I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Here, on this blog, or in my life. Sometimes I feel like I’m spraying myself in the face with graffiti, drowning in my obsession with music and writing, possessed with some unspeakable need to express but at the same time wondering why it’s so important for me to share.
I’m bumbling through it, just like you are, wondering if I’m doing the right things, if my energies are going to the right places, missing ghosts from the past who cling to my spine…
But through this process, I am finding out that there are a lot of you out there.
Sometimes, I think the only reason I acted out in past lives was because it seemed like nobody was listening. My parents are very artistic, but they are also, like me, very focused on their own art, and it’s like an endless loop–I’m probably perpetuating the same behavior they perpetuated by being myopic with my duty to creation.
And I was always afraid to speak up, let people walk all over me, which is why I’ve become an assertive person who speaks my mind and won’t blow sunshine up your ass.
Sometimes I feel bad I can’t blow sunshine up people’s asses, but then I realize that it’s because I’m honest that I have everything and every person I have in my life right now. I can’t afford to not be honest. I can’t afford to give up on my creations. I can’t afford to check out and go through the motions. I’m awake. Being awake is hard, it’s raw, it’s painful, but it’s also invigorating and exhilarating and profound.
And I am learning that when I reach out to other people, it’s not my fault they shut me out. All I can do is turn around and reach out to the people who have reached out to me and not act like the people who can’t give back, whatever their reasons. That’s all any of us can do. Not judge ourselves for being honest, for putting ourselves out there. Not shut ourselves down because others don’t necessarily understand, and don’t try to understand, or are afraid of our candor.
Isn’t there something in Zen Buddhism about an I-don’t-know mind? Maybe it’s a good thing to not know, to embrace the not knowing, to stop pretending I have any of the answers, to just trust in fate and karma and serendipity and sacrificing my creations to the alter of the intrawebs.
Maybe it’s OK that I don’t know, that you don’t know, that we all don’t know.