My fifth book was set to publish today. Featherlight and Alchemy. I left it unapproved for distribution as it doesn’t matter anyways. Not in this moment for me at least. Yet the energy of the northern lights making their way this far south again last night moving into today of all days was not unnoticed by me as I was up late reflecting upon it.
I’m in a rather weird place with sharing my work still, and honestly, caring about sharing my more creative works at all. While I greatly cherish observing the works of others who have so much that is valued to offer, and I’m in agreement, I’m not sure there’s much point in it for me. Sharing my works. Not because I don’t believe in the value of my work for me, but I’ve learned in the hardest ways my work offers little benefit or service to any windows where it is seen or was previously and I’m not interested in needing it to be any different than what it is. I don’t believe anything I would do would change much of anything. I know that by the nature of where it led me to be. In stillness in life relationally and approaching half a decade of aloneness in a human connection sense spiritually, emotionally, and mostly so physically in all aspects of my life. To have alienated myself and lost near everything for nothing, but maybe my everything’s were not as much as they seemed to me anyways. While I’ve only myself to blame, despite that it wasn’t only my doing, the cosmos indeed must laugh with and at me still.
While I can directly say I factually haven’t found a way to overcome the obstacles that arose in my life as a result of my openness and exploratory at times jabbing playfulness in the face of unspeakable transgressions, being stuck as some call it, maybe I always have been in small ways anyways. In a weird place with sharing. Will I ever not be now? Somethings we live through simply change us unavoidably. It’s now lifetimes harder than it had to be. As it is designed for some to be. And I don’t know if there is need for room for me to have it be otherwise anymore. Like a part of me I left behind now.
For many of us who find ourselves in those challenges it doesn’t really matter if our creative work is shared or seen in many ways, does it? I’ve endured having learned I meant little to nothing to nearly everyone I once loved, and I survived that self-reckoning in taking ownership of where my life has resulted in me being. The vulnerability of the ridiculousness of my ongoingly sharing via journaling through my frustrations and funneling to where it is I am at present too is not missed by me. I have only myself to understand or laugh at it with in honesty.
Nevertheless, due to my emotional sensitivities, I’m not certain tears won’t surface sporadically and occasionally, perhaps indefinitely, but maybe that too no longer matters. I’ve reached a point where out of life living necessity I have released attachment as to whether I am smiling or crying anyways. Life is raw and real in ways I never could have foreseen as having happened nor needed to accept by me. I don’t have the luxury to seek anything more than what is in my life and present experiencing.
Despite all I’ve now walked through, I do know my heart and spirit can smile courageously through the worst of tears imaginable still. And there is a richness in this. Something none can take from us truly, try as any might. But does not the smugness of transgressors speak more of them than of those they so freely transgress(ed) in their taken entitlements?
My process did teach me the fine art to create entire works inside my heart and to leave them be there unseen by any but me. I’ve learned to create outside the reaches of even telepathy. I know that too sounds crazy. In doing so, however, I have learned to value my creativity and that which flows through me in ways that need no explanation or external witness. Some of my best works have no reason to see the light of day and that is more than okay. Life puts each of us in our rightful place and I accept in full grace and solitude all life has delivered me. All that is beyond my control is, well, beyond my control.
My selected alienation from Love and its oppositional positioning in a formal collective consciousness sense from the lens of the West coast of the American landscape has never been clearer as to the importance of my having trusted in my intuition to distance myself from its early forming imprints along the periphery of my life to begin with. Love in this country has been owned and violently controlled, perceived from a human free spirit sense, by radicalized political activists entirely biased and with agenda after all. And I can say that regardless of any mistakes or wrong steps that I too made in my own homogenizations of such collective synergies as world energies have now and are having their own influences upon it. Those of European landscapes being most notably different and beautiful. The only ones unpredictably so thus far from my lens, but that too is changing I’d bet money on.
Out here in what is still the Wild West, that which kept me instinctively away from resonance with it, Love in the capital L sense, large bannered collective bloc thinking alignment around it, can retain its own place as it has in said power dynamics as I go my own way as I always sensed I needed to mostly uninterested in said power dynamics that so clearly celebrate blatant transgressions as the new world order mandates for modernity’s agreeable righteousness.
Love in a capital L containing sense from the human landscapes of this place comes across as still much more in alignment with and more interested in burning humans in even nuanced disagreements at the stake and I am left still to wonder in awe what century or scope for consciousness we’re actually living in. Is it not provenly more interested in aligning with economic elites and political power controlling entities than opening itself to truly listening to real needs of everyday working class individuals? A far cry away from decentralizing much of anything from all that I have seen. All while the preselected from amongst the working class are discarded and ongoingly abused as the responsible humans. It’s still this way in a post Covid consciousness world. Maybe even more so. Was that what the mandates and opportunities from a top-down sense pertaining to Covid were really for?
But that too does not matter. Not any of it truly. It’s easy to surrender anyways to love in a more holistic and timeless sense, and not in some formalized way, as I’ve faith in beauty and truth prevailing anyways. There are hints of it a plenty all around for me to see. I am most grateful it is not simply a Turtle Island/ American dichotomy-based discussion anymore and in that I do not feel alone at all in my solitude and exile, whichever it truly is, as I could not say in full faith which it is ultimately.
We are love at our core, as all my heritages once knew, some still do, and the notions for thought control and ownership of thought terrains and territories as means to control others ideologically and politically and not freeing them is mostly foreign in all ways to everything my interiority senses as authentic. Is this not the very synergy that broke the world apart? Like cults for desertification being imposed over all ecologies, Love as a weaponized abuse remains anti-human, anti-nature, and against divinity in my eyes. And yet it does not matter because those who would misuse and abuse in such ways will be overcome and outgrown anyways. One siding arrangements are always exposed in the end.
Puritanism, no matter what peoples of the world put on such a mask, never lasts. Beauty abounds, is increasing, as are adversarial forces against beauty doing so, like an in built exposing of themselves, and therefore my petty sufferings are miniscule in the face of all my ancestors and heritages have endured. The ability to perceive and tap into such immense resiliency personally is too something with boundless teachings and is beyond price.
I hate putting works out there now feeling like they’re unintended riddles being seen unjustly that I don’t even really understand myself, but I know that my work that I do choose to share is and always has been a vote for choosing myself, meaning my right to create and love myself in process, and I cannot care anymore even if the world is hellbent to pretend otherwise in the name of power takers I’ve never seen nor met. The lies of others do not have to be our lies.
Small steps are sometimes bigger than they appear.
