Here Comes Success: Feeling Groovy in a Most Terrible Era
One
Though it is hardly en vogue, I gotta say, I am doing pretty great.
My pleasure does not curtail public nor social ill health. No soul or system redeemed. It actually could be said, and perhaps not inaccurately, that my triumph (I, as representation of triumpher) is the abscess in the very organ of the organism in turmoil.
That sounds accurate, no? I would vanquish defeat, just fucking look at me. Could there be no better show pony of profound excess than the pink paragraphed princess before you?
Huzzahs arise from the fray. Wind in my blowout, I am led away to pasture as revisionism does not entertain figureheads. Stained garments. Black socks. Chipped polish. Roots showing. Gilding goes the way of the Dodo.
Is this, too, this cutting down of persons a scourge of sorts? Is humanity earned and humane conducted? Cannot achievement, measurable and efforted, stand clean? Or are attributes and commitment also political?
Look, I don’t fucking know. All I gotta say is this skin is my own. A shackle and armor. It leads and levies. A prenatal enemy and pal. There is a space in the streets and in my God-ugly soul where I am as appreciative as I am damned to climb a hill built by my kin on the backs of too many names and nuances to unpack. White woman as crime. Smile to slay the sunset - curfew on.
Two
This past month I had two monumental personal wins I cannot help but share in every ZoomRoom I enter. A blade to cut the beleaguered how are yous... I am GREAT, really! You see friends, I have submitted to my professional will and reaped a bounty of reward.
The circumstances at play, in my marriage, on the streets, in doctors offices and prisons, living rooms and luxury highrises are antithetical to all that brings me pleasure. I am lonely and uncertain, yet have and am choosing emancipation and courage with nary a consequential care.
I awake each day rather elated. Wowed less by joy, and more by curiosity and reverence. Managing in chaos is not known to be my strength - other people’s hiccup sure, mine - nada. However, I am punching through the fog, tiredness, why bother-ness. Every inspiration hard won, mercenary, survivalist. Finances are shit - Globally and in a search-for-change-under-the-couch kind of way too.
The weeks go on, we are talking May at this point. That “this can’t last” experience became just one regular Thursday morning after another. Thick and sober, despite inebriation each night. Sun barely down as another bite begins.
Now June. And I am asked: Will you be seeing clients in person soon? How odd. Every aspect of that inquiry pinches.
Perception of the clock has clocked all reason and rigor. Three months are finding us inmates to our inclinations and habits. We work and swim in a sea of comfort and chaos. Angel fish and sharks circling our feet, eels at our hearts.
White Rabbit, I am both wet and late. What time is it Mr Fox?
In person indeed - Sir, they are always in person with me, as I am only a person with them. Together, myself and those quirky creatives and career up-sellers sit in internet servitude, we are still very LIVE screen to screen and ear to ear. There is an intimacy, a revealing, to remote coaching IRL does not offer. Here we are in the Nest, at the Nexus. What is hitting you up and curling your toes, squeezing your teeth is right before us. There is no escape.
This is all to say that soon is anew, a phantom and people - I got plenty! See the thing is, I am not worried. I have had and I offer great success in just doing what you want, read on to see the stats - experience with envy I dare...
Three
She and I argued - her insistence was that I am an artist, my inclination is that no. That is insane and ridiculous. See I have debt and business taxes to wrangle with, I argue that doing and redoing my budget is enough; my focus on the nuance and numbers is evidence enough of a sincere lack of artistry.
Later that night I lie awake and wonder: How could I be alone? Am I not a closeted creative in a Nation of artistic naysayers needing now more than ever resources and armour I know so well in the genres of founders and freelancers? What if my mojo can be self applied (masterbation)?! What if there is an aide I can offer and practice?
So I did - I applied and am completing that MFA, bringing on and aiding clients in modalites so drashticaly changed from the strain and holocaust of COVID. This wing of my work is on the ground and in the heavens. Need is there and thus, so am i. Empathy and architecture.
Take away: I did and do it not for the money, but for the call. Let the heart drive, for heads have us Globally and socially in the ground.
Four
Wherefore art thou take away? Here is the prognosis - do this: what you want and what is needed in equal measure. Each route is well and happily run. Morality is newly met. There was talk of a cemetery in Central Park. Panic? Good reason to be and do so. If the sand dial is darker than usual, what about as that being less of a hindrance than permission?
What about trying the thing you had held back on? What about acting from the guts you got? What about listening to the need and saying “yes” and “may I”?
What about miracles internal vs in the air? The “maybe”s over definitive “anythings…..
We are repackaging so much, why not our hearts as well? Heart. Head. Come together, for no one is making it easy, nor is there any barrier.
In that - and here I return to the origin - is what is the new decade if not success as salad of want and availability? What do you and how can you - mixology that and there is your late 2020 path. Go forth.
