Just in Case The Universe Is Listening…

Dear Universe,

How You doin'? You aiight? I hope so. It's Your boi, Lin. You know that cat with all these dreams in his head and longing desires deep in the recesses of his heart and spirit that he *never* tells to anyone? Yeah, that Lin.

Well lately, I've been thinking-- pondering really-- that if we are truly to be on good terms, then perhaps I should speak to You more... tell You what's on my mind, reveal a few of my deepest desires. Actually, this is my attempt at a mini-quasi-prayer session, where I talk, and hopefully... just maybe, You'll listen.

Below are some things I would very much like to see come into my Life.



My Metaphoric Desires:

*"I want to go where the wild geese go.

I want to know what the falcon knows.

I want the sky up over my head.

I want to live until I’m dead."



My Artistic Desires:

I want to realize and manifest my most enduring masterpiece: to live a life of Meaning.

I want to write like no one else, but me.

I want to pen an opus that speaks to and for the human condition.

I want to be artful, and for Art to be my mission.



My Hedonistic Desires:

I want to live out of a suitcase, in Paris.

I want to wear a natty beret, and take copious notes inside some small café.

I want to live and love and dance and sex and live and love and dance and sex.

I want to send my company home, write deep into the indigo hours, and then to sleep, the sleep of accomplishment all day long.




My Beauty Pageant Desires:

I want world peace and unity, now-- dammit!

I want for there to never be hunger in any part of the world again.

I want every man to realize this own humanity, and to appreciate that same quality in his fellow man.

I want every child on the planet to be safe, and happy, and disease-free.




My Selfish Desires:

I want to go on an escavation to all the ancient places within me.

I want every song I ever loved easily accessible to me.

I want to possess every book and manuscript ever placed on my wish list.

I want at least one famous friend who thinks I’m truly “brilliant.”

I want my first book made into a movie with my illustrious dream cast emoting in it.

I want to laugh and cough in the face of every editor/editrix who ever chose to rape my words and sentiments.

I want to be comfortably rich and successful within the deepest regions of my soul.

I want to be known and respected for my gift, and yet remain paparazzi-free.

I want that dream of my grandmother’s prophesy for me to become a wonderful reality.

I want to make sweet Mrs. Ferreri (my 1st grade teacher) be mad proud of me.

I want the astute Mrs. Lang (my high school English teacher) to have been right about me.



I want “The Next One” to be the Best One, and The Blessed One.

I want to buy my beloved mom a modest colonial home in Virginia.

I want a better home, a flyer wardrobe, and finer art on my walls.

I want to throw a huge NY party for all my friends and thank them for their unceasing love.

I want a certain well-loved face to be right beside me throughout my journey.


I want my last play produced on Broadway, and a fabulously memorable opening night.

I want the homeless cat down the street to have and lead a better life.

I want the ease and ability to pay off the bills of all the people I love.

I want a grand piano, topped by a mess of photographs, each with a sepia glow.

I want to compose the perfect sentence, perfect poem, the perfect torch song.


I want to hitch a camel ride somewhere out of mind.

I want to sit with the Maharishi at the foot of the Himalayas, and ohmmmmmmm... from deep within my solar plexus.

I want Heaven to truly exist for all people I love and miss; I need to believe they are there.

I want my spirit to breathe free and my eyes to be wide-open on this journey of self-discovery.


I want to be healthy

And wise

And well…

Always interesting

And interested.



*See, 'I wanna go where the wild geese go.

I wanna know what the falcon knows.’


I want to paint my most enduring masterpiece.

I want to write like no one else on this planet, but me.





Peace-out, Universe. Thanks for listening.

Again, this be Your boi, Lin. Aiight?


One.




•*Partial lyrics to the song “Right On, Be Free” by The Voices of East Harlem
 

For Jennifer Hudson & All The Rest Who've Senselessly Lost Their Loved Ones

There is a song from the classic musical HAIR, and it asks the essential question:



“How Can People Be So Heartless?



How Can People Be So Cruel?



Easy To Be Hard.



Easy To Be Cold.”





Maybe for some people it IS easy to be hard and cold. But HOW and WHY? I wish I knew the answer to those questions.





Ironically, Jennifer Hudson did a remake of that song a couple of years ago. She sang the HELL out of it then. I bet, if she sang it now, it would be with so much heart and pleading emotionalism that it would bring a torrent of tears to most anyone’s eyes.




I've sat here for 15 minutes trying to figure out what I could say or write that would clearly communicate the weight and the sincere meaning of what I am feeling for Jennifer Hudson, and her sister, Julia, and the rest of their family, but I can't. Words fail me.



What can you possibly say to someone whose mother, brother, and little seven-year-old nephew were senselessly murdered?





The Hudson family is in my prayers today, and yet they are not alone.



I have no words for the abusive Brooklyn mother who beat her 11-year-old daughter to death with a mop handle and left her to die in her own bed.





I have no words for the 25 year-old woman in Queens whose throat was slit, and who was stabbed to death, while she was nine-months pregnant.



I have no words.



I don’t know why some 18 year-old-kid would kill his parents, set their home on fire and afterwards laugh, while drinking wine nearby with his girlfriend.



I don’t know why someone takes a gun onto a college campus and shoots young people to death.



I have no words.



I don’t know why in nearby Newark NJ, people are shot to death while standing on the street. Two of them died this weekend.



All these tragic occurrences happened in the course of a rainy October weekend.





I know no words.



I guess, as the song says, it’s EASY TO BE HARD.



I don’t understand that heartless nature in people. I just don’t fuckin’ GET IT.



I wonder if pure evil exists and grows more muscular in the hearts of mankind, or if it’s all some sickness in the mind that disguises itself as evil.



I don’t know what will become of the people left behind who will live to mourn, wail, ask why, and try to make sense of the senseless loss of those they loved.



I have no words.



I do believe in God.



I do believe in taking our grief to Him and allowing Him to work His own gentle miracle of transference.



I do believe wholeheartedly in Karma for those who perpetrate acts of evil. .



Most of all, I believe in love.



And so in the spirit of love and condolence, I pray for some semblance of spiritual peace to be placed inside the hearts of those left behind.



And so in the spirit of love and sympathy, I'm mustering up all the Compassion, Tears, and Prayers I can access that your stricken families hold on to each other and know that God, The Creator will embrace you.



That’s all that's really left to believe in anymore.



Because these days, it seems a little too Easy To Hard.





One Love.