White Gold Worth Billions

I believe I'm feeling what the new age folks called "magnetizing". After a million years of writing my book (with no job) and almost ten years of financial instability (to put it mildly) and a couple years of sporadic, often manual labor type work; a bit of selling on eBay; roughly five years of looking for work; a couple no-start businesses; and almost a year of working hand to mouth on a new business, I've either given up on caring, worked my way into faith about money, learned how to keep going or plain ole done the work, cause I don't have that dread about money any more.

For ages, as long as I can remember, I've approached money with dread. There was never enough, I always had way too much to do and not enough to do it securely. And I always needed something: food, rent, gas, or, more recently, some nicer duds, a professional recording studio, loan payment money.

What I never realized until about a month ago, was that I always had enough. Somehow I came out of this mickey fickey smelling like a rose. After a ten year walk-about that included a book, months of roaming aimlessly, many, many "lost" days, thousands of half-starts and/or half-baked ideas (did I really apply to be a waiter, or to run that non-profit not so many months ago?)--after all that (and probably more that I have gratefully forgotten) I somehow pop up feeling great. Happy (I started out, employed and suffering from moderate to severe depression).

I even have a better car, nicer sweaters, better shoes and more gear. I have a loan balance to match, but I've lost that perma-hungry feeling that permeated me. So deep that I didn't even realize it was there. Like the smell of your own house.

When I signed up (with myself) to be a love artist, I didn't realize exactly what I was getting into. I thought it'd be cool (at the time I still believed in cool), and play to my strengths as a nice person. Little did I know it would break me down and rebuild me the way it wanted me to be.

I thought I knew and could pimp. I didn't know, and didn't want to pimp.

And the only way to lose that urge for control is to have it ripped from your grasp. I certainly couldn't drink enough herbal tea fast enough to relax it out of me. (And I drink a lot of herbal tea). Though I certainly tried.

It's a total cliche but I thought I knew what was going on. And not only didn't I, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to be in charge. Responsible. But it felt like death to mind my own business. Go after my own happiness. Leave it.

At the gym this morning I was reminded of a wise friend's assertation that love was the greatest addiction. And a corresponding dream that had him with his teeth falling out. Love isn't the greatest addiction, but what we most want, the only thing worth fighting or dying for, and so sacred that we'll do just about anything to keep from facing the real thing.

I wrote in The Love Artist that more men have sold out for women than money and power combined. I also wrote that the most dangerous thing is the woman who's 60% right (for you)--because you'll stay forever.

Our lives, in my view, are exactly calculated to make us men. If/when we dodge the truth we may escape some turmoil, some toil, some sweat, but we also remain that much more a boy until we go dredge that sucker up--or, more likely, it comes calling and we decide to dodge or face it again.

My other thought this morning is how to gauge which of the various images that we hold of ourselves are real and which ar to be overcome. I'm sure we've all had the feeling of looking in the mirror and saying--damn, it's happening. That's a good looking guy (physically but also metaphysically, career-wise, etc.--I believe all these views and how we view ourselves are related but that's another day).

And at other times, we're a piece of grunt.

So a huge question, then, is which one are we? Especially because both feel so real and our choosing--what we believe about the world--becomes solid over time. (And etched in our faces and lodged in our bones).

Personally, I had already figured out that I had to be the higher of my two people. That come hook or crook, I was here to write a book and make music. I was 40 and it hadn't "happened" commercially yet, but it would and the was jusst the process. And I saw that that was exactly what it took to be the person that I wanted to be. I didn't want to be professional at making youth culture. I wanted to be wonderfully fresh at making adult culture. But that meant I had to be an adult FIRST. Before I got the love of the crowd. That meant I had to do it for no reason (external) until I was doing it for ALL reasons. And once I was solid at all reasons, magic would be upon it, etc.

That I COULDN'T, by my own desires and standards, be one day earlier than I am.

But with love, the confusion felt even deeper. Because it related to the above, personal equasion.

If I had the woman I was more attracted to (and I've dated her in the past while writing), she challenged me. And at times, questioned what I was doing. This was years ago, when my discipline and will were much smaller, but it still felt like it would be hard to maintain that relationship were I creating full time.

The other type of woman I've dated (and may god bless them all), I was less "crazy" about, still attracted to, but less magnetically. These women were more supportive of what I was doing but also had less power in the relationship. And were less serious, so had less at stake.

So is real love easier but less fulfilling? Another friend once told me that my wife is NOT going to be the best sex that I ever had. Is this true? Does a cooler flame burn longer? Or is it that we can't find the guts to brave the warmth we crave until we find ourselves? Or are we not strong enough (or don't think ourselves strong enough--same thing) to have it all for an extended period of time.

With love, my question again, is is it what we want when we're strong?, when we look in the mirror and say "damn, baby, yo got it going on; she's gonna feel you for real"? Or is it what we want when we want to be taken care of? Feel like we need protection? Want help but are feeling shy about asking for it, or have decided for whate4ver reason not to just give it to ourselves?

My current thinking is that we make ourselves men and become ourselves so that we can enjoy the first. And that the places where we felt it too hard or scary fall away as we muster the courage to confront them. That what we really, really want is actually safe--the only thing that is safe.

And that all the nonsense we surround ourselves with because we feel insecure, because we WANT to feel safe--be it security-minded relationships, careers, clothes, furniture, art, food, business, whatever--are actually the things that do us in and break us down.

I'm not saying that it won't take our whole life. In fact, that may be the whole thing. I'm not saying that it shows up immediately the first time you gather the courage to want it. But I am saying that it will make men of us, and it will result in a never even imagined sense of well-being and calm, provide the foundation on which immeasurable joy is not only possible but probable, and give us the tools to rock it all night: in the bedroom, in the boardroom, in the studio, walking downtown--wherever you do your thang!

Beeep.

Oh--and to finish my original thought, having gotten rid of 99% of this omni-present dread--the last Monday morning, right before the gym and awake alone in the middle of the night bits--I feel like there's a whole world that I can pull toward me with one two-hundred-and-ninety-third the energy it would take to try to chase it all down. I feel like I could get the love I want without becoming some sort of used car salesman (god bless them).

And it was hiding right here in front of my nose, right here inside me, the whole time. Waiting for me to fully integrate. Not as some sort of random, mean test, but so I'd be relaxed enough, strong enough, and happy enough to enjoy the mo-fo.

Cause it's gonna be bangin!