Survival, like art, requires practice.
A year ago I left behind my hometown and most of my friends to move to California. I wasn’t chasing a dream (I’m living mine) so much as positioning myself for better opportunity. New life. New challenges.
Day two of the journey my bank account was emptied by a third party. I busked in Memphis and appealed to my social community to help … and they did, big time. Day three found me broken down in Texas. Patience and time got everything fixed, and my people rallied behind me with emotional support. I got to where I was going. Couldn’t have done it without you.
You are stronger than the bullies. You stand up for me when dark voices threaten to erode my mind. You help me reconnect. I would not be here without you, and I’m grateful. I want to try to pay it forward, if I can.
There is a talented young man who is struggling and working in LA. He is talented, and he’s working harder than I’ve seen anyone in this crazy town work. He’s paying his sweat equity in spades. He has a great heart, and would never ask for help for himself. So his friends (and I hope he counts me among those) are asking for him. To date, he does not know of the efforts made on his behalf.
There is a GoFundMe set up in order to help pay down his debt so he can continue on his journey. I’m asking you to visit the site and make up your own mind about how best to help. As is true in all of these things, even the small amounts help.
This is Nate Westover. Practice a little giving, practice a little kindness. Help this man continue to practice his art, and survive … then thrive.
This is what we do: we love. Thank you.
Quiet, quiet, quiet
Spent much of today wrapped up in solitude. Meditating on the year past, and the year ahead. Challenges and changes.
I had a very special visit in the evening with some relatively new friends. I still have anxiety in social situations, but I was eventually able to warm up and be friendly. I hope i wasn’t too statue for too long.
Tomorrow I am up very early to fly to New Mexico. There is a venue there that is interested in having me long-term. We’re going to have a discussion, and a possible offer might be made. This will be the first such meeting of three I’m going to have in the upcoming week. It’s both gratifying and terrifying at the same time.
Show business is like that. I’m really, honestly glad that I’m a part of it, Even under stresses like these.
I’ll keep you posted.
My grandmother was a gentle, kind woman. She was a nurse during the war, and had a very angelic quality about her healing. Way before her time, she believed and exercised the idea that ‘food is medicine’ and acted accordingly. She was loving and nurturing.
She was also scandalized at an episode of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, wherein a black man was invited to soak his feet in the same pool of water that Mr. Rogers did. At the same time. She snapped it off and lectured me for quite some time about how awful that was.
Thing is … even at however old I was (8 or 9) I felt that she was wrong, somehow. Which is a very confusing thing to think about one’s grandmother, when one is 8 or 9.
Fred Rogers, sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly, taught me to love my neighbor.
More than the Bible.
More than any pastor I ever met.
More than Jesus.
Gran was unselfish, loving, and kind. She would also be a Trump supporter, if she were alive. Because she was partially blind, not of the eyes, but of the heart. Daveed Diggs coined the term ‘Blindspotting’ to define this. The limits of one’s own perception. My friend Susan helped with this and pointed me toward the movie of the same name. I highly recommend it.
I love my Gran despite her blindness. In my lifetime, I have overcome the anger and hate I was taught by otherwise loving humans. I purged my system.
I don’t know exactly what my point here is … but it’s been on my mind that love can help clean up the blind spots.
“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.” ~ Ernest Hemingway
In my hometown right now, they are battening themselves down in anticipation of Hurricane Florence. I am concerned for my friends and loved ones. It could be bad. It could be worse than that. It could veer away and be little more than a nuisance.
But it could be bad.
I see on the social media many people offering their homes, couches, and space for refugees of the storm. Safe havens for those in need. Offering their open arms and their pantries for those damaged or stranded by the storm.
Open arms. Open hearts. Empathy, sacrifice, and serving those in need out of pure love for fellow humans.
Remember when our country used to have that same attitude?
By Selwa Lukoskie
I may not know exactly where this road is taking me,
But I know that I’m exactly right where I’m supposed to be.
The journey is long, full of joy and pain,
But as long as you’re smiling, I’ll stand in the rain.
I’ve got nothing left to give
Other than love.
But the funny thing about that is
Love is everything.
I hope there is love where you are… (4x)
I may be a liar full of tricks but if you’ll open up your eyes,
You will see nothing but the truth behind all of my lies.
I broke every rule, and I bore every boulder,
And I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Anyone can wave a wand and pull a rabbit out of a hat
And call it art, but without heart, you’ve got nothing but illusion
A Place Reserved
There are walks We will never take.
Places We’ll never see together .
Adventures We will never share.
Stories We will never create.
Conversations, never born.
I remember them all.
Across the Table: Tales and Inspirations from a traveling #cardmonkey.
Now available at Lulu.
Thank you for your support, I hope you enjoy it.