One of the main character arcs that I deal with in my book is letting go.  In spiritual circles letting go means allowing things to come into our lives.  Allowing the things we want to manifest.  Letting go in the context of personal loss allows us to move on, to continue to live and not live in the past.  You see this a lot in cases of lost love or family death.  People tend to look at pictures or read letters of the past.

I think they’re trying to console themselves.  In the immediate moment after the incident it can help.  But if people do this after a significant time has gone by is it healthy?  And what is a significant time?  To a fruit fly whose lifespan is a day, then a few minutes could be pretty damn significant.

In UP by Pixar Carl has to deal with a difficult loss and broken promise.  It’s pretty evident that he can’t move on.  Life all around him represented by high-rise development is being built, life moving forward.  He just sits on his porch all day and sulks.

Then comes a little chubby Asian boy who helps show him the way.  His name is Russell.  Side note…

The movie never states the Asian boy’s last name, so I assume by his slanty eyes and straight black hair that he’s Asian.  Even IMDB has no last name on the chubby boy.  And if he is Asian, man, the boy speaks Engrish good.  I mean he speaks English well.  The writers had the forethought not to put an Asian accent with the Asian boy.  How revolutionary.

In both my book and UP the two concepts of letting go, which is really one, is dealt with.  Because in life you must let go if you are to create what it is you want.  You must let go if you are to move forward.  Isn’t that what we all want?

How do you let go?

I wrote a little about this in my Feel the Anger.

Should there be a mourning period?  Of course.  I think it’s unhealthy not to have one.  But what should it be filled with?

I’ve fallen in love many times.  Deeply.  When those relationships ended, even by my own doing, the pain that followed ripped through me.  I cannot describe how much the pain tore me up, how it made my life impossible to live.  Most of you who’ve loved and lost know.  It sucks.

Aside from filling my time with the good memories of my past girlfriends, I spent a lot of time learning from my mistakes.  I read books, observed other relationships, scrutinize my current behavior to see if I lived in the past or moved toward my future.  I took an honest view of my mistakes.

One of the things I did wrong was wanting to be right all the time.  That it was important to be right.  Another words, my ego got in my way.  Whether I was right or not wasn’t important.  My girlfriend had to understand my point of view.  Because, damn it, my point of view was important.  It’s the source of my happiness.  Well…

I’m the source of my happiness.

The only person who should care about my point of view is me.

Everyone has their own point of view, but it matters little to me.  I cannot be responsible for their happiness.  They can’t be responsible for my happiness.  We as individuals are responsible for our own happiness.

It is here that we find empowerment.

Had I truly learned this, at least half the arguments would have disappeared.

The sad thing is most live through other people’s eyes.  It is the source of so much conflict.

Isn’t the meaning of life to be happy?

Being able to move forward can definitely facilitate that as UP shows us with humor.  The end of the movie shows that when we let go we get what we want and more.  Watch it as it teaches an important lesson.

One of the things I indirectly explore in my fantasy is age. I was out with some friends the other night and one of the girls harped on my age, worried I’d be the oldest. Among the group, I was the oldest. I’m thirty six. It’s a freakin’ number. Mentally I feel real good. Physically I feel fantastic. Spiritually, I feel present when I want to be. I’m still learning. Maturity wise, I’m in my early teens. I laugh at farts. I crack up at groin shots in movies. I tell jokes no one ever gets. Or if they do they don’t want to let me know cuz it’ll show how imature they are. It’s part of my sensibility.

One thing I don’t do is think about my age. I love writing my book, working on this website, fantasizing about my stories, watch almost half of the movies that are released, including the crappy ones. I do things that I love, I eat healthy six days out of the week, exercise 4 days a week, and laugh as much as possible.

This, to me, is how to be ageless.

Stop thinking about it and delve into what you love. For age IS a number, never a state of mind or a place in your life. There are teenagers in the world who are millionaires. Who’s to say they can’t be because they’re so young?

Don’t place limits on yourself because of age.

Look at all that Bruce Lee has accomplished. He graduated from Washington University. He started a small chain of martial arts schools. Got married and had two kids. Developed a philosophy of martial arts that is still prevalent today. Did some tv acting. Through that he became a huge movie star in Asia that gave him the opportunity to star in a Hollywood movie when most industry leaders said he’d never make it as a leading man in America. He’d published several books. All this and more was accomplished by the age of 32.

Don’t focus on your age. It doesn’t matter. Do what you love, and love what you do. And if you allow it, everything else will fall info place.

Many have asked why we are here, why were are born.

My personal philosophy is that the meaning of life is to be happy.  As children were happy.  We spit up, drool, pick our noses, crap, and we laugh about it.  Babies cry because they need something – changing, food, injury – but that’s not sadness.

A lot of people who teach personal growth/spirituality state that we all are born with a purpose.   And they also say we know our paths since childhood, and it isn’t until well intentioned adults impose their own view of what reality/practicality is that we veer off it.  Let’s assume that’s true.

So if you’re in a job and you aren’t doing well in it, despite how much and hard you try to do well, is it a sign that you need to change?

Or if you’re with someone and everything is going well, the connection is there, the core values are there, is this the person you’re meant to be with?

Your parents divorce, leaving you to play on your own because you don’t feel like making friends.  You spend your time pretending, fantasizing, making characters, and gain the skill of story telling.  Should you story tell?  (Robin Williams)

What about you go to Hollywood and you audition like crazy.  You love acting, love the arts, love the the city of angels.  People say you’re a great actress, but every single audition yields nothing.  When is enough enough?  Or is there a limit?

I do know signs are given to us.  I mean, if you’re at a job and don’t like it, ask yourself why?  If the reason is because you want something better, or the job holds no meaning, move on.  Right?

Or if you’re with someone and everything seems to be working, then you would continue to see them.  Yeah?

And what about reality/practicality versus dreams.  Failure happens, but isn’t it meant to help guide us like driving a car?  Veer too close to the curb, turn the wheel.  Hear your tire hit the middle road markers, adjust your wheel.  These things have lead me to become a writer.  Since I’ve made that decision and committed to completing a book, I’ve felt content.  I’ve even found myself not really wanting to buy things.  Not the way I used to anyways.

Tell me what you think?

Have you ever gone to a room or a building and felt the energy?  Sometimes it feels like you’ve come home.  Other places feels like being in jail, confined?  I have.  I tell people this and they think I’m off my rocker.  A lot of times I am.  But I think that’s why I can feel the energy of the place.

The questions is, is it the place or the people?

The first time I went to Oahu and stepped off the plane, it felt like I’d finally come home from a long trip.  It was the first time I felt this so intensely.

Or when I was a boy my sister’s best friend had taken us to a church.  I must say that I hated it.  It just wasn’t for me.

Place or people?

Over to my left I saw something that was kind of creepy.  Maybe not creepy, but made me ask if this was really happening?  In a large empty space of green grass, pooled in the middle were a flock of black crows.  There must have been a hundred.  Maybe more?  Less?  I didn’t sit and count.  Didn’t know if I was going to be pecked to death.

Keeping my distance, I started to walk along a winding cement path.  Through the trees and around the grass the flock of crows followed me.  Or coincidentally flew at the same place that I strolled, despite the ocean of land all around me.

Then a back of a tomb stone caught my eye.  Beside it was another tombstone that was also very familiar.  I calmly strolled around to the front.  I knew.  I’d found him.  I’ve seen pictures of his tombstone before, and there was no mistaken this was Bruce’s.  To the right lay his son, Brandon.

During the time I was taking acting classes back in college, I’d wondered if Bruce had any children.  I never thought to find out before.  Bruce had two, and his son was an actor.  It was sort of finding out that Jesus had children.  And yes, I loved reading the Da Vinci Code.  I dreamed about working with Brandon.  Soon after, a tragic accident resulted in his death.  So sad.

In front of the grave site a marble bench sat.  An engraving lined the edge of it, but I don’t remember what it said.  I paid my respect, bowed three times, sat on the bench and had a conversation with one my idol.  Yes, call me weird.  Then it happened.

A single black crow landed on a tombstone next to Brandon’s.

I looked at it.  It looked at me.  I know what you’re thinking.  No, it didn’t talk to me.  Nor did I talk to it.  Now, when this was going on, I didn’t time it.  But the crow sat there for a long time.  Long enough for me to be weary of my vulnerable eyes.  Suddenly…it attacked me.  I got up ran away, flailing my arms.

Just kidding.

It kept looking at me and, moments later, flew off.  Moments later, I left.  The whole experience was surreal, spiritual, and it’s been something that I’ve wanted to do, and done it.

So you’re saying the crows and crow landing by me was a coincidence.  Perfectly understandable.  On my last day, I went back to the cemetery to say one final good-bye.  I entered Lakeview Cemetery.  There were a lot more sparrows and not a single crow.

I flew back home feeling a connection, energized, with a pretty cool story to tell my dates.  Oddly enough, they don’t continue seeing me.  Hmmm.

Spiritual Experience with Bruce Lee:  Part 1

With most Asian boys of my generation, Bruce Lee was da man.  Not only did he kick butt, but he always had a reason to do it.  When I was a kid, I’d fantasized:

“Hey you,” said some kid.

“What did you say to me?” I said.

“Gimme your lunch money.”

“You offend me, you offend my familee!”  I pointed at him, swipe my nose with my thumb.  “Whoppah!”

That was as far as my dialogue would go before I dealt some serious whoopin’ of the rear end.  I was a kid.  Around my teens years I’d discovered Bruce had been buried in Seattle, WA.  Just a couple of states above me.  Since then I’ve wanted to go on a quest to find Mr. Lee.

One year, my company forced us to go on non-paid vacation to save money.  I decided to fly up to Seattle and begin my Indiana Jones type search.  I was actually kinda anxious.  Bruce is buried in Lakeview Cemetery.  I fly into Seattle and ask the hotel clerk where Lakeview is.  They inform me it’s like 5-6 hours north.

What?!

Did I fly in the wrong city?  No!  I swore it was Seattle.  I turned to the net, searched, and bam.  Lakeview was 30 minutes away.  Whew!

It was a gray, sprinkly day, and I zoom down the highway with anticipation.  At this point in my life, I’ve read and studied the legend, so there was this energy around me during the trip.  The cemetery was pretty easy to find.  I park my studly rental, a Kia four door, and step onto the wet asphalt.  I look for a map like the kind you find at a mall that says, you’re here–big black arrow–Bruce is here–big red dot.  There was no such map.  A few brown sparrows landed on a patch of green but soon flew off.

I enter the large iron gates.  Whoa!

There must have been a few thousand tomb stones.  Most had names like Yang, Chang, Lang, Dang.  Dang it!  A lot of Asian people.  There were Lee’s, Chong’s, Chu’s…it was like trying to find the needle in a needle stack.  Thirty minutes roaming around where dead people are, and I couldn’t find da man.

Then I noticed something weird, something strange.  Was it a coincidence?

Come back tomorrow and check out part two.