Meticulous Anarchy, Part Two
This is me, unfiltered, uncensored, raw and real. I suppose this is my last blog/journal for 2013, and I suppose it is apt that I continue my thread of meticulous anarchy in reference to my own inner, spiritual growth. Yes, it’s still a mess in here, still a bunch of rebellious, intertwined vines of mutiny. They are however all going in the same direction, and this topiary of a human that I am becoming, is finally taking shape.
The consistent thread in all my work is that love is the ONLY important thing. However and from whomever that love can be felt, we must embrace it when it is given. We should never call our need—love, and we should never extract or coheres our version of love from another. We must allow them to love us the way they can, or know how too, and for some, it doesn’t always feel like love because they do it differently than we do. Nevertheless, its love, and if we focus on that, and that alone, our hearts will fill up and all the negative eventually evaporates.
The words, can’t and no and impossible, also disappear, and all of a sudden you are in your moment, and at peace. Peace offers its own level of anarchy, it’s a strange place to dwell, and unless you’ve experienced it, for a long duration of time, and grown accustomed to it—peace in itself can often feel almost as if you are empty. There is no angst, drama, turmoil, and no tragedy when you are dwelling within peace. Conversely there are no mountain top highs of joy and abandon, no incredibly happy moments, no gasps of ecstasy and no big climaxes. Trust me, living in your moment and being peaceful in it, takes some real getting use too. It takes practice, even now, after years of working on this very thing, I often squirm and feel as if I just have to do something.
I don’t. I don’t have to do anything. I guess that is my biggest lesson this year, I’ve learned how to dwell within my allow, I’m still learning how to rebalance quickly after strong emotional ups and downs, loss and acquisition, all of those things I have under my belt, and now at this age I am finding great freedom in having lived through it all, and even after all that, I think I am better for having lived through it all. I’m even incredibly happy just being with myself. I feel fairly completed. I do not need another to finish me. That isn’t to say I’m done, I’m not, not by a long shot, I just don’t need another to the extent that my completion depends on them.
I don’t play fiction in my real life, I don’t play games, I don’t sugar coat or lie. I am honest to a fault. Open, unashamed, real, I say what I mean, mean what I say. I have few boundaries, less rules, I don’t care a hoot about what anyone else thinks of me, and I am not searching for approval from anyone. I am not even that attention hungry. I am a bit of an exhibitionist, but that is another whole story, and don’t confuse the fact I like being seen, as me seeking approval or validation from anyone. I don’t even seek fame for the sake of fame, but rather for the sake of financial independence, (something I’ve never had).
I know how to dedicate myself to a discipline, how to focus and be entirely self-contained for years and years on end! I don’t need another human in my life, I never call my need—love. I actually have very little need in me—at this age, it’s more a slight crave, but need is nothing more than a useless emotion as far as I’m concerned, and if I ever tell someone I need them, that means way more to me than saying I love them.
It is from this place that I am now looking for a different kind of love. I am calling it definition. Not completion. I’ve allowed parts of myself to emerge from the shadows, and it is these parts that complete the puzzle of who I am, the completed me. It is these parts that seek definition and validation and fulfillment. It’s not the entire me, just a part, a part that seeks cohesion with another, definition from another, awakenings only another, living, breathing, real life person can offer me. I am finally ready!
My most recent tendril to get back under control was the revelation that I am no longer afraid of another broken heart. I’m not sure if it means I’m just overly jaded, and cold, but I don’t feel I am. Instead I think perhaps I’ve been practicing this shit and maybe I’ve learned it’s not going to kill me, and even better, if I can intelligently let myself feel it, the love, the loss and the inevitability of another broken heart, then I can use all of that as wonderful fodder for my writing. There is no better writing than the really raw, truthful emotional kind of writing I crave to do. I don’t think I can write about it if I’ve not felt it. So now, I am looking that fear in the eye and I’m saying, “Bring It! Break my fucking heart!” It won’t kill me and I will turn all of that angst into gold!
The best side effect of this new freedom is that I can allow myself to love at a level I’ve never before allowed. I can dive in, I can wallow around in that pool of endorphins, write about the great side of being in love, and I can love for real, without fear or assumptions or expectations, and I do believe that is what they mean by unconditional love. Big deep exhale, wow, this feels good.
2013 was a huge year for me. I traveled internationally, all by myself, for over a month. I made new friends and new enemies, don’t forget you either love me or you hate me, I am rarely met with indifference, and this is all well and good with me. My main goal is to be memorable, and I don’t mind being laughed at, I prefer you laugh with me, but if you have to laugh at me, that’s fine too, at least you will remember me.
Within 2013 I produced thousands and thousands of words. I’ve lost track of how many short stories, short novellas and even a few pretty large books I’ve written, but it was lots! Some have my name on them, some don’t, but in the process I’ve focused on my skills, my execution and most of all, finding my voice. It’s still not as defined as I would like, but it’s getting there, and I’m pleased with my progress.
I started out not knowing a thing, and now I think I can compose and execute a pretty darn good story. So, yay me! I guess I can finally say I am a writer, although the financial rewards are still not there, and right now I think I earn about two dollars per hour, and I work fucking hard! So yeah, I’m not getting rich anytime soon. Oh well, what else is new? I’ve never had money, and I probably never will. I do wish I could find a sponsor, someone to help me so I could write what I want to write, my stories, my series, my voice, but for now, I am once again trying to please he who has the gold, and I’m trying to think of it as getting paid to learn.
I am going into 2014 feeling as if I’ve graduated from a major phase of my life, and now it’s time for real life to begin. All of my softest parts, my tendrils and new shoots, the vine of who I am has taken shape, and I am good. It is a pleasing riot of beauty and depth. All the stems are in agreement and traveling in the same direction, a cohesive mess of promise, and I have this feeling that all that came before now, was a dress rehearsal, and now, the curtain is swinging open on the beginning of an entirely new ME, new life, new outlook, new inner revelations, a new more powerful me capable of great love, epic—life changing love. Look out world, I’ve been learning, developing and growing, ripening, maturing, and I am finally ready—I am here and I am ON. There is no lie in my fire.