As someone who is perpetually in the process of reinventing, this definitely resonates.
I used to be the kind of person who thought that the goal was to put all of the pieces into place to have a perfect life. If only I have this, and when I have that, my life will finally be complete and I will be... What? And I realized to the answer was, dead. Life requires motion and change. With periods of incubation, where the motion is happening out of sight.
You mentioned empty spaces and wading into the shallows with trepidation. It made me think of a story from my salad days.
I had this funky old thrift store couch that was uncomfortable and ugly. And I wanted another one. But I didn't want to get rid of the one I had until I found another one because I didn't want to have to sit on the floor. So I suffered with it for months.
Finally, one day in a fit of pique I threw out the old couch. Fuck it, I'll just sit on the floor. Suddenly I was very motivated to find another couch. And a few days later I did, and without the hassle of needing to get rid of the old one. It just slid right into that empty space.
I think I've learned that in order for a new things to happen, there has to be empty space. If a space is filled with one thing, the laws of physics say it cannot be filled with another.
Go forth and embrace the emptiness. It's where the treasure is.
Thank you for this! It's a little essay in itself (and I might steal a piece of it for the title of the next newsletter! And best of all, it springs from the mind of a consummate re-inventor, truly a subject matter expert; since I met you you've lived in three places, adopted five (or so) personas, several names, and somehow these worldly possessions orbit around an essential core that -- I'd say I understand, but I don't know, maybe comprehend? Probably I should back up and say just that I recognize.
And thank you for the title of Consummate Re-inventor. If nothing else, I feel justly, well, entitled to that one. I realised yesterday that the creation of my life is in essence my life's work. So it is for all of us, of course. Ultimately we're all artists and the life we create for ourselves is by necessity our masterwork.
As someone who is perpetually in the process of reinventing, this definitely resonates.
I used to be the kind of person who thought that the goal was to put all of the pieces into place to have a perfect life. If only I have this, and when I have that, my life will finally be complete and I will be... What? And I realized to the answer was, dead. Life requires motion and change. With periods of incubation, where the motion is happening out of sight.
You mentioned empty spaces and wading into the shallows with trepidation. It made me think of a story from my salad days.
I had this funky old thrift store couch that was uncomfortable and ugly. And I wanted another one. But I didn't want to get rid of the one I had until I found another one because I didn't want to have to sit on the floor. So I suffered with it for months.
Finally, one day in a fit of pique I threw out the old couch. Fuck it, I'll just sit on the floor. Suddenly I was very motivated to find another couch. And a few days later I did, and without the hassle of needing to get rid of the old one. It just slid right into that empty space.
I think I've learned that in order for a new things to happen, there has to be empty space. If a space is filled with one thing, the laws of physics say it cannot be filled with another.
Go forth and embrace the emptiness. It's where the treasure is.
Thank you for this! It's a little essay in itself (and I might steal a piece of it for the title of the next newsletter! And best of all, it springs from the mind of a consummate re-inventor, truly a subject matter expert; since I met you you've lived in three places, adopted five (or so) personas, several names, and somehow these worldly possessions orbit around an essential core that -- I'd say I understand, but I don't know, maybe comprehend? Probably I should back up and say just that I recognize.
Feel free to pilfer with wild abandon.
And thank you for the title of Consummate Re-inventor. If nothing else, I feel justly, well, entitled to that one. I realised yesterday that the creation of my life is in essence my life's work. So it is for all of us, of course. Ultimately we're all artists and the life we create for ourselves is by necessity our masterwork.