SantaCon NYC is Saturday the 10th. Don't know where yet. Still have to get my suit.
So much to do, so little time.
Learning things about myself everyday. Things maybe I knew and had forgotten. I'm not sure. Ideas that I once had seemed to have dissolved in a series of compromises I made. Not to anyone else, but to myself.
The difference between clarity and delusion can be ephemeral, can't it?
My mind once worked this way. I remember it. My body once worked like this way. I remember it. My heart once worked this way. I remember it.
But back then, I didn't know who I was and it all enveloped me, supplanted me, leaving nothing in its wake. And then I was drowning.
Years have past since then. I thought those pre-drowning days were... an aberration. Or youthful delusion. It was not 'rational' to have that sort of passion for words, for creation, for hearts, for touch.
Have I gone so many years not understanding what the word 'passion' means?
Things feel solid now. They push back at me in ways they never have before. I have stopped worrying all the time about intruding on others. I have stopped worrying about losing what I hold dear.
It is all very silly, I realize. I know it can all be taken away with a strong breeze. But that doesn't seem to matter all that much. Because I feel like I have control for once. Maybe the first time ever.
Humph. Should have learned all this years ago. But they say 34 is the new 24. I'm not sure who said it, but I bet they were 33.
Russia's The Dead Hand
8 years ago