I am not a blogger
Blogging bores me. Schedules, shenanigans, strategies, sassafras…. I write. I explore. I reinvent– myself, my world, sometimes the lives of those I touch.
I create. I imagine. I sculpt– realities with this mind. Bringing life to fantasy and fantasy to life.
I dive in– to myself, to this reality, to the limitations of my existence. To find the edges of who I am, and see if I can go further. Always reaching further.
If I could define myself in one word, I wish I could say I am an artist.
Sometimes I wish that were really true — that I could say that about myself, and really mean it — and in many ways, in essence, perhaps it is. But being an artist, choosing that title…isn’t that just another label? A way for us to categorize and define and limit with our smallest human minds what we are actually capable of?
Those limits, those definitions and their heavy baggages — they’re precisely what takes the fun out of things. They kill the very essence! Forcing dull and dumb limitations, expectations, requirements, smothering the very life out of everything they attempt to contain!
I may or may not be an artist, but I’m definitely not a killer. I don’t want to squash the life out of things anymore.
I bet you don’t either. Are you a secret assassin…?
Squeezing the life out of everything and everyone with the hypocrisy of an unbridled and undisciplined mind?
If you’re not a killer, then why force labels on yourself? Why insist on defining anything and everything?
Questions…questions to ask yourself. Look at yourself. Hit-and-Run Killer of all things good…you should be ashamed!
Discernment and judgment are two very different things. Over-classification is a beautiful disease of the mind.
Don’t kill. Bring life! Rein in the mind.
I write. I blog. I create. I consult. I travel. I cultivate life. I write songs. I eat. I drink. I pray. I dance. I stumble where my heart leads. I take a piss….
Each of these things can be done with sheer beauty, with artistry, with zen mind. With all the presence and heart, the courage and satisfaction of a life well lived.
That is my choice — every moment, every glance, every new endeavor — to approach it with a fresh open mind. To free it up by not attaching anything to it. No attachments, no expectations, no labels, no problem. Life is beautiful again.
I suppose I could call this blog post, Confessions of a Former Hit-and-Run Killer
But then, I’m not a blogger.