. When a family member has an addiction, it has as much impact on the family as if the member had cancer. The addiction becomes the central issue of the family, whether or not it’s members recognize it or not. And because there is such a stigma around substance abuse, the addict and all those affected are much less likely to seek help than if the afflicted member had a brain tumor. There is help out there, but many do not seek it.
         That reality is alarming, because it’s as painful to witness as a person having leukemia and not getting any sort of treatment for it, even if the treatment is holistic. The family members who love that cancer suffering individual benefit from some form of treatment as well, usually group and individual counseling, and many families undertake that. Much less so with addiction. All too often, the addict and those around them slowly develop very damaging and dysfunctional behaviors, attitudes, and thinking patterns without even realizing that it’s happening, or that there is help available. Denial runs rampant.
         I grew up with substance abuse in my family. I’ll leave it at that.
         I developed some very bad traits that I’ve spent a long time and a lot of effort to change. I will always have lots more to do. This is after all a lifelong journey I’ve committed myself to. But I’ve made progress.
        One of the defense mechanisms I developed, I’ve talked extensively about in this blog. My unconscious reaction to shut down during times of severe emotional stress saved my life when I was a kid. But it’s gotten in the way of intimacy as an adult. I don’t do that as much anymore, and practically never when I’m sad, but it’s something I’ll always have to be aware of. Something I’ll have to stay on top of, because it’s roots go deep.
         Anger has always been an issue for me, but much less so now. I’ve let go of enough of it to not have to carry a little of it with me constantly to feel safe. It can, and occasionally does, rear it’s head. But the head is much smaller, less ugly to me, and doesn’t breathe as hot a flame as it did before. But again, unless I stay conscious, I can revert to rage. But the longer I spend here, in this newer, not angry place, the easier it becomes.
         Hyper-vigilance was something else I automatically did. I was always scanning the room, the situation, the people, for possible trouble. This was mostly unconscious, but not completely. Growing up with a lot of tension and unpredictability, I developed this mechanism to feel safe, figuring that if I could spot trouble before it happened, I’d be better prepared to deal with it. Unfortunately, that’s rarely the case, and all it did was raise my anxiety level and blood pressure. That’s probably why I started exercising as a teenager; to release some of that pent up anxiety.
          Turning to exercise as a way to release this stress and tension and anxiety that was constantly around in my family is a good example of the old “every cloud has a silver lining” cliche. I don’t know if I would have ever become so into fitness if I didn’t have all that stress in me, if I wasn’t a fat kid, or if I didn’t feel so insecure. The dividends that choice has paid, a choice driven by pain and discomfort, are priceless. So in my best moments, I don’t look at my past pain with contempt, but with a sense of gratitude for the gifts it’s given me. That’s still hard for me to do, but the healthier I get, the more able I am to have that perspective.           The last thing I want to do is sound preachy, but I feel an obligation to pass on what I’ve learned. If there’s been substance abuse in your family, you have somehow been affected. Exactly how is as varied as the people who have been touched by addiction, but there are patterns and traits that are somewhat universal. There’s help out there. Please go get it.
         Realizing that you’ve somehow been affected is the first step. That’s awareness. Figuring out how and what to do about it is next. That’s action. Finally, there’s learning to love yourself despite your flaws, and looking at all the events of your life as necessary contributions to who you are as a unique individual. That’s acceptance.
         Sometimes I can’t even get to awareness. I consider myself self aware, but I certainly don’t see everything, and I certainly don’t always see it right away. But eventually, if I stay at it, and I always do, I see it. I become aware. I become conscious. Once that happens, there is hope that I can change. There is hope that I can love myself unconditionally. Ultimately, that’s all I want. Because if I have that, I have my life. All of it. Every moment.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and kilo of Wrongs) Reserved.

Concentration: Camp (part 3)

        I wrote the piece below last year, when I was in a VERY dark place. I present it here for two main reasons. First, it demonstrates how far I’ve come in a year. I remember how I felt writing it, two days after my birthday: absolutely awful. Depressed. Withdrawn. Isolated. Alone. Hopeless. And I pretty much felt that way most of the time, with interludes of joy and levity.
         I spend so much less time there these days. That’s real progress.
         Second, it tells a truthful tale of trauma and tears that I have spent lots of time recovering from. I still struggle with some of the issues that my camp experience created today, but it was my life as a child. This reminds me that I’m a much happier adult than I ever was as a kid. My happiness trajectory is therefore going in the right direction. I’m optimistic that, as long as I continue to work on myself and remain committed to growth and change, I’ll just keep getting healthier and happier as I age. How many people truly feel that way?
         I’m blessed. And there is much I have to be thankful for. Which is much different than how I felt a year ago.


Tuesday, February 19, 2008

         Camp was a month long nightmare that I never really woke up from. I lost whatever enthusiasm I had left for life at camp. To a 10, 11, 12 year old boy, the prospect of experiencing the full agony of a month in hell was unbearable. So I shut down. I knew how to shut down before, because it was how I defended my young self against trauma. But I became a chronic professional at camp.
         What did I learn from camp?
          I learned that to have hope is just a way to exponentially increase pain and disappointment. I learned that I must be defective, that there must be something horribly wrong with me. Everybody at camp thinks it’s great, except me. I must be really fucked up. I learned that the beautiful experience of relief is not only short lived, but merely guarantees a bigger crash when it’s over. I learned that bringing problems to adults for help is not only a waste of time, but makes you feel worse in the end. I learned that asking for help, period, makes things worse, not better. I learned that everything is my fault. I learned that the world is a hostile place that doesn’t like me. In fact, it hates me. I learned that when you trust the people who are supposed to look out for you and care for you and protect you, you get royally screwed. I learned that those people responsible for my well being will lie to me, over and over again. I learned that I am absolutely, completely, unquestionably alone in this world. I learned how to be miserable. I learned despair and hopelessness and anguish. All by age 10, reinforced at ages 11 and 12.
         I learned that to get too excited about something was a sure fire way to have your heart shattered so violently that you may never find all of the pieces again. I learned that to want something more than anything else in the world and to believe that you could have it was nothing but a lie. That to want and to believe only lead to horrible pain and intolerable suffering. I learned that I have no control over my life; no control over how I feel or of what happens to me; no control over myself or my circumstances or my happiness. I learned that my emotions are at the mercy of some mysterious, unknown, random, internal process that guides my thoughts haphazardly and therefore runs my heart and my spirit roughshod along with it. I learned that I couldn’t do what I really wanted to do, that I couldn’t get what I really wanted, and that I couldn’t get what I really needed.
         I learned chronic depression and chronic anxiety and chronic fear and chronic ache that is always with me, even today, even in my moments of great joy. I learned that getting excited and wanting something very badly was indescribably dangerous and ultimately horribly painful. I learned how to live in a cage, in a prison; how to survive but never thrive. I learned how to become strangely and perversely comfortable functioning at this soul numbing flat line equilibrium. I learned to live in a constant fantasy world in order to escape the unrelenting horrible pain of reality. I learned that anything was better than the real thing. I learned how to completely avoid the present and live in the perceptibly less painful past or the can’t possibly be as painful future. I learned how to hate myself and how to hate my life.
         Thanx camp.


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a very grateful amount of Wrongs) Reserved.

Fifty-Four-X Monster Stack (Part 2)

        In part one of this post, dated Tuesday, March 24, I told you that I’d get into some specifics about what I’ve learned in creating exceptional video photo montages, or as I refer to them, Personal Music Videos. So here we go.
         The first thing I do is go through all of the pictures that are potentially going to make it into the film. This happens in several stages. My first look at them is a quick glance, like I’m thumbing through a magazine. What I want is an overall first impression. That gives me some idea of what, and who, I’m working with. It’s a quick inspection of the raw material. I make little mental notes as I go through the pictures, pausing on some longer than others, but not lingering on any photo too long.
         The next step is to spend some time with each photograph and try to extract something from it. What is it about the picture that strikes me? An emotion? An atmosphere? A look? A color? Maybe it’s a beautifully composed shot, or one with a great sunset where the people make less of an impact than mother nature. Whatever it is, each photo I choose says something to me. The ones that don’t, I leave out. It’s at this stage that I begin thinking about sequencing.
         Through these steps, I’m gradually getting to know the subject of the film. I’m not just looking at what the photograph is saying to me. I’m paying attention to what’s going on in the pictures, and noticing patterns and recurring themes. I see what the person does, how they dress, what kind of expressions they make, the places they go, what they’re into, the people they spend time with.
         It’s usually around now that I put on some music. Either music I’ve been given to work with, or something I’ve come up with already from my own collection. The pictures have already started to play music in my head, and if they haven’t, I scour my iTunes library for something that strikes me, given the images I’ve seen. Sometimes, the right music comes to me at this stage, and sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, I don’t force it.
         In this third phase, from the photos I’ve chosen, I’m now examining each picture. I’m studying my subject intensely. I’m putting together whatever I already know about them with what the photos are saying to me about them. Through this process, I start to decide who this person is and what exactly I want to communicate about them in the film.
         In step two, I was looking for a general “something”. Now, I’m determining what that “something” is. What is the subject saying to me in this photo? I’m happy? I’m horny? I’m excited? What do I see in them, whether they’re saying it or not? Maybe I think they look hot in the picture, even if they themselves don’t. Maybe I see some anxiety behind a smile, or maybe their body is betraying their expression. I start piecing this all together, and I get to know them, a little deeper, every minute I spend with them.
         Sometimes, if I’m in a time crunch, I combine steps two and three together. That is, I find what pictures say something to me and I determine what that something is, all in one step. And it’s also important to note that sometimes, the picture will say something different to me later in the process, after I’ve been working on this for many hours, than it does in the beginning. I have to stay open to that. I don’t want to close off something I get later just because it’s different than what I picked up earlier. Sometimes, that means putting the picture in a different place, or doing something different with it than I originally intended. In the process of developing a skeleton, or even a detailed plan, it’s imperative to remain open to inspiration, new information, and especially to crazy ideas that come out of nowhere.
         Once I’ve got the pictures I want, and a solid idea of what they’re saying to me, the process becomes more fluid. Because music is so important to this process (remember I refer to these as MTV Caliber Personal Music Videos), I’m always thinking in terms of music. What I’m looking to do is match the right picture not only with the right music, but with the right section of that music. It’s not enough just to lay some photos over a good song selection. For maximum impact, you want to find that verse or chorus or words or seconds of a song that embellish, augment, or sometimes contrast, with what the image is saying to you.
         The stronger you can identify with the emotions that are coming up for you as you do this, the better your finished product. Pay attention to what’s happening inside of you, and use that in your creative choices. If, for example, the subject is attractive to you, even sexy, then let that come up. Imagine what being with the person would be like. Fantasize even. Put yourself in the picture with them. Take them out of the picture and put them with you, doing....whatever you want.
         If this sounds like I’m trying to get you to make a porno video, that’s not quite it. But what I am stressing is for you to identify as strongly as you can with the subject of the film, even if that means fantasizing about sleeping with them. I admit, I’ve done this. It’s harmless, and it helps me make a better film (as well as being fun to do). Besides, it’s a perfect place to use the old “anything for my art” phrase. After all, they’re only photographs.
         Use timing in the music to your advantage. Make cuts on the beat instead of randomly in the middle of one. Zoom way in on some photographs and linger on say, the subject’s eyes, or lips, or smile. Don’t just pan across, or up and down, a photo for the sake of panning. Have a reason for starting one place and finishing in another. Then reverse it, and see how that works.
         Remember I said that what we’re shooting for is an MTV Caliber Personal Music Video. Watch some of your favorite videos and cop some ideas from them. Sell the subject as best you can. That is, make them look good. Paint them in a most glowing light. Make creative choices that accomplish that, with everything from photo selection, to editing decisions, to music selection. Remind yourself that you want whoever sees this film to know and love the subject a little more when it’s over.
        By the way, I’m available for creation of, or consultation for, Personal Music Videos. Contact me via email: clint@muscleheart.com, which you can easily do on the left side of every page under the orange heading "Contact Me Here".


©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a film festival full of Wrongs) Reserved.

Turning Gold Into Heroin

        Many of my friends from college have become very successful. They have good careers, found compatible partners, and started their own families. I’m happy for them. They are people I love, and when someone I love seems happy, I find great joy in that. It’s my wish that all the people I care about live happy, successful lives. I’m sure they have their problems, as do we all, but from my perspective, they appear happy.
         My life has taken a very different course than most people I went to college with. I’m single, never been married, have no children, and I’m still finding my career niche. I’ve done lots of different things, played in bands, and traveled extensively. That said, there is probably much about my life that they envy. The freedom, not being responsible for anybody but myself, and the variety of experience my life entails. Truth be told, there is much about their lives that I envy. Stability, roots, a life partner, a successful career, and a sense of self that I sometimes can’t seem to find.
         That may come as a surprise to them, but it’s true. I just spent a marvelous few days with many of these people. Villanova was playing in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament in Boston, and many alumni made the trip up here from all over. As is often the case, when the thrill and fun and excitement of being with these people I love and respect is gone, when the memories we created are now just that, memories, I’m left with a sense of emptiness and failure that I’m very familiar with. As wonderful as the weekend was, when it’s over, it kicks up many of my inadequacies, insecurities, and feelings of being less than.
         This delayed reaction of pain comes off of a weekend of love and joy and connection. It comes after feeling great about myself and the friendships that I’ve maintained. It comes after lots of attention and compliments. This inner turmoil is the flip side to the Clint that they know. I’ve always been very different from these people, but loved and accepted. I’ve always been seen as very unique, creative, one-of-a-kind, maverick, highly individual, stand out from the crowd. And they embrace me for that. Even people that I didn’t know came up to me this past weekend and asked me my name, saying that they “wanted to meet me” because of the way I dressed, how I looked, and how I behaved. This happens surprisingly often when I put myself out there, completely show up, and really be myself.
         I don’t say this to blow my own horn, but to emphasize that as good as that felt, it doesn’t last very long, because deep inside me, I don’t believe it. What I experience is a sort of emotional hangover. So the highs I just experienced make the lows I feel now more pronounced. The comparisons between me and these people make me feel worse because I don’t feel I measure up to them. And that’s coming completely from me, not them. I own this.
         I start to compare my life to those I went to school with, and all I see is failure. I don’t necessarily feel it when I’m with them, and if I do, it’s buried deeper within me, overshadowed by the joy I feel being in their company. Overshadowed by the fun I have with them. Overshadowed by the love I receive and the love I give. But it’s there just the same. I just don’t connect to it as much. When they’re gone, I feel it. So the joy is almost like a drug to me, with the inevitable crash afterward.
         This is awful because what I experience with them is real. It’s not a phony high, like a drug gives you. It’s authentic. And yet because of my own inner emotional mechanics, I twist it into a form of addiction. How the fuck can I take something so good, so positive, like love and connection and joy and fun, and eventually turn it into something painful? How can I take something that real and beautiful and turn it into something ugly? How can I take gold and turn it into heroin?
         A piece of this is because I’ve created a system within me that is convinced that joy must come at a price. The net result must always be “zero”, because any happiness I feel must be balanced by an equal amount of pain. I don’t do this consciously, but I do it. It’s what I saw all the time growing up, so I internalized it. I fight it though, because a part of me knows that it’s not true. And that pisses me off. I almost wish all of me believed the emotional zero-sum-game model so that I wouldn’t have any conflict over it. If all of me bought it, maybe I’d be happy in my misery. But I’m not. I don’t like being this way. I want to change it.
         Change is often painful, but I make it worse by hating myself for being this way. I don’t accept myself as I am. I just want to be different. Now. So I get stuck in self-hatred, and that makes growth nearly impossible. It’s a cage that I build myself then drive myself crazy trying to free myself from. How fucked up is that?
         I know that I’m violating a law of emotional health by comparing my insides to other’s outsides. And yet that’s where I’m stuck right now. I hate admitting that this is where I’m at. But it’s honest. And I've decided not to do a heavy re-write, because I’m afraid of talking myself out of posting this the longer I wait. So this may come off as more raw than usual. Just like I feel right now. Raw. And I want to be well done.

©2009 Clint Piatelli. All Rights (and a meat locker full of Wrongs) Reserved.