What's it all about?*
“To be alive at all is to have scars. ”
― John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent
Once again, I'm strung out in not having had more than a few hours sleep.
My fault. Eating too late, and a little too much red wine.
But I'm here. And that is always a great pleasure, even if it's not always easy to summon the gods and know what to say.
Oh, get on with it Summerhayes...!
I was a bit manic yesterday sharing content. It was fun but what does it all amount to?
I don't know.
I should be working — monk-like if you will — on a book. I'm not. That has to change. But I've said that so many times that it's beginning to sound like a dim and distant death rattle. By the time I actually get around to it, well, I won't be here. I could, of course, as a few people have previously suggested, curate my disparate content and self-publish something. That's a cheat and doesn't float my wee boat.
I want a book of new content or nothing.
Anyhow, I'll stop beating myself up long enough to say that I'm still inspired to write here and elsewhere and whilst the theme is a little ragged, a little too misanthropic, it still goes to the same thing, namely coming alive to true self.
And, no, I'm not talking about that bullshit 'BE ALL YOU CAN BE' that's got us into so much trouble. I'm talking about endings, about limitations, about spiritual connection and most of all dropping the faux trappings of your conditioned, egoic self and being fully human. (There are so many ways I could express this but I'll refrain from posting another anodyne or at least whimsical quote. If you speak to me or hear one of my recordings you'll get the true self message screaming at you — I hope.)
You might ask: is anyone listening?
Or, you might say, that it's so far out of whack with what's really needed that I'm barking up the wrong, very misshapen tree.
But then again, those people who have and continue to make the biggest impression on me are not full to the brim with their own self-importance. And (therefore) even if my message doesn't stretch as far as spiritual realisation — i.e. enlightenment — I remain convinced that a little more humility and a little less hubris or a little less self-direction and a lot more community service would go a long, long way to sorting out the shitstorm that's just around the corner. No, I mean it. I don't expect the majority will want to cleave to the silence, the clean air and the slower pace that Covid19 has thrown up. No, once they've thrown a big f_ off party, they'll saddle up and be off again doing much the same as before. To my mind, it's positively chortle-worthy.
Of course, I could be wrong — no, I mean really wrong — and the whole world will have an epiphany and realise the error of their capitalist, selfish ways. But I don't think so.
Sorry, I'm going off the point.
The answer to the rubric is very simple.
It's about me being true to my values, my beliefs and dropping the bullshit and showing up in everything I do as true self. No, no, not the fully enlightened being — I'm not that arrogant — but someone who on a good and very bad day (Black Dog is a bastard) I would want to be around.
Oh, one last thing.
There's a huge space in my work for...wait for it: death and dying. Hence the slight obsession with Stephen Jenkinson. But that's for another day, as is my love of music, the work of Francis Bacon — another hero like Bukowski — and elderhood.
Is that enough for now my dears?
Have a good one. Take care, and thanks for all the comments on my writing. It sounds glib (but of course I don't mean it that way) but I'm super, super grateful.
* I know the title is from the film Alfie but it is what grabbed me as I sat down to write.