cell phones, insomnia and George Dawson

Its 6:02 am and I haven't slept tonight.  I guess I should stop trying.  Earlier tonight I watched video on a surveillance camera of some guy stealing my phone from where it was plugged in charging by the corner of the bar at GalleryBar.  I was there painting live for the closing of my exhibition.  Strangely enough the video showed a guy in a white oxford shirt with a suit jacket over his arm.  He stood there a bit, made the grab, then walked straight out of the place with two friends following.  They were all dressed the same, in suits with button-down shirts. 

I spent a lot of time over the past decade getting past the changes that have occurred in the Lower East Side.  I know people from all walks of life now - very different from my angst-ridden early days in New York when I knew only artists and musicians.  So having friends and acquaintances from all types of lifestyles, its become silly for me to harbor ill will towards any one group.  But lets face it - when the LES started changing - 10 years or more ago - I was not happy.  And the change happened when the yuppies came.  I hated them.

For many years now I've made a concerted effort to let it go.  I've really learned to accept the changes that come my way.  The death of my father and three close friends over the course of a few years put a lot of things in perspective for me and none of my other issues or problems seemed so important anymore.  So even though my dear New York was losing its soul with bland suburban condo towers replacing beautiful ornate old tenement buildings, I made it okay and got on with my life. 

Until tonight. 

As the night drew on and the realization set in that I had been ripped off by a couple of Wall Street guys, I found my balance really being tested.  Fact is I had lost my phone just 2 weeks earlier and the insane loss of data and cash to replace it was hard to bear.  But whatever.  We get thru these things.  So this was a brand new device.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit how much it cost me to replace it.  And now I have to do it again.  Ten years ago this was not an issue.  Now we are slaves to these things and it really is a major pain in the ass when they go missing.  But to see some white collar scumbag steal it on video... now that is salt in the wounds.  We never saw his face.  The camera was to his back.

If it had been a kid from the projects or a homeless guy or a gutter-punk, I don't think I would have been so upset.  So why does this piss me off so much?  Its because whatever this guy gets for my phone - he doesn't need it.  Where does a guy like that even cash in a stolen iphone?  Does he have connections like that?  What will it buy him - a steak dinner?

I know it has to do with this person's way of life.  He clearly lives in a world where taking advantage and exploiting others is just the status quo.  You see something within your reach and no-one's looking so you take it.  Its an impulse to always get more.  Take take take.

So when something like this happens, I just have to ask myself, "What is there to learn here?"  I know that everything happens for a reason and I know that these reasons are not always apparent but I have to ask.  Will it teach me to go on accepting people no matter how sleazy they can be?  Will I let go and get on with the things that matter?  Will I slip back into my youthful rebellion and once again become angry at everyone who threatens my comfortable existence?

Being robbed never feels good.  Its a violation of your space and weakens your precarious faith in humanity.  We work hard for our money and New York is not an easy place to get by in.  I paint portraits and sell them for a living and I don't have a ton of expendable income.  "Especially in this economy."  Gag.  But thats part of it too.  All the fear that is put into us by the media just drives this gluttonous lust for everything we can get our hands on pushing us closer and closer to ignorant oblivion.

Insomnia (which I rarely have) drove me to read.  I finished a book called, "Life is so good", about a guy who lived in 3 centuries.  Born before the turn of the 20th, he finally died around 105 in the 21st.  George Dawson was his name.  He went to school to learn how to read at 98.  And if you can't learn something from a guy like that, you can't learn anything at all.  So I figured the fact that I just happened to be wide awake reading this book right after having been robbed - must mean that there was something in it for me to learn. 

George Dawson was a black man raised in the south in the wake of slavery.  He live thru intense segregation.  As time went on and he was allowed to eat in the same restaurants and ride the same train cars as whites, he didn't trust or believe it was true.  His childhood hero, an older boy named Pete, was lynched right before his eyes on a false accusation of raping a white man's daughter.  The guy worked his ass off doing hard labor all his life.  And when he became known for going to school for the first time at age 98, a guy came to him to write this book about his life. 

When they met he began asking George some leading questions about the hardship and cruelty he had experienced in his life.  The writer was taken aback to find not anger but gratitude in everything the old man said.  George Dawson never held anything against anyone.  If anything he felt sorry for people who took advantage or mistreated him and his loved ones.  And they were really truly mistreated - not just robbed of electronic devices.  But he just felt bad for them.  He would simply say, "These folks are a little mixed up and thats just the way they are and there ain't no sense in tryin to change em," or something like that.  It was always just straight forward common sense.

When the writer would bring him books, George, who had just learned how to read, would pour over them with deep interest.  In reading books on food and money, George became a little disappointed.  He was surprised how much people worry about things and how reading about them just made it worse. 

"People worry too much.  Look at this one.  Carbohydrates, fats, vitamins, calories.  You know what all that will do to you?"

"Improve your nutrition," said the writer, "help balance your weight?"

"Maybe," said George.  "Most likely though it'll just make a person worry."

So thats all I've been doing is worrying.  Worrying that I won't have enough.  Worrying that my health might fail - as I've seen happen with many good people.  Truth is - and I know this in my heart - that if I could stop worrying, nothing bad would happen.  I know that we create our lives.  I know I had that phone stolen because I needed to see something more clearly. 

But how can you just stop worrying?  I remember Alan Watts, the great Buddhist philospher once said, "Try not to picture a pink elephant."  He was referring to religion and disallowing the congregation certain pleasures and activities via commandments and whatnot.  But this is a real illustration of how our funny human minds work.  The more we want to be free of something, the more it will haunt us because our minds latch onto things and will not let their images fade.

What is the credo that this 105 year old gentleman lived by?  "Life is good.  It just is."

So forget about the phone, forget about money or your health.  Stop worrying about everything.  Just stop worrying.  Everything is cool, baby.  Be cool, Hunny Bunny, be cool.  Everything always works out and there's no room for anger.  Some people just need to learn the hard way that taking from people is not the way to go.  They'll learn.  Sooner or later they will learn.  But thats their deal.  My deal and your deal is: what will we learn?  If we learn to stop worrying then we will have learned the secret of long life and happiness.

And now the sun is up.  Guess I'm gonna learn how important a good night's sleep is.