The failures of the past are behind you now. The steady state of ennui is no longer serving you. Time for a reset.
Massive action. Micro-adjustments are not enough.
I recall a conversation with my ex-wife before our first child was born. “I’m tired of being the center of my own universe,” I said. “I’m ready to give myself and my complaints up for lent.”
We were headed to a birthing class. I was going to talk her down from her delivery panic. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. The hippie classes were lovely, however. Couples in our same general demographic meeting for four Sunday afternoons in a row. Talking about breathing, holding each other, and holding the positive reinforcement role down. We can’t help. We can cheer and help our partners refocus their attention. Yeah, again…
We were in the pre-kid bubble. Everything changes. Everything was about to blow apart all my idealistic projections about what become a parent was going to have on both of us. I could only pay attention to my own journey. I was ready. Excited. I, also, had only a supporting role in the actual birth. I did contribute 50% of the DNA.
Twenty-four years later (my sons’s birthday is in nine days) massive action is required again.
Better than I’ve ever been is not good enough. Fuck. That’s going to be a hard one to sell myself here on the dawn of my left turn. Here’s what’s about to happen.
Today I pickup Sid and Hunter, my two new kittens, with ringworm and lovely coloring. Siblings. Awww. One of them named after my favorite sister and one after a troubled but genius creative writer. AI says that two males is the best combo, but Everything Bagel was a girl not a boy, so I needed a second name. Hunter S. had been gestating in my cat-future-imagination for over a year. But, girlfriend, now ex-girlfriend, was allergic to cats.
Solved that one.
My house and life is about to be torn apart again. By love. By mysteries cuddles and purrs. Here we go part one. Part two is the job I’m taking.
WTF am I doing? I asked my friend yesterday, “Why would I blow this up? I’m writing and singing at the height of my creative abilities.”
“Structure,” he said. “You need some structure.”
“Yes, but…”
We’d just talked about getting very clear on your goals and intentions. Here’s an example.
I have a album of ten songs I created with a wonderful musician and friend. It’s been ready for over two years. But why? In today’s streaming world, why would a 60+ year old man release a new rock album? Good question.
The better question is, “What is your goal?”
Um. To be loved. To be famous. To be rich. To be recognized. To perform for people. To sing my heart out. To stay in the flow of creativity.
To be a writer? Poet? Musician? Songwriter? Singer? Piano player, for christsakes? What is my actual goal of all this musical motion? It’s not fame. That ship has passed. It’s not love, that too is a different goal. It is something deeper.
What is your goal?
Think about that. Do you know? Let’s change topics for a minute. What about the girl? What’s the goal in that trajectory? Hmm. That’s a good question. Love is in there somewhere. Also, a hand and heart to hold. Anexperience of shared happiness is an exponential multiplier. So, I want to share this joy I’m radiating to the spiders and plants around me.
Human love.
But first… I forgot to tell you, I’m taking a retail service job at the same old organic grocery store. I’m taking a wage-based job. Why, again? Money? Yes. But certainly, I can make a lot more money focusing on my coaching business or my marketing business. Why is this even an option?
Um. I’m still a little unclear. Committed, but unclear. Maybe that’s the point. That’s part of the massive redirect. All these little joys and epiphanies I’m having, sure, they are great, but…
But.
Well, that’s a harder nut to crack. Why would I slow my writing progress? Why would I give up any of my precious hours to a grocery store job? The answer is not obvious from my current moment of contemplation. Why? What’s the point? Health insurance? Sure, I can tell myself that, but Obamacare is taking that load right now. Dental insurance? That’s a possibility. I don’t know what kind of dental insurance they have, but I know the ‘benefits’ are great. Am I doing for the benefits?
Again, no. That’s not it.
Same question about the kinder-crush. What’s the point? What are the odds? How would we even do it? What would ‘it’ look like? This isn’t a sex thing, is it? Let’s hope not.
What then? Why am I on the path to start working at a grocery store hawking and stocking coffee beans? I mean, I like coffee a lot. And, I’m sort of leaning into the idea of the role. And the manager is a sweetheart. And, did I mention the benefits.
That’s another sticking point. Social security is not going to pay for jack unless I let it mature. So, retirement is not nearby. I’m okay with that. But, working for a menial wage? I make $150 an hour in my coaching business. I make 100+ thousand dollars in my marketing roles. What it the world could this partner journey be about. That’s what they call employees, partners. So, if I pass my background check I’m going to be a partner again.
It was very different last time. I was hopeless and defeated. I wasn’t sure I could even pass the interview, much less do the job. This time is different. In the same way, I imagine this girl is different. Of the last four encounters since first grade, she’s grown, she’s evolved. I certainly have. Heck. There’s no good map for the journey ahead. The idea is: JUMP IN, YOU ARE A PROTECTED INDIVIDUAL.
Time to jump. Kitten pickup in an hour. Daughter’s arrival in two hours for a meet and greet. Everything Bagel 22 will magically become Sid. Eggo Waffle 24 fills the role of Hunter S. Thompson.
And, as the kids say, “Let’s go!”
fear : god > next | index
