I found this old ancient journal entry I wrote, sometime between my two ex husbands. It was glaringly elliptical; so I had to edit. My mood feels like it has revisited this place.
Somewhere I lost my momentum.I felt like I was flying high, on a roll and now, Im dispondent. I don't really ache for myself as much as I ache for anyone out there lacking thier own passion; their own personal muse inside. I am not sure what ignites mine when the flames are high, but I know it isn't a person. It is not of this world. (**add**sometimes it can be a person!)
I watch Rachel Brice over and over, studying her movements. In the past I would have compared myself to her and beat myself up about not having a long torso and not moving like I have had all my bones surgically removed at a young age. Now I look at her movements and look at my own and say to myself "Well...the belly rolls are definitely improving" and I work harder....Im inspired. I set goals that I feel are reasonable to achieve.
Writing is a very different animal for me. I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, although I find it necessary for me to express myself in this way, sometimes. Sometimes there is something that guides my hand ....and my mind. It isn't really ME doing the writing....is it? When I sense it is, and my ego wakes up to take over....That is where I usually end things.
I was without passion for awhile, and I ached for a very long time, which is why I grieve watching others who cannot seem to touch thier own. Although sometimes I feel near cursed with my passion as it consumes me. I end up keeping it at bay, never letting the flames engulf me completely, always maintaining control. I wonder what sort of art I would produce, if just for one day I allowed myself to drown; If I allowed myself to combust entirely.
Maybe I do ache for myself. I read that invitation thingie by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, and I find a lump in my throat, because I am not quite there. I think to myself, "God I am such a fucking hypochrite....so fake.....so egotistical and worldly....so ugly ...slutty....crazy....emotionally disturbed.... unfit.... unwell.... dishonest......cruel .....Who the fuck am I....anyway....to offer this invitation when I am not even accepting it myself?"
I say all these nasty things to myself and I really feel them, sometimes. Then I realize Im just as fucked up as everyone else; we are all ugly. There isn't a single person on this Earth that is any better or any worse than anyone else. We are all so very very ugly in such a beautiful way. The whole "risk looking like a fool" thing....I do that every day. I need to do it more often though. I think it would improve my relationship with my children. My daughter thinks getting a puppy would do that. Maybe I should get her a puppy. She would charge me seventy five cents for writing this journal entry....as it has three cuss words in it....although ...sometimes....she doesn't blame me for cussing. Sometimes I shouldn't blame her either....but maybe I should get my seventy five cents back.
***note*** Consequently... we eventually got a puppy. My daughter cusses far more than I do, and I’m not all that despondent.***
Much love to all.
