Floating above a peaceful, baby blue floor of glass, the sense of serenity in my heart matches the calm of the waters. For the first time in ages, I feel alive again, enthused with the possibilities of what I can create.
I don’t know if it’s the sobriety, the excitement of traveling, or simply the way of the winds, but my mind is buzzing with energy and ideas, all the unfinished projects from the last few years that are coming to a head all at once.
I do suppose there was some amount of suffering that was integral to my character development thus far. After all, no one likes a bragger who is oblivious to life’s pains; It makes for an ineffective leader, someone who is too arrogant to see past their own self-absorption. Maybe I needed some of those habits to be broken.
It is said that the fruits of the spirit are love, discernment, and discipline. And I think it’s true. While I relished in my party days, I am more fulfilled in this season of grounded pursuits and meaningful work.
I’m not exactly sure where that fits in with pop culture, which is generally centered around youth and frivolous fun. It makes sense, when you think about it; Young people are often the only ones with the time for funny memes and brat summer (no shade, Charli!). The delicious arrogance of our early twenties, before life humbles us, is a necessary part of the primitive process.
A sex-centric, party lifestyle drives procreation, and American capitalism feeds right into it, selling us skin-tight club dresses and kissable, cherry lip gloss. It’s the era of feeling invincible, carefree, and hot. But of course, it can’t last forever.
We grow up, and people get married, become more involved in their careers, or otherwise solidify their foundational stability. Certainly there are alternative lifestyles for lifelong nomads, which I commend and plan to indulge in small morsels myself, but generally speaking, we all must come back down to earth eventually.
And what a beautiful earth it is, with rolling coastlines amidst power plants and distribution centers. Autumn leaves rustling alongside discarded McDonald’s cups and candy wrappers. This is reality. Take it as you will.
For every glittery, storybook marriage, there is a bitter heartache in divorce. A newborn sheep, delicate and pure, will one day be sent to slaughter. This is the duality of life. A broad spectrum of joy, pain, loneliness, beauty, warmth, loss, connection, embarrassment, and everything in-between.
Maybe it’s not good for the commercial market, but it’s a stunning depth that speaks to the human experience. I don’t know what my “brand” as an artist will be. But I’m learning to follow what I truly feel again. And that’s all I need.