When in doubt ... VERBAL DIARRHEA!
One of the subjects of Philosophy Saturday at school yesterday was the fear of death and dying. shakti (uncapitalized on the cover of her book, in the studio, on the schools website ... purposely done, one can only assume at this point.) said that it's not death itself that we're afraid of, but the change. We're creatures of habit, some more than others, and change freaks us out. We – well, really, I'm talking about myself here – forget that we adapt quickly, and if we don't resist the change, the transition will be much smoother. Accept the change, embrace it if you can, and before you know it things will be “normal” again.
Death is a door to change; you go through it and suddenly things are different. Writing openly and honestly, not wasting time with code names and falsifying identifying facts/events, is a door to change too. I always feel like I need to protect myself on the internet when writing anything. Who's going to read this? Will they recognize the nickname I'm using in this particular account, or one from another? And if they do, what happens then?
What is my fear? Not that someone I know will discover my writing, and thereby my way of thinking, because I've obviously put it out there to be discovered; but, that they won't like it, or think it's worth making fun of. I'm terrified of a situation a la Harriet the Spy, where everyone turns against me for having an unpopular opinion; the tribe not accepting me, as shakti says. I'm worried I'll make life difficult for myself by saying exactly what I think about whomever, and not watering it down with political correctness.
But for me to keep my opinions all in my head is death – I have to write. On the personal level, it's great; but (call it ego, it probably is), there's something about writing for an audience that i love. It scares the daylights out of me, but when I get compliments or people pushing to read something of mine, I feel... acknowledged, real, and valuable. There are too many people tip-toeing around, and there needs to be more people saying what they need to. I'm well aware that writing is not fundamental to basic survival, so I have this guilt complex because I'm not drawn to something more modernly practical, like carpentry, electrical (I just really want to blow things up/see some crazy sparks), physics/math. Though I suppose, like everything else, practicality is determined by perception.
I'm curious about beekeeping. I want to learn how to shear sheep and make wool before learning to knit socks, hats, sweaters, even pants and ponchos. I dream about sleeping in my summertime garden to give the plants loving energy, of spending rainy, grey, fall days inside a log cabin preserving the harvest and making pickles, jam, spaghetti sauces. I want to walk into the backyard to get groceries. And that, in my opinion, is rather practical.
I keep saying, to myself and others, that I'm having a hard time transitioning into the “healthy lifestyle” i've been dreaming about for a year. I convinced myself it would all come together the instant I didn't live with stoners; when the season finished at my summer job; when I started yoga teacher training. And thats my biggest hurdle: my idealistic optimism. When it doesn't work out, as it often does, I revert to my natural state of pessimism. I don't really put in the effort because I've never really had to: for the most part, things really do just fall into place for me.
But when I do try, my goodness, the things I accomplish! Many years ago, writing was my oxygen, food and rest. My dedication/obsession/compulsion is the reason (I think) that I am able to express myself the way I am, to understand what I do. My age is something that has come up a few times at school because I am younger than the entrance age by a nearly insignificant six months. The fact that I started writing at eight years old is what makes people think I'm so mature, so intelligent, yadda yadda. Which I am, but I've deluded myself into thinking I'm a capable adult, and I'm not. I'm still so young despite feeling so old, and being trapped in the two just gives me a feeling of craziness like I need to burst out of my body. Because I can act mature and understand the “grown up” way of (most) things, I have the responsibility to act older. When I slip up, it's more embarrassing because I am aware I'm being held to a higher standard.
I was crying about this in the school office Friday. shakti sat there, observing but not identifying, and verbally kicked me in the pants. It's nothing I didn't already know, and that was the whole issue: I was tired of knowing! It's exhausting, to know what the right thing to do is, but at the same time thinking, “Hey, I'm [insert any age since kindergarten here], I know this is ultimately a waste of my time but it looks like fun, 'cause everyone else is doing it and smiling and always talking about it...” It fucking sucks to be able to see how somethings going to go before you've even started it. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means clairvoyant, I can't see my future or yours, but my intuition can be just as good, when I let it. That's the scary thing, having the ability to put out feelers and get a sense of what's coming, to know what you need to do and it's in direct opposition to what you want to do. To even accept you have feelers and you can trust them is scary; most people aren't consciously using theirs, and evolution has ingrained in us it's not good to be the odd one out. This voice in my head, a compilation of every adult that also tells me to live up to my potential, pipes up, saying “You're so young. If you don't do what you want, even if it's wrong, you'll miss out. You won't know what everyone else does. You'll be boring and plain and no one will be able to talk to you or spend any time around you.”
What kind of juxtaposition is that! I mean really!
Rbonka, be responsibile, and do the right thing, because you know better.
Rbonka, have some fun, live a little. Homework, laundry, writing/artsy-fartsy projects? Those can wait til you're old and can't party anymore. Why do you even want to do that stuff? You're YOUNG, knitting on a Friday night is for grammas!
It's funny too, because all of these things that I go and do instead of what I need to, most of the time i dont even want to do them! I'd rather do the need, which in my case could be writing, working out, hugging a tree, not drinking anything with caffeine, etc. But the wants are romanticized by media and peers... YOLO, and all that crap.
Doesn't it seem like a waste to anyone else though? I know you guys are out there, I'm just not finding you. Granted, I'm not giving it my all, I'm allowing myself to relax back into bad habits I hate but am addicted to; things you don't bother with because they are such a gigantic waste of time.
Now I really understand “Youth is wasted on the young.” YOLO – You Only Live Once. So party your face off, have sex with any and every attractive person who'll let you, drink as much as you can, get as high as you can. Spend every free moment of your time chasing experiences that invariably leave you with splotchy memories of neon-streaked nights. Wear tight clothes as long as you can, because you're only worth as much as who wants your body. Don't waste time on “needy” friends; if that straight-a bitch you've been slummin it with for half a decade is mad you went to Dj ____'s concert on her big birthday, drop her like it's hot. Okay, maybe I didn't get that last expression right, but I think I've made my point.
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