“Find out what a person fears most and that is where he will develop next.” Carl Jung
This is unbelievable. I was walking home this afternoon with my earbuds budding. I know most of you have, but for those of you, who haven’t wedged these puppies in your ears, it is just magical. I am coming up the hill, which definitely qualifies as one, and I am trying to make sense out of what I think I want to write. I’ll tell you about that in a second.
I was listening to some great tunes on the walk, especially when I had to do some workin’. Shit, this is really an aside, but I owe it to myself to say something. If you have never walked hard to the Allman Brothers, you ain’t been walkin’. Getting back to the story, the very last song to come on, that carried me all the way to my door and more, was an extended version of Strawberry Fields from the Cirque de Soleil soundtrack.
It made me think about my own imagination, a timely hint, as my storytelling clock has already begun this time. Between the two of us, I don’t have the faintest idea where stories comes from. For someone like me, life seems to write these damn things, because I certainly can’t. Every Friday afternoon, I know I’m gonna write something. I have more respect for your time to think I can slap some shit up and you’ll read it and love it.
Earlier in the day, I had a wonderfully loving experience, which took me completely by surprise. My boy and his very terrific and beautiful wife, parents of the being that is my true incentive to live and write as long as I can, called with a video tour. I had a chance to see three happy, loving people share their new home with me. I don’t know how many times I got to yell “fuck” really loud. I was so incredibly happy for them. OK, I had shadow memories of The Donna Reed Show, but that’s me being weird.
I’ve been thinking about these two unrelated occurrences. I also think it is hot shit to take some fragments from here and there and throw ‘em into another Story Gumbo from the delinquent word chef. It also got me thinking. I am going to assume from today on, anyone reading any story, has read at least one before. God knows, I’ve been doing this shit long enough to know you’re out there and reading with me. Bless you for that.
I am going somewhere now, but I’ll be bringing love and imagination back in for curtain calls. I am not exactly sure what precipitated my pre-occupation with “where to from here?” No, I am not talking about the Zen moment to moment stuff, rather it feels a bit more macro than that. I am having more and more moments of “where to from here?”.
I am not sure exactly what about Alaska precipitated, what can be best described as an emotional loop da loop for me. I know I have written about its initial impact and its lingering presence before. Up there, I felt really alone, not only physically, but viscerally and spiritually. It was phenomenal. I know, sure as shit, I am not given to hyperbole, so that’s how good it was.
I just thought it feels like the color of my type has changed a bit. Yes, I know it looks the same to you, but it’s just a little different and you’ll have to take my word for it. Of course, what am I supposed to do? Shut the fuck up and pretend nothing has changed.
I got to be this guy in Alaska and I just enjoyed the shit out of him. We went everywhere together and had a ball. I had so much fun sharing it with you and that was never far from my mind all the time. I don’t know if it was something about that whole experience that got me thinking about what’s next for me?
You know, it’s funny, I usually look for a quote to lead off my story, after I know what it is I want to write about. So, I went zipping through endless quotes on “what’s next?” I saw that short quote from Jung and it grabbed me hard. You don’t ever want to become your fears. For someone like me, it would be about the fear of dying. Sure, there are people, who live with that fear at most any age. I am not the guy validating people’s feelings. If you feel it, you own it and it’s that simple.
Long ago, I accepted life’s fragility. I am not frightened, as I try and look around the corner. I mentioned a few stories ago that I was introducing silence into my private world. It has made a huge difference. It has given me so much more time to think, which has contributed to my state of mind. I am not talking neurotic here. I am talking about just relaxing by myself, with myself and feeling good.
Then, along comes Strawberry Fields and it got me thinking about how gorgeous it is to have an imagination. Other than it being a tailor made entree into the beginning of my story, illusions and delusions are its pitfalls. I am an insurance risk for that reason. I know imagination is on my mind menu for certain and its going with me.
I was busting with love, big time, when I “visited” with my boy and his family in their new home. When we had finished and the screen went dark, I thought to myself, “What a perfect something to have happen on the day I’m getting ready to write.” I was busting with joy.
I swear I don’t know what’s coming, but I got some help today. Bits and pieces of my brain are likely going to fall away over time and that’s just how it goes. Facts will start to become even more murky than they are right now. As long as I can write, I don’t give a shit what I write about. It’s funny, I get to maintain vestiges of sanity, because of this need to share I have with you. For me, Strawberry Fields is forever.
Then, there is this magical thing called love. I want to keep a Cross-Fit heart that never has to work too hard to feel it. This is the heart I could never live without, no matter what!
Like I said, I can barely hear something knocking at my door. I am sitting here with my mind and my heart. They are packed and coming with me, into my Gulliver future.