This song is dedicated to the incessant chatter of my brain: the worrying, the panicked pleas, the scathing critiques of people and situations, the guilt, the shame, the plotting and planning and longing to be anyone but who I am, doing anything but what I’m doing, anywhere but here. It is dedicated to the bullying tactics of my ego, that would have me think that I am alone, floating in a frigid ocean of adversity, and that my very survival depends on the tenacity of my selfishness.

The title of this song is not to suggest that this is unique to westerners, however, when you see how less prominent it is in cultures where people live simply it becomes obvious that we are addicted to our distractions in this country. We pander to every whim of our egos with the mistaken belief that acquiring or averting what ever it is that we are fixating on will make us happy. A woman and her boyfriend whom I met at the gym referred to it as “indulging in our Smiegel natures”, which I think is pretty hilarious. And so we go on in that way, like junkies, our happiness becoming increasingly elusive and fleeting; our lives becoming a series of “means to an end” situations, during which we become spiritually bankrupt.

But my mind loves this. Without it, it would be out of a job. It only takes an interruption in the constant stream of thoughts, a true experience of the present moment to realize that the ego cannot exist there. It was only at this point that I began to view my mind with a little more compassion, the way you view a child who is throwing a temper tantrum. Gently, patiently and with all the love of an adoring parent…you grab the kid and put them in a time out.

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By Cameron Gabriel

I began writing poetry when the guitarist from my band moved to Sacramento, in order to give myself a creative outlet while we struggled to keep the band going long distance. I remember voicing my frustration to Steve right before he left at how few venues were left to play live music in. Two of the biggest in town had been rendered mute due to noise restrictions from adjacent neighbors. It was clear to me that if Ashland continued to develop at its current rate we could expect more of the same.But there were still a few left who were keeping it alive. When a friend told me about the poetry slam at the Mobius my ears pricked up. It was only a couple of years ago that I had even heard the term “slam poetry.” I had often heard poetry readings in the city, and while they were wildly entertaining, they often lacked the depth and intensity that that I knew had come to characterize this movement. I wanted in. I dusted off song lyrics to a couple songs I had written, and composed a new one, a humorous and biting account of my frustration with the music scene. From then on, it was on.

It was a very different experience standing up in front of a mic. I was the guy who was always hiding behind a drum set with my eyes rolled back in my head, and here I was butt naked to the world. But I watched the subtle transmutation of my nervousness into exhilaration as I continued to read. I struggled to commit my pieces to memory, actually buying gingko biloba and then forgetting to take it. But I didn’t care. It was liberating to read. Inspiring to listen. Good to laugh. Really good to laugh.

I am sure you’ll agree that nothing reaches across boundaries like humor. It provides us an experience of each other’s humanness in a way that words could never describe. It seems to dissolve us into the present moment, and often allows us to see the truth when our defenses might have blocked us from it.

Since that time several other open mic/poetry readings have popped up in town. I can only assume that they have been born of a demand and I am excited by that. That this appears to be part of a much larger movement that is taking place excites me even more.

The following is one of my early pieces that was originally written as a song. It is a “period piece” meaning it was written during that very brief time when gas was a dollar seventy. It is called “Strapped, Tapped and Busted.”

By Cameron Gabriel