Forgetting Who You Are

rememberFor the past year or so the main things on my mind are Jainism and autism. You can also add homelessism to the canon but it’s not necessary – it’s not really an ism and shouldn’t be something I look forward to anyway. I’ve never forgotten I’m a writer especially since I try to lay in a new blog post every week or so. One thing I did lay on the back burner is my songwriting. I haven’t written a song in years; hell, I don’t even have a guitar. From the way I live now you’d never guess I released albums, played in a few bands and engineered at a recording studio in midtown Manhattan. I got reminded this week that I am a songwriter, though. One of the songs from my solo album “Quartermoon” is going to be released, hopefully, in Europe soon and the video created in a month or so. The song is “Make A Big Noise” and I promise not to get a big head if it becomes a hit. It’s weird though especially since I am now a Jain and practice aparigraha, the concept of non-possessiveness, non-attachment, non-greediness, non-having moneyness.  I have only one pair of pants, one pair of shoes, eight shirts, my car and this laptop. The idea, of course, is that happiness derives from owning as little as possible. That makes sense to me because if I have basically nothing to steal I don’t have to look over my shoulder all the time. I think as long as I remember I’m an addict in addition to being an autistic Jain, and keep on working on myself, I should be okay.

On Forgetfulness

swordIsn’t man’s ability to conveniently forget a necessary survival instinct? For instance, if you were continually assaulted by a certain race, you won’t forget, and chances are you’ll shun that race forever unless someone comes along to change your mind. And who knows? Maybe they’ll save your life one day. Or you “innocently” forget the miss’s birthday so you save yourself a small fortune on candies and roses. However, when that faux pas is brought to your attention, all manner of hail and brimstone will come raining down upon your errant head. One stiff crack upside your noggin, though, and you’ll probably never forget her birthday again. Even salmon, with the sinuous and arduous route they travelled their entire life, can remember to return to the field that first gave them life. How is it that human beings, so much more advanced than all lower life forms, can so easily forget the people that helped them out when they were down, when they were in need of inspiration? You can do your best to help someone out, befriend them, console them, comfort them, assist them financially or otherwise, but as soon as they meet someone new they abandon you like a dog in the street. Why is that? It’s happened to me so often that I now approach all potential relationships as being merely transitory. I’ll laugh with you today but tomorrow you’ll have me crying. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe one good helping of Robin is enough for anyone’s lifetime. I blame myself for putting people up on pedestals, though, for convincing myself that they’re good for their word and will do what they say and say what they mean. Of course I’m finding all of this to be false. It appears that people often make promises simply for how mellifluous it sounds to the ear while secretly crossing their fingers behind their backs. This tangent makes it hard to trust people, to care for them, to lay your soul bare to them when, in all reality, they’ll do is just stick it to you in your back and keep on twisting till all your nerves have been severed. Mankind. Love ’em or hate ’em, they bear scrutiny, for their forgetfulness is like a double-edge sword – it can serve to protect you or, if mishandled, easily pierce and slay you.