james-luscombe.com

random thought

    My mind has been a whirl all day, with thoughts of painting, writing, comic books, drama, color, fire, glass and on, and on. The only way to describe it is to say that it has been like getting a swirly... directly applied to my brain, if that makes any sense. Basically, all of the things that excite and ignite me creatively, vying for position in the pecking order of realization. However, I also found myself stymied by my current level of direction for any of it.
    Sure it's great to suddenly see my own story laid out as a graphic novel, read by my mind's eye. Or to see a great, giant canvas hung on a gallery wall with my signature in the corner. It's entirely another to see these things in material form. To dream the dream is one thing, to live the dream is something else.

the great fortune of misfortune

This is the result of my first, (failed), attempt at casting polyester resin. Although, on the surface all appears lost, there is something strangely beautiful about this object that I have created. Perhaps it is simply the joy of finally holding some semblance of my vision in my hand, after so many years of only knowing it another way. 

 
 

 
 
 

alone on the mountain

I hiked to the top of Bradbury Mountain today and spent the afternoon sitting on the North Bluff, looking out over the landscape. I wrote and I thought and I learned about myself.

along the river's edge

I took a walk along the banks of the Saco River this afternoon, miles from the nearest house. As I made my way through the dense undergrowth, stepping over the remains of fallen trees and rocky terrain, I saw beautiful moments unfolding, small buds on the twiggy ends of limbs, little purple flowers clinging to the side of a rock, the vacated trunk of a termite infested stump. The sound of the river carried on the breeze. I walked a long distance, alone, listening to the forest. It spoke to me of peace, resiliance and acceptance, and shared it's quiet beauty, asking nothing of me in return.
 

 

 

 

solitude

I went to the ocean today, to quite my racing mind. I walked out, onto the rocks and made my way toward the incoming tide. As great green waves broke white, over the gray of slate, the winds carried a steady face. intermittently the toll of the lighthouse horn would burst through the din of the wind.

Sitting alone, in a recessed area of rock, I found a lonely flower, shaking, cold. I stayed with it until the wind made it restless and it rolled away, leaving me to find my way further along the rocks. I stepped carefully as I walked, for the stone is unforgiving.

When I reached the end, I settled my body against a large outcrop and relaxed. Closing my eyes, the wind swept over me and cooled my tired soul. The beating and wash of water creating a steady percussion against the rocks. Occasional cries of far off gulls, carried on the breeze, rang like echoes.

I breathed that moment in, deep, within me. The air, the light, the sound, the life of the ocean, filled my chest and fed my heart. I lingered there, against the outcrop, that I might savor a moment of solitude.

textbook

That's what I have been told I am, "textbook". From the behaviors that I struggle with, to the emotional ebbs and flows that move me through each day, regardless of my efforts to overcome them. The euphoric moments of feeling love and the excruciating falls back into despair, all just "textbook". My deepest wishes and desires and hopes and failures... "textbook". I am a classic example of abuse, neglect, severe depression and God only knows what else. I am the walking personification of the sum total of my life's struggles, my hopelessness and my inability to change. I am "textbook".

I want to believe that there is something more to me than "textbook". I want to believe that there is something good and special about me. I want to believe that there is a reason that I am feeling these things, that there is something to be learned and shared. I want to know myself as a good person, as a good man, as something more than "textbook". But right now, I don't.

I want to think that this proclamation was intended to afford me some relief, some hope. That this "answer" was intended to reassure me that I am not alone, that others have been here and have found their way out. I want to believe that I can find my way to the ranks of the other survivors, who have struggled and fallen and cried until their eyes burned, but eventually made it through. I want to believe it. But right now, I don't.

Instead, this notion of being "textbook" is a bucket of ice water, thrown in my face with a force that makes the very cold of it sear my skin. I cannot explain the emptiness that this has filled me with. But as I sit and think and try to write my way through it, I feel sick to my stomach, my skin crawls and I can't stop myself from sobbing. I want to be more than "textbook".

And so I continue to struggle, continue to think and doubt and fall. I continue to dream and hope and fall endlessly back into despair. I move forward to move back and move back further, still. Around and around and around I go. Never feeling anything for long. Never trusting myself or anyone else. Never feeling happy for more that a moment. Just trudging along through the muck and mire, alone.

I tell myself that I am a great explorer, blazing a new trail of self discovery. That I am the one that will find the way back to me and to true happiness. I tell myself alot of things. I tell myself the mythology of "me", in hopes that the myth is powerful enough to keep me going.

But, I am not a myth. I am not a Greek God, or a tragic hero. I am neither courageous or strong. I am not an explorer. I am "textbook".

one year and counting

Today marks one year since the very first installment of this humble, little blog. Over that time, a great many things have occurred and I have done my best to document it here, as thoroughly, accurately and honestly as I have been able. I think that overall, I've done well with it. I believe that the result is a reasonably interesting and entertaining collection of thoughts, ideas and content. Well, I'm happy with it anyway.

My efforts have yielded a total of 281 posts. Which received 30,788 lifetime page views from every state, except 2 and over 50 countries. I don't know who's looking at this stuff, but I'm glad to know that somebody is.

I look forward to the next 12 months and whatever they will bring, and seeing how those things will manifest here. This blog is about process and as my process evolves, so shall this blog. I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to visit my little corner of the interwebs and I hope you'll all stay tuned for what is yet to come.

glasswork

     A couple of months ago, I had the opportunity to experience a dream that I have had for nearly two decades, which was to try glass blowing. The photos above are of the main pieces that I created while taking a class at DC Glassworks. I have been meaning to take photos of these pieces and post them for quite some time, but have procrastinated until now. The first two photos are of two paperweights that I made. The bottom two photos are of the drinking glasses I made.
     The experience of making these pieces was everything that I had ever imagined it might be and then some. I fell in love with glass as a medium immediately. The sensation of working with molten glass at 2200 degrees, holding it in your hand, with only a wooden "block" or a pad of wet newspaper between you and it, is quite exhilarating. Then to see the object begin to take form as you work through the process is beyond description. I hope to continue to explore this medium for a very long time to come.

the good man and the martyr

    After much thought and careful consideration, I believe that I have arrived at the first inkling of understanding to a question that has followed me, my entire life. "How does one become a good man"? For most, by example, perhaps. For me however, the road from "A" to "B" has been anything but a straight line. Assuming I truly consider myself a good man. Which I do. What I have realized is as follows:

    A good man is open to possibilities, of every shape and color. He rejects imposed boundaries and limitations for he does not impose them himself. He doesn't look at the world around him, he beholds it. He defines himself by his sense of wonder. Believes in magical things and teaches that it is only for us to find them.
    He carries the history of his travels for the sole purpose of sharing what he has found and learned. He embraces the curiosity within himself, seeking the poetry of moments and the hidden beauty around him. He questions his environment, his place in it and himself.
    He does not settle easily, for it is movement that keeps him alive, his rhythm and his pace. He lives the life he has, for he knows he will not get another. Still, he believes in second chances and gives them freely to others.
    He does not wield judgment as a weapon of authority. Nor punish for mistakes or infirmities. He finds compassion, when he is certain there is none. He faces his fears and moves beyond them, accepting his own failures along the way. He knows that falling is an inevitability, and that getting back up is necessity. So when he falls, no matter how hard the struggle to get back up, he is mindful of the lessons to be learned.
    He challenges himself and challenges others. He does not accept intolerance or prejudice, for both are poisonous to the soul. He respects the roles of individuality and vulnerability, aiming to hurt no one, lest he should carry their pain. He lives his life, that he may share it with others, in all of its varied parts.
    He does not give up his dreams for trivial mundacity or another's sense of responsibilty. He is not a martyr. He does not submit to guilt or shame. He does not cower from the whips and lashes of others. He walks his own path, to share it with others, but does not relinquish his control over his destiny. He accepts and honors his responsibility, not only to others, but to himself as well.

He is a good man and nothing more.

the valley below and the horizon ahead

I would love to sit here and write something deep or profound or even interesting about what I have experienced today, but for right now there are no words. Instead, I offer the photo above which will stand as my statement, my sense of understanding and the calm that I have finally found, against all odds and in the face of tremendous pain. For no matter the heartache or despair or struggle that I have endured in my life, no matter how low the valleys have been, somewhere, past the mountains and clouds, there is always a horizon waiting and my will to find my way to it. This is the horizon that I found today and for today, that is enough.