james-luscombe.com

moment of clarity

I realized tonight, that I have reached a point in my life where I am finding countless new questions and just as many answers. The problem is that they don't match up. Its as though for each new stone turned, there is another stone beneath it, waiting to be turned. Much like a mental shell game, slight of hand type of thing.

That in and of itself might not seem that bad, but along with that is the weight of so many stones. Heavier and heavier it gets, day in and day out, grinding onward toward who knows what. I'm fed up with it. Enough already! I really need some air to breathe. Deep breaths, deep breaths, slowly, s.l.o.w.l.y. That's better.

Where was I? That's right, the pinball game going on inside my rather sizable skull. Well, I'm not really sure, but whatever it is, it has me working again. For that I am grateful. The rest of it however, I could do without. But that's enough of that.

more self-indulgent pondering

    I wish I knew what it was that has triggered this new trend toward self inspection and inventory. I suspect that I do know, in some regard anyway. I'm sure it has a great deal to do with the loss of two brothers this year as well as seeing my thirties coming to an end, not to mention the gray hairs I am growing so fond of. Whatever the case, I am thoroughly adrift in the sea of myself.
    I do actually realize how that sounds and frankly, I don't give a damn. So what if I have become obsessed with my mortality. Why not? Seriously, ignoring it isn't going to make it go away! So why not have a good, hard look at the road thus far and try to figure out what might be waiting along the road ahead? At the very least, start making some kind of plans for what will happen after I'm gone.
    I don't want to leave this plane without knowing that I left a big enough mess behind that people will still be finding clues for a very long time to come. I don't mean a wake of emotional destruction, I've already had enough of that for two life times and suspect there will be some no matter what I do. I guess that's part of the price of admission. Rather, a trail of bread crumbs, pieces of a puzzle. Things for people to either find interesting and look into further, or be unphased by and ignore. Hopefully the pieces that get ignored are at least set aside for the next person, but even I know that's wishful thinking.

    Perhaps I will write more on this later...?

facing gray

    Over the last several months, as I have tried to examine my own imminent mortality, I have also spent a considerable amount of time looking at my face in the mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of how I view myself. Somehow, it eludes me every time, leaving me alone with the stranger staring back at me. I never know what to say to him. There are often, long, awkward moments filled with a heavy silence. Eventually we begin shifting out bodies in lock-step rhythm, looking away from one another, before looking back.
    Trying to see something that just, isn't there, has led me instead to what is there. Most pronounced are the ever growing population of gray hairs taking up residence on my chin and lip. The neighbors, just up the way, are comfortably settled in around my eyes. The face that I see in the mirror has done some living and it shows. A little more with each passing year.
    I am finding great peace and contentment in looking my age. I cannot understand why anyone would not want to do the same. What is there to hide? What is there to hide from? We are the beings that we are, precisely as nature intends us to be. Why deny time its due? We are all simply passing through. Our time here is infinitesimal. We're not going to be inhabiting these things for very long. So why not show off how long you've been around?

   

biography

    I was thinking earlier about how I would explain myself to someone that had never met me before. During that exercise, a bevy of thoughts ran through my mind. Most of which felt hugely confining. Things like, 'what if they don't like me'? and ' what if they get the wrong impression'? and so on and so forth... All of which just didn't seem right. So, this is how I decided I would do it.
    I have a mouth like a fucking sailor and make very few apologies for it. In fact, I don't make any. Things come out however they come out. I don't really believe in self censoring. I don't subscribe to the notion that one word is more appropriate, or acceptable than another. The goal of communication should be to make the point that you are trying to make in a way that is not only clear to your audience, but is clear to you.
    If you are spending time and energy tailoring your words in every situation, eventually some of what you are trying to convey is being lost in the process of editing. I far prefer the spontaneous, curse laden tirade to the carefully crafted, thought drone... no contest! Sure, there are times and places for each, and I do acknowledge their respective dues, but as a general rule of thumb, I receive information that has an untethered delivery far most readily than I do canned, formatting.
    I quite sincerely don't give much of a shit, what people think of me, or how I travel along my path. So long as I'm not hindering you're journey, what the hell do you care about mine? I will always try to be forthcoming with honest answers when one bothers to ask, but if you feel inclined to presume, I am inclined to not give a shit what you think.
    In the event that something I say does offend, I prefer to cross those bridges when I get to them, if at all. I rarely put worry over such things in the forefront of my thought process. I am who I am because of how I got to this point. To make apologies or excuses for that is both demeaning and devaluing of myself. Frankly, I don't think that someone else is worth that.
    All of which is not to say that I am antisocial or unfriendly, quite the contrary! Most who know me find me a pretty jolly guy for the most part. I just think that this encapsulates an inner essence that needed to be stated. Don't ask me why, it just popped in there.

scar tissue

    The last twelve months have brought a great many obstacles and stresses into my life, that frankly I could have lived without. Or so I have thought all along, throughout their slow and painful passing. However, in the last couple of months, I have begun to understand, or perhaps assign, the deeper meaning of it all. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I feel like there are valuable lessons to be learned from the events of the last year and that I believe I am starting to understand some things that I have never been able to get any real perspective on. I cannot explain all of the parts of my life that I have spent and indeed wasted, puzzling away at why some things will never change, despite my most profound wishing.

    For example, I wish I knew how to express a lifetime of hurt, angry, determination that has lead me to this point, but I doubt I can sufficiently, at least not in any kind of way that would be anything more than self-abuse. Suffice it to say that there is something truly liberating in that recognition. You see, not only have the trials and tribulations of the last twelve months been about the countless, external calamities, such as health crises and deaths, but also the deep exploration of many of my darkest places. Thoughts and memories that have never been buried, no matter how deep I've pushed them. Things that have consumed my life for as long as I can remember.

    I must admit that it does feel a bit awkward to say that I've begun a  process of peacemaking, or perhaps healing. (... and not because of the obvious, narcissism of a statement like that). Rather, because I actually believe it to be true. I can feel things getting lighter. I am having moments of clarity, that are feeling like nothing that I have ever felt before, or at least, don't remember. Each one, in it's way, lifting a piece from the pile and making the burden a little lighter.