the unrevealed . . .

Why won’t I show my face?

Who I am in this blog is the unadulterated, unretouched, unresolved ME.  Elsewhere on the Internet, the professional person I become when I go to work can be found (and seen).

Isn’t it interesting that I feel comfortable showing that particular persona to the world, but am not willing to unmask the fully dimensional human being of whom that persona is but a part?

(semi-rhetorical question)

I’m in a meander-y musing mood this evening.  What I was originally thinking of writing about is how so many people I know in my approximate age group (early-ish to mid- to later 50s) seem to be grappling with the Meaning Question.  It’s kind of that mortality/the clock is ticking/what have I actually done with my life so far thing, and if I got smacked by a semi-truck tomorrow, would I have been satisfied that I gave it a good go, did the things I cared most about, loved people the best way I knew how, and found some sense of purpose and fulfillment.  It’s that thing.

If I had to answer that question tonight, I think I could say I’m honestly working on it, but I need a little more time, y’know?  So, like, I might want to negotiate a little (okay, STALL, put it off, ask if I could get back to it in ten or twenty or thirty years).  But at least I feel that I’m moving in the right direction.  Which is why I keep doing certain things that seem to play a critical part in that process, such as:

1.  process painting . . . it’s not about making “art,” it’s about standing in front of a big blank sheet of paper, armed with the necessary tools, and waiting for direction from whatever you wanta call it–the right brain, the unconscious, the soul . . .

2.  writing . . . even if it’s just dashing off a blog post once or twice a week . . . maintaining that ephemeral connection with people who happen to read what I’ve written, like you . . .

3.  listening to music that has woven itself inextricably into my life, and by extension, my heart, my soul . . . (all roads seem to keep returning there) . . . and for those of you who have read more than a handful of my posts know, there is one contemporary musician above all others who seems to make it all come together in a way that I am woefully incapable of explaining . . . and his name is Mark Knopfler . . .

4. focusing more time and energy on my friendships with women, and in particular, being part of a group of creative women who are sailing in the same familiar waters . . . and who share my desire to build rich, honest, and complex relationships that support ourselves and each other . . .

5.  coming back to meditation, again and again and again . . . fully committing to this healing practice that brings me the great gifts of radical acceptance and equanimity . . .

These things help me stay balanced (along with getting enough sleep, which remains a challenge) . . .

Speaking of which . . .

G’night all.


About creat1ve11

psychotherapist by trade, writer and artist by temperament, over 50 and not fighting it, love the idea of snorting milk through my nose, but have never actually done it
This entry was posted in aging, art, blogging, creativity, death, life, love, mindfulness, mortality, music, Reflecting, relationships, transitions, Uncategorized, women, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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