#2 of 3, or 4

 Published Weekly on Sunday  

There has not been much in my life that has become of great significance that was ever planned.  In my limited experience, the great lessons, sometimes the most painful,  are those experiences that have made me more, not less.  I have never planned to meet the next person I will love, the next great friend, or the next great inspiration.   Sure, I stay open.  I am an idealist who thrives on inspiration and self-actualization, and I’m sure that helps me surf the wave of uncertainty with excitement and intrigue. Out of nowhere amazing people enter my life.  When I have a strong response to someone, I have learned by now, it is because there is something significant that I will learn about me (not always pleasant), or something that I am to share with them, either way, a gift that I am yet to realize.  I’m always excited when this happens. It doesn’t happen often.     During the total sum of my 48 years,  there have been a very small handful of people who have had a profound impact upon my development.   Henry Rollins is one of those people.  I knew almost immediately upon my accidental stumble upon him a few months ago, that this was a man that for some as yet unknown reason was going to have some  remains-to-be-seen significant impact upon my evolution.  I was wrong.  He is having a profound impact. Life changing.  While it is starting to make some sense to me, I am yet to realize the entire lesson.  While my brain is quick to try to identify it, I can’t.  All I can do is move through it quietly and trust what seems to be a beautiful lesson in love in the most universal sense of the word. 

 Angela’s Definition, Henry Rollins

“American hardcore punk rock icon of the 8o’s.  Author, publisher, comedian, human rights activist, spoken word master, ‘musicophile’ (fanatic collector of music), person who struggles with periodic depression, advocate for those fighting for, injured and sometimes abandoned, by their government, a quiet leader, and lover of our time.  Henry refers to his fans as fanatics. The first man to ever cause me to utter the words, “he speaks my heart”.  A kind man with great heart. 

Wikipedia Definition, Fanatic

  “…The behavior of a fan with overwhelming enthusiasm for a given subject is differentiated from the behavior of a fanatic by the fanatic's violation of prevailing social norms. Though the fan's behavior may be judged as odd or eccentric, it does not violate such norms.[2] A fanatic differs from a crank, in that a crank is defined as a person who holds a position or opinion which is so far from the norm as to appear ludicrous and/or provably wrong, such as a belief in widespread alien abduction. In contrast, the subject of the fanatic's obsession may be "normal", such as an interest in religion or politics, except that the scale of the person's involvement, devotion, or obsession with the activity or cause is abnormal or disproportionate.” 

Admitting to myself that I am a fanatic causes me to ask serious questions as to the state of my mental health.  I have never been a fanatic before.  It is a new experience.   Most of the time I love new experiences but about this one, there are times I’m not so sure.   My idealist personality loves inspiration, which seems to be about the biggest benefit to becoming a fanatic. Indeed it is as frightening as it is inspiring.    Before becoming a fanatic myself I held fanatics, especially those that graduated to stalking, in a category with other well-misunderstood states of mind.  Worried that I might be losing it, I brushed up on my reading about the various forms of fanaticism and stalking behavior.   If any of you readers out there have ever wondered if you have early onset Alzheimers because you worry that about how forgetful you’ve become, and have gone on to check out the symptoms, you know the kind of concern for yourself that I’m talking about.  If Wikipedia’s definition of fanatic sets out some possible criterion with which to diagnose myself, I am absolutely, certifiably fanatic.  I look forward to Henry’s Sunday global dispatches, (see henryrollins.com), I have made a tiny dent in reading a little of the massive body of work he has published, have read several great books he has referenced in his own writing, listen to his genius weekly music broadcast on kcrw.com, purchased tickets for his next Toronto performance in March, and 2 out of 3 of my writing projects are about or in some way related to Henry.  I guess that meets the Wikipedia guideline of “…activity…abnormal or disproportionate” well enough for me. 

 I imagine my fanatic disease progressed, flying to some crevice of the world where Henry is walking the streets solo at night, a living, dreaming, young Eugene Gant, of Tom Wolfe’s Of Time and River.  (Henry’s published journals about such travels provide a nearly three dimensional peak into the experience of the man from all corners of his mind and the planet.) The thing is, nothing frightens Henry, least of all me.  Henry’s courage is without limits.   He is not afraid of death.  He is ready to die, serving out his time until then, the best way he can.  Affairs in order.  Dreams lived.   He can walk calmly, and with interest, into a crowd of political unrest, in a country where jails and torture are more common than coca-colas, with a large group of angry looking men who hold hand-made weapons, mayhem possible at any moment.  He travels to endless barely civilized global neighborhoods where rats and malaria cause him only some minor aggravations. Still, fearless of death, weapons, rats and malaria, these fairly heroic qualities pale to me in comparison to what he has written about his experiences with love, and freedom.  I could copy quotes but you will find real inspiration, for those of you that are hardcore idealists and inspiration junkies, between the covers of one of his many published journals,  A Preferred Blur Reflections, Inspections, And Travel In All Directions 2007.

There is no accounting for the next human that will be a catalyst to the next place on our journey.  Perhaps they come dressed in the female form, romantic loves, or a mentor in the form of a wiser soul than yours.  In this case the human catalyst is Henry.    So what is the lesson I am learning? What is the gift that Henry has passed unwittingly over to me?  Love and Freedom.

Love and Freedom and the Fanatic Transformation Finale must wait until next Sunday night.  It will be a challenging little piece for me to write given it is about all that matters to my very core.  See you next Sunday!

 LOOKING FOR STORIES ABOUT HENRY!  If you have been moved, influenced, inspired, somehow impacted by Henry Rollins, I am working on a separate project, which will become a compilation of Henry Rollins Fanatics’ own stories.  If you, or perhaps someone you know, might be interested in contributing to the project, please drop me a note here or at bennettangela@rogers.com. 

(Ok, I can’t resist.  If you haven’t listened to last night’s kcrw.com Henry Rollins broadcast, go onto the site and play it now! http://www.kcrw.com/music/programs/hr)

Thanks for reading this.  (I copy this last line from Henry, he always thanks fanatics for reading his dispatches,  but I love it and mean it.)