The winter was cold, but not that cold- and like most winters was windy.
The heat didn’t really ease itself in, it just showed up one day with the wind, and it’s still here, giving the illusion it may fade away in the next month- but who can tell, these days?
Sometimes I wonder if my telehealth therapist is an AI. She seems real enough- but the digital space is questionable at best, and always has been a bit suspicious.
I do the homework the best I can, but I’m not really sure what the point is to a mind that made itself so long ago, and has a hard time taking steps back into a “normal” that never existed for me. I don’t know how to be a capitalist.
I think people want to watch others jump through hoops as to prove they are worthy of existing in an existential nightmare.
They say depression is a bad thing- something to try and ascend- which is laughable when I could compile quite the list of reasons one might feel “deeply pressed upon.”
With humility some of the burden was released, if only temporarily- but the minds around me can’t wait until I “get back to normal” that never really existed to begin with. Most of it was imagined by distance and rarely communicating.
I was that “free spirit” that would return occasionally with gifts and stories of my adventures- but actually I was just struggling to survive, lying to myself by redefining struggle into adventure.
I learned along the way, that I couldn’t really make it on my own- and I would do smart grunt work for a roof, as long as it wasn’t too much of a compromise. I looked for where I fit, like a missing puzzle piece- all the while squeezing myself into puzzles I didn’t match- but if it was able to hold me within it for a time, things were fine- until the misfit caused abrasion.
My mind keeps saying “a little is a lot, a little is a lot.” What?
Then I think of a seed, how one little seed could feed many- and I wonder why we live in a land of plenty that seems to deplete unnaturally anytime need is addressed to some more than others- and that consiquence.
I was thinking about how people are but seeds in their own beginning and how they grew was a representation of the reality sewn around them- about the things brought into the scene when the brain was just formulating balance-
Balance. Our ideas of balanced are so…imbalanced. It was never offered any equity, it is a construct- an idea. But why?
It has something to do with love. That too is a concept- a multidimensional concept. Love and Justice serve like the concept of separation of Church and State- the language, and definitions try to keep them separate but at the end of the day they become enmeshed for one could not exist without the other.
When you step away from all of it, and observe it, and disseminate it- you see something everyone else is too busy jumping through hoops to actually take into deep account. It is that which your beingness truly says without outside influence. It is most in tune thing you could listen to, because you are the amalgamation of all of it-
I talk to ancestors about how we were all rushed into the boxes of definition- I ask what they would see if they could only know what they knew in this reality- would they stick to their ideas or let their secret dreams out?
This is the work of people like me- whose history has some threads but also had closed lips- and I feel all of it through my veins- so duty calls to untangle webs, search for this illusive balance and what love actually means.
It’s evident I get upset at the use of language in this English sect- my grammar may be incomplete, but I know how to speak in respectable phraseology, more oft than not.
Pardon my language when I ask in all sincerity “What the fuck is Labor day?” And I mean this in a deep, vast and dissection way.
It’s to honor workers/laborers, yes?
But the only people who get the day off of work are Government, HR and higher ups, and the postal service? Oh, and schools- because train them now that the future gives days off, just not to everyone all at once? That’s life.
What else is labor day?
Everyday is Labor Day- and this is simply a 3 day weekend. And I am all for long weekends- but if you are a woman going into labor, it’s Labor Day. If you are anyone who has to do anything at all, that means people who use machines to help them live, it’s still a Labor day. But not everyone gets to “do nothing” or have fun on that day.
Most people don’t think about it beyond being a day off of work, if they are so “lucky”- given the climate of things, I’m sure people are jumping to work if it means time and a half, plus holiday pay- if companies are even that generous anymore.
And Labor day only exists in a way like Valentine’s day with less marketing- because if everyone demanded the day off, the loss would be pretty intense. “Don’t let the slaves knows that it’s a day we take off for golf and frolick!”
It’s gross, and as a woman, it’s a slap in the face in so many ways.
But it should equally feel like a slap in the face to anyone cognizant of what working class is, regardless of location in the world. And honestly, here- it’s mostly about capitalism under the disguise of pride.
If we go back to the original labor of love- the giving of life, it is simultaneously beautiful and messy. It is raw and unveiled- it may or may not come in with pomp and circumstance, or any observation at all in the normal convention.
Many of the most laborious situations come with little observation or congratulations- they are simply seen as “life happening” or what “life is.”
Secrataries, Nurses, Librarians and Teachers have specific days of appreciation- they still go to work, and maybe get a few treats or surprises. That’s sweet.
The origins of the dedicated day come from support for Labor Unions by the Knights of Laborers. Okay- well, do with that what you will. Labor Unions are an interesting and long standing topic- I had no idea that a Knights group had association with getting the day dedicated.
Here we are learning something new everyday.
The crazy thing about Unions is- they knowingly exist in the labor economy of a hierarchal system. People love or hate unions depending on what side of the union they are on- if you or a loved one are associated, you support it. If you don’t support it, it’s probably because you see the scam in the sham.
In the hierarchy of Labor Unions- the union workers want the best paid jobs with the most benefits, which means they have to keep their political views out of the picture (put on a hard hat) and get to work, knowing the work is temporary, but a great check while it lasts.
The contracts within a union allow a bidding process of sorts, “if you want to hire us, this is what we require”- a large project from out of state can build an allegiance by hiring local unions for work, endearing them to the community. (It’s like playing RISK.)
The company uses their pull on the union to help spread the idea of allegiance, and if your family member is bringing in a great check, and things are looking up in dark times, you also put on the hard hat, and the dust mask, and nod your head and get to work….planning the future, or buying a new toy, or paying off a debt.
It feels too good to refuse. Opinions you might once have had about such and such and their environmental impact are like dust in the wind. This is a NEW WORLD! ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE in a new tax bracket.
But, what happens when it all dries up? Because those at the top could care less if you starve as they send pretty faces with smooth voices to chirp benefits in your ears…
Places like this live Boom to Bust- just like a Lady goes through monthly cycles- living eternity in 30 days. Or like a Mother holds and extended amount of energy for a duration of 10 months and new life of reward is given? Or the imbalance of wonder that happens as those last remaining eggs sporadically release until they’ve all found exit in one way or another?
What is sustainable? Labor. Who benefits from it? All of us.
Who benefits most? Those who take it without honor or appreciation- those who expect what it looks like, how it should “properly operate, all the time, ad nauseum”.
I think it is time we start paying more attention to the labors of love. We all have at least one. Labor of Love isn’t flashy- it’s not really braggadocios- it’s personal and special- it is the work that feels like you aren’t working at all.
It’s soft and kind- it’s warm and sweet. It’s a priceless bit that rounds things out. The labor becomes laughter.
I don’t enjoy getting political or critical, it just seems to be an epigenetic trigger or some sort of left over of times past that last through bloodlines
I see the State governor have a bit of anger about Federal observance when they are the same one who opens the door
I see people grasping as the basic straws of long laid plans because; we were the “every day man” and what happens on our land in benefit of those already wealthy, is the only thing that matters
I want to scream ” They have been putting this shit on paper for over a century, and the only oversight they ever see, is those in the brethren- pull different sides but still friends in this awkward circle jerk that screws us all in the end- unless something changes, and it’s not just by switching hands in the same cesspool from which it began”
There is never equality in the Equality State- nor equitability or equilibrium because it chimes old rhymes from long lost times held strong only by namesakes and nepotisms, Good Ole boy’s carrying on some sort of nostalgic requim
Bread and circus! Call to the TOURIST- if you live here, you are accused of abusing the privilege to call it home- even born on and in this land I’m told to go elsewhere if I don’t like it- but I have my sights set and this is systematic and systemic- everywhere.
Go along, to get along, lil doggies. Be happy with the scraps in your bowl, if you want better, get a letter of recommendation and apply for the City, State or Federal and let them keep feeding you the rhetoric that there is some sort of separation of church and state
It’s intense to try to articulate that the whole thing is rigged against the everyday human- we see it in false inflation; the degradation of our food, education, and economic systems
I beg the question why we continue to work so hard for organizations that are quite openly showing us their true intentions-
The system and their minions don’t care for more than themselves and accruing wealth- for their weird little groups that seek to keep you busy building things you nor your kin will truly will benefit from, in the long run
I am at a brink, yet again, of not giving a fuck. I am sick of this task and having to daily face the fact that I can’t force anyone to think any way or another- it’s a bother, but I do it
Who knows when some of my words spent may be a bright light or a creative insight that helps someone justifying survival versus the alternatives that seem to want to push us to the edge and give up
I will say it again- I have had enough- and now they throw words back into our face about transparency, accountability and responcibility-
It’s a psychodrama unfolding for years beyond mention, and the only reason I can see it of benefit, is because we are meant to see it so that we can combat it as needed
It’s going to take creative thinking, you can not do things the same way as history- if you do, you actively participate in some sort of insanity that is looking for a better way of expression and acknowledgement
First step- get upset and seriously mad at it, but commit to your better sense- get psychic with this shit- stop playing small, wounded- collectively use your wisdom to ruffle feathers- show up no matter the weather
Second step- collect each other like precious stones that glow with their own knowing- work together- but don’t be afraid to call the BS when it is evident
Third step- be transparent, yourself. You don’t always have to be an open book- giving the TLDR in the first five minutes- take a breath and leave the book slightly ajar, open to answering honest questions with honest answers
Those truly seeking will see what they need to, because they have free will to do so
I talked with my father the other day and he made comment of question to why his children act in such a display to take the “hard way”
And I rambled a bit in a way of a feminist- but the deeper truth existist in the fact that this world is radically different than it was in 1976; 1986, 1996, 2006, 2016
Do we really comprehend the leaps and bounds things have made while staying the same over such a long time frame?
Shortened always by the claim “nothing ever changes”-
Meanwhile your children grow older, the weather changes, technology begs us to capture every moment for a cloud we will never ride upon
Can you see that it is very hard to change things that change in slight motion under the tangible range? They say, “get involved with the politics” but those same dicks are the ones that complicate process we have the ability to deal with by our own well knowing- and they beat us down vs encouraging some growing that says “Yes, I comprehend personal responcibility”
What, are we actually doing? It appears the discard ability of humanity and life in general has some hip political stance, like we have rebranded genocide, but the poor people meant to have no pride are the first to go.
Why is poverty demonized? Why are jobs that matter with no big coorporate boss put to pasture? Why do the people who say they love us have laughter when we try to beat a system that wants to drown us all?
It feels emergent, emergency- like you, like me, want to be more than these left over dregs of Flotsam and Jetsam – the reality we wish to see is no longer a joking matter
There are people preparing to literally dig their own graves because the wonder of something better has been drained from their hemoglobin and they’d rather leave their legacy to fertilizing trees and flowers
My reflection walked through the door at the ripe age of almost seven and a half- she runs into greet me, but this time we don’t embrace right away because her senses are sensing me out-
Am I safe here?
And I sit with a smile, and a “Hey girl, hey, how ya doin'”
And she doesn’t answer but reflects back that question in a different way… “What are you doing?”
The answer is abstract, “I’ve been working on things- would you like to see what I am doing, working on?”
A gentleness sets in with the curious “yes.”
So I show her how hard it is to get the fur right, on Capricious the cat who is complex. I show her where my struggles exist properly portraying the nose.
I ask if she wants to see the one sketch book I know is meant for her because I was able to cut off criticism and ownership, to allow her to draw on the first page
Oh, help me- this is a book not a quarter finished and it is the most esoteric of my papers- mostly I bleed on the pages, metaphorically as I loose those last remaining eggs captured in my abdomen that I kept from procreating
She sees familiarity, even expressions of creative will when it comes to honoring the Nana and Papa-
Her hand was in that book- my hands will keep creating when the time suits- and someday, it’s for her too look back on in a remembering of care, creativity- unconventional and unique- just like her
I see this child has anger she doesn’t know how to express or articulate
I was there once, twice, three times two and again in spurts
I recognize those hurts spoken in another language, again and again- reminicent
She isn’t alone, it isn’t “bad” to be angry- it’s a life struggle to learn to tame it, know it, control it, be with it and breathe it out
So she wanted to control the wind- and I told her I already know how, and bonus- I know how to talk to clouds
So I ask, is today a day to build clouds or bust them?
Build them she says- I say that means the storm is coming in- and she isn’t afraid
Unknowing to her in the last days Rain and I have been talking about regulation of expression because Rain is just pain expressed, especially when the third wheel to lightening and thunder
So we covered the sun with clouds and watched the sky darken- and then we tossed the ball back and forth- acknowledging that too much force, misdirected can cause pain- so awareness has it’s gains
We take a lap when we are angry, we beat our fist into the leather mit, meant to capture the ball- we find a way to express without purposeful abraision-
Peace creeps in, but it needs patience and work- but the seed is there and I see how connection has many outlets- not all are my favorite, but I am willing to compromise so that she can get what she needs at a time she feels so unseen
I’ve been having consistent conversations with rain, and wind- –
It definitely started with the rain, or lack thereof or the over abundance in certain places- and then I think about storm chasers, just waiting for another hit of adrenaline
Rain though, has such nuance- people always complain that it’s not enough or too much- the whole time denying that they might have something to do with the duration and intensity of its output
See, you and me exist mostly of water and mitochondria and compressed ZIP files we call DNA, and our adaptability has led us to Earth zones that may not be the best environment for our best expression yet
Here we are, wherever we are- dealing with the Elements
My heart never felt the desert because I adore water so much it hurts
Like should I drink her, conserve her, or disregard the thoughts that say “it’s okay to dehydrate as if you are a cactus easily revived by a five minute down spout? Maybe some old man watering you down once a month?”
I started to look back to times when it rained almost cinematically- the timing, so on time. And thus far it’s been fine unless someone else defines how unrefined that expression plays out.
I think rain is a representation of pleasure and pain. It is the barometer of what we have to lose or gain- and just asking for it to refrain will only pain you more- mostly because you see water from the sky as separate from you- not a collective expression of you and you, and you and you.
So as I have been talking to the sky, that holds the rain in a cute clouds that at times get together with a push from temperature- I see it capturing our pain. Our silent tears, our exhausted sighs, our deep night sweats fueled by incongruence- and I would categorize that as pain.
Human suffering, the great undoing of what binds us up inside.
We are water, we breathed out so that it is collected above us and it’s like it’s collecting in places that need a cleaning but not a flood.
So when I call in the rain, when I speak to her duty- I say take the pain for transmuting. Then send it down reasonably- we don’t need too much- just enough. Go above the places that need it most.
I clap, I sing for the greenery and the animals that may also be dehydrated. I roar with the Thunder and encourage her to raise her voice for those who can’t.
I make songs for the rain so that she feels welcome to self regulate in good company.
She tells me to thank you for allowing her into your space, to take the evaporate of your tears and breath, to transmute them into new life. She knows that she needs to regulate more, so she is calling for other nodes to see her consciousness and to engage it.
She is open to direction, she has learned many lessons over time by having no guide lines.
She laughed when I said “I think I might be able to manipulate weather.” Mostly because she already knew we all have some degree of ability to do that, but most are too distracted to hone in on the skill. They only want to call into request when something is personally dire and upsetting on a deadline.
I totally get that.
So I just call her in- no dance- no show-
Like calling a friend on the phone.
“”Hey babe- I got the feeling you are feeling kind of heavy right now- can I help you disperse this in a healthy way?”
She wants help, because everything she takes on was yours to begin with, and accountability is foreign but needed in her realm.
You know how in written Spanish, there is the upside-down question mark that appears before a written question, and is then finished with an upright question mark? It is simply called an inverted question mark, because statements and questions in Spanish are incredibly similar in structure. It is a pre-emptive demarcation to trigger your mind to know a question is being posed before it is articulated. It is then reinforced at the end of the articulation with a “normal” question mark.
Today I woke up angry- unnecessarily so, in my opinion. So it begged the question as to “why?”
There is nothing wrong with me, and most days I just wake up numb, asking the rhetorical question “This again?” And I only ponder for a moment how many people worldwide who wake up feeling that way. I avoid the ponderance of how many people jump up out of bed, excited to meet the day with open arms and a spring in their step. I’d appreciate accurate numbers if I was to pursue that data at all, and the sad reality is most people aren’t honest enough with themselves to admit, they are more likely feeling numb, angry or foreboding upon opening their eyes.
There is a sense of dread for many people- a desire to hunker down , pull the blanket over their head and go back to sleep. I get it- for many it is hard to have something positive to wake up to, something to live for. This is a byproduct of slowly watching the world continue to spin in predictable, unpredictability. To have to walk through the daily contradiction.
I wish I was a “Happy to jump out of bed person,” but I’m not. I waffle in a space where I am somewhat numb and ambivalent, or like today- angry at nothing discernable. The anger like this is rare- which tells me it isn’t 100% belonging to me. It’s a collective anger, and I am standing in its coronal shadow of ignorance; which then brings me personal anger because I want the data. I want the tea- I want the details and the specifics and if those are being withheld, I am at the mercy of interpretation of vibration and frequency.
I am very attuned to Stress as a vibrational frequency. Stress and I go way, way back in time. She sure is a finicky rascal who often times has a hard job of articulation and clarity.
I had the joy of sharing with my dad, these feelings and I discussed how this is the feeling before a civil upheaval. I made mention that it starts in the home and goes close to home, neighbor against neighbor.
It felt as though I was feeling a dozen angers individually, attached by the same crate. Unified as a stack, a unit, a collection. All are eggs, all came from the same variety of chickens off the same farm- and all of them want to be thrown at someone or something. I know it’s a weird metaphor, but it’s the visual that came up when I was first trying to articulate this to myself, in order to get to the cash crop of this mental aberration.
Today, everyone feels like an idiot- including myself, to one degree or another. We have been a collective set of idiots, trusting other idiots for truth and well meaning.
What really came in, was the service minded, service attitude of heart-people. They take the brunt so often and rarely get a break because they are, dare I say: busy bodies. They are always open to being a helper, even to their own detriment. I know this because I’ve done it, and there is no work/life balance there- it’s just help until you run yourself ragged, collapse, deny you need a break and jump right back in.
The energy bucket diminishes slowly, but surely.
Helper people break their own backs, and often they refuse the rest they need while also having a hard go of just enjoying the time they actually have to recalibrate because the philosophy is “go, go, go! Do, do, do! I’ll stop when I am dead.” Actively avoiding the opportunities, they may get interim to stop and smell the proverbial roses and clap themselves on the back for a job well done.
Helping can become an addiction, and not in a good way when it comes to self-sustaining energy. When helpers crash- they crash hard.
As my day moved on and I moved through my emotions and settled in the weird internal world that I have so carefully cultivated- the home dynamics shifted as I went inside to take a carefully cultivated shit.
The moment I walked through the door, the energy was screaming “FRENETIC!”
This is a sign to me that there is unspoken stress. As I go through therapy and try to untangle myself from the emotions around me, I fight the story line that I am the problem, and I am the reason for this vibratory change. When I use my eyes and ears, it’s very clear this isn’t about me. I am observing something that I am close to but cannot currently touch.
I asked one simple question with a curious smile- and received a short answer, a sharp look and pursed lips. It wasn’t the time to discuss this with me. So, I mirrored the look as a reception that I got the context and made a silent exit stage left.
It’s fine that I don’t get all the piping hot tea in the heat of the moment- but my curiosity is equally burning. I have a feeling, I know what’s up, kind of- but I want confirmation in words. I have to keep self-awareness to not slip into speculation- which is hard to do.
Here is what I will say in regard to my ability to sense vibrational shifts, which may be useful; my awareness of connection is multi-dimensional. Sometimes it is directly connected to those I am related to, and sometimes it is because it is a collective feeling many people across the world are feeling in tandem.
When I woke up with the anger feeling I knew it wasn’t 100% mine, it was relational and collective.
It is said that vibrational sensitivity is connected to trauma and self-preservation for survival. It becomes attuned so that the vulnerable can preserve their safety. The body awareness shifts into overdrive because things are not being directly communicated or articulated.
Vulnerable people are often kept in ignorance because they are not seen or perceived to be strong enough to “handle the truth.”
This is very strange because vulnerable people are often times the first to learn how to cope and read information via vibration and things left unsaid. They sense discomfort coming on the horizon, so they adapt accordingly to maintain that safety and self-preservation. So, in many respects they are actually very mentally strong and adaptable in that way of their perception. Often times, they don’t feel socially allowed to speak to that strength.
Personally, I want that knowing because I am a problem solver. I want that articulate communication so I can discern if it is a vibration I need to hold space for, realizing it isn’t mine, so I can creatively transmute it with intuition and awareness.
Regardless, whatever happened today, did not happen to me, directly. It did directly affect my energy, and sometimes I have to fight the idea that people play me for the fool versus utilizing my strengths to benefit us all with solutions that are often times overlooked, ignored or scoffed at.
ME: “Let’s find solutions together with our various experiences and personal diversity!”
THE WORLD: “Bad idea. Let’s do it the way it has always been done.”
It’s wild.
Either way it was nice to get this off my chest, and to work it through in various ways. I wrote in my journal, I re-examined it here, which will lead me to create a visual art piece to assimilate it all together in a transmutation.
Tomorrow will be a new day, a different profile of emotions and new information. I take it as it comes and use it for the best- that’s the best I can do.
¿Maybe, tomorrow I won’t wake up with an inverted question mark?
What are the three things we need beyond the visible, consumable spectrum?
It is clear that we already have struggles with food, water and shelter, if left under the umbrella of status quo– “What the governments says, goes.”
So perhaps it is time to remind you of the three things the government was designed under the guise of– Of the people and for the people, who continued to have the fleece pulled over their eyes. Believing that the system was designed with righteous things in mind– such as Integrity.
Integrity speaks to blameless, correct purity.
We the people find ourselves asking “Can they represent that Integrity with transparency; which etymologically means “Pervasive to light”? The light this community continues to shines with? Can you see that we see through you?
This leads us directly to positions you play as Authority, which under Transparency would lead this to be an Authentic City, which the elected neglect as they sit outside of alignment with their constituents.
Authentic is to represent acceptance as true and correct; clear, concise and visible without clouds or clots.
Integrity, Authenticity and Transparency– these three words we use get lost in the mix of politics. Used as campaign slogans, abstractly aligning with hypothetical virtues.
So for the manipulators lets bring a defense on definition. Some of which maybe more properly aligned with the Devil’s dictionary. I say this with no religious fervor, only to express the true desire of the human to exist, unencumbered and able to pursue that which their soul cries for-
Freedom to choose more than a brand, an alliance or a sacrificial lamb.
The freedom to self investigate, unencumbered by lies and rhetoric-
The freedom to be more than the prototype for the next robotic influx
Law is about language and how it is used– mostly against us, The People who help sustain these constructs via ignorance.
It becomes more evident daily, that the systems we rely on have been used in perpetuity against the everyday human who seeks only to live and let live– who have long held Authority to their word proclaiming “best interests”; but for whom is the best interest in mind for?
The obviousness is becoming laughable, but I will not laugh because lives are on the line– and money is just paper or digital numbers on a screen– nothing lasts forever.
You need us more than we need you– and people are starting to see it.
It’s another one of those days when I feel like getting rid of all the creative things- the archive and the supplies. I desire so much to feel “newness”- and I wonder if in a purge I would be re-ignited with some new brilliant fire.
The fact of the matter is – it is simply a lack of space that I am experiencing within my creative ability that folds over into a sort of claustrophobia that overlaps with living space. I have so many art forms and such little space.
It is hard to share sleep/eat/care for animals/ create and stretch all in one small space- my ideas get big very easily. There is nowhere here to sew- so I put it on the backburner. Just when I get cleaned up and rearranged, I want to create another clutter of ideas, or outfits, and a meal. It’s chaotically lived in- and it’s driving me crazy because I deeply desire a place for everything, and everything in it’s place. I have the heart and mind of Mary Poppins- but the activity levels of chaos more like Pippi Longstocking.
I’ve recently applied for art studio space- which would help me tremendously in an effort to be more creative and social within an environment that is specific to that kind of energy.
I think a lack of a creative studio environment over time, in certain situations, is the reason for me wanting to give up. It’s daunting to manage what you want to do, when everything is overlapping in a small space.
Do I really think I should give up my creative drives, or just leave my work for free on a street corner? No. Deep down I know that this is my life work- my life work isn’t marketing or advertising; it is to continue to create despite the current art world hustle culture. Essentially I am curating myself, not so much as a brand, because I think “branding” is etymologically kind of gross.
I create because I am asserting that I exist. I am part of Creation, and I have a unique voice within the greater whole- despite how many things I have in common with every other part of Creation. I honor similarity and variety.
I’m not sure how I am to survive off my work- I only know it’s what I am suppose to be doing- and that everything I experience is multidimensional and the work is to reflect that. I’m not really suppose to be marketing or advertising because that isn’t my strength or interest, and despite attempting to do those things, because “other people do those things and it seems to be working for them.” It hasn’t worked that way for me and the attempts have made my stomach churn.
I recently saw a video where a person was meditating on ” staying in their own lane” for the day. Like go about the tasks and just go with the flow and see what happens- don’t switch lanes to get ahead, just be patient. And that really worked out for them, insightfully.
Last night I was thinking along the lines of that video- and I thought- hmm what if there are young creatives that would like my work but exist in a different lane specialty wise? What if I could find someone who is excited about the prospect of marketing in a unique way?
Essentially I want to give what I want for myself. Opportunities (etym: fit, convenient of time) that resonate (etym: resound:re-echo) and obligate (etym: bind,fasten, connect: moral ) with foreseeable and experiential benefit .
In other terms; Multidimensionally my work is about serving the All of Creation- and that is VAST- and as I am being shown the vastness of my own unique voice, connected to the Greater All- I am being somewhat humbled multidimensionally in the knowing that I have kept myself small and somewhat invisible for a reason; all the while feeling so much more, a potential of something much bigger.
It’s that part of your soul that sang as a child, “I want to make the world a better place!”
I think many secret creatives are feeling the same thing- they need more space to create what they love to create- and it feels like the Universe is saying “yes” but many of the creative people who get the “inner self workings” seem to be isolated somewhat in their communities- unless they are the type to push themselves into scenes. Really they just want to be seen and invited- invitation means choice and the ability to be seen with what one resonates with… These are creatives who have learned what it means to hold a “hard no” for good reasons. They are also the ones that say “Yes, Please” with their whole heart.
I’ve found for myself to participate in a way of force is exhausting and I personally need a balance of focused work with some social aspect but the the work isn’t and should never be about money- it’s about people and a perspective of connectedness. It’s about sharing experience and seeing yourself in others; and it’s really weird work because it’s the reason I still exist.
If I didn’t have creative impulses and deep insights about life and death at a very young age, I’d have taken my own life as an early teen. I’ve never really felt very connected with this world I live in. I don’t “get” politics, money, acceptance of weird social constructs. I’m pretty sure I could get an adult diagnosis for something if I lived in a place that cared more about those things- but even then, that would just set me up into another box the world creates for some reason of data collection.
The biggest box I live in, that I acknowledge is the one I physically live in- “The Studio on Central”. I could say I am “An Artist” and live in that box, but I believe we are all artists we just don’t always acknowledge that in ourselves- and that is part of my work- to show people the Artistry which is All, which is: Creation. You can’t get a paycheck for that shit- it’s not a legit job in the sense of commerce or capitalism. For whatever Goddamn reason- I got tasked with this nonsense. ( Said from the curmudgeon part of me that wishes she could “just be normal.”)
I was told to come and create and share. I was told not to worry about money or fame.
I was told to dream big; though I do, I have simultaneously shut myself off from being welcome or submissive to what BIG might look like- basically by making myself really small and buying some lie that I’m not worth the BIG opportunities. Something big to me, could be minute to someone else- contrary to popular belief there is room for both to exist in the world- staying small serves who, when one has a heart is so big?
In an expansive sense I know I am larger than life- I feel ready to share that feeling with others- because multidimensionally we are all larger than life- that is a free insight- and it’s a knowing feeling that you cannot buy or pay for. It’s the one thing that can keep you grounded and vast at the same time.
Madge Midgely 