So why do I write this thing? Simple. For me. Maybe that's a little egotistical but let's get real. I'm an artist. Actually, I think we're all artists in our own way. I don't care if you're a cashier or a dental hygienist or whatever. And what does that really mean when we get down to it? What do artists do? They make stuff or write stuff or go about their lives in their own creative ways. And all of that is inspired from some place within the artist. Some sensory experience enters the artist and the artist translates it into their language - into something that means something to them personally. Other people dig it or they don't. Doesn't actually matter.
We can delude ourselves into imagining our work/life is about something outside of ourselves but it's not. And what's wrong with that? Is it selfish to be open to the world, let it enter you, and then give something of yourself back? (Omg, I love that. Sudden epiphany! Another reason I write this thing.) Is it narcissistic to tell your story and figure yourself out along the way?
What matters is we keep living and making, breathing and doing in a way that speaks to us and makes us come alive. No fear, no shame, no constant inner critic barking from our amigdyla. Don't the people we love and who count on us deserve for us to be wholly alive? Don't we want that for them as well? How can we be all we need to be for them, for the world, and for ourselves if we don't allow ourselves to live from a place of deep down in the soul meaning?
The alternative to living from your soul and accepting yourself so others don't have to isn't positive. You basically have to live without liking yourself or trusting your own judgment so you're always worried about shit you can't control or shit that hasn't happened yet. You're convinced no one likes/loves you and will most likely figure out you're worth leaving one day. The result is paralyzing insecurity laced with anxiety, unfulfilled desires for things you don't actually need mingled with promises no one plans to keep, anger turned inwards as depression, loneliness so palpable it cuts through your flesh like a rusty ripped soda can. Etc, etc, etc.
I think that's at the heart of this revolution thing I keep babbling about. It's about getting okay from within so we're okay on the outside. Not in a "full of ego" kind of way but in a "you have permission to exist" kind of way. You are allowed to think big thoughts that other people consider crazy. In fact, the world needs your craziness! You are allowed to feel so deeply that when you laugh a vein pops out in your forehead and your eyes get so squinty you may as well be vision impaired. (Yes, this happens to me.) You're allowed to cry just because it feels like the thing to do; because you need it, because you're alive dammit. It's not weakness. Just no.
Contrary to old timey baby boomer logic, that courage to be vulnerable is your greatest strength. Sure, it'll scare the shit out of you sometimes and that's part of its beauty. You can go all Braveheart and charge your way through that fear or you can curl up like a soccer ball and hope someone kicks you out of the way before the arrows land. One way says you've got control over your own destiny. The other one says you're just a hapless victim of circumstance. It's a get free or go home game. The power to choose is yours.
So the answer to why I write this is still for me. But to further clarify: because right now it helps me get free. So I'll try to keep at it for a while. Or at least until the trolls show up. Then I'm out. ;)
Sidenote: I also write this thing because I'm an only child who has always cracked herself up. I had to since no one else was around to bring on the giggles. I literally lol every time I read anywhere I typed this: