comin’ to town with my soul

December 18, 2013

I somehow feel lost inside my life today.

Sometimes it’s still so hard to define myself without a crisis. It’s not remotely that I want a crisis, I totally don’t. But when you made for years your living with regard to self definition off of how you deal with crises and trace your trajectory consistently by whatever it is you’re pushing off and away from, it’s easy to get bogged down in the big assed open space of nothing being wrong and nothing killing off your soul and nothing but excessive office christmas candy to run from.

My life is quite incredibly what I’ve always wanted it to be, but now that I’ve finally settled into taking this general state of fairs for granted on a daily basis, it’s like, what now? What’s next?

It’s the age old question, I guess.

As soon as I hit an ocean calmness I’m praying for wind storms.

I still long for expansion, expansion of input, expansion of output. I’m like the first brother, the one who could swallow the sea, but my sea is experience.

It’s like there are these two vying parts of me that want the exact opposite things all the time; one craves peace more than anything else, and the other craves not peace, but plenty.

I’m starting to wonder about my soul. Like, the feed the world part of my soul. I’ve been vaguely aware that the twisted broken anarchist social worker Tabitha alter ego has been fading out of existence for quite some time now; as my own desperate issues are diminishing in their oppressiveness, my desire to go out and heal the world is diminishing in its urgency. I no longer need to fling myself willy nilly into every gritty crack in the sidewalk of tragic humanity to keep my own pain from surfacing. I have learned to acknowledge my own pain, more or less, more is always better; and this makes it increasingly unecessary to go around cranking the volume on other people’s pain to drown out the sound of my own, protesting indignantly from under the rug where I swept it.

This is not to say that I no longer feel that the world needs a damn hug. It fully does. It does need a damn hug, and it needs a damn cookie, and it needs to sit at my kitchen table and hold my hand and drink my beer and tell me all about it.

So then, what?

I am realizing lately that as the air raid sirens of misery and misuse go off less and less frequently in this my good and chosen life, I will find more and more time and energy and inspiration to create. Because I’m not constantly putting out fires in my life, I can start generating more shoots and seedlings and begin to grow myself a forest of accomplishments and playthings.

Also, I am getting damn old.

I am beginning to feel that there is not much time left in my life for me to sit around waiting for things that I want to exist to come into existence under their own magical unicorn fart power. Soon I will begin to create them myself, to put the answers into the world to the questions I have.

What will I do, with these hands, this mind, this heart?


I am


3 Responses to “comin’ to town with my soul”

  1. Chris Says:

    We all settle down, drop the drama, and learn the wisdom are parents tried to tell us when we were young, but were too daft, too smart, to precocious, to listen to. Time and experience brings people around, and 20-something drama grows old and out of vogue. The harder you fight against commonality, the more you embrace it, it Higalian philosophy played out.

    I love reading your blogs, Tab. Always very elucidative, sharp and honest.


  2. Chris Says:

    also I hate the delay when typing on a phone…it makes fools of us all.


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