The Real Massacre of Valentine's Day

Long before I was born, Al Capone of the Chicago South Side Italian Gang slaughtered seven members of Bugs Moran's North Side Irish Gang on February 14, 1929, which became known as The St. Valentine's Day Massacre. This was truly a brutal act. Even though it does not involve murder, the personal toll of Valentine's Day has left its mark on me.

Every year since I was about six years old, I have had a knot of fear that starts to develop about a week before February 14th because I have come to associate it with rejection, rejection of gigantic proportions over years and years. Yes, I know this is just my imagination, but the knot in the pit of my stomach seems real enough, and on February 14th I usually feel like staying in bed with the covers up over my head.

It all started in preschool. On the night before Valentine's Day, we had to punch out pre-cut Valentines from a Valentine booklet of cards for our classmates. Even then we were targeting the ones we especially idolized. Everyone else was doing the same. On the morning of Valentine's day we would exchange our Valentines, but it was clear from our choices who we really wanted to be our Valentine. I never connected with any of my first loves. In fact, I would get messages that were the equivalent of "get lost" ...

The worst part of this was that this Valentine ritual was so ingrained as part of the school culture that there was no escape. Every year I dreaded making those Valentines, creating messages with hidden meanings, and putting names on envelopes. Of course as we got older, it became more sophisticated with chocolates, flowers, and fancy gifts, and the stakes were even higher. The distress and defeat was even greater. As we approached junior high school, I tried being sick on that day, but that was even worse as I became a pariah and was generally ostracized. I guess these defeats could be traced to bad timing and poor choices, but in general, Valentine's day came to be anticipated as supreme, unequivocal disappointment.

Even though now, it shouldn't matter, I still get that feeling and a general malaise sets in as I realize Valentine's day is approaching. I envy all those happy lovers and wish them well. Wish I could be them, but I have other triumphs and destinations, so I guess this once a year trauma is something I can endure. It is something like an old war wound that acts up whenever the weather is about to turn bad.

This year, I have an out that can lessen the pain. The Asian New Year begins on February 14th this year. I can tell myself it isn't Valentine's Day, it is the Year of the Tiger.

A Spiritual Awakening

Some of you that know me may have been aware that I have been in the midst of an identity and professional crisis in which I could not find my way through the maze of doubt and frustration.

Imagine that you have fallen asleep and in your sleep you succumb to a nightmare that is very real. You are struggling in the water, slipping down, gasping for air and flailing your arms. There is no rescue in sight and you writhe in futile contortions striving to survive, but with each passing moment you are losing the battle.

Your life flashes by in front of you, the lingering disappointments, the brief successes, the loves, all that you have tried to create remapping your journey one last time as you sink toward oblivion. The friends that made up your world seem to surround you, but you cannot reach them. They seem almost indifferent. All seems lost and irrelevant as you grapple with fistfuls of water slipping through your fingers just as you are dwindling and lingering with one final attempt to break free.

Then, suddenly and quite unexpectedly you feel someone touching you, reaching inside of you, rousing you. You awake to find that you were caught in a nightmare, sleeping on the pier and not in the water. The reality is that you were never in danger despite the appearances and the terrifying feelings you were undergoing in the midst of your drowning.

I awoke to a spiritual awareness that is deeper and sharper than ever before. I can never forget that I felt my soul touched by a deeply etched reality through someone with vision and clarity. It is Soul that sings, and I find myself singing.

In the midst of this Spiritual awareness, I exist in a new context of this journey. It is Spirit that sustains and inspires. Spirit is the substance that underlies everything. Spirit sustains a revived vision and purpose, inspiring me to recognize and add to the beauty that I am discovering from moment to moment.

The Emptiness of Anguish

There is nothing I can do about this inner pain that plagues me except to recognize that it at least reminds me that I am still alive. Not that being alive is necessarily so great, but then I have never known "not being alive."

I have a friend who defines each moment as "This is my life." This seems to persuade my friend that things are unfolding as they inevitably should, and is beyond control. I agree that any notion that we have control over the moments and events in our lives is pure illusion.

So I have tried using "This is my life, my destiny," but it doesn't work for me. There is such power in love and desire that we can be shredded in our encounters with disappointment. Love and friendship unrequited and unreturned still makes the world go round. It is the stuff that inspires great art (or so we are led to believe).

Today's generations have other ways of dealing with anguish, and may be less disabled by disappointment. I don't know. But somehow they seem more casual, less intense, and more able to cope when obstacles block all possible routes. Beethoven found a way to cope with his disappointment, to be resigned to admiring his distant beloved from afar. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe the pain was always there.

I think that somehow I must withdraw, but there seems to be no way to think beyond that. As I withdraw, the pain becomes more intense, but if I remain in the midst of it all, I almost collapse from the force of my emotion.

I try to find some mechanism to cope. I try to appreciate that which I admire. One thing about me that I understand: I have the capacity to deeply appreciate. I savor and enjoy all that I encounter. Time, moments, people, and events invade the core of my Being. I notice these things with a depth of awareness that can transform them and myself as I translate this response through inquiry and dialogic process.

I also understand that a negative force can undermine the positive vision that I have of those around me with the beguiling innuendo that they have become distracted and ineffective, or that I have burdened them by placing too much hope and confidence in their potential. I recognize these temptations as negative energy that seeks to destroy the good, the beautiful, and the true. Ultimately, it is self destruction.

But there is something that gnaws at my core... a fear of being alone. Being alone, "All One," was once my standard. Now I face some sense of emptiness and wish someone would or could answer me without reservation.

So this is a solitary act. I write this for myself. No one else really reads this.

C J at The Bitter End

On the last day of January, an historic event took place at The Bitter End: Korean songs were premiered for a New York Crowd. CJ Jeon, who has been in this country for about three months, premiered four of his songs in the Sunday night session, two in Korean and two in English. The two songs sung in Korean were "La La" and "Lie on My Bed". The two songs in English were "Street Man" and "In My Side."

CJ has a comfortable style, intimate and thoughtful, accompanying himself on the guitar. His voice is private, personal, with a wide range of nuances. Clearly the text is the controlling element, and he is faithful to each moment of the narrative or mood. The effect is that of spontaneity and immediacy. The Bitter End is not conducive to this quiet kind of musical reflection, but CJ was poised and in control. His vocal style connects with the text, and he shapes the phrase with slight shifts in timbre, not as a conscious gesture but in response to the text and the moment.

The fourth song "In My Side" reveals an extraordinary talent, a song that unfolds in a quiet envelop of contemplation, a simple melody, but definitely the substance of today, almost reminiscent at moments of ballads by Radio Head. I believe Koreans are instinctually poets, as their language possesses a beautiful ambiguity that connects with the world in strikingly original ways. CJ's lyrics are beautifully concrete and full of amiguity. He draws upon the images of nature, but they expand as they exist inside of his awareness, of his dreams. The image "breathe, through my tongue" cuts through the moment in anguish before relinquishing to the calm.

Here are the final verses of the lyrics, couched in a stark, but elegant melody delivered in a lyrical flow, with an underlying concern that touches our hearts.

I thought it`s up in the air, in the end
But I saw a light, light where it is
And I see the sun
I see the sky
I see the wind
In my world

I thought I throw everything in my side
But I didn`t get rid of my dream
It takes my way and
It takes my dreams
It takes my love
Breathe, through my tongue...
Breathe, through my tongue...
Words of calm.

(Copyright 2010 CJ Jeon All Rights Reserved)