I feel like I’ve aged four years in the last four months.
One day I start the day with meditation. The next, I start the day in a full-on mental sprint. Gosh, I guess sometimes it’s a full-on physical sprint.
Today is somewhere in between.
My company, Wittefini, is busier than it’s ever been. My personal ambitions are occupying the hell out of my so-called free time.
This is good.
While I work most hours of my week, these hours don’t feel so “worky”. I’m doing what I love. It just happens to be billable to someone else.
The driving force of positivity in my life, my wife Tina, balances me. Even if I work all night, the next day we work out. Spend us time. Spend time together. Take our dog Talulah for a walk.
Our schedule is unlike anyone’s I know. There’s no clearly defined work schedule. There’s no right or wrong place to sit down and work. There’s no clearly defined free time.
I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. But I know it’s not completely awful.
Lately, my goals are to remain positive despite all the fucking chaos around me. Politics will drive a man crazy, and then some. Other people’s views will then send that same man to the edge of oblivion.
This “positivity” is no small feat.
I went through an angrier period a few years back. To me it wasn’t so much anger, as it was the swinging pendulum that I was riding at the time. I needed to let go of a lot of poisonous ideas and thoughts from yesteryear and I was confused and desperate to let go.
Anger to others was my inability to accept others failures.
Anger to others was my perception that all people strive for perfection, to make the world better, to be better people to their loved ones, to call, to nurture relationships, to want to be present.
Anger to others was my pervasive disappointment.
Negativity can be perceived by others in so many ways. I couldn’t and still can’t paint other people’s perceptions. I can’t control others ideas or responses. That much is true.
Declaring a state of “positivity” is basically admitting I’m not always positive and it’s a struggle to be so. It’s like god declaring you can have no other gods before him. We can only assume there are other gods that can be considered for the job.
My other ambition right now, that just may kill me, is to create more content.
Tina and I are, apparently, as barren as one of those landscapes on Mars.
Legacy takes a different form with me.
And while insecurity and self-doubt sometimes prevent me the idea I’ll reach the level of — say — notoriety that I might dream of sometimes, my ambitions seem to want to push me to try.
Do. Or Do not. There is no fucking try.
Lately, my perspective is a concentration on Tina, Talulah, my cat Zoe, and being/becoming a role model, force of good, strong creative influence. I want to work with groups. I want to collaborate. I want to leave earth better than the way I found it.
And concentrating on negative and not doing something positive about it … that shit was killing my so-called soul.
If I could do it all over again, I’d likely do it all the same way, though.
I accept the way I’ve done this life recipe is right. I’m at the dinner table of all I’ve cooked, and I see what’s wrong, see what tastes can improve, and will cook the next meal marginally better until one day, most courses taste great.
For the first time in what feels like ever, I’m not concentrating on perfection.
This is big for me. Concentrating on perfection is creatively, mentally and physically paralyzing. It’s a preventer of all things artistic, loving, beautifying and doing.
I want to “do more.”
Going at it alone is the wrong choice. There are very few successful artists, people in general, who found any level of success by their lonesome. And this idea banged me on the head several years ago, and now it’s just starting to make any sense.
So onward and upward with “doing more,” “productivity,” and “positivity.”
Shake it up and throw it on the barbie.
Let that shit rest when it’s cooked and serve it with a smile and a hug.