… my old friend
I’ve come to type
on you again…
Well, hasn’t it been a while since I’ve frequented these parts?
Of course, there are rational explanations:
- I’ve just completed my first full length musical release, Sparse (stay tuned, much more info in the coming weeks)
- I completed the first 20,000 words of the new novel, but wanted to let it simmer for a while
- Christmas, a trip back to the UK, and all that that entails
But we are far from rational creatures. And I know that:
- I needed to take a break from words, after releasing two novels and three screenplays in 2010/11
- I felt the music brewing for the whole of the year and, finally, in October could hold it back no longer
- I was so sick of the information and objectionable US Presidential election that I just couldn’t put anything out
So I retreated for a while.
And I recommend seclusion for all that have the courage to try it.
That’s right, courage.
It’s hard to let yourself float. It really is.
A little over two years ago, I stopped wearing a watch. I don’t miss it. But it was an adjustment, given that I’d been conditioned by nearly two decades in the corporate machine. This latest sojourn was a little of that same self-adjustment.
And I feel better having done it.
So there I was, diving back into my own recharge mode, enjoying family, friends, the muse, and all of a sudden, got two approaches relating to jobs – big, good-paying jobs. My centre was tested, for sure; I didn’t take either job. I could have. Of course, I could have.
Anyone else’s normality would have seen them taking the job.
But I couldn’t become that shape again.
Those slumped shoulders, weighed down by seeing so, so much broken in the machine. Those concrete legs, holding every truth I wanted to speak, yet held back. That increasing lean to the right as I protected what I truly was inside.
I didn’t take the jobs.
I finished my record.
And I signed up to write an independent movie.
And I helped start a local independent bookstore.
And I started helping writers overcome their own blockages.
And I arranged to run the first of what will be a series of workshops.
And I acted in a national television commercial.
And I helped someone survive cancer.
And now I’m helping her complete a documentary about her journey.
[PLEASE donate at that link. $5, 10, 15, 20, 100, 1000 – we need to make this film a reality!]
It’s amazing how much can happen when I try to do nothing. Or, more accurately I think, it’s amazing what can happen when you open yourself to the energy and change you’re meant to be in this world.
Hopefully, it won’t be so long before we meet again.