Lurking greatness, like a mugger or a magician
How many people have, throughout their lives, felt greatness lurking around the corner? Always just out of reach, both reassuringly distant and tantalizingly close.
How many people never quite get to meet their potential, a crush they nurture from afar, easier to watch from a distance rather than engage with in the present...
I feel like a teenager. Again. Fucking thirties, man. They suck. They're both a sharp reminder that you're old enough to know better, but young enough to still desperately care. You're dealing with the concept of aging, while simultaneously dealing with the kind of emotional, hormonal shit that drove you insane when you were just hitting your teens.
At least I am.
I need to get laid. Holy carp, I need to get laid. But, I don't want to get laid. I don't want my comfort to spring from something external to myself. So, it won't. Not that sex is bad, not that comfort is bad. But I will not be dictated to by my sharp needs anymore. I will not give pleasure that much control over my life ever again. So, if I want comfort, I will fashion it from my own reality. Touch can wait.
Speaking of reality... I am trying to determine what it is about this specific reality I have chosen that called to me so deeply. What did I need when I chose to come here, to this farm in a rain forest in Washington state? I haven't found it yet. My brother is here with his wife and baby, and they know exactly what they want and need. They have a dream for this place.
Maybe their dream is the one that was called, and mine has nothing to do with it.
Both parts of me, the self sacrificing part and the self centered part, rebel at that idea. It could be true. I guess I'll find out. But in the meantime, what can I learn here, what can I do to move myself forward towards the idea of greatness that keeps lurking around the corner?
No idea.
How many people never quite get to meet their potential, a crush they nurture from afar, easier to watch from a distance rather than engage with in the present...
I feel like a teenager. Again. Fucking thirties, man. They suck. They're both a sharp reminder that you're old enough to know better, but young enough to still desperately care. You're dealing with the concept of aging, while simultaneously dealing with the kind of emotional, hormonal shit that drove you insane when you were just hitting your teens.
At least I am.
I need to get laid. Holy carp, I need to get laid. But, I don't want to get laid. I don't want my comfort to spring from something external to myself. So, it won't. Not that sex is bad, not that comfort is bad. But I will not be dictated to by my sharp needs anymore. I will not give pleasure that much control over my life ever again. So, if I want comfort, I will fashion it from my own reality. Touch can wait.
Speaking of reality... I am trying to determine what it is about this specific reality I have chosen that called to me so deeply. What did I need when I chose to come here, to this farm in a rain forest in Washington state? I haven't found it yet. My brother is here with his wife and baby, and they know exactly what they want and need. They have a dream for this place.
Maybe their dream is the one that was called, and mine has nothing to do with it.
Both parts of me, the self sacrificing part and the self centered part, rebel at that idea. It could be true. I guess I'll find out. But in the meantime, what can I learn here, what can I do to move myself forward towards the idea of greatness that keeps lurking around the corner?
No idea.
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