I Am Butt

Inspired by my itchy ass and my love of Maynard James Keenan ❤

I believe my eyes and ego are as unique as the crap I buy from the store.  It is as unique has the credit cards I run up trying to keep myself afloat amidst the chaos of a life that I cannot seem to “win” at.  Student loans, Mortgage, “Failed” marriage, amazing job, dead inside…?  Definitely spend too much time seeking glasses and keys…

Dead inside is a lie I tell myself.  As artists, the world exists in our very minds, pouring from our very fingertips.  The pleasure, the gift that we can create, give, nurture, cultivate is incredible.  The call of the writer is to be the story teller.  The call of the Mother is to nurture her children, raise them, love them.  As artists our words, then, are our children.

Every time I open my eyes, I feel contradiction burning every fiber of my being.  Society at large seems almost hell-bent to break every single one of us. Competition, selfishness, suffering, pain, ego-driven nonsense is driving everyone crazy, it seems. Maynard had said during his talk that the artist is more important now then ever to bring people to where they most go.  He quoted his Jiu-Jitsu master “You may win, but you will never defeat me” have been the lifeblood that has gotten me through the past few months.  Are any of these things easy – being a parent? being a human? There are days getting out of bed is my personal best.  Maynard inspires me again, “Whatever you choose to do for the day, choose to do your best.”

When I close my eyes, I see triangles, three, tri-polar.  Socrates has charged us “Know thyself.” To know myself is to describe myself – Zen, Hippie, Passion.  I channel music to feel.  Passionate/raging wisdom, analytical/logical wisdom, and joy/laughing wisdom.  To denounce any is to cut off my own arm.  Yet, it is impossible to be all at once, is it not?  I am unsure.  This is a re-start for me.  This is me finally beginning to follow my ego-based chatter – all of us.  As with every day that all of my I’s wake up.  Is re-incarnation saved solely for death? Or is sleep a death in and of itself? My dreams and nightmares would agree with the latter, I’d (we’d)say.

When I awaken, there are truths that do not change – I am chaotic and passionate, I am easily confused and overwhelmed, I struggle with anxiety and depression (and more…), I have an infinite imagination.  I am a Mother -a single mom of 3, I have had 2 abortions, I have given a child up for adoption.  I am loved, loving, and worthy of love. I am obsessed with music, writing, reading, and WORDS.

When all is a storm inside and outside, can peace be found?  I believe that storms always come before the calm.  Peace is inside pain, as hope is inside despair.  My ego believes, as we all do, that we are all unique, yet how true is this? It conflicts my belief that we are all painted upon the same canvas by the brush of the same artist.

I have wasted my life seeking the holy grail of validation, although I have no moves like Harrison Ford, and I am not eating any monkey brains…My holy grail was if I ___ enough, I will have happiness, love, peace, etc…  Angrily, I could say, in all my hard work, where has my pat on the (small but mighty itchy) ass been? How would I know? I never believed I deserved to feel it.  I never believed I deserved to feel love, which created my own personal hell.  Even now, I’ve finally overcome that I needn’t feel as a failure to my children for my marriage.  All of my I’s argued with thoughts of raising them and ensuring they are nothing like me.  Yet, they’re everything like me and everything like themselves.

The contrary is what makes the sublime.

That wasted search of validation, I’ve lost so much precious time on.  The conflict that wastes my very mind, and I doubt I am alone in that.  Coming away now from my ego, there is a new validation I seek daily.  Breath.  For all my failures – real or perceived.  For all my shortcomings – real or perceived.  If I am able to breathe, then I am able to be all that I need – Me, Mother, Writer.  I may have only my words, a hug, or a smile to offer, but I will offer my best with every inhale and exhale.  I will inhale love and exhale love as best as I can, every day, because I cannot count all of my blessings, nor can I count the stars in the sky, nor can I count the infinite power of Love.

This is true for all artists.  This is our gift.  Every word – mundane or profound, I am grateful for, as I have fingers to fly on the keyboard.  I have a mind that feels it could explode with information.  I have every emotion that everyone has.  I breathe the same air as Socrates, as Maynard, as you.

I am unique, like everyone else.

(off to find my glasses again…)