So I'm coming back to this after a million years. I've moved away from DC. Back living with the folks. Focusing on my health: drink less, quit smoking, exercise, eat nutritious foods, write. Considering what to do next while my meager funds deplete while at the same time enjoying the moment. Taking this time to rehabilitate. I think that word is mis-suited for my purposes. I do not wish to climb out of some hole into which I have dug myself. Although that may be partially true, my end goal is not the top of the hole. My end goal is way beyond that. I want to occupy all the space in around the hole and the dirt that forms it. And it is not a goal in the normal sense of the word. I want to reach an empty space where things and time do not exist. I want to tap the spiritual treasure trove of existence that is within me. I want to feel clean and open and free and exude love to all things. Is that enlightenment?
It makes it hard to consider a profession. You think about sitting in an office lit by fluorescent lights, the hum of their white noise washing over you like fluoride in you drinking water. How can I willingly and with intention choose to exist in that? That is not existing. My heart tells me to focus on writing because in that and only in that will I be truly able to say and feel whatever I want. I can create worlds that will enlighten. I do not want to consider it's end goal being fame and money. I don't want those things. I want to impart knowledge to sheep. I want them to enjoy their existence (taking the good and bad and equally dealing with them in love) and wake up. If they hear what I have to say, they will change the makeup of the universe or at least get tuned into a frequency that will show them the beauty of their soul's connection to everything.
Here we go...
My sometimes narcissistic and sporadically altruistic attempts to figure out my place in DC's art subculture and hipster bar scene.
