Safe

My life has actually been a chaotic mess since the moment I came into this world either at conception or birth. You pick. Ha. …I’ve always done my best to cope with it. And, I find it particularly satisfying to give myself the gift at this moment of just saying that truth.

This is my blog. This is my space. I try to filter my intensity and be what others find palatable in almost every other second of my life. This is my place to be safe. And going forward that’ll be my objective.

There are very few people who know me at all in this world or want to truly know me as most people like the surface (despite what I think some might claim otherwise). And I keep them there too because people aren’t often kind.

A few people have told me they “don’t go that deep” either literally or through their actions and I respect them for being honest, although it’s my nature to be a bit different than that at my core. And, I’m learning to keep that more (safely) hidden as I get older and not the opposite.

The Baby Boomer’s love counselors and love love. And they love to espouse how weak it is not to let yourself cry and show your emotions openly. It’s bad not to be vulnerable. I think that’s mostly delusional (Ha!) and if it works for them they’re probably (although not necessarily) a little narcissistic or they’re an unusually (but genuinely) charming person. Very few counselors and very few people truly give a shit and most people are trying their hardest to be just nice when they talk to others. We aren’t that loving of a species yet. It’s not actually safe to wear your damn heart on your sleeve. People should care and sometimes do, but one can never count on it. Ever.

The lies they told us though… Oh dear. Dear little lost kids in the woods… Dear little swimmers drowning in a panic. Dear little ones who tried so damn hard to do the right thing?

But unfortunately it’s been humiliating to those who aren’t like them or don’t play by their rules. It’s been destructive. And unless they’re totally…lost…I would think they should be feeling a bit convicted these days? They were given a lot, weren’t they. Maybe we’ll follow in their footsteps and hate, disrespect and ultimately humiliate the legacy’s of our parents too. (Note a nuanced sort of sarcasm in case you’re worried.)

What the hell happened to them anyway? I mean I’ve heard the historical narrative but…what really happened?

Is it wise to totally leave home? Is it wise? (Poetically speaking) Can you even?

That being said, you won’t figure me out by reading my blog. In case you’re hoping for that… *laughing* I’ll be sharing my more raw thoughts here (than I even already was) but you’ll not “see me” here unless you can already “see me” otherwise. And as far as I can tell that’s actually a very quiet audience of what? Three or four, at most, people reading this (less than 10% of my readers) who have a fucking clue what I’m really like or who I really am or what I mean half the time either…and that’s at least all partially my fault as a writer, I’m aware… Please don’t take that personally. I’ve just learned not to trust that people will “get” you or “hear” you through your words. If you disagree with me then hopefully I’m wrong and more people understand my heart and actual intentions.

But anyway, I just often find that no matter how open you are out of good intentions or otherwise you can’t make people “see you”. Meaning, people either can “see you” through some ability of their soul (and obviously the thought and care you use as a writer) or they’ll always struggle if they even try (and no matter how hard you try too). It’s actually a very big world and a huge universe. We can make it feel smaller and cozier but it’s…still…enormous. Most of us are so wildly different than each other that it’s impossible to “speak with our hearts” in a world that’s become more genuinely illiterate, numb, disordered and crass. There’s not enough discipline, structure, civility or honesty and there’s too much…pollution, unkindness and noise. Too much smog. Not enough clean, frighteningly clear…air.

Love is real. It makes sense to love it I guess or try to love it. But…it’s something so grand and so beautiful that we can only grasp tiny pieces of it slowly. Sounds corny but it’s true. It’s also very easy to forget it exists. Count yourself lucky if you remember it or if someone actually reminds you. If someone actually, truly, genuinely, honestly, sincerely, really…reminds you.

Don’t give everyone the same amount of respect that you give everyone else. Don’t trust that people have good intentions blindly. Find ways to show love to those less fortunate safely. Ignore the people who are malignantly insecure or just when they’re insecure ignore them. And truly ignore them. Not to get them to go away or to be manipulative or show dominance but to remind them that nobody can unfortunately (almost nobody ?) hear them (their souls) or understand what they’re really saying and that maybe they can’t even hear themselves. They’re clanging cymbals. They don’t deserve respect for being evil. Again, they don’t deserve respect for their evil. Weakness is weakness. They need real love. They need a real God. But they shouldn’t be encouraged in their self-loathing or hatred for others.

Don’t be afraid to be corny. Truly corny. Being an adult is a good thing. We all get old and we all eventually die. Nobody actually stays young forever. Some of us live longer than others but…we all die. It’s good to fight for your life but you have to do so wildly, bravely and well. And part of that is letting yourself get old…to a point.

Part of that is embracing the uncomfortably good things required from a true adult. It’s also about being willing to be awkward.

Finally, it’s almost impossible to be perfect, but we actually should try. And commend ourselves for trying. There’s nothing wrong with giving a real damn.

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