Unable to go back to sleep this morning. The stress of Chris most likely losing her job in ten days making rest impossible. I feel like a Yahtzee dice tumbler being shaken by a thousand hands and then slammed onto a concrete table.
If I had any real nads, I would be able to have some hope in this situation and believe it would all urn out okay. Things are not dire, but the creative life I have lived has not panned out the way I have hoped. I supposed I have always lied to myself and said that I could walk away from it and get a real job if need be. I have done my best, produced an uncompromising catalog of work of high quality that did not sell. So, why is my stomach not full enough to move away from the table?
Creativity is an epistemic horizon that you can always see but never reach. You just keep going. Maybe there are some people who are able to stop. But I am willing to guess that they think about it fondly, remembering the best times like they would a former lover who enchanted them.
What am I worried about here? That we will have to sell the house and move? That I will have to sell my gear and we will have to start over?
Vanity upon vanity. All is vanity.
Isn't this the line I was talking about when Lent started? All this fades. If I ave to sell some guitars and some clothes and strip down to where I was years ago, or maybe even further, so what? The most free I ever felt was in Music school in Minneapolis when I had nothing. The problem is, your Honor, that the road ahead of me was full of a certain hope that things would get so much better, that I would be put in the place I had always dreamed of and worked so hard for. This is not the case.
While I am grateful to be alive and distanced from the deep depression that had dogged me for years, all this possibility of change is difficult for me.
I visited a Benedictine monastery on my birthday. The Rule of St Benedict dates that one must have nothing and give everything away to be able to get closer to God. This, I see now is very true. Possessions due block one from getting closer to God. But seeing the problem and acting on it are two radically different things.
My big fear is that we become uninsured and someone gets sick and we lose everything. But, set against death, what does "lose everything" really mean?
We hoarders collect things because they represent possibility.I am the worst because I am both a musician and a collage maker. Things just pile up because you are so goddamned sure you will use them someday. But that is such a lie, isn't it? My dear friend died recently wanting to write a book in his retirement. How much more of a reminder do I need that I need to be in the infinite moment? That there really is only the present?
However, I have seen enough tragedy to know that sometimes things do not work out in this life. Suffering is not something I embrace as enough of it arrives by the truckload into my life and lives in my backyard.
What can be done?
Perhaps Beckett put it best in "Waiting for Godot" : "I can't go on. I'll go on...
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