As i look around the room everything feels foreign. Like these items donât belong to me yet they are mine. Thatâs how I feel walking around in the world lately. Everything is here but I donât feel connected to anything in particular. I donât feel a deep sense of connection with anyone either. Itâs not such a bad thing. Kinda feel free. Iâm slightly detached even with family and close friends that I used to rely on so much for my existence and validation.
I feel oneness too tho. Like everyone is my reflection. I can see my pain in her eyes. My sadness. I can see my vulnerability in his questioning. I can see my playfulness and creativity in a childâs abandon. I can see my aging in my mother. My regret in my sister. My imprisonment in my brother. My heart in my other brother. My denial in my other sister and my growth in my other brother. I can see my humor in my friend. My insecurity in my other friend. I can see my magic in that artist I admire. My brilliance in that other artist. My genius in the sky and my awe in nature. My grace in the wind. My mercy with each new day. My loyalty and intelligence in my dog. My resilience in my mother. Time moving too fast in my father. My presence in life itself.Â
I start to wonder if I am god. But thatâs a label and labels make me uneasy. They mean I have to live up to them. But all I want to do is be. Taste. Touch. And then on to the next. This is probably why i like shopping so much. I can try on, twirl, imagine and buy only what i want to invest in or what I think I can afford.
I wonder if I am God. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be both everything and nothing in particular. And balance that. Sheesh. To be god? Thatâs a lot of responsibility. Anyway, all I know is that my true self doesnât want to wear clothes ever. I donât like to be boxed in to anything. I resent conformity and most traditions. And with the exception of love, consistency feels like a trap.
I know I am an artist. But I donât want to pick one discipline. Itâs like my life is my art. The way I live, move and think feels like poetry. The way I dress (if I must) feels like a fashion shoot. I project and watch my movie. I remember like a photograph. I think like the painter that trashes his finished pieces. Like a writer that never finishes her book. Oh and on most days I feel genderless. Neither man nor woman.
Both masculine and feminine. Both spirit and man. Yeah, I wonder if Iâm god?God in Drag, thatâs probably me. I love beautiful, creative colorful spaces but have no desire to own anything. I love to travel but donât have a strong desire to settle anywhere. I love companionship and intimacy but donât want to get married. I want to fly, yet touch something concrete every once in awhile. Maybe Iâm a bird?
I love having money and abundance, but donât like the idea of having to work for it. I often wonder what it would be like to shave my head, pack a small bag and explore the world with my camera. Being no one, interacting with different someones, capturing it and sharing it with everyone.
I want to socialize, but I want to be alone mostly. I love the sound of the city and nature but crave complete silence often. Everything Iâve desired to hold has slipped through my fingers. Each and every time. Itâs like I canât quite catch myself and I long to see my face and to hold me. To fold into myself and experience myself closer than close. Â To be home. Home inside of myself and stay awhile.Â
This all feels like death and birth at the same time. Like self realization. This is probably why I feel strange. Strange because all I know is my programming and patterns. My survival skills, trauma and insecurities. But something else is emerging within me and itâs more powerful than the former I suspect. I am in the midst of a transformation. To what? My authentic self. The one I choose this time. Unlike the birth before this, where I pretend I had no say at all. I promise myself to make this a good life. An inspiring one. A truthful beautiful one. One where love and knowledge of self is the foundation and the creativity and art are itâs soul. I promise to never let another choose for me who I will be. Or what I am. Iâll leave that to me. Iâll be responsible. Iâll be that, I am that I am.
Be God. Create Responsibly.Â
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