As the year bumps and grinds to its finale, from the personal maelstrom of existential quandary, uncertainty, apathy, resoluteness, and now perhaps a decision - I'm called to my long "lost" blog. I don't know whether to apologize to those that have followed in the past or to myself for this longstanding absenteeism. No longer a patron of Facebook which I was recently inspired to deem Zuckerberg's universe of deception; I will no longer be able to draw attention to new posts through that medium.
I'm not sure that the readership that I once had, entirely came via that portal anyway. More than ever, I wish my musing, rants, missives, anecdotes, prose and poetry to reflect truth - therefore; as far as I'm concerned, most all the "social media" platforms are incongruent with truth. I won't know, whether indeed this blog platform will prove to be problematic - I may well seek alternative media sources for my personal writing and potentially submission recipients in the New Year; whether I experience censorship on this site or not.
If the blog does find its way to previous or new readership I will endeavour to communicate location changes when and if applicable and as I am able. What has not changed, is my fairly minimal acquaintance with navigating the online world. The way things seem to be going these days, is people are shutdown, censored etc. abruptly, so it might then follow I'm throttled before I can communicate anything. Equally true, my "status" as a pretty small fish, may well mean that my "sphere of influence" might be viewed as equally minuscule thereby evading the watchful eyes of "fact-checkers" and censors.
As I sit in neighbourhood cafe and look over top of my laptop screen four images catch my gaze; they include another local artists rendition (oil paintings) of four more artists of note: Jim Morrison, Marilyn Monroe, Paul McCartney, and Elvis - three of four passed over, though their lives have left a lasting impact. If I ever had some concern for that sort of "immortality" or legacy, I believe it is markedly subdued, if present at all. My impression of these four is that they at least artistically expressed themselves authentically. I don't actually know how much they "played to the audience," or media moguls etc. Even if, or despite that, they unquestionably brought their unique selves to their art form and by extension, their lives. None without their personal demons, I guess only they know, to what degree they were able to quiet the inner angst - while they lived.
I believe my writing in the past to have been to the best of my ability at the time, authentically me as much as I could muster, devoid of pandering to social agreement or approval seeking. If these last few years have cemented anything in my personal GPS it would be that if I write, I have no interest in massaging the content for anyone, I have experienced wholesale abandonment, vast "ghosting" - professional transition and I suppose one would say an entire restructuring of social connection. Some of this may well have been the natural attrition of personal relationships akin to Marianne Williamson's attributing relationships to be of three types: "for a reason," "for a season," "for a lifetime." Others, who knows really - in my experience seldom (if ever) do these parting of the ways, come with an explanation. In still some other cases - it can be directly attributed to my stand and beliefs with respect to the events and narratives that have held the world captive over the last three years. Really in hindsight, these were not relationships of any depth or substance if they dissolved so readily - the true colour and timbre was revealed - like it or not thus it was to be (often I did not "like" - it was rather painful) however likely for the higher good.
Given my penchant to "people-please" the vestiges of survival strategies I embodied much of my life - this last few years has shown me, there is zero use in showing up any other way than as my true self. Nothing was gained maintaining the facade and veneer of an engineered persona. Many I experienced in my life only "welcomed" me as long as I echoed their perspectives and beliefs. When I couldn't or wouldn't, no longer able to endure the discomfort of my own incongruence they were gone.
Someone said, speak and live the truth you may not have many friends, but those that come into your life will represent your true community (paraphrased and without credit - as I don't remember who said it). I suppose I'm squarely in the speaking and living phase of this evolution. As far as I can see, the "decks" have been cleared of false friends & pseudo-community. It has also been said that "nature abhors a vacuum" - so it is possible relational transformation is on the horizon. I recognize that I can very readily bask in my own company - both a gift and sometimes a detriment, if I allow it to carry too far. I don't seek to isolate entirely - nor do I suffer from any delusion of grandiosity or self-importance. I'm just getting older (than God for that) and I have a growing desire for honesty and equally increasing lack of appetite for bullshit, drama and games.
The last three years comprised of lies, manipulation, coercion and full-scale abuse have demonstrated to me that I have a zero tolerance policy for it in my life. I quite honestly don't know where these decisions, forged in chaos, pain, fear, grief and sometimes despair - will lead me. I have decided to live a lie, imbues a life that may well prove to be not worth living - one can run, but not hide from themselves so good luck to those that think they will attain peace by following the crowd, through virtue signalling or looking to false idols for their sense of identity or protection. I mean that sincerely - if this is your choice, blessings on your journey, I don't wish you any ill-will. For me a life built on a foundation of dishonesty, power-seeking, control or fear will never be one of inner peace and satisfaction. Quite the opposite, the collective maw of those influences will never be sated.
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