"come to no end that is not
a Beginning"
— Diane Di Prima, Revolutionary Letter #100, Reality is No Obstacle
As much as I love and support change, the gravity of this change feels like grief. Where the parts that are opening up aren't fully clear, there's fear. On the newer path, looking back at what was—more fear. Space for longing. Who and what's next? And excitement. Knowing I get to rep for me. All of us on our own slow transition from Zev Love X to DOOM.
If we allow them to, our defaults drop when we move to a new place. We can be exactly who we intend. When we start a new job with folks we don't know.
Can't we do the same when we wake up in the morning? Don't we always have these powers?
The opposite of putting on a front, we can ditch the front we've been wearing. That was unintentionally put on us by folks to make things easier for them. Staying the same is desirable. Change is at first batted down, eventually witnessed, and rarely encouraged.
Our heartbeat actions moving from clarity to being clouded by fear and back.
We get tired of existing in what was. We move forward. We lay low. We step up. We speak up. We're going to miss folks and things and activities. Some that were awesome and some less so. What are we willing to lose?
Here with the privilege to do almost anything. I can change jobs. Get what I need to create. Road trip. Bike. Run. Eat great food.
I can enter change at its slowest and most impactful pace. The type of change that's actually surprising. When a friend we don't see for a bit learned a new language, moved, got sober, or found a new way to express their art. They've learned to weld. Ditched a toxic job. Taken an internship or volunteer gig towards something they've always wanted to do. They left a space no longer accepting of their greatness.
Goggins. Thich. Julia. Patrick.
Thinking harshness doesn't exist is harder than living with it.
Expecting a response is the only problem with the response.
To compete VS ourselves and continue.
n