“Right From God!”...(out of the mouths of babes)

        My daughter, along with my two boys are much more than the word "interesting" could ever describe. The word "remarkable" would be more appropriate. Or "characters" comes to mind. As an example, one of so many, I will take you back to when I was a single parent before I met my second son, Joshua, and my second wife, Tiffany.

I was dirt poor, playing 6 nights a week in bars and my son Ian was 6 and my daughter Lauren was 3. We would walk Ian to 1st grade every morning, virtually around the corner from the shitty Apt. we inhabited on the second floor of a shitty building. It was shitty. The kids had a bunkbed set in the bedroom they shared and I had a mattress on the living room floor. 

Monday through Friday we would drop Ian off at school and Lauren and I would make our way back to the Apt. where we would both watch Sesame Street together, take a nap (I was always exhausted!) and then if time permitted, read her a story before we went to pick Ian up from school and have lunch.

The kids always loved for me to read to them as much I loved my Mom reading to me. My Mother actually helped me through my first grade reader and inspired me to read Shakespeare at the age of 11 (of course she helped me through that as well). Both Ian and Lauren had their favorites as little kids, but the two they loved the most were Sesame Street’s “The Monster At The End Of This Book” (I do a perfect Grover impression and we wore out 3 copies!) and “The Velveteen Rabbit”, a classic. I would always give Lauren and Ian a choice as to what book they wanted me to read them out of the many children's books we owned. Lauren, more often than not, picked “The Veleteen Rabbit”.

This particular day after a long night for me (I didn’t get back home from where I was playing in Hermosa Beach to relieve the babysitter until 4:15 am....all for a measly $75....oh, how I don’t miss those days!) I was reading Lauren “The Velveteen Rabbit” for the umpteenth time, when, at the end of the book she looked up at me and said “You know daddy, every one of us has love in our hearts!”. It’s enough to bring me to tears even now. I said “That’s so true Lauren! Everyone of us DOES have love in our hearts!” Then she asked me something truly remarkable (she was a a few months older than 3 at the tme) she said (and I quote) “And daddy, do you know where that love comes from?” I said “Tell me where that love comes from, Lauren”. She took her index finger, put it to the middle of my forehead where the “proverbial third eye” resides and said, “Right from God!!” and pushed on my forehead as she was saying it!!! I was stunned...I had no words. None. I do remember feeling all the blood drain out of my face! What does one say to such a thing coming out of a 3 year old’s head?? Out of the mouth’s of babes, indeed!!

Lauren is now a grown woman and continues to stun me with her empathy, her voice and her natural songwriting and acting ability. She is a remarkable human being and I feel honored to be her father.

And speaking of “The Velveteen Rabbit”.....One day while talking with the Skin Horse, the Rabbit learns that a toy becomes real if its owner really and truly loves it. The Skin Horse makes the Velveteen Rabbit aware that “...once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always." It’s so true, and you helped make it so, Laur-Laur. You are my “Magic Fairy”. We are all loved until real and I love you with all my furry heart!.....Dad

M. Lanning 10/9/11....Imagine.....thanks John.....

You deserve a break today...(but only in NYC)

      I’m a little (ok, a lot) ashamed to admit I love McDonald’s. It’s not just someplace you “end up at” like Denny’s (well, maybe a time or 2). I grew up with it. We all did. But it was started in my hometown of San Bernardino, Ca. by Richard and Maurice McDonald in 1940, and they introdued the “Speedee Service System” with a mascot named Speedee, who was replaced by Ronald in ‘67, after Ray Kroc made a deal to franchise the brothers’ business. I had my first burger there when I was 3.

       Addicted. Guilty. I’ve tempered my addiction with resistance, restraint and have become a good cook over the years. My first actual job was as a short order cook at age 17, but that’s a whole other blog! Overall, I would say I eat healthy, nourishing food and a balanced diet (with ice cream being my saddest weakness) but, as Thoreau wrote, “moderation in all things”. And that’s how I justify my occasional Jones for some McDonalds!

Now I told you that story to tell you this one, because during this particular visit to Mickey Dee’s in my adopted hometown of NYC, I was not hungry. At all. I needed to pee. Real bad. Like the proverbial racehorse.

It was a few years back, as I rushed out of the West 4th stop on 3rd, off of the A subway line on my way to the Village and dashed across the street to the McDonald’s. I stood in line for a quick sec (it seemed like an eternity!) and asked the clueless “sales associate” for the bathroom key. He politely told me the bathrooms were for “customers only”. I asked for the manager.

When the supervisor came over, I explained to him my situation and he repeated what Ronald Youngerson McNewbie had said. I told him, on no uncertain terms, that “McDonald’s was born in my hometown. I have been a consumer of Product McDonald for well over 50 years and my entire family has probably dropped $70,000 to $100,000 over those years into the corporate coffer. I had my first burger at 3. I think that qualifies me as a customer. Give me the bathroom key.” He handed the key over.

I went back and visited recently on my way to a Bitter End show, just to see if anything had changed. Before ordering a Big Mac (Yeah, that’s my Jones) I asked for the bathroom key. I was told I didn’t need one! Now, I don’t have Mac’s often but I do get a hankerin’ now and then, the stinkin’, corporate bastards! Yes, I like Mac ‘n Don’s Rainbow Room.....but don’t try to lay no boojee woojee on the King of Rock and Roll!!!

M. Lanning 9/27/11

An Open Letter To Donald Trump...(the STFU blog)

Dear Donald, 

We all know you have been very fortunate and worked very hard in your life to get where you are, with a little luck thrown in for good measure...you have a soul, i know this because you are alive and breathing and somethimes point out things that actually make a lot of sense (like China cleaning our clock and “ripping us off”...good stuff!) But sir, you are letting your Ego use you completely and it’s embarrassing! An “embarras de choix” as it were (embarrassment of riches). As much as you think you are part of the solution, in the big picture, not so much! Your Ego is lying like some huge, fallen tree on the superhighway fastlane of your existence (yes, there is more than just this  particular life to consider). Your Ego is obstructing your path, your view to a gentler course in time.

Your endless need for attention may not be tiring to you, but we are fuckin’ exhausted! There is more to life than just being “The Donald”. You must know this! And the most ironic, hilarious thing about writing this is, the fact that i am writing about this!

Let me get to the point. Stop the “birther” bullshit. It’s counterproductive. And stop pandering to the likes of Alaskan celebrity Sarah Palin and Cowboy Rick Perry. (yes, you are pandering or rather, you’re Ego is) Sad thing is, they are really pandering to you in the hopes (they are praying, maybe?) that you don’t even threaten an independent run for the Presidency. YOU’RE EGO LOVES THIS SHIT!! You can’t help it because as i said earlier, you are letting your Ego use you! Ask yourself the question, “Who is it, that is saying “I”? Access your true self and find what Lincoln called “the better angels of our nature”. Please. Find peace. For all of our sakes!

Otherwise, shut...the...fuck...up.

 P.S. Oh yeah. You said, and I quote, “Meatloaf, should I run for Preisdent?” Yup!! That got said...

Ian Paul, Baby Doll...

     The title is the beginning of a silly song I used to sing to my son all during the first year after his birth. Ian Paul Lanning was born August 6, 1978 at 7:01 am, after around 25 hours of false and real labor spread out over 2 days. He was our “little man” and a miracle in our lives. But no sooner than did my young wife Adrian do this amazing thing than we were informed she needed a “Rhogam shot”. She was RH negative and I was 0 positive in blood type, so after being up for 2 days I had to leave A and Ian at the birthing center and run over to Brotman Memorial Hospital with a sample of Adrian’s blood to get her the appropriate shot. We were told we might not be able to have any more children if she didn’t get it, and it was a bureaucratic nightmare when I finally got to “Rotman” (my own personal nickname for that hospital). 3 1/2 hours later i procured the shot Adrian needed and we finally made our way home with our bundle of wonderment. “It’s hard being a parent, because it’s not apparent what to do” is one of my favorite early Lanningisms and well earned by parents everywhere. 

      Parents get it. We got Ian to our little bungalow (a polite word for small shack) and started to notice something strange in a few hours. We called our Physician Dr. Wasson (if you’re out there Doc, you are a dear soul and i believe i still owe you money!) and he suggested  shining a light source on him. The Doc said it was relatively common for babies with parents of RH blood type differences to have what is known as “Hyperbilirubinemia”, Bilirubin is a substance that is made when the body breaks down old red blood cells, a form of Jaundice and is flushed through the body’s waste system. The light source was the normal way to treat this condition but after after 2 days of the lights having no effect on him (he was getting more listless and yellow each couple of hours), Dr. Wasson wanted to see him immediately. It turned out he had to have an exchange transfusion through his bellybutton. As if that wasn’t scary enough,  at that time (1978) the news reports were contradictory and confusing at best regarding tainted blood supplies. It was the beginning of the AIDS scare and very little was known about it. We were terrified our baby would not make it and for 5 days there was a real possibility of losing him. As it turned out, we had an amazing Dr. in Wasson and after 2 more days in the hospital, we got to take him home. I remember the intense conversations Adrian and I had about cherishing every moment after that nightmare. 

25 years later, Ian is in the hospital again but for testicular cancer, caught in the late stage. I will be honest for the first time in my life right here and now about this, but I didn’t have much hope. As much as I shamed myself into believing there was and feeling horribly guilty for even living in NY (he was in California) and not being there more for him, I had this awful feeling intuitively that there wasn’t much hope. It hurts even now to admit it and it could come from my feelings of inadequacy about being a good father over the years (what father doesn’t think that at some point?) He had visited me a few times in New York while working in film and television in the year and a half before he was hospitalized and I remember having a little argument with him about joining a union and getting health insurance. I also remember him having back problems around the kidney area, but thought he was just overworked. He didn’t want to join a union because he thought he’d get stuck in the same job and his goal was to be a producer and wanted to learn every aspect about the industry.

Since this blogspot is entitled “So How Do You Really Feel?” and I’m bearing my soul, I’m gonna go ahead and say that I suffered from “Shitty Father Syndrome”. I know it’s my ego doing it’s best to take me down the road of regret, but I also know there’s a case to be made for it.

Ian was almost a terminated pregnancy for a hot, confusing second. (no one is EVER pro-abortion and we were terribly young, looking back) I had never entertained the notion of even being a father myself, though I loved kids and was a natural with them. I chalk it up to my own selfishness at the time, for I was gonna be a Rockstar and save the world! (how’s that workin’ for ya’, Lanning?)

We decided to have the baby. My band was negotiating a new record deal and things were looking my up for us and our music. We had a second major label chance. Which, I might add, is rare.

So much for chances. Suffice it to say after all the hard work on that album, we were essentially a tax write off (again!) and we had run out of gas after 5 years and 4 record releases. Now what? Pick up gigs, an Ice Cream store scooper for 7 months, a year long stint dressed up as a gorilla in my burnt orange Hornet Sportabout, driving down the freeway on my way to deliver a “Supergram”! It was a singing telegram outfit I worked for in ‘80-’81. Also the occasional Lime Green Suit with matching bellcap, Zorro, a Pirate with a hook and of course when the season demanded, Santa! Not humiliating at all. I also spent several months hanging drywall and fiberglass insulation for a studio my friend Brion was building. (try getting fiberglass out of your skin every night! two words: cold baths) It was all I could do to contribute while my wife, bless her heart, went through a series of shitty jobs. The only halfway decent job she had was an office manager for a wine company that somehow got the clearance to import the first wine from the Communist Eastern Bloc. They were the first importer to introduce Stoli Vodka from Russia into American culture, during Perestroika. (Oh, the Greyhound parties we had!)

Now, I have always had a deep seated, general sense of desperation that has dogged me my entire life, and having a child to take care of during the Reagan era when a shitload of services were cut and wages were low, did not help that sense of desperation. Meditation and songwriting and the occasional gig was my solace. That and our “little man”, Ian and later Lauren Lanning! Lauren Lanning! Lauren Lanning! Our darling daughter! There is no love like the love of a child. None.

I loved my children with all my heart and felt guilty for not giving up my dream and going back to school full time to do something else. I was driven. And desperate. Always desperate. I did go back to school to brush up on music fundamentals and take some acting and philosophy classes. I also started concentrating on my songwriting skills.

Adrian’s and my marriage disintegrated and she went down the road to drug addiction (meth) and I had to let my sister Mary and her husband Jim (God bless them!) take my children for at least 6 months while i gathered up enough money to take them back with me. (there was an incident in getting them back from Adrian I won’t get into here....suffice it to say she was a mere 97 lbs and her meth boyfriend at the time hurt my boy...’nuff said)

I struggled as a single parent for which seems like years (it was actually little short of a year, and I do not know what I would have done had it not been for Mary and Jim) when I met my headstrong, stubborn, smart and amazing future wife/2nd divorce Tiffany, who had an extremely intelligent and precocious boy named Joshua. We merged our two little families into kind of a scaled down, new age Brady Bunch. Miracle of miracles, the kids got along, especially the boys which we were both concerned about early on. But there were no real worries, save Lauren getting teased and picked on relentlessly (sorry Laur-Laur! What doesn’t kill you, almost does! I mean, makes you stronger!! :o) and the three of them over the years became uncommonly, tremendously close. They had each other’s back. Josh and Lauren to this day have each other’s back and are closer than ever.

I don’t remember if I really had a point to this blog, suffice it to say that I will always have regrets regarding my parenting choices, I don’t think there’s a parent alive that doesn’t. If they say they don’t they’re either outright lying or worse, lying to themselves. Life is messy at it’s very best, and it’s the caring and the love that always gets us through, mistakes be damned! I am extremely proud of Lauren and Joshua and the lives they lead now because they are Real People. They can’t do fake. Neither could Ian. And I’d like to think that both Tiff and I and the rest of our family had a little something to do with that.

One thing I do know is that my entire family misses Ian every minute of everyday. (as do all of you that knew him). It reminds me of the conversations my sister Mary and I had after Mom died (for perhaps years after) about how we would think of Mom and want to call her and tell her something or get her advice and then realize “she’s moved on”.

There were days when I refused to accept that my son had “moved on”. Hell, I couldn’t bring myself to take his number out of my cellphone for 5 years! Again and again, like someone slapping me in the face as hard as they can, it forces me to be in the moment and realize the gift that Ian keeps giving me is the moment. this. moment. now.

When I would get stressed (which was a lot) Ian would always say “Dad, Dad, Dad.....you’re standing in a field of flowers!” It would irritate me or make me smile depending on my stupid mood, but to have such a brilliant mirror, my firstborn, my “practice child” and some of the deepest part of all the love in my life, was, even for what seemed such a short time.....a gift beyond compare. 

I miss you my “little man”.....dad.....

M. Lanning 8/6-8/16/2011

How Now Brown Cow? (one of several poems I've written over the years)

HOW NOW BROWN COW?

I can only listen as the world just passes me by

I can only dry my eyes as the world continues to cry

as I bear the unbearable, care for the uncareable

watch as the seasons tick tock doom I scream in laughter

delight in the chapter we are reading now

How now, brown cow?

I cannot predict the tempest’s tocata de futile

I cannot sprinkle “the art of the deal” onto the masses

without an apology to the scrape in the distance

no apologies for the repulsive reminiscence

despite divine insistence we remain at the plow

How now, brown cow?

when will you give up your notions of limit forever

as you plow to endeavor the cure of what seems to be

with a sick stab at a definition of reality as you see it, blind

i return to a gentler course in time

as much as my civilised nature will allow

How now, brown cow?

I cannot, yes I can, take you on a journey up the nihilistic impression

that we are all equal (my hand is bigger than yours, I’m sorry, my obsession?)

into the rest of the fever it goes, what goes?, what leaves?, and what else shows?

I’m sure the hems of madness cover the bets and dab at the sweat upon our brow

How now, brown cow?

I can conjure up the blessing sevenfold in the seven sister’s love for the ancient then

and you must follow your own regression back to the floressence of the holy modern

now and zen, where the light itself is dim but harsh and you will not be able to stop

dancing when you finally learn the truth about the Dance

when we all took the Chance, and then we all forgot how

How now, brown cow?

the Reality will pierce you like a glance from the eye of Horus in the nightclub of your

nightmare and softly, without a care, you will start to get the joke’s on you, your head

filling with p-p-p-pooh while the person nearest you will look the other way as you 

projectile vomit all over everything you hold in holy, sacred, wow

How now, brown cow?


written in the weeks following 9/11

On Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happyness...

       Since we're coming up on Independence Day, I’m thinkin this week about what makes our country truly great. Worth fighting for. What we want to be about. 

For me, it boils down to a very simple quote: “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.....easy to say, harder to do.

The Golden Rule. I only repeat it now because it’s something I want to remember in my life. Something I consider an aspiration and it makes sense to me.

For all my talent and hard work over the many miles, I know what I am. Basically, I’m a worker bee. A member of the proletariat. And proud of it. I make a paycheck like most Americans (as I always say “good work when you can get it”). I say “proletariat” because in the Roman sense of the word, I have no real property. I have owned property in this life but the experience of ownership caused me to feel owned as well. Sold a house at a huge loss and looking back, I’m fine with that. Weight lifted off, so to speak. The most I would even consider owning nowadays (besides my instruments and recording toys) would be some type of motorhome thingy. That was eco friendly, hopefully.

I’ve been contemplating a certain biblical phrase a lot lately.

“Man cannot serve God and mammon” (money).....Matthew 6:24 Again, easy to say, harder to do. To serve God, I mean. I end up serving money a lot. I need money. We all want to live in this world with some semblance of dignity. But it begs the question, what is dignity? A lot of people in this world live with virtually nothing and still keep their dignity. We are assaulted day after day in modern society by corporations spending millions telling you how cool they are and that they’re doing the right thing. Telling you that you need what they got, whether you actually do or not. If they spent those millions actually doing the right thing, that would be dignified. But I really don’t want to rail on about corporations. I would prefer to keep it simple, like, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. That's dignity.

I have always believed in “the better angels of our nature”. I am my mother’s son. She believed in the inherent goodness of the human spirit and lived accordingly. Mom was also a worker bee with a Master’s degree. I’m one of the few in my family that doesn’t have a degree in anything but a PhD in hard knocks, but I believe in egalitarian principles. In other words, everybody gets an opportunity to go for it and make their dreams come true! For some, it’s a dream of just making a little more money. For others, it’s making a lot of money. I also believe the basic guideline should be “do unto others as you would have them do unto.....you get the picture.....

I remember when Sgt. Pepper’s first came out and that George Harrison lyric....”and the people...who gain the world and lose their soul” really smacked me hard one night. I was only 14 but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Now I think I know what it means, because all the money in the world cannot buy you one. more. breath. And breath is Precious. With a capital “P”. 

Do I want to make money? Of course I do! I also want my priorities straight when I do. And I also want to “do unto others as”.....it’s about balance and it’s a choice, not a dilemma.....and I want to live with that kind of dignity.....

M. Lanning 6/30/11

Not feelin' so groovy on the 59th St. Bridge.....

Tonight I went to “Broadway Sessions”, a very popular Thurs night variety type show developed by a talented and funny broadway stalwart named Ben D. My friend Donnie Kehr was doing a short set (famous in NY for The Who’s Tommy, Aida, Billy Elliot among other shows...he and my friend Cori are the brains behind “Rockers On Broadway” a very successful benefit show, but i digress, and i can because it’s my blog!) I was there just to support. After the show I hit the subway which is just around the corner in Times Square. I run my card through for the $2+ ride only to find out they’re workin on the tracks and I can’t have the train I want 
(those MTA apps on all you guys’ iPhones make a little more sense to me now!).

No refund (I’ll save you the time....go fuck yoursefl!) so I have to grab a cab back to Queens.....Astoria to be exact which involves The Queensboro or “59th St Bridge” like the song by Simon And Garfunkel. 

Half way over the bridge traffic comes to a dead stop (WTF!?) and about 3 or 4 cars in each lane ahead of us in the road is this black towncar, completely crushed on the left side, left rear wheel, rubber gone and ground down to the metal hub and the front wheel flat and twisted kinda pretzel like. Totaled. And blocking both lanes. Sideways.

We're stuck and we can’t really see anything initially, it’s 12:15 am and after 5 minutes I’m thinkin’ “this is gonna cost me a forever dollar” so I tell the driver I’ll go have a looksee (always get the cab driver on your side by joking with him or being cheerful, even if you have to fake it). He says fine and I go see what’s up.

There’s about 14 men and 3-4 languages and a fair amount of chaos goin on, some berating the driver, others asking how it happened, blah, blah blah....and I’m like “hey, let’s see if we can push it off to one side and open up a lane 'cause there's a lot of cars piling up behind us”.

So about 7-8 of us try to push the car more to the left, to try and get the right lane clear....it doesn’t budge. By this time more people are out of their cars (mostly men) and cars from the other side are pulling up (“we just called 911” I heard about 4 times) and folks are getting a little hot under the collar, more cars logjamming every second, more chaos and me and my cab driver (he had walked over by then) start trying to conivnce what by now is well over 20 men that “ we can do this, all of us” and “let’s focus”.

About 20 or so of us positioned ourselves around the car so as to give the right lane an opening and it moves!! Now were all excited and yellin’ an’ pushing and it moves twice more, with enough room to get the right lane open and we celebrate our triumph by spouting out things like “gotta love NY”, “only here”. As I’m walking back to the taxi the cab driver said he had turned the meter off and I start tellin’ all the drivers I walk by “one at a time now” and so he starts saying the same thing on the other side of the lane.....good man......we get back into the cab and a very orderly line forms allowing traffic to move smoothly and we can hear the sirens coming but no one got hurt and everything’s cool.....and once again, only in NY......

M. Lanning 6/3/11

We are all made of light.....

Wasn’t quite sure how to start telling something so personal and preposterous, but a lot of you have heard me tell this experience over the many miles, so.....

I had just turned 4 years old and our family, my Dad, brother Billy, baby Alice and my Mom had gone to the beach for the first time that I can recall. We always teased our younger sister Mary by saying “Well, that happened before you were born, Mary”. I believe, if I’m not mistaken, my Mom was pregnant with Mary. We went with neighbors, my Mom’s best girlfriend at the time and her husband and their little girl I had a crush on...I vaguely remember my Mom was not pleased about being there in the first place. I really don’t remember too much about it except something that happened to me I rememeber to this day. Clearly. This little girl I had a crush on ran into the ocean to swim because she could and I ran in after her (most likely to show off). I had never been swimming before and as far as I can recall, maybe never even been in a pool or anything but a bathtub. 

I drowned in the ocean. 

I know I did because I went to a place of profound love and light and felt I was home. I remember this now like it was yesterday. My little life had just begun and yet I was home. Until I heard a voice telling me I couldn’t stay, that I had to go back. I remember saying “but it’s our home” and the voice replied something like “It’s not time yet” and the next thing I remember is coughing up seawater, covered in seaweed and my Mom screaming.

That’s about all I really wanna remember, but I also recall trying to tell my Mother what I had experienced one time in our kitchen a few years later and she brushed it off, like it was just my imagination or something. I was raised Catholic and I’m fairly certain that had something to do with my Mom’s reticence about the whole subject. I never forgot it.

Recovering from Catholicism probably takes a lifetime but I had help. It came in the form of a 15 year old from India. In 1973 the band I was in at the time called Titan, an 8 piece rock ‘n soul band, all took a trip to see this teenage Guru Maharaj Ji  (Prem Rawat as he is now known) in Houston at the Astrodome at an event entitled “Millenium 73”. I had been a seeker since age 14, after the Pope came out in favor of the war in Vietnam. I remember going to my Mom and asking “How can the Pope, who is the Vicar of Christ, who is the Prince Of Peace (oh how I used to love Christmas!) be in favor of ANY war let alone this one?”. She did not have a decent answer and for the first time the walls came crumbling down around my faith. It was the same year that The Beatles Sgt Pepper’s came out. I tried meditating for the first time ever to George Harrison’s “Within You Without You”, lights dimmed and me concentrating hard on the Sitar and the words. 

A few years later a friend turned me onto a book that “Blew my mind”, as we hippies used to say. It was “Be Here Now” by Baba Ram Dass. It had a profound influence on my life and I read it more than several times. I surrounded myself with fellow travelers on the road to realization. It was a very hopeful time. The “Age Of Aquarius” and all that. I wrote a song called “Take My Love” at the age of 17 that eventually found it’s way to an album released on George Harrison’s label, Dark Horse Records by the group I was in, Jiva.

Jiva means “That which breathes” and is commonly used to signify the soul. But I am jumping all over the place. Point is, I had met my teacher, or “Darkness to light bringer” as the Hindi word “Guru” suggests. 

The techniques of meditation or “Knowledge” as it is known, are deceptively simple. One technique is called “The Word”. That which breathes. You can achieve a similar effect by breathing in “I” and breathing out “Am”. It’s a way of being in the moment like none other and is much more profound than just simply, “I Am”.

It was another technique called “The Light” that I was fascinated with. After all, it took me back to when I was 4.

Now, we got no end of shit from family and some of our friends, saying “They’re following some Guru” or “They’ve gone off the deep end”. Then we signed our record deal with George Harrison and that criticism lightened up, as it were. A former Beatle was kind of giving us a little “legitimacy”. 

Plainly and simply, at least for me, the “Proof is in the pudding”. As Jesus said, “Beware of false prophets” (Matthew 7:15) “You shall know them by their fruits” (Matthew 7:16). The light technique blew my mind more than once but one experience with it in particular took me back to when I was 4.

Normally, when I do the technique I see an oval or round shaped light, kind of like a doughnut. But there was at least one time I saw the middle of the doughnut turn into a pinpoint of light and then I was moving and standing still in total love, light and peace. I literally felt myself and everything was merging and turning into light. I remember my mind or ego interrupting me by saying “Where in the hell do you think your going?” I slammed back into my body and for almost 5 minutes I couldn’t open my eyes. The light of the sun peeking through the curtains wasn’t as bright as the light inside. It felt like the light was emanating through my eyes.There are no other words to describe such a profound, empirical experience. Words fail. And Fail Miserably.

What I will say is that it was probably the most incredible experience I have ever had. I have been trying to recover from it ever since. I have practiced and not practiced this meditation since 1973 and it’s something I can ALWAYS rely on to be there. Every breath. From first to last.

It is something that no one can take away from me. Ever. All evidence is subjective, I reckon, but there was no Catholic Mother there to tell me that it was “Just my imagination”.

I have read every scripture pretty much, from the Bible to the Vedas and all in between. Muslims say you cannot understand the Koran unless you understand Arabic. No matter. Whatever floats your boat, but it is experience that should always precede belief, in my humble opinion. And a lot of scriptures say at some point or another that “God is Light”.

With all the advances made in quantum physics since the emergence of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, it seems as though science and spiritual realization are slowly “Meeting in the middle”, so to speak. There is soooo much more to say about this subject, maybe another time, but I will leave you with this.....

Matthew 6:22 Jesus supposedly said, “The light (or lamp, depending on which translation) of the body is the eye. Therefore, if thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.” 

I know that. I mean know it in the most personal, empirical way, I know it because “The kingdom of Heaven is within you” and we are all made of light.....

.....and thank you Prem Rawat.....Pranam

M. Lanning 6/2/11

The Crack Whore And The Drum.....

It was during the Christmas season a few years back in New York and my 3rd future ex and I were at a party for her theatre company (a lovely group of very talented folks, I might add) overlooking the Hudson River in midtown. I had to leave for a recording session and would be back no later than soon.

   I take the subway downtown to do the session, a no-brainer, 30 second demo spot. On my way back it’s a fairly packed subway car, I’m standing next to one of the doors and a beat up woman with a beat up drum and a beat up marching drumstick staggers into the car, stands right next to me and a moment later is sitting on the ground. 

        Between the subway stop she got on and the next couple, she starts to beat on this drum with the stick (remarkably rhythm free) and is singing at the top of her lungs about how she’s homeless, her kids need food, won’t you please help us....etc....(let’s just say she was melodically challenged as well)

RIGHT NEXT TO ME! It was as loud as anything I’ve ever heard on any mode of transportation, including turning the car stereo all the way up and amps that go to 11. (I should point out at this juncture that my family has a propensity for attracting these types into our lives....let’s just say it’s not a wish I would use up on a Genie. We happen to be compassionate and caring types and I can’t even count how many crazies or good folks we’ve attracted into our lives, call it karma if you want, to me it’s just unbelievable! Oh, the stories we all have!)

So....this crazy, clearly high gal is beating and singing and annoying everyone in the subway car. I pull two dollars out of my pocket and say “I’ll give you $2 to stop that right now!” She stops, grabs the 2 bucks and starts yellin’ at me about how I was “lucky she didn’t have a gun” and smart ass me, a little pissed after giving this woman my last two dollars in cash (not to metion the aural aggravation we all endured) says, “you wouldn’t know how to point it, right now, would ya?” She got off at the next stop after vowing to do this and that to me.....i think deep iniside, she was probably embarrassed.....and oh yeah! No good deed goes unpunished.....poor gal

PS: I did recieve a smattering of applause from those that were left in the subway car....i shoulda bowed.....

Just another day at the Post Office (But only in New York)

I enjoy my little walk to the P.O. when i need to pick up a package, buy or deliver something. it's an interesting neighborhood. I hear on the average of 6-9 languages spoken, which is kinda cool to me and it inspired my current walk/run challenge to myself.

     So , I get there today to pick up something (yes, I have the proper slip) and the minute I walk in, I hear some lady at a window screamin' at the top of her lungs about God knows what ("that woman came out here and put her hands on me!" was about all i could make out) suddenly, she starts down the long line of people, 10-12 waitin in the regular line (there is a money order/pick up only line, thankfully) and starts sayin "fuck you" and "fuck you", pointing to these folks, who as far as I could tell, had nothin' to do with whatever predicament she happened to be in. Then she turns to me and says "and what the fuck you lookin' at?" fuck you too!" I rather innocently said, " didn't do nothin" to which she replied "well fuck you anyway!" 

     Now I'd already had kind of a frustrating day, it was about 4:40pm (which, I have found, is normally a good time to go to the Post Office near where I live, just apparently not today). Well, something snapped a little in my mind so I started grinning, kinda looked at her (she was big enough to cause some major damage, let alone eat a house) and sheepishly said "you're not my type"......a few people in line started giggling, she was beyond the humor of it and she started screaming and flailing her bag around like she was goin' after me (honestly, i was scared shitless! "Hell hath no fury" and all) and at that point two policemen walked in (Whew!) They could not get her to calm the fuck down and eventually handcuffed her and escorted her out, all while she's screamin' at all of us! I really don't want to know what went wrong before I walked in, but it was just another day at the Post Office.....i think .....

M.Lanning 4/29/11

A few words (or more) about Phoebe.....

     I had the extreme pleasure of meeting/hanging with Phoebe Snow twice. The first time my band, Jiva, was working with Donovan on his debut album for Atlantic Records with the famous Jerry Wexler producing and the now famous Barry Beckett, associate producing (both now deceased, bless their rockin' souls!). I was in the lunch room at Cherokee Studios in LA, having a snack and in walks Phoebe with her lunch and sits right down next to me! She was working on another record after her huge hit "Poetry Man" in '75 (I'm uncertain which record she was working on at the time....it was late '76) and wanted to know all about what I was doing there. What impressed me about her right away was that she wanted to know about what I was doing! I told her, with great excitement, that I was working on Don's new album for Atlantic with Jerry Wexler. One thing led to another and she came into the studio to say hey to everyone, including Donovan. The next time I saw her was many years later.
     It was late September, 2004. My oldest son, Ian, had just passed away from testicular cancer (that's a whole other blog, as soon as I can get up the courage to write about it) and I had just returned from his wake in Malibu, Ca. and jumped right into work (believe me, I needed the distraction) on an amazing rock opera written by my dear friends to this day, Justin Murphy and Roger Butterley entitled "Fallen Angel". We were slated to do a staged reading at The Bay Street Theatre in Sag Harbor and had about a week to put it all together. Now I knew that Roger had been working with Phoebe as her Guitarist/Music Director. What I didn't know was that Phoebe herself was going to be a special guest on the Fallen Angel project, singing a beautiful song to open the 2nd act at The Bay St. Theatre! I was thrilled since I had always loved Phoebe's unique, soulful sound.
     Phoebe could not make any of the rehearsals (If I'm not mistaken, she had just reconnected with her father who was dying....corrections are welcomed and appreciated) but was just gonna show up and sing the song at our presentation. The weekend comes for the reading and the whole cast was staying in this huge house with a hot tub. Angel soup, as it was dubbed by Wendi, Roger's wife. The day comes and I learn to my disappointment that Phoebe doesn't really want to "hang out" with the cast, assumably because of what she was going through. Now I had told Roger and Wendi of my previous run in with Phoebe so I was elected to lead her, in the dark, to the stage to sing her song. I went in early to talk her through where we were going and had worked it out that so I could find my way, in the dark, to lead her to the stage. I noticed that she had been crying and said to her, "I  doubt you remember me, but I do know what your going through" and she said "how do you mean?" I told her all about how we had shared a lunch together years ago, then I shared the fact that my son had just passed away very recently and had in fact, just returned from California from his wake. "How can you even get through this? How are you even here?" she asked and broke down crying all over again, came over and hugged me hard (I am in tears as I write this) and said, and I quote, "if you can do this, I can". When it came time to lead her out, I helped her find the stage and she tore the house down with that song. I was crying my eyes out while she was singing, thinking at the time, "great! I have to follow that!", since my song was directly after hers, not to mention the moment we had just shared backstage. That's the memory I will forever have in my heart about Phoebe. God loves you, Phoebe. Of this I am certain. I will leave you all with this quote:
"God doesn't give you great things.....He asks great things of you".....and I KNOW that he has asked of you great things, Phoebe. God rest your beautiful soul. M.Lanning 4/26/11

How I met one of the the creators of Rolling Stone, my journalistic idol, and had one of the worst musical experiences of my career on the same night

We've all been in fucked up situations where, for one reason or another, you can't say or do shit about it! You just have to live through it. Watch it unfold, so to speak. This is a fairly fresh memory of one of those situations that happened to me about 3-4 years ago. (believe me, if i could wipe my memory slate clean of this one, that woulda happened the moment i walked out that door....some shit is just unbearably unforgettable).

     I have been a loyal fan of my favorite magazine, Rolling Stone, since it's infancy and it's co-founder, Jann Wenner. We kinda grew up together. Imagined myself on the "cover" as all teeny bopper rock n' rollers used to and probably still do to this day. Them not me. Still have a subscription and have most of my teenage and adult life. I have watched them grow and change with the times. One of my big regrets is dumping a huge (I mean HUGE!) box full of old RS Mags in a fit of anger while my first marriage was dissolving. OK. Point taken. Huge fan of RS and it's co-founder/editor, Jann Wenner.

     So, I used to work for this very fine organization which provides high end musical talent for high end clients. Some of their clients have included major CEO's weddings, their daughter and son's weddings, Bar Mitzvahs, anniversaries and such. Anywhere from a 10 piece to an 18 piece band, nothing but some of the best players and singers in NYC. For over 8 years I was honored to be working with such an amazing group of talented folks, And the coin didn't suck. And when you're tryin' to make a living in NYC, I suppose it's a damn sight better to learn 10 songs-you'll-never-get-to-sing-but-you-have-to-learn-them-anyway-just-in-case-because-they're-on-the-list (ugh!) rather then, "would you like whip cream with that sir?" or playing for change in the subway. Which i did. Just once. Just to see what it was like, i swear!!

Whatever. 

      Anyway, the last couple of those years got a little rough with some of us having to make video audition tapes to get gigs, which, of course, led to the live audition. More and more. Yup!! Gather everyone available, learn a list of songs some spoiled brat wants to hear while dancing with his/her first divorce and if your lucky enough, you get the gig!  For less money. Some of those gigs were the most nightmarish of all!! Big surprise. Imagine a wedding planner (THE most neurotic people i have ever had the displeasure of interacting with)  or a random drunk coming up constantly, asking for the same goddamn song OVER AND OVER!! Or being told to turn down 100 times (I remember one particularly distasteful experience, playing Fred Weller's wedding, Peter Weller of Robocop fame's brother....the stepfather of the bride had the brilliant idea of stickin a bunch of old ladies in the front.....kept tellin us to "turn the fuck down!", as he put it.....at one point, after the 4th time, I'm literally at the mixing board trying, yet again, to "turn the fuck down" and he comes up and yells at me! "turn it down! I'm not fuckin' around here".....at that point the salad was already making more noise then we were! (to this day, if I see that guy on the street, he better pray he’s on the other side and has a running start!) BUT! I digress......and as i've said before....this. is. my. blog. 

     How to describe a total, living nightmare? Well, to start, I was sent, via email, a list of songs to learn and was told we were auditioning for Jann Wenner and his family. I called the bandleader right away and asked "do you mean THE Jann Wenner? Of Rolling Stone fame?" he said yes and at the time i remember thinking "not the best of circumstances in which to meet an icon, but I'll take it". Besides, the list of songs was cool and eclectic. From Dylan to Black Sabbath back to Johnny Cash. Now again, this is an audition, so you don't get paid. But you still have to do the work to land the gig. 

        OK, a week later at some soundstage on the Westside, I arrive early and low and behold most of the Wenner family is there as well, with Mr. Wenner walking in just a few minutes later. I actually got the courage to strike up a conversation with Jann Wenner. I told him how much I loved RS, how long I’ve been a fan and lately how much I’ve been enjoying Matt Taibbi’s hysterically insightful reporting. We were getting on rather well, if i do say so myself. This is while others in the band are showing up and I’m doin’ my best to introduce them while they’re on their way to the platform stage to set up and in walks Morrie, one of the co-owners of the company I’m there to represent (Morrie, will call him that.....some names will be changed to protect the guilty) So Morrie right away starts acting like, and honestly, this is the only way i can describe it, a Poodle who pees on the rug when company comes over. Some of you know that type of excitement. He starts barraging both Jann and his wife and the son about God knows what because i get called over to the bandstand by the band leader (a great freakin’ guitar player and still consider a friend to this day, let’s just say, he gets it!) Well, the bandleader says there has been a line up change and the girl who was gonna sing the Aretha stuff can’t make it. She’s got a real gig. I happened to really dig this gal, we really got on and she could wail, but then i got told who was replacing her at the last minute.....well....let’s just say i was less then ecstatic......

To describe this woman brings the word “diva” to mind but I’d rather not besmirch the word “diva”. She came rollin on in, bigass sunglasses (it was night time) with a huge racooney lookin coat on and was as loud as any woman I have ever heard......ever.....

     Now, the one thing i do remember being told (ingrained into the head, rather) was what they DIDN’T want...no holla back (when i say boo, you say baa), no “playing to them” and if you are gonna do any Aretha Franklin, for God’s sake, just do it like Aretha....no breakdowns, nothin. It’s Jann Freakin Wenner, for Christ’s sake!! He knows the Queen of Soul personal like!!!

     So all my shit goes pretty much as planned (Dylan, Cash and Van Morrison), Then comes The Duchess Of Dope’s turn....and what does she do? (face in my hands, head turning slowly, no, my God no!) She proceeds to ignore the memo and stand on the woofer in front of the stage and starts engaging the whole family in a call and response “when I say ‘re’, you say ‘spect!” Jann Wenner walks right out of the room (uh.....nice meetin' ya’, Mr. Wenner?) It retrogressed wonderfully from there.

     We stumbled through whatever the rest of whatever The Carnival Queen was suppose to sing, butchered the Black Sabbath number (by that time everyone on “the audition” was so fuckin’ dumbfouned, we were lucky get through the rest of the set) The rest of the Wenner clan were very polite, apologized and explained that Jann “had a meeting to go to” hence rushing out the door the way he did.

We didn’t get the gig.

Sometimes i think (and here’s a Lanningism for ya’):

"If the world is my oyster, why is it stuck in the shell?"

( http://lanningisms.spreadshirt.com/ )

Things very rarely work out the way you think, “but if you try sometimes, you get what you need”.....(thanks Mick and Keith)

“All You Need Is Love” (thanks Beatle guys) M. Lanning 4/24/11

Now I'm a little pissed.....and wondering, should i post this?

Re: title of this blog....I've never been without the gift of poetry (or so an old friend, a world renown psychic, told me, rest his beautiful soul)......Anyhoo.....
You'd think that some people had the courtesy, nay, the courage to pick up their phone and at the very least, text to you that they are not coming to a small gathering of friends, albeit planned on short notice. It's just a text. For Christ's sake, I find out from a mutual friend, in an offhanded sorta way! And this gathering was for someone we haven't seen in 3 years....i don't understand people sometimes, so my prayer to the Universe is this: please help me to understand people in a more constructive way and forgive them their small transgressions as i hope they will forgive mine. That's paraphrasing from The Lord's Prayer, by the way.....a powerful prayer if you say it right.....for instance, according to the original Aramaic (the language that Jesus spoke) it is "leave us not in temptation" not "lead us not into temptation"! Why would the Lord Thy God "lead you into temptation?" Unless you are assuming that the very nature of our reality, at least on this plane of existence, is dualistic by it's very nature? (check out the book by Dr. Rocco A. Errico, "Setting A Trap For God, The Aramaic Prayer Of Jesus" it translates the original prayer back into Aramaic for a unique understanding of the words)
        But I digress....and i can do just that because this is my blog!....but i'm not as pissed, now that i write about this incident. I guess i shouldn't be too surprised. After all, this was the same person who tried to break up with his girlfriend via text! i called this person the very next day while waiting for a plane to take me to SoCal and told this human they were kinda chickenshit crazy and just might be missing out on the love of their life! Of course, a few years later i tried to remind this same person about my phone call, they couldn't remember me making it!!! Lord make me an instrument of thy peace and help, at least my memory, not be so selective! Happy Easter!......Sun. April 24th 2011
PS: Said couple is expecting they're first child and i could not be happier for them! So much for bein' pissed....it's always temporary anyway.....breathe, Lanning, breathe!

Well!!??....

Here it is....my blog....what to say, what to say? I'll start by saying breathe in "I" and breathe out "Am"....that's a good start.....Be. Here. Now. I am a very proud parent, a proudly egalitarian progressive, and I see the World and this Universe as a living organism. "Be Here Now" by Baba Ram Dass (Richard Alpert) would be a great book to pick up if you wanted to know how my "awakening" started for me. This "awareness" thing. I also highly recommend Googling Prem Rawat, my spiritual instructor, if you are so inclined. I am also an empath, and i say that as guilelessly as possible, since I've also been known to be highly insensitive. But, how would you know one without the other? Works in progress, aren't we all? I make my living as an "emotional communicator".....good work, when you can get it! And I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite poets:
"To be nobody but 
yourself in a world 
which is doing its best day and night to make you like 
everybody else means to fight the hardest battle 
which any human being can fight and never stop fighting." 
— E.E. Cummings
So, of course, if I am pissed, you're gonna hear about that as well...... :o)