It's the end of my relationship. It's the beginning, too. I'm unpacking my new apartment, putting things in order. I'm unpacking my desires, thoughts, and pockets of pain. I'm redecorating the empty walls. Reconfiguring my concept of who I could be.
After the decimation comes the rebuild. The Winter and the Spring. Now
my outside world will begin to reflect new revelations about who I am on the inside. But this takes energy and clarity. Patience and thought.
All my life I've been an achiever, a succeeder, a producer, a creator. Do, do, do, do! Show your work, and show your worth!
For almost one year exactly, I've done the opposite. I've allowed myself to sit. To receive. To listen rather than talk.
* * *
The deeper I go, the more I realize that I am paving a new path that somehow integrates art and teaching. This path allows me to both explicitly and artistically share insights regarding my personal and spiritual growth, through performance, video, music, and writing.
My life path is...
Well, well, well....if it isn't Fel. (<-- love 2 speak about myself in the third person and simultaneously rhyme)
I write to you now from my home office, which has become a true caricature of itself. The MUSIC PRODUCER AT WORK! Wires, cords, microphones, MIDI controllers, opened boxes, bubble wrap. But somehow there is order in the chaos.
I'm makin-da-sweet music.
And in the process, making myself.
Er. "Making myself" might not be the best phrase.
It occurred to me that the field of self-improvement should be called "self-clarification." Cuz there's nothing to improve.
Growth feels more like stripping away than building up. Stripping away what I was told to be and feel, groping around in the dark for the silhouette of my essential self. Like finding a melody through the noise.
The act of making music has helped me (forced me?) to do this. It's been....wild.
I've been asking myself:
Who am I, independent of judgment, shame, and the rules that were randomly laid...