Tuesday, March 28, 2017

I'm Not a Writer Anymore... Except When I Write.

by John Boodhansingh of Zero Mindfulness



Not Getting What I Want… But That’s Okay.

I haven’t published anything since February 10th.

In the past, to have such a gap in writing would have bothered me. There’s something wrong! ego would banter all day. You’re a writer, you need to be writing. What are you going to do with your life? What are you going to tell people you do? What are you going to tell them you are? You need to look productive.

With all due respect, ego—Stuff it.

Like I said, at first the lack of writing bothered me. If you’ve read anything about blogging, you probably know that regular fresh content is very important for search engine optimization. Plus, if I’m not keeping people’s attention on me all the time, won’t they forget about me? Won’t they go somewhere else? Won’t [this bad thing] and [that bad thing] happen?

As days have progressed and as I’ve continued to unload more inner-baggage, the conclusion I’ve come to is this:

It doesn’t matter.

Why?

Because I’m not a writer.

False Identification

You see, our world culture is such that we’re taught we must take on some identity (typically doing whatever our family does and/or whatever aligns with our programming). And the majority of the time we take this on without question, or at least without much kickback.

Dan is a steel worker, Ben is a rice salesman, Neil is a diamond miner, Ishmael is an environmentalist, Reuben is a deli owner, and so on. And were any of us to lose our jobs, so programmed are we, so identified are we with our beliefs of, “This is who I am,” and “This is what I must do for the rest of my life,” that we’d go right back looking to do the same, or nearly the same, thing.

“I can’t write. I make sandwiches.”
“I can’t paint. I’m an engineer.”
“I can’t own a business. I’m a warehouse guy.”

But guess what, folks? We’re nothing. We’re nothing unless we say we are something and believe it and make up all sorts of lies as to why these beliefs are true and then get all bent out of shape about them in the process of trying to uphold them.

What I’m trying to get at is that the vast majority of us force ourselves to identify with things that don’t align with us. Or maybe they align for a time, yet we try to force them forever.

How absurd.

Shifting Perspective

I used to do mechanical assembly work—I built machinery and small-scale gas cabinets. I really enjoyed it—then. But I woke up and realized that I was merely playing out an experience that was reflecting my deep-seated belief that I and the world are broken and I need to fix them; that I need to put things together. I didn’t know of any “inner world,” so naturally I went to work in the external and “only” world.

Nowadays, I could still do such work. I still do mechanical-/construction-type things sometimes, but generally speaking, it doesn’t really do much for me, especially to make a living out of it. Since the garbage programming is gone (or maybe just severely disabled), the aligning resonance simply isn’t there.

The key is, I cannot force it. It doesn’t serve me in any positive way to do so. Forcing such a thing, trying to pretend, “This is who I am and what I do,” “I have to do this because it’s what I went to school for,” “creativity doesn’t pay,” “blah, blah, whine, whine,” becomes very “heavy” very fast.

More recently, now, this lack of writing comes along. As I’d said in a recent blog post titled: …And Maybe I’m Just Making Shit Up!” if the guidance comes to delete this blog than I’ll do so. Having served their respective purposes, I’ve deep-sixed two blogs prior. But as of the time I write this, I don’t see this as the case. I’m simply in a period of massive transitioning/transformation, and all sorts of things are happening and not happening and maybe happening and sort of happening.

I’m in this space where I’m detached enough from the blog, from the false idea of “I’m a writer and so I should be writing,” that I can just let whatever happens to happen. In other words—and this is a really big deal: I trust that all will be okay. I trust that as one, old door closes (or 50 of them), a new and better door (or 50 of them) will open.

What, where, how, and when are things going to work out?

I have no idea. I don't know anything, and it's sheer silliness to pretend to.

I know it's a wildly popular thing in this world to claim: I know something! and then look important, useful, and relevant when merely perpetuating the same erroneous-appearing-true assumptions about life that everyone else is.

But the fact is: We don't know anything. To see the truth in this, all we have to do is take a look at where our game of pretend "knowing" has taken us, both individually and collectively.

And so I put myself into the hands of my Creator—one who seems to be just a tad wiser than I...

Newly Inspired

Now, as it's turned out, although I haven’t been writing, the timing is such that I’d just recently clarified some nearly lifelong dietary woes (most notably, undereating/malnourishment). These issues led to me getting severe wrist inflammation (overuse of weak joints) soon after I’d begun playing drums 16 years ago. I’d struggled to play some in the eight years to follow but for the last eight had basically given up everything but the barest hope of playing again. Now, though I still have some healing to do, I can play (at least on a practice pad) for 6+ hours per day without harm. And I’m loving it!

Had I chosen to ignore the natural draw back to drumming and perhaps contended to myself that, say, “I am a writer with severe writer’s block and must find a way to get over it,” or maybe, “Drumming isn’t serious enough,” I could have spent ages trying—read: forcing—myself to be “someone doing something.” I could have taken writing classes, or watched countless “writer’s inspiration” videos on YouTube, or whatever… And maybe published a lot of uninspired junk…

Instead I chose to use the free time for drumming, and I’ve come to find that I’m far better now (with only 3 months of practice and damn good instructional book) than I’d ever been before. I’ve also come to find that I want to make music more than anything in the world.

There’s a joy in my heart that I’ve only ever otherwise felt during my 2 years taking karate class—which itself was an undertaking inspired by intuitive guidance. Intuition called, I finished the electrical engineering-based night classes I was taking mid-degree, and I began karate at a dojo also suggested intuitively. I never went back to school for engineering and don’t intend to. What was the electrical reflection? Power. Energy. Well, I’ve finally found it! It’s inside me! And I keep finding more!

Will I write again? Yeah, I think so. But what and how and when is anyone’s guess. I’ll leave that to life to figure out and then tell me.

Until Next Time…

That’s my story; that’s what I’ve been up to. I hope I’ve provided you with inspiration for inquiring into and letting go of your own imagined, perceived, and forced identity, so that you also can flow into whatever joy it is that life is guiding you toward.

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