Alone vs. Lonely

October 25, 2019 by Scott Morwitz

By USFWS Mountain-Prairie - Canada goose on Seedskadee NWR, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69188087

Yesterday on my way to work I saw an unusual thing. A single goose, silhouetted against an orange morning sky headed south for the winter. I’ve seen many geese already this year, flying in formation as they make their annual sojourn. I love that there are natural signs of the seasons like this. The idea that, without a calendar or a watch, we can still have a sense of the goings-on in our natural world is comforting. This migration is part of the vast living organism of the Earth and its ecosystem, somehow still functioning amidst the political upheaval and unrest that we humans have brought to it.

My reaction to the lone goose on two different days is what I want to discuss. On both days, I identified with this traveler in very different ways. Yesterday, Thursday, October 24th, I saw myself as a kindred spirit, and imbued the happening with all the emotions of the day. They happened to be less than positive. As I write in this blog, I have a tendency to only write on the good days. I need to start writing on the bad as well.

Yesterday, I was the goose, always and forever by myself. Struggling and striving to keep my head above water, even though neither of us were in the sea. All my memories of relentless childhood teasing returned to me, as fresh as the day they happened, and how they formed the person I would become. A quick flash to a life without another to love, and a couple of heartbreaks regardless, brought on a sense of dread and ‘motivation constipation’ for lack of a better term, and I found myself mired in another day of depression. Lucky for me, this day was mild in comparison to many I’ve survived in the past, but everything is relative, and when the last several months have been good, even a mild depression can feel like a return to a place that you thought you’d escaped.

I imagined how hard the goose was beating its wings to remain aloft. How often it must need to stop and rest, and how, without any goose friends along for the ride, their must be the same crushing loneliness of being alone, but not by choice.

I was anthropomorphizing heavily of course. It’s unlikely a goose would have such a rich inner life. I know what it feels like. I don’t have many close friends to begin with, and on a day when I’m feeling like this, it’s almost like I forget that the ones I do have are there, or care.

Then I extrapolate out a life of endless trips back and forth each year, and the minutia of foraging for food daily, and whatever other tough goosey things that this beautiful creature must go through, and wonder if it’s worth it? Especially flying solo.

So, I was going to write this post yesterday, but didn’t, because I had other things to do, and I’m glad, because, thinking about that lone goose today, I’m in an entirely different frame of mind.

Today, my goose is fiercely independent! They are not bound to the need of knowing whether all the other geese were also going to fly that day (and yes, my goose is non-binary and prefers the pronouns they/them/theirs, though I’m comfortable with he/him/his or anything else you want to call me besides Scotty).

They live fully and completely in the moment, giving and receiving love to those around them. They remain a creative and open vessel for whatever muse needs expression through their flight in the world. Today, I am proud of the independent me, who knows that, though I may be alone, I am not lonely, at least not today. I know that there are people in the world who care about me. I know that as I give, I receive, and those not ready to share in my giving are just migrating in a slightly different direction.

My compass is to continue to uncover what makes me tick, and to let some of the fear of sharing it lift long enough to allow the light to beam out of whatever fissures it can find. To connect and share with others, and to listen instead of speak. It’s truly blowing my mind how many people are so freely ready to engage in a short conversation.

It is my hope that this will lead me to the more connection that I seek and one day, perhaps, a love connection. Because the only thing better than flying solo and strong, is choosing to join another goose on the way.

💙💙💙💙💙

Meditation and The Art of Silencing the Internal Scream

October 12, 2019 by Scott Morwitz

Writing in my good coffee shop today. @thetincupcafe on Instagram. I generally stop at DD. That’s Dunkin Donuts for those not in the know. I had time before teaching a voice lesson and so I stopped in to write a bit.

Each Saturday morning there is a zazen ‘sit’ at The Brooklyn Zen Center. It lingers on my Google calendar in the form of a recurring weekly meeting, part of the phantom life I’d like to live, and I do make it there sometimes. It is a half-hour sit, which means they ring this little chime, the sound of which I love, and as the sound waves emanating from it reduce in amplitude, the vibrations that my ear can perceive lessen until I only think I can still hear it. Then, there’s just me. Rather, there’s me, and the me I think I am most of the time. Anyone who has fallen into the sensation, even for a few seconds, must know the what it is to observe oneself. All of the anxiety about past and future dissolve and with it, the need to BE anything. Then there is just the true and beautiful me. The God part that I learned about during my Catholic upbringing. I feel a knee-jerk reaction to mention that I am not religious. I am not even a believer, but I am not an atheist either. My faith lies in sitting with the unknowing and being comfortable there.

God, if we must use the word, is the universe and the laws of physics. It is the unseen force or energy that weaves its way through each aspect of our lives. If it is true then, that God is in everything and each of us, then the me who is uncovered while I sit and close my eyes and focus on my breath, is God.

There’s this one little problem though. That other, egoistic self is never too far away. He resurfaces again and again and by the end of thirty minutes of meditation is screaming bloody murder for that beautiful little bell to ring again, signifying the end of this sit. Mostly he’s concerned with the sounds in the room or outside on the street. The annoying noise that the lady next to me makes when she clears her throat. He turns up the inner monologue and invents unavoidable itches which must be scratched. He highlights any aches or pains lingering in my body and basically fuels any thought that might get me out of being the true me and back to being him.

and

Breathe in…. Breathe out….

Since I discovered public radio, while driving the mean streets of Pittsburgh in my car at the age of about 18, I've been interested in the tenets of Buddhism. The recordings of Alan Wattes, a great interpreter of Eastern philosophy to the west through the 60’s and 70’s, would be played on NPR ,and I listened intently. Everything he said made so much sense to me, and it has fueled an interest and worldview that continues to grow and mature.

But meditation was not a part of my practice then. I had no practice then. It wasn't until much later that I came to that.

At these Saturdays I attend, after the zazen portion, there is a talk given by either one of the members of the center or a visiting guest. This time it the was the senior-most student, who'd been there for many years. His topic was, “What brought you to the cushion.” - or chair in my case, as I've give up on tying my legs into a pretzel and trying to Zen out. I couldn't help but tear up.

What brought me there, and more importantly has continued to bring me back to the proverbial cushion, even if I don't always visit this physical place in Brooklyn to sit with others, was a deep and persistent pain that I tried to tackle and struggle my way through in every possible way I could. I may discuss it in more detail in another post, but suffice to say, it was a matter of the heart.

I couldn't shake the obsessive thoughts and was stuck in what felt like an endless loop, replaying past events, and reimagining different outcomes if only I’d…

But I couldn’t. There was nothing for me to do. No way to solve this equation, and that’s all my mind desperately needed to do, for dammit, it would fix things!

Regular talk therapy and adjustment in medication didn't do it. In group therapy, something I highly recommend, I was the a broken record each week. How frustrating it must have been for the group to hear me be bothered by the same things week in and ‘weak’ out. Reading books didn't do it. Hypnotherapy was not equipped to the task. No, the only thing that provided consistent, while not always complete, relief for me was this time with myself.

What meditation does is allow you to watch those painful thoughts and feel their accompanying feelings from a place removed. It became more of an “oh, isn't it interesting that I'm thinking about that again? Hmm, oh well”

Breathe in…. Breathe out….

More helpful was that it allowed me the short distance between thought/emotion and continuing down the wormhole of suffering to ask the question why. Why is this thought happening now? What else is going on in my life today that could be prompting this, and what helpful thing am I getting from it. It seems counterintuitive, but our suffering often does benefit us. It can be great evidence of victimhood. The stronger we cling, the more entitled we feel to wear the moniker of Downtrodden Soul. For me as well, it made me feel real. Feel something. When the rest of my life was just humdrum, this could be my 2 hour Oscar winning drama, and I was always ready for my close up. Without it, what would I have?

I now know, after a lot of time and hard work, that when my thoughts linger here, it tends to coincide with a day that I'm not feeling as much self-esteem. It signifies that something in my life is unbalanced, and I can begin to focus on what that might be, instead of putting all my sad broken eggs in one very porous and leaky basket.

None of this has freed me permanently from my struggles, but I certainly am in a better place, and this is one of the tools in my bag of magic spells which allow me to remain there.

I would urge you to try it if you never have. Also, if you tried it and it didn’t work. If you think you can’t do it properly. If you think it requires sitting on the floor for an hour and you just ain’t got time for that. You can do it on the train, at your desk, after you put your shoes on, but before you head out the door. Just quiet down and for some prescribed amount of time, starting with as little as a minute a day, try to be aware of thought rather than being the thought. If you have troubles with that, as you 100% inevitably and beyond a shadow of a doubt will. Focus on your breathing.

Breathe in…. Breathe out….

Breathe in…. Breathe out…

Dignity

September 30, 2019 by Scott Morwitz

dig·ni·ty

noun

the state or quality of being worthy of honor or respect.
- a composed or serious manner or style.
- a sense of pride in oneself; self-respect.

As I ride into my day job on the R train, local, I see other souls, encased in the shells that carry them through this physical plane, on their ways to their own daily pursuits. Each have their own joys and pains, triumphs and failures, children, and spouses, apartments and houses. Responsibility, whether self-imposed or thrust upon us, causes us all to, at the very least, arrive to earn our keep in a world where bartering was long ago replaced by money as the currency we use to amass and attain.

Some days it feels pointless. There can be a real sense of “why bother?” when it seems like we aren't reaping our just rewards, and whatever Lord you believe in knows that it's a struggle!

If you, like I, have ever felt down, put-upon, like you just can't win no matter how hard you try in life, I'd like to posit that you are an example of courage and bravery, the likes of which are no less impressive than that of a soldier ready to charge onto the front lines of battle. It may be hyperbolic to equate the two, but I don't think so.

To get up each new day and continue the struggle amidst the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” contains within it a quiet dignity that I think we can all take on as our mantle through the tough times. You keep getting up. You keep fighting through whatever version of your ‘crap’ is. Even on the days when you are being dragged, kicking and screaming, through it all, you still do it. Take a moment to remember how honorable it is that you've done all you have! That you continue to try and try and try again!

The meaning of life? That's a good question, and it's one that we answer with our actions on a daily basis. What's the meaning of life? To you? At the end of the day, regardless of who we have, or are still seeking, to help bolster us through our journeys, we are doing a lot on our own. We ALL deserve a collective pat on the back as well as a heaping dose of self-forgiveness as we sojourn through various stages of enlightenment.

But most of all, remember there is Dignity in the pursuit.

Live your life like it’s golden, baby!

Grateful

September 29, 2019 by Scott Morwitz

I’m sitting outside on a bench in my neighborhood, soaking in the shade. The temperature is perfection, and there's a nice breeze gently caressing my skin. I've long wanted to start and keep up with a blog. I have a compulsion to share, often. There's a voice in me that then rises up and says things like “nobody cares what you think”, “everyone has thoughts, feelings, and opinions, but they don't all blab them out to anyone who'll listen. Just keep them to yourself”. Well, no longer. My hope for this section of my site is to contribute, to share, and to be just one beacon of the human condition singing out to the universe that I AM HERE!

Undoubtedly, some posts will be less than revelatory, and I hope others will be profound, possibly even instructive. I would like to blog about singing, but not exclusively, and hopefully keeping all of this in one place will make sense.

I’ve embarked on the often terrifying task of initiating conversations with strangers where I can, and thus far, I have not regretted a single time when I truly took the opportunity to listen. I'll talk about those. Paradoxically, the practice of remaining open to another person's story without thinking about what I'll say next has led to me being able to share my thoughts with them in a more connected way than I have in the past. It is scary, it is vulnerable, and it feels like it could be dangerous, but it's the antidote to becoming mired in the very real struggles that I face mentally and emotionally from day to day. I'm sure those will creep in here too at some point, but today, I am grateful. Truly grateful that I'm feeling content and at peace in the world amidst my struggles.

Here’s what I’m listening to…

** UPDATE: Hear me sing this on my Watch and Listen page or go directly to YouTube here Grateful - Scott Morwitz **

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I was fortunate to get a chance to work with John Bucchino on a cabaret of his songs, coordinated by James Horan. I got to sing “Taking the Wheel” and it was as exciting as the song! As I try to write my own songs, I’m ever-impressed by his abilities.