I wake. I write. I wonder

Over the years I have attempted to be many, many things.
Over the years I have been accused of being many things.

I’ve been a paperboy. I’ve been a football event promotional items salesman. I’ve been an accountant. I’ve sold T-shirts at festivals and gigs. I’ve been a banking process worker. I’ve been a babysitter. I’ve been an IT technician. I’ve been a war-gamer. I’ve been a peace seeker. I’ve been a counsellor. I’ve been a brother. A friend.And a palette truck driver. I’ve been a dancer. I’ve been a fighter. I’ve been a problem solver.

I’ve been a problem maker. I’ve been the guy that friends went to when they needed something. I’ve been a reader. I’ve been a thinker. I’m becoming a writer. I have always been a lover. I’ve been a teacher. I’ve been a student. I’ve been a landlord. I’ve been a drinker. I’ve been a traveller. I have been a hermit. I have slept. And I have awoke.

I’ve been accused of being insane. I’ve been questioned on my autistic traits. Quizzed over my manic and depressive moments. I’ve been loud. I’ve been quiet. I’ve been lost. I’ve been found.

I’ve been known. I’ve been unknown. I’ve shown amazing physical control, with the aid of an 82 year old tai-chi instructor from Standish. I’ve shown a total lack of physical control and defiance of gravity by falling up stairs and breaking my toes. I’ve felt pleasure. I’ve felt pain.

I’ll have to stop there.

I could go on. But the rhythm, and pace, the posting of words, seems sufficient to at least open the door in your head, dear reader, to that fact that I have always been a man of swings. I can use one thousand words when one would suffice. Or I can use my body and expressions alone to get food and shelter lost in Marrakesh. I’ve worked side by side with people for years with people who never knew me. I’ve been apart from people for years yet was never separated.

I am all of these things and I am none of them. Just like scientists chasing their electrons, by trying to define myself by my own, or other people’s standards, something went missing. Thankfully for all that is good in beer, I learned to let go of ego. And embrace now. What will come from within must be allowed to grow.
The constant pull of the yin-yang within me, has spiraled to a new level. And I chose the word spiral very specifically. It’s taken me 38 years to realise that the miasma of my ‘self’ is an illusion. I am not divisible from the entire universe. I am a reflection, and a cog, within it.

But just maybe we can all be something else as well?

I have struck fear in those who have no questions about their universe.
I have seen inspiration in those around me, who are curious about their universe, and oft I am accused of being inspirational.

This is simply an illusion of chronology. Just because you said something after me, or did something after meeting me, does not mean you wouldn’t have done it anyway.
It was already within you.

Together we managed to escape the bounds of capitalist time and focus on something far deeper within all of us.

Our shared humanity.
Our capacity to dream.
Our capacity to love.

Thank you to all my ‘families’ for giving birth to this Star Child. On the next slump this time-and-space monkey will be able to look back at moments like this and know, all is well.

Like good music, the high notes are not the point. It’s the journey, the flow, or our collective spiritual lives which will always outlive our frail mortal forms.

Love and Muchness M’Lazy
Ming

PS Leonard definitely is a good name. If that river ever opens up to us. And yes I knew you’d always pick Elizabeth, the first.

One Comment

  1. Reads like a good blurb for a book, maybe shortened for publishing purposes though.
    Title for a book – Biography of the forgotten spaceman,

    Reply

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