Posts Tagged "dream"
No Plan B
Hello.
Oh, what? you’re going to school? What are you studying? business? becoming a doctor?
What’s that? Communications?
Oh, movies? Like, what? you learn how to make movies?
Oh, that’s interesting. What kind of job can you get after you finish school? Camerman?
What?
See, see that right there, that’s someone imposing a limiting belief on YOU (that’s if you’re studying Cinema and Communications and have ambitions on becoming a director). Whatever your craft is I think it’s important to realize there’s people out there who will always ask you to “be realisitic.” Sometimes these people are close to you, people who have transposed their values and beliefs on you. Sometimes these people are family. Does that make them bad? No, at all. They’re just looking out for you.
There’ll always be someone ready to dispense fear on your ass if you’re following your dreams. “Be realistic” to these people means “don’t become the world’s coolest robot builder, instead, work at a bank.” Why is one considered more realistic than the other? Who says I can’t build awesome robots?
While this post might have a tinge of frustration implied on my end, it’s only because I’ve delved into plan B. I’ve been there. I’ve been “cautious” and “realistic” and I hated every second. I think not being true to yourself and doing what you want to do in life is something that’s worse than DEATH. I seriously believe that. If you flat out listen to the fears and social conditions that people impose on you, you commit some sort of mental suicide. You find something safe and comforting to help pass the time. You do this day by day. Then you die, completely robbing me and this planet of the gift you were meant to provide.
Everyone has their craft. Everyone has their art. Art is not limited to creating audio and visuals. You know what your art is cause when you do it, you tell yourself “I can do this for the rest of my life.” Do what you love cause there’s no better time than now. The skeptics are good to have around cause you can show them how successful you can become (and help those who want to help themselves – primo Jesus advice dude!).
This post is motivated by the fact that I’m back in plan A (making videos, music, movies, art) and I’m sticking to it. There’s going to be no plan B. No, I won’t become a cameraman or 3d animator if my film career doesn’t work out. I fell into plan B before.
Now, if there’s anything we can get out of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button besides that fact that Brad Pitt is dangerously good looking is that there’s no deadline to start living. You’re never too old or you’re never too young. The only thing that matters is that you do it and worry about the consequences later. If you’re not on fire or being attacked by dogs in this given moment, chances are you’ll be just fine.
To finish off I leave you with this video (embedding was disabled so you gotta scoot over to YouTube).
It’s Glen Hasgard and Marketa Irglova, the stars of the film Once, accepting their Oscar. Their speech is the best speech I’ve ever heard at an Oscar ceremony (I’d include Brad Bird’s Ratatouille Oscar acceptance speech but it’s nowhere to be found). Basically, Marketa’s line, “fair play to those who dream,” sums it up beautifully.
Make ART.
Love and Live.
Read MoreThe Batmobile Should’ve Been a Mustang
Last night I had a dream. It was by far the most awesome dream I ever had. It combined Batmobiles and God (at least I thought it was God) on a giant electric guitar with that feeling you get when you’re a kid and you wake up to Saturday morning cartoons. How is that not EPIC WIN?
Here’s what I remember. For some reason, I was in a used car parking lot and I was buying a car. I was talking to this salesman who was trying to get me interested in some packages for my car (you know the deal). Then he said,
“You know Mr.Imperioli, what if I interest you in this.”
Suddenly this mustang comes roaring out of nowhere. It’s black and red and it has this jet engine exhaust coming out the back that’s belting out flames. It was a cross between the new Mustangs and the old Batmobile from the 1950s television show. It was by far the most awesome car ever to exist in a dream.
“Wow, the Batmobile should’ve been a Mustang,” I said, gaping at this mechanized version of sex.
I then suddenly turned back to this car salesman to find he wasn’t selling me a car at all but a sweet ass guitar. His looks changed too. He had a beard, a leather jacket, and resembled Kris Kristofferson to a remarkable degree. He was kind of like the cool rocker uncle everyone has that smelled a little like pot. Kris Kristofferson handed me the guitar like he was handing me a newborn baby. I took it in my hands and suddenly it felt like I could play the guitar (I can’t). I strummed and juggled through the frets with my fingers. I felt like God would feel if he’d hold a guitar.
I looked up at Kris Kristofferson and behind him I can see we weren’t on a street anymore but in nature. I can see miles of forest and mountains. I can see cliffs and waterfalls. It was majestic. It was beautiful.
Suddenly Kris Kristofferson is standing on the side of this massive mountain. He’s patting the rock petruding from the mountain. Patting it as if to see if it was solid, almost as if he built the mountain. I felt stuck in place, in awe of the ethereal sense this man exuded. He was someone who knew something, something big. He wasn’t just a guitar salesman anymore.
He turned to look at me,
“Listen boy. If you want that there guitar, there’s only one rule.”
I nodded. My mouth felt incapable of talking.
“When you’re out there, making art. Writing your next Paradise City or Knocking on Heaven’s door. I ask you to do what I do.”
I stared eagerly.
“I get up from where I was laying and I make sure to give thanks. I say thank you nature. I say thank you blades of grass. Thank you stalks of wheat. Thank you wind, clouds, sun, sky. Thank you rock. Thank you bugs, birds, foxes, and squirrels. Thank you.”
My hands slide over the guitar I’m holding. There’s no coating to the guitar, no finish, it’s made out of pure wood. I can almost feel the trees it’s made from calling my name.
“Thank them,” Kris Kristofferson continued, “Thank them, cause they inspire you and they’ll thank you for letting them speak through you.”
I watched this man give thanks to his surroundings and I can feel how humbled he was by what was around him. He had a deep love for this environment, a love that felt was reciprocated through the trees, plants, flowers, animals and every living thing around us.
I was slightly saddened by this. Had I neglected being grateful for when I channel the infinite. It dawned on me that be human, you must be humble. I strummed the guitar. I strummed it and with every strum I felt the love and gratitude for every person, creature, and plant that crossed my path in my life. I felt the essence of reality being like waves lapping on a beach. Pushing and pulling. Everything designed to flow with perfect harmony. A butterfly’s flap of the wings causing hurricanes on the other side of the world. Everything is perfect all the time and this guitar I hold in my hands symbolizes my tool. And with this tool I’ll sing, until I die, that everything is perfect… all…. the… time.
Needless to say. It was a kick ass dream and while some might argue that dreams are nothing but your nerve endings firing off random images. I refuse to believe that. Dreams are a window into the subconscious.
Besides, dreams are our only chance to manifest batmobile mustangs and large majestic cliffs so why would we be so shallow and write them off as being something that just happens.
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