My feet stomp wildly. Thoughts erupt, zigzag around and through each other, disintegrate into dust clouds of new creative life like jolts of electricity from a Tesla coil. I am Hansel and Gretel and every corner of this house is built with the sticky sweet sugar of inspiration. Perhaps the wicked witch is the bitter sting of failure and disappointment, perhaps she is merely time. For now, her kettle remains cold nonetheless.
This is the 4th official day of my sabbatical after deciding to leave my steady day job and handing in my resignation after months of deliberation. Having the time to focus nearly full-time on music, writing et al is a monstrous engine of limitless horsepower in perpetual motion, replenishing and strenghtening its energy with every move that drains it. I feel so charged and overpowered I fear for the endurance of my human shell. I could truly explode from joy.
While the amount of support and warmth my decision yielded caught me a bit off guard, I don't think anyone truly understood my motivation for cutting my ties with the ebb & flow of nine-to-five. Then again, how could they? I'm probably the worst person on the planet to keep others informed of my creative work and aspirations, not to mention the fact that even talking about my endeavors is more often than not a mountain I find ridiculously perilous to climb. Ridiculous because I'm fully aware of how warped I've allowed my perception to become.
Never mind the fact that creativity is in a very tangible, literal way the air I breathe and the sustenance that keeps me on this plane of existence - very, very few have been privy to even a gazillionth of how thoroughly art and the tempest of its creation embodies and entangles my being. Substantial and etherial alike. For this, I stand ready to take the blame, though I would like to point out that there are alleviating factors.
I have a very thick yet elastic game face - one that I've had time to craft and re-craft over nearly five years - and there are a handful, nay, a thimbleful of people who've ever even had a glimpse of me in my most naked shape. That of the freerider upon inspiration's wave.
It's an existence upon incredibly liberating, fulfilling and rewarding waters, not to mention something I'd gladly share with the world if given the chance. Unfortunately unchained and undiluted passion can also be an overwhelming force, something many are ill-equipped to handle. Thus it can sometimes be met with surprisingly vigorous countering forces, albeit they manifest in many different forms.
There is simply a myriad of people around us who never want to be reminded of the fact that their heart carries a beat. Its rhythm is counter-productive, because the cog in the wheel has no place for the free flow of blood or inspiration.
After 31 years I'm pretty confident in saying my wavelength is on a completely different frequency than just about every person I've ever met. I can make people go into emergency shutdown mode by offering just a sliver of a view into the fire inside, so for the most part, I tend to keep it away from prying eyes as modus operandi. Perhaps the language barrier has grown so tall and wide that even the thought of traversing through it is too foreboding to entertain, or perhaps I've never been skillful in that art in the first place.
As said, finding one's self separated by untouchable glass from the rest of humanity is fruitful ground for both mirror-gazing and fingerpointing. I'm extremely wary of opening myself to people who've been exposed to some facet of my outward self (indeed, I'm probably talking about you as well), because even though opening that door would probably feel like a new licence to breathe, it's also a state in which I feel most vulnerable. It requires a degree of mutual trust I'm almost pathologically unable to award to anyone.
Seeing another's eyes glaze over as they rummage their brain trying to reroute the converstaion back to the safe haven of banality is a hand that's been dealt to me times aplenty. Perhaps I've given up on trying to find a common language with the rest of my species or perhaps I've allowed others to see only a small piece of my puzzle for so long it's become habit. Perhaps you see me as a senseless dreamer while you valiantly carry the crushing weight of routine like a sparkling badge of honor. Perhaps I need to buy some paper mache and build people who don't drain their souls daily by awarding more time for apathy than ambition.
If your sarcasm alarm is blinking at this point, congratulations - we're one step closer to having found a shared language.
I'm sure there are subconcious efforts to give the faceless crowds a glimpse into my world through this journal for example, so I guess I'm trying at least. The ironic thing is how much mere words scribbled down on weightless pages in an online journal can shake & stir things up, for better or worse. That's one treasure chest I can mark on this endlessly expanding map - how destructive a force perceived reality can be when poured out unfiltered through one mouth.
Riding freely on the train of thought - yours or another's - is like velvet quicksand. Miraculous and horrifying at the same time. Perhaps that is why so many of us are content to tiptoe around the deeper regions and settle for the oases scattered around the wilderness. Places that offer safety and stability, yet are significantly lacking in awe and wonders. That is a sin I believe we are all guilty of, though certainly not in equal measure.
Strange as it is, this little creative hole in the ground I've dug for myself has made me ponder about both ongoing and possible future collaborations with others and I'm happy to report I am awash with surprising optimism. As work progresses on my private, personal artistic endeavors (The Stranger currently in the forefront), it's hard to look past the prospects of working with other wild stallions on a larger scale again. The inevitable disappointments and dissolutions will have significantly less impact as I now have an immeasurable amount of time to work on anything and everything without the constant need to micromanage and delegate the hours I have to distribute on any given day. If things fall through, I won't have to look back on all the other things I had to put on indefinite hold while trudging up the hill to meet a brick wall. My spiritual well-being will benefit from this immensely.
Oh, and if you spotted the Bill & Ted reference, chalk down another landmark on the road towards mutual understanding.