I had a serendipitous (or totally scheduled and expected) encounter yesterday with a guy I’m gonna call a spiritual guru, and as I was cheating him out of a more profound experience because of my apparently unchecked ego mediation, he called me out for my habit of delaying my life. In thinking about my future, already an absurd thing when presence is the point, I kept saying, “I’m going to be this. I’m going to do that.” As if by opening myself up to the world, shit would just magically happen. That’s not open-hearted exploration as much as it’s disastrous self-delusion. Basically, I’ve been anticipating a future that’s so unreal I might as well say “I’m going to be Prince.” (That does sound damn appealing though…)
So he tried to reorient me. Right now, what are you experiencing? What are you? I was dumbstruck. Frustrated.
“Well…I’m going to be…”
No. What’s in you here?
Nothing was in me. Or too much was in me. Or I was too much in my head to answer truthfully. I have a great way of translating whatever I feel into something that sounds palatable, even pleasing. And when someone dared me to bypass that filter, I froze. Even now, I’m freezing, searching for the right words to type to make this little anecdote resonate. But if I really want this shit to dance, I should let it flow from the heart. That’s a channel I haven’t opened very often. That’s straight-up vulnerability, son. I’m not about that game. I’m supposed to protect this image of myself. But what image exactly? What am I so desperate to cling to that I can’t just let my creativity explode? That I need my head to be the CEO of this whole business? What’s the worst that could happen if I unseat his ass? Who would fill that power vacuum?
Every part of me deserves to live, and I’ve sanctioned only a few. The rest have dwelled in a cellar, and I forgot they were there. So fuck it. It’s time to bring those boys into the light and see what they want to say. Because they’re me too. They’re me right now.
I’m not going to be anything. I’m already everything.