At the end of the day, all we need to ask ourselves is if we’re making choices that support what we truly want, or if we’re creating more distractions that keep us from what we truly want. Clearly defining what we want seems like a logical first step. Most of us wing it, occasionally tripping over something that deeply resonates with us and thinking “that must be what I want.” Left to the mercy of “reality” and ingrained beliefs around us though, we pull away from the magic and head straight back to distraction: gotta pay these bills, gotta work that job, gotta watch this show and drink this relaxing beverage. I keep a foot planted firmly in both of these worlds, and most days it works out pretty nicely. Other days send shock waves.
The past couple days have gotten a little testy. It hasn’t even been a week since I laid down bass tracks for 16 new Hamell songs, and in that week I’ve traveled back to Chicago, reconnected with a few friends, ridden bikes and walked through the woods with my family, and had quite a few other indicators of thriving. Has it only been a week? What a wild ride. I keep making the mistake of thinking that once I get to some new milestone that it might slow down for a minute, allowing me to celebrate and reflect, or maybe even figure out wherever I’m trying to get to next. It just doesn’t work that way though. I’m trying hard not to whine here, because really, what the hell do I have to whine about?
There are no concrete arrival points, because we’re always in a state of arriving. Each morning I pick up where I left off, and it feels like a bigger stick than the day before. Everything I want on one end, and everything I fear on the other. Pop quiz: Which direction does it make sense to focus in?
My grandfather and his brothers planted trees in their backyard as boys, and those trees grew like gigantic monuments for 90 years. We wove our family gatherings in and around them, laid on our backs and looked up through their canopy, and they adapted to every chin up bar, swing, bird house, and hook. Wood swallowed metal and made it stronger, & certainly more beautiful and profound. These were our roots shooting deep beneath Lynbrook NY, far over the roof lines, casting cool shade in every direction.
I thought about these trees often, especially since Pops passed away. Just another piece of the legacy. The thought of nurturing a yard like that over 90 years is beyond the dreams I have for my own family. Just having access to that is enough for the rest of us. But the winds blast through, upheaval arrives, and constant change persists. It’s not our job to label it as good or bad, because change inevitably makes room for something new. You can try labeling any of the new stuff as good or bad, but the divine plan isn’t here to satisfy the likes of you. There is just room for more, room for more, room for more.
People close to me are moving away, again. My work is relentless, my desires are bottomless. But I’ve never felt more connected to myself and everyone around me, more on top of my different jobs, more in control of and excited by the thought of the manifestations in my life. Every issue, every experience is the two ended stick. I’ll keep turning toward the direction that feels like elation and peace, ignoring all that shit on the opposite end.
I accept upheaval in all forms, because I notice that beauty blossoms out of the chaos. It has to, right?
