Intention to be Successful

I followed a nice car this morning on my drive to work. It was a convertible Lexus C-something-or-other. I was looking at it and admiring. I thought "would I buy that car if I could?" and I immediately answered "no". But I would let my husband buy it if he really really wanted it, and I would take it for a spin now and then. And then I got analyzing my answer and why I would be seen in it - but not everyday. I guess, it's because I am comfortable with luxury but not desperate for it. I was raised partially in the lap of it. It was never directly ours and my parents argued about money so much I thought we had none. Someone else had plenty, though. Someone I really really loved and admired. I knew he was loving and kind and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who needed it. He was the son of Norwegian immigrants who had very little. He set an intention to own his own business and he eventually made plenty of money. He handled money well. He gave it away, he helped others with it, he spent it on his wife & family. He made good things happen with it. He died poor. He had spent it all living luxuriously, having what he wanted and giving whenever he could.

The point? I am comfortable with money, luxury and success because it was good to me. But, it was never mine. So, I don't see it as something that I need to be happy. Truly. For me, this translates to not sticking to anything. If I don't need money for happiness, I can just do what I want to do and that can change every couple of years - a mental life of a beatnik, or a hippie, or gypsy. It's all good, man.

Then I realized. I want to be what I am meant to be - the fullest potential I can muster in this lifetime. It means taking a risk and to take this risk I know I need to make a living doing it. I have never had a clear vision for my career. And that has worked fine for me, until now.

Tonight, I walked in the woods. I was silent. I let ideas come find me. It doesn't take them long. The mind heard "be a person with a passion to do a certain job". And I pictured it. I thought of me as a person with a career intention. Not floundering, not changing my mind, and not stopping. I realized that this was a "me" that I had neglected. I neglected my career in building my dream life. In neglecting my career, I have not walked a straight path to my dream. I decided it's time to find the path and walk it. While I know money is not what I need to be happy, it is what come from doing what I love and creating the life I want.

I still kinda & sorta love life, a lot

I can't believe I am back to this blog. I originally birthed it as Scandalicious Suburbia. I got a kick out of being an unexpected goof ball. Maybe I come across as composed and with my shit together. I am not. Sometimes I am. Not really though. I don't know everything. I don't have it figured out. I do know life has a way of teaching me that you can never know what is next.

I don't like to tell my story because I know that it is just that - a story. It's my "this is why you should listen to me" plea. This is why I matter. Honestly, we all matter. You matter. Let's tell each other stories.

When we believe that we are unique and super-special, it's like we mentally hop a luxury yacht to the Island of No One Understands Me. Island life is unsettling - most everyone else is on the island of misfits or on their own private island of specialness. When we are over concerned with our own uniqueness, we send the message that any understanding, compassion, and love directed at us is misguided. If they haven't lived to tell the story you have lived to tell, how can they possibly understand? If we don't want to be alone, a victim of our story, we have to row-row-row ourselves to the island of misfits. It is there that we will find community among kindred souls.

How do we get to a place, as individuals, where we can both deal with our individualistic minds and expand our consciousness to include our desire for community and love? How do we rectify the two? Our egos want to us to believe we are Jesus reincarnate, but our souls know that we are all Jesus reincarnate. My story is your story. My antagonist is real to me, yet still an antagonist - a crucial character to every good story. My story has been told before and will be told again. My story, though the events are seemingly rare, mirrors at least one other story that I am aware of in my small city. How can I be so selfish as to worry about the stuff I go through when I know that people go through worse? Yet, how can I not worry about me when I have to help me survive? It's a conundrum that requires at least a year's worth of tissues, bad movies and sugar-laden treats to get through.

I was never one to lament. I am not a fan of it.I am a lover of life - as it is. And yet, I am sad to report I have spent the last year lamenting. I have grieved my choice to love and be open with people, I have said a big F-you to living in the moment (because it's really hard when the moment is shit covered in vomit), and I have just been a place where authenticity (caution: buzz word) seemed inconsequential and "playing it safe" seemed, well, safe.

But you know... if I really believed that I wouldn't be writing this. Playing it safe is not my cup of tea. If I live once (or live again with no memory of this), why do I care about being careful? I don't have a death wish. I have a life wish. I wish to live fully, in every moment. I wish to love. I wish to help. I wish to see beauty. I wish to breathe and dance and play and laugh.