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April Newsletter
🕑 Added 2024-04-30 16:29:20 +0000 UTCAm I not allowing for enough Me time? I ask myself, as March winds to its busy end; as I prepare for my Patreon streams, and schedule meet-ups with friends, and look to resume band work; as the album process continues and upcoming performances approach...I fear losing myself. That’s the standard definition of introvert, right? Losing energy with social interactions, requiring solitude to recharge. And yet in recent years, I have watched as a subtle change took place within me. Suddenly, at times solitude seems unendurable to me, whereas I come off of social interactions with fresh energy. Maybe it’s finding the right people, maybe it’s finding the right things to do with them, maybe it’s a shifting of perspective within myself. I expect less, and allow for more. I don’t try to control how I feel.
Still, at the close of a long week of engaging, my head filled with other people’s voices, opinions, perspectives, it can be hard to find myself again. I always viewed that as a problem - something wrong with the way I was living, that I was getting in too deep with others, rather than pursuing my own path. In fact I was relentless about pursuing my own path, keeping a healthy distance from friends and family, letting my own visions and ideas brew. Maybe that was what I needed at the time, but now I know something that I didn’t before: when I lose myself, I find myself, and it’s a stronger self. A self less laden with fear about the outside world, more inclined to the sort of empathy that comes with experience.
At Easter time, I think about life and death. The truth is that we all die in many little ways before that one big one comes. When I looked at others as a kid, when I thought about my own future, I thought, I don’t want that, and I was afraid. I don’t want to do boring old-people stuff. I don’t want health problems. I don’t want to go through the process of getting attached and getting hurt. I don’t want to have my heart broken. It all felt like death to me.
But it happened anyways. I’ve encountered heartbreak. I watch city council meetings online and I eat plain oatmeal and vegetables. I look back on who I once was, and there’s been an irrevocable change. I have more love now. I have lived more, and lost myself, and not died. I have reached out to people and touched them, thinking they might hurt me, diminish me, and instead I found myself changed, strengthened, reignited by love. I am not who I once was. With every attachment and subsequent death, I’ve grown a bit more detached from my fear.
I wake up, and yesterday’s me is gone, passed away. What is left is the deeds I’ve done, the connections I’ve made, a vague outline of who I was. What and who is to come is anyone’s guess.
