The most incredible metamorphosis has occurred in me, one I did not see coming. I have pretty much always followed what’s going on in the world. I don’t know if it was because I didn’t want to miss anything or I simply thought a smart person, forgive me the self-flagellation, had to know all sorts of useless stuff. Before the explosion of technology, I still managed to be just enough on top of things to never feel at a loss regarding the latest and greatest.
I had been wrestling with doing a podcast for a while and around three months ago, I decided to do it. I figured with a library of hundreds of stories on my blog, I’d have ample fodder to feed the audio beast. Frankly, I don’t know why I have this need to be a kind of life performer, but I have always had this comfort level when it comes to being at the head of the class. I swear, I can’t seem to help myself. It has always been what I do.
When I started the podcast, I thought it would be cool to read my stories, partially out of a fear of being at a loss for words, not knowing what to say next or how to say it. I have quite an extensive background in the broadcast business and it didn’t take me long to realize that a podcast is simply radio and listeners want you to talk to them. So, I then took my stories and printed them in a large font, allowing for plenty of space between paragraphs. I figured this would enable me to kind of ad lib, in between reading my thoughts, simply another half-way idea to embrace this new/old medium.
I was at a loss of where to go, feeling I needed to continue, but not knowing the way. All of a sudden, it hit me. I’d take advantage of my neurotic connection to the news and provide my own style of irreverent commentary. I renamed my podcast, Real News Plus, becoming a secret journalist, dedicated to an invisible audience that might not even exist and I didn’t seem to care.
Each day, I now find stories I want to share and I cut and paste them into a growing library of pages, numbering at least fifty in a good week. Before I became a closet journalist, I’d find myself getting angry or annoyed with certain stories and the most unexpected thing began to happen. The word I don’t have to look for is passion. I was shocked that I cared, really cared. My podcast now feels like a mission and it is so deeply personal that I now have no choice, but to keep at it.
I swear to God, right now, at this precise moment, Ry Cooder’s, Feelin’ Bad Blues, invisibly slipped out of my little Bose speakers. The reason why this is priceless to only me is that this is the music I use to intro my podcast. It tells me to keep on sharing my story with you and to not hold back and I won’t.
This past week, I was putting together my news pieces and on Thursday, December 17th, I came across a story about Tarek el-Tayeb Mohamed Bouazizi, a Tunisian food vendor in the town of Sidi Bouzid. Ten years ago to the day, he set himself on fire, because he could no longer take the harassment from his government. Something about this solitary act, ignited his country, while throwing flames of discontent throughout the streets of the Arab world, becoming known as the Arab Spring. Governments toppled and for a brief moment there was hope, where there had been none. At least for now, the blossoms of freedom have been frozen in a winter of despotism, epidemic in the region. It is simply the anniversary of when possibility felt inevitable, but now gone.
This struck an electrifying chord in my new found role as a journalist in my mind. I couldn’t let it pass and included it in my current podcast. It felt so profound to me, but in the past, it would have upset me and I’d have let it go. I can’t do that anymore. I was sitting very quietly with this and then as if on cue, Matisyahu filled my ears and mind with an unbelievably inspiring song, called, One Day. It is a powerful, syncopated prayer to a world that so many of us pray for. I was just about where I needed to be to finish this story, but there was a part or me that still did not feel worthy. I am this old guy, sitting on his ass on Kauai and what rite do I have to speak about such matters?
One of the great, unexplained coincidences in the world is the growing connection between Buddhist philosophy and the quantum potential, a discipline way beyond my ability to understand. We, each one of us, live in a world of interconnection, where time and distance are indistinguishably blurred. Miraculously, everything is connected to everything else, in an infinite continuum that transcends our brain’s capacity to put into a formula. Reality is a kind of wholeness that keeps growing in size, the more we try and figure it out, the more it teases, just out of reach.
What in God’s name does any of that have to do with my podcast, pretty much a secret to all but a handful? The answer is everything. My voice matters and what I have to say matters. I don’t want the world to move forward without my effecting what transpires. I see an American Spring out there and it won’t take root without me or without you, planting our seeds of intention. I am not sure if I can recall a time when optimism and possibility were in such short supply. Silence insures the status quo and I am committed to stumbling forward, with my fallibility on full display, lending my voice to a choir of promise.
Spring is a timeless season of the soul.
My podcast: https://www.buzzsprout.com/1292459