Some days I despise being a writer. I despise it because the times that I think I have an idea that might have even a morsel of value, of sense, are the most inconvenient of times. Like the times I’m on a super hot date and about to be wrapped up in the throws of love making (yeah, right… I’m not that lucky). But the times I sit down and actually make a concerted effort to dismantle a few thoughts and spit out a few words – I come up empty handed. Until I totally force myself.
Just like right now. I am staring at this paragraph and loathing it. Loathing! A few hours ago I could have sworn I had some wordly wisdom waiting to escape my fingertips and now… now… nowwwwww…
F%&$ it. I can’t finish that paragraph.
I haven’t been writing much for a number of reasons. One part is the lack of time, a dash of procrastination, and the biggest ingredient is that - well, I have been in a funk.
For a long, long time.
It’s pretty hard to write about anything with real conviction when you are in a funk.
I used to chronicle my (mis)adventures in the dating world – satirical, sarcastic, humour that was based on five (now seven) years of being single. And then one day I stopped. I stopped because I was getting attention for all the wrong reasons and I didn’t like it. Being a far less famous and not nearly as stylish version of Carrie Bradshaw in my modest sized city was kind of fun – for a while – but in reality, people were paying attention to me for all the wrong reasons. Nobody was actually interested in what I had to say – only what recent dating disaster I had been on. I like to think that I have far more substance that that. And then it really started pissing me off the kind of garbage we humans actually pay attention to.
To be honest, I probably could have made a career out of being single. Maybe I should have. The years I’ve been single have now outlasted the amount of years I’ve been at any job. If only I had a helmet cam for the last ten years, I might even have my own reality show. But it might’ve looked awkward wearing a GoPro on my head, so I would have tried to be all James Bond stealthy-like with a hidden camera in my necklace or some kind of fancy undercover jazz.
And then this weird thing happened that I can’t explain. Well, I can explain it but it would take me eons to sit here and try and find the words without pulling my hair extensions out. I was graced with shitty hair genes, so I pay good money for those. Brazilians really do have great hair. Anyway, to simplify my life and yours, let’s just call it a ‘spiritual phenomenon’ of sorts. Maybe it’s more like a breakthrough. Whatever. It’s a thing, that’s all I can say. Some might call it a mid-life crisis, but I definitely do not have the shiny new car to accompany that – and well, I’m not that old yet. Knowing how I feel these days, menopause should be a real joy.
I’ve been planning to use some of it as book material – although considering how painful writing this has been, that may not happen until my next life… or the next. And if I have to come back for another one after that, god help me.
I hit a point in my life where I saw things differently. I looked at the world and saw it’s complete and utter chaos – along with its Oneness and interconnectedness. I thought for sure I was on the brink of understanding my purpose here. As I became entwined in all the spiritual, new agey, pop culture fluff floating around the internet, I was certain I was surrounding myself with copious amounts of love and light and bliss and everything else good.
OH NOOO. No, it’s not that easy.
You see, there’s this thing that happens when you learn about your self as a spiritual being – it’s great at first – but then it opens the flood gates of past emotional bull shit that you thought was a non-issue – and it comes to a boil that seeps out of every orifice of your consciousness. It’s part of the whole ‘healing’ process, but man does it suck.
And it seems to last FOREVER.
Here I am, manifesting all this crazy cool stuff – skipping along, humming, la dee da dee da – life is AWESOME. I’m having tons of signs and synchronicities pop into my life and I think I have it all figured out.
And then suddenly, the lights go off and your stubbing your spiritual toes fumbling around in the dark. Wait a second here. I just spent the last five plus years on this epic, personal odyssey figuring out my role here and all of a sudden I have even less of a clue than when I started?
What in the EFFF.
Then you find yourself in this messed up, twisted rabbit hole – not quite the colourful Alice in Wonderland kind, either. More like a dark, black pit – a vortex of disparity that you can’t quite climb out of. Now, you’re on a new kind of journey and it’s really not all that blissful. A dark night of the soul so to speak – you have no idea when the day is going to break and all you really know is that hunky Batman character is nowhere to be found. Sooo typical.
But prior to that, in the beginning of your new found spirituality you start stumbling upon every single step-by-step guide, every manual for living an abundant life, every sure fire plan that’ll magically make you realize your life’s highest purpose. Let me buy more of it! I need more books and positive quotes to paste on my Facebook page!!!
It’s all good and great and you’re trying your damnedest to enlighten and encourage others – then bam! You are in the darkness. Let me tell you, there is no plan. There is no defined set of answers. There are guides for sure, but take your book of answers and throw it out the window. Better yet, have a nice little bon fire, toss it in, invite your friends over, strip down until your butt naked, do a little dance and chant a little chant. I swear to whatever higher power, if I read anymore spiritual pop culture rose coloured crap that only tells you about how joyous everything is, I am going to freak out. There is no one size fits all answer book when it comes to ’finding yourself’.
Because to truly ‘find yourself’ you have to actually work through every single emotional trauma you’ve ever been through. Apparently that’s a good chunk of the whole journey that I failed to get the memo on.
Did you know that while you think you let stuff go, there’s shit stored in your emotional center that you don’t even know about? For example.. not long ago I had some energy work done… I would be in a meditative, relaxed state and the therapist would ask if I had ever had anything happen to my throat because it would turn bright red and get real hot. Well, yeah I did – I always had tonsillitis as a kid and I would freak out every time I had to open my mouth at the doctor’s office. When I finally got them taken out in my early adulthood, I screamed and cried as they put the mask on me. Ten years later I would have never, ever thought that bothered me until my energy worker did some work on my throat area and I had a flash back to being on the hospital bed. I started to shake and cry like a little kid, and I felt the same pain I had all those years ago. And then suddenly, it was gone. Little tiny things like that, your body stores and you’re not even aware of it. Call it your inner child.
Anyway, that’s not the point. I can deal with that. My real point is that I’ve been in this purposeless feeling funk that seems never ending. Anyone on the outside looking in would never know that. I’m always having a great time, laughing, and doing things I enjoy. On the inside though, there’s this weird, underlying nagging feeling of hopelessness, or something. A numbness. I think a lot of people are like that, we just never really see anything beyond the surface.
It’s not that I’m not grateful for what I have. It’s not that I’m not a happy person. I practice gratitude and mindfulness in every thing that I do. But there are times I look around and I ask, “What is the point”?
Yes, I know I’m thinking too hard here. But it’s a good thing there’s a brain under these luscious locks.
You mean to say that out of the infinite places in the cosmic realms, we ended up here? What for? I suppose I would probably ask that same question if I was anywhere else, too. To learn lessons and grow and learn unconditional love for our selves and others, etc etc… I get that. I am not a dummy.
But. Why? WHY?
It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey. I get that, too. But I have this thing about patience - being that I don’t have any. This world is so messed up, I don’t know who in their right mind would come here. Somewhere out there, there’s another life form looking at us like we’re on glue. “Yeah, keep killing each other and raping the Earth, humans! Let’s see how far you get.”
I look around and see people mindlessly driving to their jobs. Struggling to pay the rent. Religion, war, politics, power struggles and pettiness… blah blah blah. This can’t be what LIFE is. It can’t be. I don’t know how this is motivating. And if you think that’s the way it is supposed to be – well you need to reevaluate the magical miracle of life. Take a moment to look up at the cosmos and bask in awe and wonder.
I know my magic. I can feel it. I’m capable of awesome things. But here I am feeling trapped and unfulfilled despite that. Lost and confused. Swimming around in this sea of emptiness. Am I swimming? Am I drowning? I don’t know. God dammit I would like to find a nice beach. Koh Phi Phi come to me.
Don’t get me wrong… there is never a time I don’t truly appreciate the things I am blessed with. I appreciate the beauty in life wherever I am. There is the same amount of magic in a sunset whether you are in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan or a beach in the Bahamas. I have a roof over my head, I have a job that helps me build my creativity, doesn’t mind my outspokenness, and let’s me be myself. I have good health, great friends and family – and I get to be around solid folks every day. In theory, I’m doing better than 75% of the world’s population. I’ve been pretty darn lucky in a lot of respects.
It’s not that I haven’t tried new things. I’ve been open to all opportunities that have come to me, and I’ve had some really great ones.
I just haven’t found that thing that makes my soul sing.
I like to live in the moment – whatever that moment is. I never know when I’m going to run out of moments – so they may as well be enjoyed. But, the way we live is starting to URK me. Life is so much more magical than a routine, material possessions and a pile of debt. Yeah, it’s about having fun – which I do. But, my soul wants to frolic through fields of dreams – exploring, connecting, LIVING. I want to dance, prance, a little romance would be great, too. And then I’d like to run through the rain forest with a Peruvian Shaman and ride away on my unicorn (that’s pushing it, I know). Being stuck in the Matrix is giving me a serious case of the blahs.
There’s gotta be a purpose to the madness.
I guess in order to be found, you first have to get lost. Really, really lost.
And I’m directionally challenged.