My co-ordinates are 49.8801° N, 119.4436° W, embarking into a 50th spin around the sun. I'm, somehow, less in the know of my place than I've ever been. I'm clinging to the fleeting earth under my toes in that way you do when a wave tries to pull you out to sea. have you ever noticed how your toes crunch up to try to hang on to nothing but grains of sand in constant flux by the force of tides and moon? you can taste the kelpy, saline, air born particles. that sound. Tell me you can't hear it right now no matter how landlocked you are at this moment. I had a personal crisis when I turned 22. I was washed up, old and had no accomplishments to show for it (ridiculous self talk). The 27 year space between birthday related personal crises has proved only one thing: it's all made up, all of it.
I pour my heART and soul into everything I do, leave it all on the field so to speak, and then one day I can't take anymore and I collapse. I've been doing it all my life, I don't know I'm repeating history until it's too late. Borderless, boundless creative ideology coupled with a sketchy immune system: my map and my vessel. Today, I've been contained to my bed with a migraine. I remember looking forward from youth and imagining that life got easier along the way. I thought, "I'll know more, be more, have more and it'll get easier with time." It doesn't though, not without work and sacrifice. It's actually not supposed to get easier, it's supposed to prepare you for a cosmic journey and it's supposed to make you want to leave this ungodly place eventually. Being 49 seems to mean fading eyes, sore joints and loose skin where my neck meets my chin. It also means joy of seeing what magnificent children I have and a body of art work spanning 25+ years. It is memories of deep rich love that didn't last but was beyond my dreams when I had it. It's knowing I did everything the best I could with what I had at the time. I have always had golden spun threads of alone-ness and value-lessness that push and pull me (remember dr. Doolittle's push me pull you?) The shimmery ties that end nowhere and remind me I belong somewhere much more hospitable and welcoming. There appears to be no point to my birthday story, just that it's been a shitty year with unbelievably rich warp speed personal growth. Don't be afraid of bumps and scrapes, jump off your cliff, put those wings to use people!
do you ever find it strange that we're standing on a magnetic sphere moving at 1,675 km per hour, 465 meters per second held down only by said spin.