I don’t want to write a book, I want to write pieces of a book. Thousands of ideas, that over time became patterns. Cut from the universal cloth of what it means to be alive, to love, to have lost, to have hope, and the beauty in searching for meaning in it all. I do not want to profess and proclaim anything driven by ego needing to be set apart by what makes me different from a single truth. I want to take from the greatest and worst, the lightest and the darkest fragmented moments of my life and give to the world a million probable outcomes. A story in which from the reflection of soul to soul and of heart to heart, the ending is not found from the final word printed upon the last page, anchoring any finality to the back of my book.
That is what I have always hoped and knew my destiny not only as a writer but as a human being would be. Illuminating the universal truth carried within us all, and in our recognition the world becomes slightly changed. I do not long to write a book, I want to change the world. Why would I limit myself, my life and my destiny to a particular page count and a singular concrete ending?
Realizing now I can not finish my book because I haven’t reached the end of the story.
Maybe it is not that I couldn’t (finish a book), for all that would, deem me incapable is little more than succumbing to my extreme boredom in my every attempt to merely meet the standards and guidelines. In mimicking and retracing the steps of those who found the success they sought. The collective and public acknowledgment of all I have ever been and was born to be. A well-lit and collaboratively set path to a destiny of the masses. Transforming creativity, art and the medium of its expression into an industry. An unfairly leveled playing field for the specific need to express one’s soul in order to truly live are individual to us all.
A thousand books, suggestions and guidelines, mapping the road I must travel in order to become who I already am. I refuse to naively follow what has already been done. “For I took the road less traveled and it made all the difference.” (RF.
For I would rather spend my life dreaming then following and its ultimate price will then become the truth that my reality was made possible not by talent, courage or my faith in it all., instead by ordinary compliance . The “proven’ steps marked and double marked as well as clearly labeled “WARNING” do not veer or deviate from the proven successes of others.. However, any artist, writer, sculptor, dreamer, and free spirit knows that is not art. Not art that becomes life, that without fail becomes love.
Love the universal language of the world and from its whispers we write the words that perpetuates humanity’s faith in humanity and we continue to carry on.
Literature must be, or at least for my soul, driven by desire and the vision of doing it all a different way, saying something that has been said a million times but with a voice that if I succeed will surely deem me much more than I am. For all that I am is…is simply all that I am not. Refusing to be ordinary and shatter all probability of the “success” I seek not for myself….. but to leave behind. A pin prick of my lifetime, left for eternity, bouncing from person to person and built upon, made bigger, said better and strengthening the oneness of all us all!
That is what on my brightest days I am grateful for and that is the need that weighs heaviest in my heart….the truest gift of my life is the quiet comfort I have trusting it will be even more…. #oneteam