Jai and Joe

So anyway, I told him I was in a band
He said, "Oh yeah, oh yeah - what's your music like?"
I said, "It's um, um, well, it's kinda like
You know, it's got a bit of, um, you know."

Ragga, Bhangra, two-step Tanga
Mini-cab radio, music on the go
Um, surfbeat, backbeat, frontbeat, backseat
There's a bunch of players and they're really letting go
We got, Brit pop, hip hop, rockabilly, Lindy hop
Gaelic heavy metal fans fighting in the road
Ah, Sunday boozers for chewing gum users
They got a crazy D.J. and she's really letting go

Oh, welcome stranger to the humble neighborhoods

--Joe Stummer, Bhindhee Bhagee

I wondered why receiving a distressed outreach call would make me feel better.

Jai is like a brother to me, and I feel sad when he is suffering. He is struggling with health issues on top of a host of stuff, and as years pass without resolution, there is a toll on his motivation. He has a harder time turning away from the world's conspiracy than I do, and I think this affects his serenity also. But I relate to much of his journey. What is left to do, in these overwhelming times? Where to begin?

For me, I begin with a realization. I have declined the jackal thought in my head that it's just a case of "misery loves company." That phrase itself is rather toxic and judgmental, isn't it? What I observed after getting off the phone is that I had more motivation to do things I had put off, to clean the house and get the light switch covers screwed on. When I considered why, it was that I had to get stronger--for Jai.

It's kind of a strange progression of thoughts I suppose. But I have been mostly in my own world for some time, and simultaneously lacking motivation. I didn't realize the two were connected. Maybe others are different, or maybe it's an obvious point I am coming to. I realized I live for others, and am motivated far and above all else by love.

Platonic love, romantic love, spiritual love, it all runs together for me. Jai has been a mentor to me, and I just wish to see him well--shining, in fact. And imagining maybe I can help someone I care about, offer empathy at least, brings up my life energy to try. And then I can help myself too.

For we are in this together. And realizing this changes the landscape of possibilities.

-----

After the call, I finally tried out my new cheap CD player.

I'd been trying to copy Joe Strummer's Global-a-Go-Go for a friend. I decided to listen to it, as I was winding down last night. There's something about that guy that also contributes to me feeling more alive.

It's odd. I mean I completely blew off the ABQ folk festival this weekend. I had no interest in the nice fiddling folk stuff. To be truthful, those kind of music circles tend to bore me nearly to tears. Yet listening to a CD i've heard how-many-times brings my spirit to life. Why?

I think most people are referring to something different when they refer to music. Almost everything others do in that regard is hollow for me. Not that I've done much. But Strummer reminds me of what it's all about. How? He was a punk rocker, with an apparent drinking problem, who by most accounts, was bipolar and troubled for years.

It's his spirit, the emotion he puts into the music. He has something to say, and he does it by synthesizing genres, by using acoustic and electric instruments, by committing to each note he plays and sings. That's my guess anyway. He has an attitude I recognize in my favorite artist, Ani Difranco, Jerry Garcia, Utah Phillips, David Byrne. Most have had a fair amount of trouble in their lives. People call them geniuses, usually after the fact.

But I think the right word is passion.

In any case, it is a strange appreciation-thought that listening to Strummer stimulated. It is not intended to be an idolization. Amidst all the schlock of the world, and all the trouble humanity is in, I felt grateful that Life would have the generosity to manifest the existence of a Joe Strummer, and support the expression of his passion. It reaffirmed the goodness of things for me.

It's weird that people get spiritualized by others, but I guess some people just have a light they shine that gets seen by others.

My friend Alex was right, it is a pretty cool way that he left too. At age 50, his heart just gave out from a congenital defect, as he sat on the couch after getting home from walking his dog. As I approach 50, it reminds me not to worry too much about the whole mortality thing. But to keep turning toward the passionate fire, the light of compassion and emotional commitment, even if I can't see where it leads.

Maybe someone else will.