I’ve admittedly been fairly reticent here as of late. And now, like one revisiting a letter from an unrequited love, I return to the page to assuage the alluring ache of a melancholy muse, which compels me to write as a lover or sweet digestif compels one to bed after dinner.
For in the breatheless, magical realm of writing, I experience the passing of my personal woes – a victory arising from the increase in self-awareness that I gain through the practice of my craft, which, ironically, allows me to forget myself, or at least forget my self-pity.
Tonight my craft has me sitting up in bed writing a reply to the question that the muse always asks of me, which is simply: How am I doing?
Perhaps Stoically, I want to reply that I am grateful to be about as happy and peaceful as a human can be, given, just, you know, like life to deal with, which is one heck of a factor – one I used to deny in fact; however, I have come to see that we all have our shit to deal with in life. No one has a shit free life. My shit is simply my shit, and I have to deal with it, to overcome it. And furthermore, the shit in your life is a factor best confronted: the changes and challenges of life either faced or accepted rather than denied or repressed.
People die, and you will go through periods of discontent. Don’t withdraw. Don’t numb. Take care of your shit instead. That simple.
I, as all living things, can only grow or decay; knowing I will always be evolving – changing as much as my life and my life as much as I – I choose growth. I want to confront my shit in life because I know I am capable of overcoming it. This is what it means to be the hero of your story. And it’s going to require that you grow and evolve.
Reflecting on my most recent evolution, mountain living seems to have nurtured a quiet masculinity within me that manifests itself in action rather than words, and I’m finding myself more inclined to silence than discourse; I simply no longer feel such an anxiety fueled need for constant thought or speech. In short, I am confronting my shit and as a result I am at peace with myself: past present and future. And that’s really something.
It’s a good place to be: I rather like myself and my life, and blimey to you if you don’t.
What more can I say: I am bravely facing life head on. My dreams, my stories, La Vie Boheme – all are mine. What’s left is simply to live, to continue being brave.
And now that the school bell has rung:
Class is out:
And here I am –
Ready to live.