The Perfect Beginning
As I slowly get more settled into my new life in this city, I find myself wondering how I should orient. I have my vague sense of goals, to become a prominent member of society, providing for others, particularly youth, and I have ideas of how to specify that. Read books on subjects that matter to listen to current wisdoms. I have over a dozen already on being a hero, navigating Chaos, ways to help youth and to be a foster parent, perspectives on ritual, religion, and social structures, and even on evolution of consciousness and communication. These are just a foundation. But as much as bookstores sell hope and dreams, the books must actually be read. To that end, while I would love to sit and read through all of them in some montage of creative madness, I know that I am not the kind of person who can truly sit and read through a whole book in a single day. Supposedly reading fiction and stories helps build comprehension pacing but then there’s the equation of how much training I do to make it actually beneficial. In the end even the non-fiction, which I enjoy reading anyway, is just training for actual action. In this stage it feels like I am planning to prepare to train to research to test and repeat. If this really were a story of a heroine’s journey, this is definitely not how it would feel to observe it. There would probably be some hook of immediate action and emotional weight and mysterious intrigue within the first 30 pages, if not the first 15, to give a sense of impending adventure that an observer would be compelled to follow through. But that isn’t how life works, is it?
After all, I am far past 30 pages as it is. In 34 years, I would say I am several book series into my life regardless of their recording. That’s what makes perfectionism such a wild concept. Life is happening, the camera is recording, the feed is live, the ink is drying through each passing moment and there is nothing we can do to stop that. That, as horrifying as it can be for some, to me sounds so freeing. I just need to accept this truth of inevitability. I can live with this idea, vaguely, but I am however attempting to share in my journey which drives this feeling that I have to structure it properly. Or should I? In my mind it sounds far more appropriate to express a raw truth. The Chaotic journey of human experience and its meta expressions, its self-aware reorientations through judgment and lack-there-of, cannot be confined to a rounded story no matter how much we try. That is actually the whole point. If we could simply plug into a life that would be guaranteed to exist along a particular experience, we wouldn’t need to live. Explaining how I came to understand the purpose of Chaos and Order is a story for another time though.
So where am I at now? I know what I want, I know I may not get there, I want to express my truth and be present in the journey, and I even have a blurry pathway to walk to get there with convenient resting places along the way. Instead of being so hung up on how exactly I want to go about my weekly blog, in a way that is truly compelling to read, I know that the only way for this to work is for me to simply put one foot in front of the other and commit to the few elements I know will keep me motivated and inspired and share these thoughts and feelings as they happen. This way, while it may not be the most compelling read, it will be nothing less than human. I may be attempting to undo the damages caused by historical powers of contrived divinity, prophets, and messianic figures but if I wish to lead my people to the next phase of civilization between Chaos and Order I must ensure them that they are already the manifestations of great souls. To strive not for sainthood, not toward perfection, but from their inner truths and wisdom of imperfections. I call myself a Sage not because I have all wisdom, but because I will never stop seeking and sharing it. To be a Sage is to sail the seas, not anchor and make port. And there is no greater heading for a Sage to wander than that which is most human.