Flow.

I beat myself up. A lot.

I want to be better at things. Like life. I want to be a better father, partner, writer, lawyer, human being. I want to stay in the present more, be more conscious, make better choices, let go of jealousy, envy, judgment, side-taking. Walk my talk more often, and manifest my perfect life, here and now, not someday.

I want to be more efficient, more effective, and more prosperous. I want to give more, to be less selfish, and to be able to do so while still standing my ground and holding my space.

I guess what I am saying is that I want to figure things out. I want to live as an example. And I am conscious of the fact that by having and expressing all these wants, I am perhaps preventing these things from naturally and easily coming my way.

You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life. That’s what Camus said.

Maybe we have the wrong idea of perfection. Maybe the world — in all its perceived imperfection — is exactly as it should be. Maybe then, the same goes for me.

What does this mean, then? Was Camus saying to us, why don’t you just give up? The world is a fucked up place and you mirror the world and it mirrors you and there is nothing that can be done. You will both go on being fucked up so you might as well just settle in and stop thinking so much. Is that the take-away?

Well, I suppose it could be. It would certainly take a lot of pressure off. And I probably wouldn’t get so mad watching clips of Fox News that way. But I suspect that was not his intended point.

It occurs to me that a river is — often — a good metaphor. Humans spent a lot of time, money, and brain power over the previous century trying to understand rivers and to apply that knowledge to re-engineering them, in order to harness their energy and resources. What resulted has been a lot of trouble, much of it in the form of floods, dead species of plants and animals, and poisoned water. We are now having to spend ten times as much trying to undo what our brilliant minds once thought up.

It is helpful to have tools. It is helpful to study what we know of philosophy, science, world religions, mythology, and the origins of the universe, for example. When looking for a mate, it is helpful to know what kind of person suits you. When selling a book, one needs a marketing plan. When planning a trip, some familiarity in the culture and language are helpful. But, taking the last example, a too-carefully-planned adventure is no adventure at all. As a teacher once told me, standing on the banks of the river and considering its flow is one thing, but it is not at all the same thing as jumping in.

When you are in the river, you take things as they come. And it is better to be relaxed and to pay attention to where you are than to ponder why you are there.

Namaste,

TQ

Wake Up and Read. Read and Wake Up.

Wake Up and Read, Reno!

I’m giving away a book a day in November to give back to the community for granting me Best Novelist honors two years in a row. It is also my way of encouraging you to take time to curl up and read more this winter. Check out the info below for details on how to play!

WHAT: Reno author, Thomas Lloyd Qualls, is declaring November “Wake Up and Read - Read and Wake Up” month and giving away one copy of his debut novel, Waking Up at Rembrandt’s, every day during the entire month in a campaign to get people as excited about reading as he is about writing. The campaign includes participation by local stores Sundance Books, Zephyr Books, Dharma Books, The Melting Pot, Grassroots Books, The Hub Coffee Co., and The Nevada Store.

*The first person to visit these stores on their designated “giveaway days” and to mention the Wake Up and Read campaign will receive a free copy of Qualls’ novel. Some stores will also be offering specials and discounts for all people who visit on the store’s “giveaway days” and mention the campaign, even if they’re not the day’s winner.

WHEN/WHERE:

*Participating locations below. Check out their special offers/discounts too!

Sundance Bookstore – November 1st through 4th

Dharma Books – November 5th through 8th (Special 10% off anything in the store for anyone who mentions the promotion during these days!)

Zephyr Books—November 9th through 12th

Waking Up at Rembrandt’s on Facebook – November 13th through 15th

The Nevada Store – November 16th through 18th (Special of 15% off all copies of Waking Up at Rembrandt’s purchased by anyone during these dates!)

The Melting Pot – November 19th through 22nd

Grassroots Books – November 23rd through 25th (Check out paperbacks for $0.99-$1.99; hardcovers for $2.99, kids books for $0.99, audiobooks for $2.99, VHS for $0.99 and DVD’s for $3.99 or 3 for $9.99)

The Hub Coffee Co. – November 27th through 30th (Get $0.50 off any coffee drink when you mention the Read and Wake Up Promo during these days!)

FOR MORE INFO CONTACT: Kaity Ocean, kaityocean@att.net or 775.787.9257

Bridging Worlds.

I have a friend who is living in LA and trying to make a living as an artist/actress/writer. She’s living the all-too-common experience of working crap jobs while trying to keep her dream alive. Which just adds to the frustration, because who really ever wants to be a cliché. Especially when it comes to your dreams.

She is standing in one world in order to pay the rent and eat, while trying to get at least one foot planted in the other. It isn’t that she doesn’t have the required courage to make the leap: she regularly jumps into the water to navigate her way across, but inevitably hits an eddy of some sort that throws her back to the shore she came from. It isn’t that she lacks depth, either: she has plenty of real life experience to make herself interesting (she lived in a commune until age 7, she was directing plays by age 21, and now she’s a bartender in LA, for starters). Nor is she unrealistic about her talent (she has plenty) or the odds of making it (if any artist thought too much about this, there’d be no art).

She’s sized up the river as many ways as she can think of, but can’t get across. And she’s starting to wonder if she has the fortitude to keep trying. Or if it’s even worth it. Worse still, she’s looking down the road at what happens if she’s still doing this in ten years. Or twenty.

For all of us who have, are, or will wrestle this same oily snake, there’s also the problem of how to stay present while working towards a dream. How do we live where we are, how do we stand in the world we’re in, while always looking across the river? And at some point, we’re bound to doubt everything we’re about. We can’t help but eventually look ourselves in the mirror and think: You are a joke. Stop it already. Grow up for fuck’s sake. If you were going to make it, you would have. In the meantime, you’re wasting your life wishing you were somewhere else.

Here’s the deal. This life is about bridging worlds. And not just in this way. The whole universe is made up of energy and matter. And the bridging of the two. Life happens when they meet. Literally.

The whole point of this website, as well as virtually every word I scribble down — electronically or on a wadded up post it that’s been living in my pocket for days — is also to bridge worlds. Between the genres. Between the sensual and the spiritual. Between dogma and apathy. Between poetry and fiction. Between the sap and the rough cut. Between whatever place the words come from into some sort of form that will get them read in this world. Between the unpublished and the published. Between the unknown and the mainstream. Between the unheard and the podcast. And between the I wish I were and the I am.

So instead of banging our heads against the walls, contemplating walking into a tree shredder, or falling into a prolonged, deep, boozy, coma, we need to know – not intellectualize, parrot, or hope, but know — that this is what we are doing. We are playing God. Whether we know it or not. We are bringing together particles and waves. We are bridging the worlds. And sometimes a bridge takes a really long time to build. Especially a good one.

For love and money,

TQ

Is Plugged-in Really the New Simple?

Henry David Thoreau famous said, “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” And a friend once said to me, “Shouldn’t he have just said, Simplify?” I believe this is called irony. This point is this: Even when you think you are simplifying your life, you probably aren’t.

It is Spring and several weeks ago I embarked upon the seasonally appropriate purge and clean. My house is filled with what seems like endless clutter, clothes I don’t wear, and stacks of Runner’s World and New Yorkers I’ll never go back and read. I got myself into the requisite unsentimental mindset and set out to simplify my world. But every direction I took ended up in an eddy of some kind. Have to try on the clothes to see what fits and what looks out of date. Have to sort through the old notes and photos to see what I can’t let go of just yet. Have to sort the New Yorkers and save the ones with the David Sedaris articles. Have to put this book in this room, that one over there. Have to find the camera to take the pictures of these things so they can be uploaded and then listed on craigslist… You get the point.

This is the story of modern life. First there was the microwave, then the personal computer and the wireless phone. Then came the laptop and the car phone. Now Facebook and Twitter are right on our cell phones. And we can never rest again.
I’ve set out on this journey of self-publishing and promotion with Waking Up at Rembrandt’s because I want to explore what can be done with these new technologies of viral networking and print on demand, among others.

Unlike most aspiring writers, I had a literary agent almost as soon as I had a finished manuscript. And I thought it would all be that, well, simple. But one year, two rounds of submissions to publishers, and an endless amount of waiting in the dark later, I cut the rope.

For most of us, the world of the big publishing houses still exists behind hundred-feet-tall castle walls, surrounded by a moat. The publishing world is changing, though, and I want to be a part of this new world. Actually, as is my aim with my writing, I want to bridge the worlds.

I believe the things we create on this earth plane are metaphors for the way things already are in the invisible realm. Like cell phones and the wireless internet, connecting us in ways we are already invisibly connected, but haven’t fully realized. I also believe in synchronicity, in magically ending up in the right place at the right time. I am banking on the upside of technology -- the ability to reach exponentially more people through online networking, for instance, than I could on my own – to make up for the fact that since joining the ranks of the mobile Facebook crowd, my life is anything but simple.

In the meantime, if you like what you read here, share it with a friend.

Namaste,
TQ

Readers Wanted.

Let me begin by saying I don’t believe it’s true. That we’ve stopped reading. I don’t believe that with the onslaught of lightning fast, multitask technology we have simply become too ADD to read a book. I don’t believe that if it can’t be said in a Twitter note, no one cares. That if we can’t download it for free to our iPhones, we don’t have the time or inclination.

Now, more than ever, we need books. We owe it to ourselves. We need to unplug, curl up, and let someone else do the driving. We need to remind our brains they can pay attention to just one thing for more than 20 seconds. Research shows the brain needs a book the same way the body needs a massage, to relax while simultaneously becoming stronger and healthier. A book is yoga for the brain, it keeps the mind flexible and young.

Plus, it’s cheap entertainment. Most books cost less than 20 bucks. Compare that to how much it costs to spend an hour or two at a restaurant, or a night of drinking and dancing. And think how much longer it lasts. And, because the subject is bound to come up, free downloads aren’t really free. It is well documented by now that these things come with a price: spyware of all flavors and a loss of control over your computer, your internet service, and even your personal and financial privacy, just to name a few.

Everyone knows that knowledge is power. The avid readers I know are generally the most self-assured, empowered, and interesting people in my life. I could go on, but I think you get the point. And you’re wasting valuable time here. Go buy a book, sit down at your nearest couch, park bench or cafe, and get started.

Namaste,

Thomas Lloyd Qualls
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Buy the novel, Waking Up at Rembrant's" now:

Thanks, giving.

I heard someone say that giving and receiving are one act. Though we've all heard of the law of the universe in one of its many incarnations: karma, reap what you sow, you get out of any thing what you put into it, what comes around goes around. But this thought takes it a bit further. This assumes not a separate cause and effect, not a separate action and reaction, not a separate giver and recipient. But, one continual flow. To put it into a physical metaphor, not getting a hug and giving a hug, but hugging.

What a perfect idea to consider as we coast into this long weekend. Not simply being grateful... although that's infinitely important. And not simply giving back, whatever the inspiration (to spread joy and abundance, for instance) or motivation (to assuage guilt perhaps). But acting in embodiment of the teaching that all things are one, seamlessly connected, whole. We act then with an understanding that we are not engaged in the business of unilateral hugging (because that's either creepy or done simply to make us, the hugger, feel better).
Maybe that's why Thanksgiving is one word, instead of two.

Over, under, in and out,

TQ

You can't hold it all anyway.

I read that the eye moves 50 times a second, taking in as much as it can of the world, faster than we can conceive. If that is true, then what happens to all those images? When days seems to disappear too quickly under the covers of night. And weeks and months are swept up before we know it into the translucent containers of memory.

On holiday we seem to pay more attention to things, don't we? I remember my first trip to Europe. My mind recorded all the little new subtleties. Smells and breezes. Steamed milk and colors of skin. Shadows blending with my own. Rain falling on cobblestones. Shades of birds’ voices and sounds of sky. The brightly colored squeak of a shaved door from a shadowy alleyway as I pass under a rusted and peeling sign which swings carelessly like a child in the wind of my imagination. I open a heavy door into a musty used book store where a stooped old man with hair sprouting from his ears and elbow patches on his worn corduroy jacket offers me a plastic cup of sherry to sip while I browse, even though it’s not really cold outside.

It doesn't take me long to figure out that I just can’t hold it all. The world is too big. So I carry a journal. And I use it. The journal is a see-through container.