Ramblings of Silver Blue

11 Jul

A Question Asked.

Goddess Dawn, over at Caterwauling, asked “Do you people know what I’m willing to give up to be happy?”

She’s not the only one who feels this way.

When it all comes down to it, there are different ways of being happy, of creating your own happiness, and of making yourself happy.

My problem is simply that while I can be happy by myself very well, thank you very much; I prefer someone with which to share my happiness. Someone who realizes that happiness is intensified when shared. Someone who realizes that life isn’t always about them.

Boy, now THERE’S a Pandora’s Box just begging to be explored. If I had a penny for every time I gave up one of my dreams just so that I wouldn’t be alone, or because I thought that was expected of me in order to obtain happiness, I’d be quite the rich man. Education states that in life there are givers and takers. Isn’t there a fulcrum for this kind of thing? When I was in high school, both my girlfriend (Celeste) and I shared a nickname — Catalyst. We had an uncanny ability to enable change in someone else’s lives (for the good, mind you) without ourselves being changed. Over time, she and I drifted apart, and the last I saw of her was in July 1997 — the precise moment I started writing a book entitled “All This Time I Thought…” which was supposed to be the book I published on my birthday this year, but went by the wayside when I lost my desire to do much of anything. (I’d started writing and revising it in January — by Mid-March, I was simply ready to get a large prescription for drugs, hang a sign that says “Cursum Perficio” on my portico, and pull what the government wants you to believe happened to Marilyn Monroe.) Starting in the end of March, however, and I didn’t have much time to spend behind the keyboard. Don’t get me wrong. I still want to complete the story of Jonathan Gibson and the way he experienced life. So much of the story is personal to me — even down to certain unspecified events, locations, and people.

I guess the hardest thing for me, at this stage of my life (I know, I’m yet a Spring Chicken at 38), is to realize that I’m a dreamer. My head is (and always has been) in the clouds. I always want to believe that people are good at heart, that they mean me no malice, and will treat me with the decency and respect that I show them.

HA. Whatever drugs I’m on, I really need to write the names down because let me tell you a little something-something. It NEVER happens that way. As much as I’ve read about Creative Visualization, the Power of Positive Thinking, and the like, I still find it impossible to enact those kinds of changes in my life. I believe — trust me, I believe that having the right frame of mind is important. But the entire philosophy of “You create the world — you invite the people in” I’ve proved to be a waste of air on more than one occasion.

It’s almost as if vultures circle, see me, and say “HEY! Easy target!”

Whether it’s my heart they walk on, my spirit they bend (I’ve never had my spirit broken, thank you, and if someone cares to try it, I can guarantee you that a Ginsu is not the only thing on this earth that can slice, dice and julienne you. Secret’s in the sauce, so they say), or my dreams they take, I’ve attempted to make the best of every situation by trying to take away at least one lesson learned. Sometimes, I succeed. Sometimes, I just suck.

Now, don’t think that I’m sitting here in my living room feeling sorry for myself. I’m grateful for the friends I have made over the years, both in person and online. A few (like Lionheart) I’ve happened to have fallen out of contact with after he moved across country. He had a way of seeing through the haze that I’ll be honest and say that I envied.

Now that Mercury has finally gone out of retrograde, maybe my life will continue to improve. I want it to happen. I know it can. It’s just terra incognita. So if I reach out a hand to be helped along, do not chastise me or laugh at me or belittle me. Karma is a cruel mistress, as one of my exes is about to find out.

As the candle burns down, I ask for clarity of thought, mind, and vision. I ask for guidance. I ask for validation that I am deserving of that which I truly, at my core, desire.

I ask for an end to the lies and deceit which have injured me, almost irreparably. I ask for a reason to believe.

It’s all a matter of the question asked, isn’t it?

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