It's a bit of a mess but hey (sometimes) so am I!
I was trying out Reverio and thought that was like Leo Threads and have totally blown my next addition to the creative journey on Hive.
The question posted as a post on my feed as well. I though they were separate things.
That sucks.
Okay. Let's update this to something that the folks who support my stuff thank you, angels may expect from me a bit more.
@reverio. Maybe you want to keep questions separate? More like the Thread thing happening on Leo. It's a good idea though! ❤️
Copying and posting unedited content to quickly fill the gap. Don't shoot me if it's not good enough to release yet. Better than just a worky question. Don't delete me, please Reverio. Let's see if I can fix this for both of us!
This was originally written for the SilverBloggers/Dreemport collaboration and wasn't finished in time. Now released in the middle of where I hope the universe meant it to land because we roll with it, right? I'm gonna cross post to salute them too. Don't judge me! 😊
Original question meant for Reverio at bottom of post. Bizarrely it kinda fits with the retirement prompt anyway.
April 2023
The stars here go all the way down to the horizon, you know.
I think I should be writing the last part of this journey but I feel like writing poetry instead.
It's the landscape.
And time again.
It's slowed right down again, you see.
Part of The Accidental Theory: A journey to freedom
Read from the beginning >>
I'm killing time now
even though it's time that's killing me.
All of us really.
And still in the corners of my mind there's some kind of urgency
to make and do and be.
I'm waiting for the phone to charge and writing this while I wait. By hand. It takes me back to the lonely years of journaling this madness.
I wrote because I had nobody to talk to. Mostly at night when I had to stop moving and there was nothing left to distract me from the thinking.
It's still hard to do.
To sit with the thoughts, I mean.
I meditate but even that's a kind of doing, isn't it?
"Try sitting for a while and doing nothing."
My sponsor gave me this exercise to do in early recovery.
"Just go and sit on the couch tonight and do nothing for five minutes." she said. "Just five minutes." I never knew how interminably long five minutes could be until I tried this.
But, these days, I'm also quite used to it.
I've lived in isolation for going on four years now. And by isolation, I mean I had three visits from one friend at a time in three years. And I never visited anyone else. Facebook was shut down for a large portion of that as well. I also changed my phone number so not many people could get hold of me anymore.
Not that most folks wanted to anyway.
I wasn't considered cool anymore.
After I got real.
This was one of the most painful and valuable lessons of my life.
I wrote a list one night.
A list of the people I could trust. So that I would never forget again. I mean forget who my friends are. Maybe who I am. But also to not forget the learning.
Now I'm not sure if I want to remember it anymore because I've grown to prefer too much solitude. It's safer.
But too much of anything becomes bad for you.
The stars go all the way down to the horizon here, you know...
I step outside barefoot and wander almost to the middle of the road.
There are no street lamps here and it's load shedding as well. But I hear something dripping off the roof and I think I'd better check in case a pipe has burst or something.
The landlady mentioned something about a tank filling up too fast, so I'd better check.
It's pretty late. Towards almost midnight as I make my way down the damp wooden stairs. A dying flashlight barely lighting the way.
The three burning candles glowing through the neighbour's bay window don't even light the room they're hardly shining in.
My bare feet hit the earth and I switch off the torch without even thinking as I look up.
The stars are undiluted unadulterated heavenly and the grass feels lush and heavy wet with dew. Could there be so much dew? So many stars?
The feeling of new coolness draws me farther away from the house. But I also want to get away from any light at all...
so I can breathe it in completely.
I just stand there. Alone in the middle of the empty street. Looking up in silent awe again.
It's been a long time since I felt as though I had any kind of time to feel like this. Even while I'm doing it I'm aware of the almost forgotten sensation.
Immersion.
I wonder if I'll ever forget enough to not be...
watching.
So that I can just be again.
I've felt as though I've been sitting at the crossroads for some months now and I have to make a decision.
A decision on what I want to be, who I want to be and which direction I want to take to fill my time. My purpose. But I'm not even sure it's necessary to have some kind of purpose anymore. Or whether simply being and enjoying the short time we have here shouldn't be more than enough purpose in and of itself.
But I can't shut up and not "fight the good fight" as well.
And I can't not share what experience I have with people who are still suffering either.
And I can't not create and make art and encourage more motion and movement.
And none of these things are supposed to fit together and I don't know if I can make a success of any of them unless I wear only one hat to dress up and play the game.
I'm a sober as fuck recovery guide who dances to psychedelic trance every morning while she makes her coffee and laughs out loud at the allusions to drugs and tripping because I find it all quite hilarious now.
Honestly.
I'm a sober forever because it's far more "psychedelic" to be fully "awake" addiction guide, who relates to the philosophy of the psychedelic lifestyle and the "seeking" beyond the "veil" of one, so very limited, perspective.
Because the truth, really did set me free.
This way of life resonates with me on a soul level even if I choose not, or don't actually need, to use drugs anymore to experience it.
I'm in it for the long haul, the duration and the living.
Unheard of in the addiction or mental health treatment industry.
But nobody believes me when I tell them it no longer triggers me into cravings and I can't wait to hit a big dance-floor sober forever anyway.
It just doesn't fit their profile.
I'm a caring mother who wants to be soft and gentle. And stay healthy for her children. My hearts. My whole world.
Yet I'm unable to sit back and do nothing when bullshit or injustice raises its head, yet again.
I'm a mother not a fighter, I say. Having to fight the good fight makes me physically ill. Yet I can't not fight. To not r3sist dishonesty, cruelty and injustice only feels like another kind of dying.
But a far worse death because it hurts more and it takes a wasted lifetime.
To be an artist I must embrace all the horror, terror and ugliness of the world as much as its beauty, wonder and tenderness.
As an artist I should not avert my eyes from any part of my life's manifestation and experience. And nothing should be considered taboo.
For any kind of authentic or good art to be shared.
But how can I share some of what I've seen and done, and even sought out, when much of it would be considered highly taboo for a mother to even think of. Let alone to share.
And how dangerous politically, and socially even more, to do this.
I suspect those that were dark and deep into the crevices of what it means to be fully alive, and so create, abandoned their parenthood in one way or another to be better artists.
I could not abandon my children.
And am I not a bad example of recovery and personal growth to avoid my own soul's calling by hiding so much of my true nature and shadow?
A hypocrite, even, as all of these less than half of me personas.
None of it fits together.
I don't fit together.
But I'm not able to relinquish any of myself anymore... in order to be convincing as any one of these "people".
Well... in order to be accepted as any one of these people.
It seems that while I've been thinking I was sitting at the crossroads, I've actually been busy "becoming" again.
I've be(en) coming to accept that there are no little boxes. For me.
Not if I truly want to be who I am with any kind of authenticity.
Retire.
I had a small chuckle when I read the prompt for Silvebloggers last week because I've already been considering this question for a while now...
This was not actually a choice as it turned out.
I also feel I need to clarify as a woman because of some gender bias in the world knock knock that the getting married would have to be with a successful, white male only. No sexy, African American lesbians may apply 😔 Or government and more importantly the police would still ignore me. Or possibly pitch up at my house and threaten to arrest or actually arrest me for no good reason. Well it's happened before, so...
This was a tactical consideration. Rational. Logical. Because I've been there (and done that) and there ain't no way anyone around here is gonna do nuthin' if they aren't told to do it by an affluent, dominant white male.
Mmmmkay?
Right... on we go👍
Now where were we...
Retire. I had a small chuckle when I read the prompt for Silvebloggers last week because I'd already thought through this conundrum. Mostly. Almost.
...
And my answer, while I laughed at myself, was that I can't retire.
Because I can't not be myself anymore.
I'm sorry, not sorry if that pisses some people off by the way.
It's not arrogance.
Honestly.
It's irreverence.
And there's a distinct and valuable difference between the two that I can't relinquish again. Respect is earned, my good people.
Not a given. Not bought. And not kept, in my world, if a person is unable to be in "truth".
Sometimes we should be offended. Sometimes we need to be provoked. To be shaken awake from our dreaming. Hell... we should all be far more offended far more often at this point. It's only we need know ourselves well enough to not take things quite so seriously. And quite so personally.
I mean... none of this life stuff is even "real" after all. Really.
So while I may apologize for the way I've said something, I'm not apologising for what I have to say anymore. If people aren't able to hear or consider what I have to say it has little to do with me at the end of the day. I understand this fully these days because I've walked this for many, many years now.
What I've taken from this understanding...
is that I need to be who I am to be sober and sane. This is the only way to fully "live" a peaceful and contented life.
Seriously now. Hear me on this fact. Or ignore me. As you wish. That's okay with me too. Because, these days, I also know that people will think and believe what they prefer to think and believe. And that people will almost always choose to believe what makes them feel somehow safer. Despite what evidence is presented to them.
Again.
This is not arrogance.
This is things as they are. Despite me. Or anything I can do. No. It's not arrogance at all.
This is acceptance.
And this truth, that each of us creates our own story despite all evidence that may be contrary to our personal belief...
is exceedingly liberating when you finally "get" it. A gift really. Although painfully lonely at times as well.
But when a person finally integrates this understanding...
there's no longer any reason to be anything other than who and what they are. Most "mental illness" and "addiction" will likely disappear in conjunction with this understanding as well, by the way. But the heart and soul understanding of this "truth", I mean.
The mind should rarely be believed or relied upon for wisdom. Especially matters pertaining to any kind of reality or truth.
I've both learned and accepted this fact as truth for myself via experience.
And it goes to follow then...
if they say wisdom comes with age...
I'm officially too old to not be me.
And I am, thus, too old to retire.
So stick around, please, because it's gonna be fun in between all the godawful, terrifying don't be a fuckin' pansy truths.
We're gonna be talkin' 'bout religion and spirituality soon. Remember? And about cancel culture as well now. Because "I'm not talkin' you" ain't any kind of response that bodes well for any kind of progress and growth. Both personal and social.
And then we have some corrupt police officers and a broken system to deal with somehow.
But before we do that...
I was about to write about that night we heard the gunshots.
Three songs I'm listening to a lot at the moment, listed below for the initiative, of ever rock and rolling, by the father of small humans and #ThreeTunesTuesday... the one and only @ablaze...
A part of the morning coffee and dishwashing dance list. If this beat doesn't make you tap a toe... you may already be dead 👀
I know... loving this at the moment. But it has to be the acoustic version. Weird fact... this reminds me of how I used to feel when I was with someone very special... many years ago now. Yet we never even had this on our very extended playlist. I will learn to play this on the guitar and you will suffer the consequences at some point.👍
Just Peter Gabriel always. He's so darned good. Found this by accident. Great collaboration. Sound quality isn't great in the video. Totally worth digging up a better quality audio.
See?
None of this fits together.
But I think I'm almost nearly completely maybe okay with that now.
And it might will probably all change anyway, right?
Bonus track because a post for #ttt had some great blues and I meant to write this "not even a choice really post", in relation to a movie post for #cinetv. Loved that movie and musta watched it over twenty times!
Original source
Original Question on Reverio:
I tried to return to web development recently and realised, after a few years break, how bad it is for me health wise. And, as much as I love it, how stressful and addictive I find it. I worked until 2am two nights in a row because I can't stop until I've figured something out or the electricity (literally) gets cut off (we have load-shedding here). This made me think back to the time I worked as a sales person on a stall on a flea-market. I mean... the pay wasn't great in winter... but: The pros. I was moving physically (unpacking and repacking the stock daily/attending to customers/walking a decent distance to get there as no parking nearby etc). I was outdoors all day. I mostly sat and read during the quiet times and I'm NUTS about reading. It was an extremely simple job that involved meeting tons of different people from all over the world (I loved people back then and talked to everyone to find out more about them) It involved a bit of travel a few times a year to attend the big festivals to sell ...and more I miss that lifestyle. But the cons were it was a hard way to make a living financially. Very seasonal and full week days at times etc I've had a few jobs and many work experiences. Web development and being completely desk-bound for extended hours of the day again - I don't think I can do anymore at this stage of my life. I can't seem to balance tech and health. So I'm very keen to hear about YOUR work experiences and best/worst jobs you remember. Perhaps your answer can light the way to where I'm supposed to focus my attention fully in the work arena next! p.s. This is not your "ideal" situation. I'm sure we'd all like to be self employed off our income from creating full time. I'm curious about steady income jobs that are stable, joyful and healthy for the mind, body, and soul, please :) What work have you done that made you happy and why? And what work didn't and why? Let's go!
Hardened Dreamer
Mother
Peaceful Warrior
Determined Dancer
and Stargazer
still...
Beyond fear is freedom
And there is nothing to be afraid of.
To Life, with Love... and always for Truth!
Nicky Dee
@ausbitbank - botty admin on my side and can't add you as a beneficiary after the fact. Thanks for your work, dude. I'll double up comm on the next round.