Heads Up, NYC!

It has been a great couple of days; including some encouraging interviews and the offer of an apartment for a short period, coming up. For me to have simply laid everything out, articulating with painfully raw candor the bleak lowness I have been progressively experiencing, was not only significantly cathartic for me, but also elicited and inspired some strong, unusual and surprising responses from others.

The group of people reading what I write has grown from the small number with whom I was originally sharing my experience to a somewhat larger group; through friends sharing with others who know me or have known me, outward to friends of those who have thought that some of what I've written would be interesting or helpful to others in their own circles. My own commitment has been to remain authentic, candid and not edit myself out of protecting a perception of privacy. I realize this puts me at some risk in a professional context; but, at the same time, it is who I am, can be positively enlightening in some of the same professional contexts and -- more importantly -- has connected me on a very personal level with long-time friends as well as some, new.

This is and has been good for me, healthy and uplifting, and apparently enlightening and inspiring to some others. Also scary for some others, whom I have reassured that I plan nothing drastic. I will prevail, here, and get through all of this.

The most important feedback, though, came to me yesterday evening from a small group of friends who said, essentially, "you know, Kile, you haven't actually ASKED for help. There could be any number of reasons your local friends haven't reached out to you. Perhaps they think they don't know anything at a high enough level for you, and don't want to offend you with something small."

Good point.

Hello, New York; I am not offend-able. I am asking for your help, in practical terms. Two simple, essential things I need: a roof over my head and something to do that pays, even by the hour or day.

Work:
Of all the people I know, some of you must know someone who has something I can do while I'm rebuilding, here. Pride is no obstacle; I'll do pretty much anything. I'd rather not be cleaning bathrooms, if I can avoid it; but if that's what it is, that's what it is. For example;

• box office
• usher
• starbuck's
• retail "associate"
• file clerk
• typist
• receptionist
• waiter/host/bartender
• nanny
• cook
• personal assistant
• hit man

And, at another level:

• guest speaker at Columbia
• substitute teacher - High School, Middle School, Primary School
• expert witness (hey, you never know)
• adjunct professor in producing, directing, writing, event production, storytelling, experience creation...

I've done much, from coaching swimming to teaching master classes in event production and Hospitality.

Anyone?

I simply need and want to get some bucks, coming-in. I'm networking in my industries for the big stuff; simply need to be feeding myself and keeping the health insurance and gym membership going, as I dig out, here...

A Roof Overhead:
Guest rooms, unused apartments for a few days at a stretch, trundle beds in the (spider-free) garage...anyone with a vacant room or bed for short periods? I can water plants, walk dogs, feed cats, empty litter-boxes, exercise falcons, tell stories, write stories, wash/iron, cook dinner for Imaginary Friends; a multidimensional kid-and-pet person.

Operator is standing-by.

If I Knew, Then...

[Tuesday Evening, October 20]

Wow. So this is where my life has led. Nine forty-five on a Tuesday night at Starbuck's; watching them mop the floors in anticipation of the ten pm closing and wondering where I'm going to sleep, tonight.

This is not where I expected to be. When I moved 250,000 people to silence on the Washington Mall, or compelled 50,000 to their feet at Yankee Stadium, when I brought rooms full of millionaires to weep in reverie of Stanford...or through any one of the experiences I have been fortunate to have conceived and created, the messages I have been empowered to articulate, over the past 30 years...I had an entirely different idea of how my life would play out.

I thought I was building a body of work...a career.

I am perplexed. I possess powerful people skills and herculean work ethic, am a wonderful storyteller with deep reservoirs of compassion that I can articulate and communicate, I carry a fire and passion for what I do and possess a talent for engaging and moving people with a fierce commitment to truth and integrity in my work and always strive for the best possible result. These seem to me to be Good Things, qualities for which there would be a desire, a demand; to which there would be value realized for clients and value added to my quality of life.

I think, though, that some of these traits I have considered assets may not always be or have been the positives I might have thought.

Else, what am I doing here, not knowing where I'm to sleep, tonight?

I think I may have done this all wrong. Perhaps I should have bent more when vision was resisted, settled for less quality in my execution, withheld truth and candor for short-term gain rather than striving to enlighten others to what is possible. It would have turned out better for me, had I held out for the big bucks, done no favors, not been so assertive in supporting what I saw as The Right Thing to Do...even though it was The Right Thing to Do. I should have looked to the long-term, seen to my own needs first...taken a traditional career path.

I've given so much away...SO much. I marvel, sometimes, at what people will ask of a Creative Person for free. Even "friends" - those who would never consider asking a doctor for a diagnosis or a dentist to check a molar over lunch - will ask for creative ideas for their own companies or agencies without batting an eye; "...perhaps you could write a little something; a paragraph or two to share with my board...?"

I've always given. What a Fool.

This sounds bitter. Let me think; ah, that's because it is a little bitter...

I do have offers of places to stay, many who have offered to put a roof over my head. Friends have offered condos in Ft. Lauderdale, entire homes in Greenwich, bedrooms in Marin and San Francisco, Los Angeles, Portland and Seattle...but naught in New York. NYC is where I need to be. I need to be based here, at least.

As a Californian of the New Age, I have for years embraced the Pay it Forward and Put It Out to the Universe philosophies. Bunk? Perhaps Barbara Ehrenreich ("Bright-Sided," "Bait and Switch")* is absolutely right. No such thing. (Yep. Bitter.)

---------------------------

[Thursday, October 22]

In any event, I did finally find a place to sleep, on Tuesday night. Wandering the subways was averted...

Our identities, at least in this country and culture, and sense of self worth are so tightly tied to our work and to having work, I think. Men, certainly; women, probably more now than before. For me, this is exacerbated when I am not creating anything; not developing a concept or fleshing out a plan or even simply coming up with ideas to a purpose. It is the act, the process of ideation, collaborating with a client, exploring ways in which concepts might be realized or goals addressed that charges me up and keeps my fire burning. Then, making it happen sends me into the Stratosphere of Fulfillment.

This was made very clear to me this morning. Up to today, I was deeply low; had been for weeks. On the subway downtown after the gym, yesterday, I realized that tears were running down my cheeks and I hadn't even been aware of it. My sense of self and self-worth has become degraded; my anchor-less existence seems to have completely undermined all forms of stability. Moving from place to place, day after day, is fundamentally and profoundly draining...it just takes everything from one.

I know there are others even worse off than me. I can't imagine how I'd handle anything much worse. My strength is sapped. No wonder the truly homeless wander the streets and shout. How else to assert one's existence, one's Being-ness, when one has no imprint?

I have irons in the proverbial fire across the board and nothing is materializing - even the Temp Agencies want my CV, then send a form letter saying "...due to the volume of mail we get..."

It's draining.

------------------------------------

One of my "irons" involves a series of informal conversations I've been having with an international agency about an impending anniversary and what might be done to commemorate said Moment. We haven't even begun to speak specifics, yet, and I'm not even close to being hired....yet. But suddenly, in the wee hours of the morning, what I would call The Idea dropped into my head, fairly full-blown. It is a fantastic idea.

My mind works best, this way; I take in all the information and just let it simmer in the background while going on about my business (presuming I HAVE any business). Then, at some random moment, an approach or concept will materialize like that, and I can see just how a project or experience can be planned and executed. All that needs to be done, then, is write it up and share it with the client for shock and awe...further development and execution. Of course, there's always the possibility that the client won't think it's as fantastic as I think it is...there's no accounting for taste.

Nonetheless, the immediate dissipation of the cloud bank that had been obscuring my energy and motivation for the past few weeks was startling. I sat up, wide awake, simply excited at the prospect of developing and articulating this concept, and my day only blossomed from there.

Right now, that's enough for me...

--------------------------

[Friday, October 23]

Scratch that; it's not enough. Yesterday's High had dissipated by evening, and I awoke this morning even deeper in this Black Hole than before.

I got to the gym, this morning, stopped and sat on the side, finishing my coffee... As the caffeine was to have been taking effect, my spirit faded and sank lower and lower. By the time I'd finished the coffee, I was so depleted that it was all I could do to get out of there without simply bursting into tears. Workout cancelled, I made it to the subway before the eyes once again began to leak... Jesus, this is endless.

Right now, if I focus on this concept I plan to present in a week, the energy begins to return. As I work on the volunteer project I have accepted for my professional association, the gears turn and the synapses fire and creativity flows with appreciable result. I must focus on this.

I can't give up. I want to. I can't. But, I want to.

What I know is that if I compromise my principals and don't succeed any better than I have, to now; I'll have nothing. If I hold to my principals, at least - win-or-lose - I'll have my principals intact. Will that be enough, at the end of the road; how far 'til the end of the road?

When all is said and done, I need to find comfort in having my own integrity; in knowing that I have done good work and can do more...whether I have that opportunity or not. If I compromise my principals, thus my product, then I can't stand behind it and call it The Best. I believe this; though, I glean no comfort from it.

Comfort. At least I have a pair of arms to whom I can go for succor. There is that.

---------------------------------

"...if you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; be honest and frank anyway.

-Mother Theresa

*(full Ehrenreich titles: "Bait and Switch: The (Futile) Pursuit of the American Dream" & "Bright-Sided: How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America")

Clockwise / Counterclockwise

-----------------------------

In the ICU for ten days after my near-fatal automobile accident in 1991, it was an ongoing, touch-and-go battle to survive the damage I'd done to myself. From the moment I'd awakened after the first night in the ER, fighting against the restraints that had anchored my wrists to the sides of the bed (and not understanding they were there for my own safety - so that I would not break my own nose as I came out of anesthesia), I had been struggling to gain physical equilibrium and to simply heal and survive.

As the deeper, more damaging complications from the wreck revealed themselves and my condition began to spiral steeply downward, I spent the ensuing days and nights full of tubes and surrounded with machinery; at moments, barely hanging on. As word of what had happened and my precarious physical situation leaked out, friends from near and far showed up to encourage me in the brief, 5-minute visits each was allowed; encouraging me Hang On, to be true to myself and pursue what we knew I am good at doing.

"Dump this Movie Thing...!" "Do the Live Stuff you do so well!" "Hang On...and get out of here!"

There came a night, then another, when I literally had nothing left. No more strength to fight, no more will to exert, no more energy to push against the dark and finite exhaustion that seemed to be pushing at and toward; overwhelming me as it grew, looming on the edges of my consciousness. My self-awareness was crystal-clear; I knew there was nothing left. It was at that moment that the strangest phenomenon occurred.

I had turned to my mother and calmly whispered - "I don't think I'm going to make it...I think tonight might be it, Mom. I just don't have anything left." I wasn't scared, and was calm and collected. I fully felt - I knew - that I had nothing left with which to resist, and was accepting that I'd done all I could do. I felt my only remaining choice was to let go.

Then... It was as though all the remaining, residual energy that was scattered in tiny pockets throughout my being took on a collective mind of its own. It felt like my body then took from my depleted hands control of the Will to Live and was gathering itself in what I can only characterize as the resolute formation of an invisible, steel-like, psychic and very real monofilament stretching from the inside of my skull, extended down through my line of chakras to my feet ... anchoring me to Life.

I could feel it, tightening inside me. The Thread of Life?

My body was not going to let me go. It did not release me. On its own, it fought and pulled me through as my consciousness relinquished control and could only observe this phenomenon taking place. Spiritual? This was a powerful experience; revealing the edges of a secret and a power that we may not know we have. I certainly didn't know it. I was startled and wondrous, and could only ride this wave.

Two nights later, my health turned around and I began to heal.

------------------------------

Metaphorically, I sense I am now near an analogous point; a moment where I have nothing left, and this time I don't know that some superhuman, internal strength is going to materialize and pull me through. While the effects on me are deeply internal; the forces that exert and elicit the responses and reactions I am experiencing are external, and I have no control over them.

I am becoming worn down from moving from place to place, sometimes day after day. The gathering up of clothes and books and carrying them to the next temporary shelter is beginning to take a hefty toll. Constantly taking inventory: where is my toothbrush, did I bring my razor or is it downtown, what clothes are where and what clothes will I need, tomorrow, do I have enough of my prescriptions...? It is pulling my mind in myriad, distracting directions, and I see no end to it. No end.

The only place things work out in precisely the way we want is in fiction. Only then might we have complete control. My Story of taking an hourly job as I seek work at my level is not coming true; the problem being that I am either seen as overqualified, too old (yikes!) or such an obvious short-timer that it would not serve an establishment to bring me on, knowing I am likely to depart when I find what I want. Starbuck's, American Apparel, Banana Republic...their stories aren't incorporating mine as I'd envisioned. This affects prospects for Security.

A dear friend has loaned me his apartment in Hell's Kitchen while he is in Italy, 'til Tuesday; it's a good thing. I have been startled to discover that, two mornings, this week, I have been unable to get myself out of bed before early afternoon; then, only because I had obligations that required me to go to another part of town in order to make a call or take care of something imperative. Those who know me well, know that I am usually up around 5:30am. This is not a Good Sign, I know. I simply seem to be making no headway.

I wrestle with - and have been advised against - articulating and exploring these experiences here, in this context. I have considered withholding this information from my writing, keeping this aspect of my inner conversation from this blog; on the other hand, though, I am already in it... For me to begin withholding the truth, now, would render inauthentic what I write.

Thus, I believe the honesty and candor ought prevail.

I know that I am not alone in this experience, nor in my physical, mental and psychological responses to it. There must be thousands of remarkably talented and skilled individuals as bewildered and bemused as am I; with psyche's affected this profoundly. Though, even now, my heart goes out to these others; this realization has absolutely no comforting element for me. Nor, I am sure, for anyone else experiencing similar.

As with my 1991 car accident, I accept that I have done this to myself. There is no one else to blame. Had I held The Australian to accepted, standard, professional business practices, I would very likely not now be in this position. But, I trusted a man's word and his handshake, and this is what I got. I did it to myself.

WTF.

The low point of this week has been the imminent cancellation of my Health Insurance. That's gonna cause me some trouble...

That refrigerator box in Central Park is looking like more of a real possibility; but at least, as my personality disorders surface, this impending situation will be contextually appropriate. No passer-by will be surprised that That Weird Guy Talking to Himself is living in a box.

The surprise of the week was that the IRS has been exceptionally NICE to me! Truly cooperative and communicative, they are being. That was a call I'd feared making that turned out quite well...at least, for now.

I have committed to some extensive volunteer work on a project within my industry sphere; a good application of my background, skills and talents in a place where such assets are currently needed. While this is a good, creative outlet; it will not support me.

I don't know what's next... I simply do not know.

How cool is it that the City is putting out the call to find me a place to live...?!

Idyllic, Soft-Core Weekend...

...and that's all I'll be saying about that, beyond mentioning how fortunate I am to have M'Guy in m'life. Things are wonderful with him, and my only struggle is to convince myself that I truly deserve the happiness we find in the arms of one another.

This week has been one of being reminded by longtime friends of things done, help offered, guidance given; key moments in their own lives wherein it turns out I've been of greater help or inspiration than I'd known. A dear friend who'd worked for me on a big project, long ago, took the opportunity to remind me of something I'd done for him which had a profound impact on him, at the time...something I'd completely forgotten. I remembered our working together through the lens of how great HE'D been at what he did for me.

After our conversation, he wrote me this; "...It made a huge impact on me when you [did that] in '94. And I always thought that's the kind of Executive Producer I'd like to be if I were ever to make it that far. So, YES, you did many things for me as I was learning from you and [I] use those things every day."

Needless to say, this man has made it "that far" and well beyond. To read words such as this from one so successful and respected and to know that I played a part in contributing to the compassionate professional he is today offers me a moving pride in him and in myself.

When I build teams for a project or production, I have always sought to give individuals of potential a bit more responsibility, more leeway, more autonomy than they may have had, previously; as though they are thrown-in, beyond their depth of comfort, and I serve as lifeline - when needed. I lay out vision, goals and objectives, and share my own methods for addressing each benchmark; then give each the freedom to address obstacles and create solutions...always keeping in mind the importance of fully realizing the Vision. Problems arise, and I look to the individual who has recognized the problem and alerted me to it to formulate the solution. I'll help and advise, but I keep the responsibility on the shoulders of the person under whose purview the problem lies.

This method is, I think, empowering and effective; showing trust...and, actually, resulting in my own methodologies and approaches being heard more readily and taken to heart when they are shared. I often learn as much from younger people creating their own solutions as they are able to learn from me. Collaborative & Socratic teaching through example...

I love to teach. Personally, I love the look on the face of an individual at the moment of epiphany, the wonder at the moment of realization or enlightenment; when that person realizes a capability beyond what s/he had expected or thought s/he was capable.

Years ago, and I mean YEARS ago, when producing my first tour for Stanford University, I took the kids from the ensemble into a recording studio to lay down their own backing tracks. Excellent college-level singers, none had ever been in a professional sound studio. Excited, headphones to ears, they lay down their tracks. Then, that first time they tried singing with themselves, as one their eyes widened in wonder at the feeling, the sound, the professional experience each was having at that singular moment. I felt like a father must feel.

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So, I was approached, out of the blue, and offered a job, this week. Actually, the job entailed a significant amount of teaching at the Professional Level; I would be perfect for this position, and the position is perfect for me. Unfortunately, the institution offering this position is offering such a low salary that I simply cannot, in good conscience, take the job.

It is extremely tough, any time - and especially in times such as these, to turn down a job when one hasn't any work. One valuable lesson I have learned, though, is that nothing good comes from accepting a position in which one is undervalued. Two things happen: first, one soon finds oneself being regarded, treated by the client, company or institution, at the value paid rather than the value bought; second, loyalty and commitment suffer when one has undersold oneself...and, when a better offer comes along, integrity can quickly suffer as the poorly paying position is jettisoned in favor of security and upward mobility.

If I am going to be paid poorly, then I shall take a low-paying position; I am willing to do that. Barista, Retail Associate, Cashier, Box Office...; once I have found one of these who will hire me, I'm happy to accept the Going Rate for such a job. (My troubles in that area are, it seems, my age and overqualifications. Argh.) 

So, I continue to seek. Networking and working the Net, writing proposals and sniffing out opportunities; I forge ahead with Recovery from Oz. In fact, the energy is healthy, the support has been warm and wonderful and often from surprising places...friends from long ago have stepped forward and spoken up with heartfelt and ongoing encouragement. This means so much.

Onward.

The Bite of Reality

The Relentless Hand of Reality has chosen to exert itself, this week, and has been grinding my face into the gritty beach of Don't Kid Yourself with no small amount of glee, it would seem. Brother, things're grim. (See what I did, there? This wondrous creativity simply cannot be staunched...)

The position on which I had set my sights has been withdrawn; I'm over-qualified. My disappointment is deep, as I sensed it was a perfect combination of challenge, requirement and opportunity. Though, that impression is gleaned only from having read the scope of work and knowing the organization. One doesn't know what is truly in mind without direct contact with the person who conceived the position.

Survival is becoming an issue. Resources are very nearly depleted and the world keeps turning on its axis, inexorably spinning one day into the next with no regard to the insurmountable deadlines this brings rocketing my way.

Days are long and rootless. Arising early from whatever sofa was my solace for the night, packing my stuff so as to leave no presence and departing in the dark for the gym, I stop at the nearest Starbuck's to power-up (a dear friend sent me a loaded coffee-card; she knew what I needed!) and board the subway for the trip. Carrying my clothes from the day before and wearing my gym stuff, I arrive at the gym just as the sky is beginning to lighten.

Cardio, then to a diner for oatmeal. I'm beginning to need more protein if I'm going to be in competition shape for next summer; but that will have to wait until there is income. One good thing about Manhattan (among so many Good Things) is the availability of simple, clean chicken breast meat at most any deli...so small amounts of protein are available as needed, for the most part. I sure miss having my own place to cook/prepare a week of meals in advance and being prepared for whatever happens in a day.

After the oatmeal, back to the gym for weight training. At least these few hours, each morning, give me energy, get the endorphins flowing and bring up the mood. Glad my iPod is handy to keep the music playing and elevate me. I leave the gym in a good frame of mind. The remainder of the day is the struggle to maintain that state. Of course; once it becomes a struggle, maintenance is moot.

My suitcases and clothes are stored, centrally, and I have a place where I can go that is private, has internet access and I can work, answer email and pore through the web, seeking opportunities without having to speak with or be nice to anyone. That relieves no small amount of pressure; important when emotional reserves mirror the scarcity of the practical ones.

It takes a great deal out of one to have no place to Be. Rootless, homeless, workless; huge amounts of strength and commitment are needed to simply remain positive. Self-esteem evaporates in no time; the successes of last week's presentations seem already in the distant past. And, this is going to last for awhile...

Nothing's going to materialize tomorrow, or next week, or probably next month; I'm going to have to get used to this rootlessness and doubt. Busily, relentlessly keeping the networks activated and alive, sharing my self and my talents with potential prospectives, not "living" in the anxiety is what's called-for and that is my focus. Seeds are planted and it is a virtually organic process for germination and possible bloom. Bugger!

I am profoundly fortunate to have someone who loves me...whom I love. When we are together, no kidding, the clouds lift and I can hardly remember the darkness in which I've been abiding. My laughs come easily, my mind clears and my sense of humor returns. I once again feel my confidence build, my self-esteem strengthen, my spirit revivify. I become the Me I like...the Me he loves. Good thing...

Though I resist it, the curtain seems to fall for me sooner and sooner upon separation. In a matter of days...sometimes hours...I am again defending the castle against despondency and depression, feeling bereft and hopeless and fearing the loss of it all. I work to maintain enough objectivity to know that this is a function of the situation; yet I worry at the pressure this puts on me and on him and on us. This is an unfair pressure that can undermine the precious, precious thing we have and are exploring.

Ack: what to do...

Trust, trust, trust, trust, trust.

A quality, a virtue, a value which I hold in such esteem and for which I strive so strongly in myself is, yet, a quality that has so often failed me in professional and personal relationships. Professionally, I "believe" that something perfect is going to materialize; I don't really trust that. I have to make myself good with the fact that I may well be flipping burgers in another week...in Davenport, Iowa or some truckstop in Barstow (not that there is anything WRONG with Davenport or Barstow). My future may well not contain any more of the work at which I am so good...for no reasons I can ascertain, but I sense this.

Personally, I fear that my current neediness and self-doubt will undermine this thing that is so deeply important to me. My need for confidence, comfort and encouragement ... for reassurance ... is real, but it might simply become too much; there is so much going on, so many things pulling downward on me that all the lines become blurred between what pressures are professional, what is personal and what is intimately integral.

I have no answers, today.

There have been better times...