(Real ones get the reference)
April was pretty nuts, for lack of a better descriptor. The air quality in Chiang Mai was profoundly shitty, gifting your man with a 4-day long migraine that just wouldn’t let up until the smog cleared. Maybe it has something to do with the bigger picture I’m about to get into. You can be the judge.
I want you to imagine your life as you’ve seemingly constructed it, or at the very least, how it’s become assembled under your intermittent supervision…resting upon a metaphoric tablecloth we’ll call “fate.” (Again, my descriptors kinda suck, I really need to read more real books)
Now I want you to picture something grabbing the edges of that tablecloth and giving it a sharp tug. And right as all those pieces start to wobble, your sense of time suddenly dilates, (a gift granted to you through your lifetime of hypervigilance) and moments that once stacked up second to second are stretched out just enough for you to make shifts–both mental and physical–that illuminate, with blinding, unapologetic clarity, your current situation, where you really want to be, and what needs to happen in order to get there.
You adjust, quickly, frighteningly so. You enter survival mode, where you sink into a hyper-focused state that burns away all distractions with an unforgiving surgical precision. You lock in with a single-minded focus you are gifted in rare occasions where proving yourself becomes the only thing that matters in the world. The truth that you are all alone is no longer a source of despair, but a wellspring of reassurance, that free agency is your guiding light, a foundational virtue that must never be overlooked, underappreciated, sacrificed, or forgotten. You go through all of that, almost robotically, with a boiling anger in your stomach that carves an edge to your aura. You sink fully into your body and you walk with purpose.
Progress gets made. The big strides you take with your daily morning walks match that massive strides you’re making with your personal projects. (More on that in a sec). And then, you wake up and find the fire in your belly doesn’t burn as hot as it once did, even a few days ago. Your fuel source has just changed and you fear you may be sobering up.
You make plans with a trusted friend, a fellow artist who remains steadfast and dedicated to their craft. They offer you straight forward, honest, direct feedback on your work. You receive it gracefully, as the truth may sometimes sting, but always warms the belly. You let it sink in. You know they’re right. You thank them for it. You get back to the drawing board–not to restart, but to refine. To clarify. This time, without the fire in the belly, but with the clarity that comes through wisdom, calm, and knowing. You slow down a bit. The work improves. You stop worrying about “getting it down” and focus more on “getting it done correctly.” You find an even deeper appreciation for people that dare to be honest with you.
And then you realize, as time begins to collect itself and return to it’s natural state, that everything landed exactly where it was supposed to. Maybe the forks happened to fall into their correct placement, just by chance, or possibly divine providence. Either way, the table looks set, somehow, and we’re gathering to take our seats. A point has been proven, some lessons have been learned, and somewhere, deep inside, it feels like a level-up has taken place.
More on that later. Will know more in a week. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peek of what’s been cooking. I’m happy with where I’ve landed with these improvements, and I still have a lot more to go, but should have it sorted within the next week or so.
-MJ
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