Inspiration comes from the oddest places, at the oddest times, and can lead to the oddest things. It’s almost a form of borrowed energy, as often lent without knowledge of the lender and meant to be passed forward in lieu of repayment.
While the persistent state of being serene can encompass contentment, that it might even be presumed in the understanding of the word, the latter is a much more slippery thing than the former. So much so that I struggle calling it a state of being even though I am pretty sure it’s not an emotion.
Hyperbole in a meme is your enemy. I qualified that because I am, admittedly, guilty of it sometimes too, but that’s different, right? Right?? If someone can’t explain it sufficiently in plain language, then they don’t get it either.
For most of my life, I identified as a writer. When I was younger it was all about fiction and even then mostly bad, formulaic genre fiction that I had a whole lot of fun writing. I worked very diligently and established strong routines around it that adapted to whatever else - work, relationships, geographic location - happened to change.
I have always believed there is great drama in a simple life, it's a concept that's fueled many great literary novels, but what of the simple life? None of us are ever only one thing - paramedic, police officer, firefighter, victim, survivor, witness. As this young woman said, PTSD defines her injury, but it does not define her.
Threats come in all shapes and sizes, I’ve said that before. I’ve also made the distinction between real and perceived threats, but what does that really mean?
Surrounding myself with creative people, people of like minds and similar ideologies, people I think of as smarter and more inspired than I am, is something I hope will help me nurture myself and the deeper things I’ve found myself exploring. I’ve come to call it soul soaking.
In a chat with a friend prior to starting yesterday's piece, bouncing some ideas off of each other and digging a wee bit deeper into others, I had said I could write an entire book on just the nature of hate. She said, “What a great idea!” and I told her to get fecked.
This past US presidential election has found me thinking on the nature of hate, so prominent as it now seems to be. In a past entry I touched on this briefly and described it as a learned behaviour, not a natural human emotional state, and an unhealthy thing to let wander freely through our noggins.
I want to write things that explore the more esoteric philosophical ideas of emotional existence rolling around in my head like marbles; examine practical, healthy aspects of living a life at relative peace with the world, both inside and out, and tools we can use to achieve that; talk more about quality of life than whatever shitty road I took to get here; and occasionally have a bit of goofy fun.