On Life as a Lake...

As I stood looking out on a lake, hearing verses from Common, Pharoahe Monch, and Talib Kweli on "The Truth", I realized how much my existence was like the vast body of water ahead of me. In the realm of time, space, and all the other people in the world, each one of us is as insignificant as each of the ripples in this lake, rising with the current, and breaking frequently, creating a constant cycle that sums up to something monumental, but is actually miniscule in isolation. Each point on the lake offered a different perspective of the whole, and I realized in the same way how much different my perspective would be were I amidst a million pedestrians as they rushed by me in Times Square, on Hollywood Boulevard with the sun, camera flashes, and paparazzi hunting for stars, in Paris atop the Eiffel Tower, piercing through the clouds of Love that hover above the city, or in Lagos, amongst surroundings that sadly I have no guess of a description for.

It is this scenario that keeps me humbly aware of the minusculity of my own life, yet reminds me of its importance, just as a lake's existence is contingent upon the tiny molecules of liquid in each ripple that constitute the whole body of water. I discovered that standing near one spot on the lake gave the illusion of the absence of change when I saw the same ripples constantly, but moving around it enhanced my sense of how much each part of the lake changed while I was gone; each ripple acted importantly as an agent for change, and it's absence created a change in the whole and the entity at the same time. Even though I ultimately ended up back where I started, I was all the wiser about the lake from a journey that allowed me to change, and my starting point to change as well. I returned to where I started; however, I noted that should someone never want to see the lake change, they need only to do one thing - just never move from a fixed point on its shore.

I wish that every person have the same experience someday, and explore many perspectives on the earth, yet find one they like best. On this day, I discovered that traveling the earth is just the same as moving around the lake. Our exploration of the world gives us an appreciation of how differently people live, and brings us an understanding of other cultures and opinions in the world that we can bring back home to change it; meanwhile, our homeland continues to evolve while we are away. Conclusively, the sequence of our personal growth, continuous growth in our home surroundings, and the addition of ourselves back into our homeland to merge the two types and inspire further evolution, is an extremely important ongoing process, that is much like the flow of the current of the lake. Each ripple's changes within itself change the lake and the ripple further. In the same manner, we must realize that we are all agents for change, with our absence sparking change within not only ourselves, but most importantly, those around us. We are not to stop dreaming of expeditions simply because our homeland appears to never evolve if we maintain a domestic perspective, and seems as though it never will; our absence causes change, and we should know that this is only because the absence of our words, our thoughts, our emotions, and everything that is essentially us, is the single, most absolutely miniscule event that transforms our homes as we know them into something that we find drastically different upon returning from departure.

Once we are aware of how our presence was the only thing holding our homeland in its former state, we are able to reconcile our apprehension that it will change in our absence with our desire to try it and flirt with how the experience actually feels. When we travel the world, the change within ourselves empowers us by strengthening our understanding of how we fit in to society as a whole. The new people, places, and customs that we encounter remind us of how different we are from them, and who we were in the place that reared us, so that we can begin to embrace our uniqueness, and offer it to others in its purest, most valuable form. They motivate us to keep pushing during those times when we feel useless, never knowing that it is our selfless attempts to keep driving the current of the entire lake that will cause us to achieve something that, even if only for one second, will attract someone's attention to the tiny ripple that we are amongst the vast body of water in front of us. Recognition is our reward for our undying devotion to being ourselves...

-Akeem Lawrence, 5/10/08

On Determining the Authenticity of Humility...

Humility cannot be faked by downplaying our achievements to the world. Instead, it comes from a genuine fear that perhaps what sets us apart actually makes us look foolish in our fellow man's eyes. It is the realization that what we swear creates exceptionality is merely the result of others having some magical insight that only we are cursed from possessing; it actually proves us ignorant, not enlightened, as we had originally thought. It is our acknowledgement that we are a teacher, and an apprentice, at the same time, for all things.

-Akeem Lawrence, 5/10/08

On Passion, also known as Talent...

"The saddest thing in life is wasted talent." is a Robert de Niro quote from the movie "A Bronx Tale," but I like to disagree. The saddest thing in life is actually the absence of passion, because while talent can't substitute for passion, passion is the root of the tree that grows into our talent. Some people have all the love in the world for an activity, and are stripped of their love and dumped by Talent for someone else, yet to others, Talent's just an unwanted suitor, and their time is better spent pursuing another love. What I mean is that some people spend countless hours practicing their favorite instrument of sport, only to be cut from the basketball team in tryouts, or barely squeak out the nastiest sounds on some unsuspecting trumpet, while others have all the talent in the world, and push it away to do something else. Even ignoring those whose talent is handicapped by circumstances outside of their control, such as jail or drugs, there is still the problem of adverse selection for many things in life - athletic competition, service jobs in America, even fame (this is a problem especially rampant in the ghettos of today among youth who want to be either rappers, or professional athletes). I have to disagree with whoever said "practice makes perfect", because sometimes, no amount of passion can motivate us to practice as much as it would take to develop talent at something we really suck at. I like to think jokingly that the constant mismatch of passion with skills is what creates those who have talent, and those who don't. When one pursues something for so long, he begins to get attached to it, meaning no one likes to see countless hours of shooting jumpshots never lead to being chosen as MVP, or spend ten years in a position at their job, and never get promoted. Given such a commitment, this person has no choice but to keep striving for a place that they may never reach. He thinks he has passion, but is only fooling himself, disillusioned by the reality that his only love is that of saving his spirit from the heartache of the meaningless time he has wasted. Believe in your dreams, but be doubtful that you can literally touch the sky.


So where do passion and talent meet? Anyone who was ever truly great at any particular endeavor, like a sport, writing, acting, or running a company, was so because of their undying passion for that specific activity - hours wasted playing with words, reinventing themselves to gain the spotlight among their friends, a love for physical activity, jumpshots, and fierce competition - rather than their aspiration towards an exact path in life, a certain title, or particular job. Unlike those who have passion, but never achieve talent, the Greats aspire to keep doing what they love without any thought of its reward. Achieving a title only proves one's adeptness at doing whatever it takes to become who or what he wants, and not caring who gets hurt in the process, but searching for the greatest use of one's greatest talent is one of the noblest deeds that consolidates his interests, and produces the inexplicable wall between work and play found among all Greats, which crowns them as worthy to be remembered forever for their contributions to society. In summary, the Greats are skilled at not only their passions, but selflessly finding the greatest application of their passions, while Not-As-Greats are only skilled at selfishly finding activities at which they have relative, but not absolute skill.

My advice is that if you're lucky enough to find your passion in life, and are actually good at it, you should not only keep at it, but share it with others, and help them to realize their strengths as well. The world has a shortage of people doing what they love, and you never know when shining the light of your passion may spark someone else's too...
-Akeem Lawrence, 4/22/08

On Creativity, When it Seems Everything's Been Done Already...

At one point, everything under the sun was new, but these days, with the first inks from 60 million years ago dried up, and the fossils of early creatures long reduced to dust, nothing is new anymore. Evidence of this phenomenon manifests itself in an entity I know very well - music. This evening I went to an open mic night at a coffee house in Austin, Texas. As I sat listening to the first performer - who was no doubt, very talented - and slightly enjoying him despite the fact that he was performing a genre of music I usually don't indulge myself in, I realized how difficult it is to be original. His style seemed to be a mixture of soft rock, and acoustic music, with a slight jazz influence, evident in the "scatting" mixed randomly throughout his songs. Although his voice was not completely unoriginal, it did seem to be heavily patterned after other rock artists who sing mostly slower tunes about love (John Mayer types), and always add a slight southern accent to the pronunciation of their lyrics. To be completely fair to tonight's performer, especially since I know very little about the type of music he performed, the same phenomenon has happened to almost all R & B singers to come after Stevie Wonder in the 1990s, who exhibit a slightly whiny tone in their singing. Another obvious example that I'm sure many people relate to is partly the cause for the current trend of dissatisfaction with hip-hop, due to every rapper wanting to prove his street cred, talking of selling drugs, or referencing mafia kingpins in the Cosa Nostra with whom he compares himself.

Why is it so hard to be original these days? Is it because so many different styles of music have been created? If that's the case, one can't help but wonder if there will be a point when new material ceases to be created, and everything current is a copy of what's been done in the past, except with new faces, styles, and voices, for new generations. In my quest to become a published writer, my goal is to read all the classics - writers, musicians, poets, speakers, and the like - so that I will have a good sense of what's already been done. Surely, this is an impossible goal, because too much written material already exists, not to mention that my thoughts are heavily influenced by all those around me, and the ideas that manifest themselves in these writings. Whatever I think is essentially what they think, and has usually already been pondered, thus voiding its originality. For this reason, I sympathize greatly with tonight's artist's dilemma of originality. It is true, however, that the more I strive to become aware of the classics, the more I'll have a sense of what my greatest influences are, and be able to weed out unwanted ones, thus creating a style all my own. With any art, like music, writing, poetry, film, and art, it is impossible to completely strip oneself of the influence of those who have influenced you, but your goal should be to use their colors (as RZA of the hip-hop group Wu-Tang Clan says in reference to sampling records) "more like a painter's palette than a Xerox", from which you draw your colors, yet paint a new picture. In that sense, old colors create new blends, and the combination of colors it is possible to create will grow exponentially, until it reaches the infinity its audience craves. Even RZA, who strives to use no more than 20-25% sampling on any given record, states that he "might use it as a Xerox if I find rare beats that nobody had in their crates yet". I see nothing wrong with improving on old standards; after all, I am from America, a capitalist society where there are two ways to start a successful business - create a product that is completely new, or one that is the same as your competitors' in function, but better in quality; however, in my mind the greatest artists will always exhibit the greatest skill at the most original art forms.
-Akeem Lawrence 5/4/08

On Transitioning from College to the Afterlife...

The great poet Robert Frost once described transition in the poem "The Road Not Taken", recalling how "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." One cannot help but wonder what would have happened to the protagonist, had he taken the other path. Certainly, his perceived content with choosing his path makes the poem interesting, especially the fact that we see a pleasant destiny befall him, rather than a vile one, but what makes the poem even greater is the mystique that the unknown second path adds to the poem. Curiously, could it be that that what we can't see is more beautiful than that which we can? It is quite interesting how the transition from college into The Real World parallels the aforementioned poem. It is the first time that there is no next grade, or a next meeting with our advisors for registration codes, or a next "cool age", like 21, that brings with it the magical ability to buy all the underclassmen liquor. There is only the uncertainty that lies ahead to reassure us that at least change will always stay constantly by our side. By this point in our lives, we've all seen many fixtures of our everyday world change a few times, from hanging naively with little Jewish boys in 1st grade, rightfully unaware or concerned with our cultural differences (as we should be), to being alienated black honor students in high school, to befriending most of the not-quites of our expensive, but not-quite-elite college - those deemed not quite smart, black, cool, rich, or pretty enough to succeed that is. And so, with the reality of having seen the seasons of our life change so many times, it seems surprising that this Autumn has come so suddenly, and seems so confusing that perhaps another winter will not follow it.

The key to life is our ability to predict the existence of the seasons, but not necessarily their order, for we must learn to always enjoy Autumn's leaves no matter when they fall, and always be prepared for their dropping. If we can achieve this, than we will realize that our lives ahead are surely not in shambles, as they inevitably seem at times, and they are surely not over - they are just uncertain. This only frightens us because the weather in our lives has been controlled thus far, largely by our parents, our wealth, and our education, which have led to their predictability. Once this predictability has vanished (along with the wealth our parents provided us), a panic should not erupt, but rather, an excitement that comes from the proof that our elders' lives provide that all the seasons still exist, for they, like we surely will in the future, have their ups and downs too. Like the analogy of the leaves shows, as long as we know what is coming, but not necessarily when, the joy of life will always be in its surprise. The not-quites will be valued in society one day only because no one thought they would be, and our lives will only be so wonderful because once upon a time they seemed that they never would be again. Once one begins to experience the random chaos that true life is, he will surely fall in love with it, since its irregularity can only cause him to hold on to it tighter, for fear that it may cease to exist suddenly, in the still of the night...
-Akeem Lawrence, 4/28/08

On Good Moods and Their Randomness...

A good mood is an unexplainable event, one that sometimes springs upon you suddenly, like automatic sprinklers do pedestrians on the sidewalk. It is filled with the uncertainty of how long it will last, yet enjoyable just the same, because perhaps its unpredictability makes us want to enjoy it even more. It might be sparked by an exceptional test grade, a paycheck being direct deposited, or even a text message from the opposite sex confirming their interest in you too. The greatest part of it is the feeling of invincibility, and invulnerability, where it seems as though nothing can penetrate the forcefield of mellowness that swims in your head, a time where it seems as if the world looks different. Enemies almost turn to friends, bothersome chores turn to joyfully fulfilled obligations, and every stranger on the street may get an unsuspected greeting. Unfortunately, it inevitably comes tragically to an end, like the turbo streak of your favorite video game character, perhaps the fire of your favorite player in NBA Jam, or the little tail that helps you fly in Super Mario and unequivocally gets knocked away by some irksome little Koopa. So what's the best way to preserve such a mood?

I wish I could give you some advice, besides the generic "enjoy it while you can", but I can truly admit that there is no real way to duplicate these temperaments on command. You can try to remember random events from these moods, hoping they'll bring them back - songs you heard and birds you saw, cars that rode by and the people in them, or perhaps even this blog entry - but the memories we associate with our good moods are just as random as the moods themselves. Unless your good mood was brought on by an activity, or a regular event, like watching the Knicks play at the Garden, or enjoying an episode of Lost, it's likely to return at random too. The best advice I can offer is not to really try and do anything at all. Let your good moods float you through your surroundings, row you down the river of life, and come and go at the random mercy of God. Like any other natural disaster we are helpless against, the only thing you can do is prepare. Prepare by rehearsing just what to say to that old lady who normally clutches her purse tightly as she walks by you, or just how to wave to your gay neighbors watering the lawn together. As the Greek philosopher Aristotle so accurately stated, "We are what repeatedly do", for "excellence is [truly] not an act, but a habit". Maybe you can't really experience a good mood...only live one.

-Akeem Lawrence, 4/14/08

On Time and its Properties...

Time ticks... on a clock that is, but in reality, time makes no sound. It is only but subjective partitions of the unexplainable force that ages us, and through whose eyes we come in and out of this world. What is the true meaning of time? In our world, it is really only a means of convenience. We need it for many branches of science that use time - the concepts of velocity and acceleration in physics, the concept of half-life in chemistry. We need it to keep appointments, to define age, and even to define monetary values to some extent - in the olden days, the American Dollar was backed by Gold, an element that is formed through its separation from gases within the earth over time. Everything we do takes time (even writing this sentence).

So what makes time? What created time? What do we do with time? We can attempt to break it down to create order in our world, but we cannot change its makeup. Perhaps it is even cyclical, and not linear, as supported by many phenomenons of the world - snakes and dogs chasing their tail, feelings of deja vu, the life cycle of dependence and independence. The only logical thing we can do is to let it be as an ornament around which we rearrange ourselves. For as we grow older and wiser with time, it does not grow older and wiser with us. It only remains the same as it always was, to be left for the next generation to figure out. Its secret is one only Time will tell...

-Akeem Lawrence, 4/7/08