Stagnation | Progression

It’s a bogeling and trivial thing to meander over thoughts such as purpose destiny and longing , while your life seems to be in park. I’m not talking about that apathetic outlook, in which one chooses a standstill due to a lack of motivation, unable to overcome emotional inertia. Mine’s worse. I’m not in idling with the gear in “P.” I’ve been towed away and a yellow boot has been put on my wheel. I cannot go anywhere if I tried. I’mm stuck, broke and penniless.

I’m not quite sure if money truly makes the world go round. It could simply be an all-powerful being somewhere out there. But about a my cheezey metaphor for life, money definitely puts literal gasoline in my literal car, making it go literal places.
Being broke is a bitch.

However, here’s a thought–though I crave progression, longing for forward motion, though in another life I was a bohemian hippie nomad, there is something happening behind the bars of stagnation–simply being.

I’m one to be entirely wrapped up in the task and accomplishment at hand. I throw all I have at them. I’m currently producing an audio theatre piece. I’m contacting actors, rewriting the script, scheduling sessions, and the fact that I can’t reach my audio engineer is driving me to the brink of insanity. Why? Because I can’t stand lack of motion.

I’m also currently a “partner” at the famous “Green Lady.” Since my writing career, or lack there of, is nowhere near “taking off,” I have to pay the bills with latte and coffee brewing. I promise you, it’s not that interesting. However, as I’m trained int he way of Starbucks, I can’t help but mull over beverage routine and recipe cards.

It’s not healthy. Not healthy at all.

All this said, I’m someone obsessed with doing. I find purpose and identity in the happenings of life. No wonder I feel purposeless. I’m trying to conjure up destiny inside a crappy cappuccino.

But we’re more than what we do.

Me, being a male, has nothing to do with what I do. It has everything to do with whether or not I have a penis. While wandering through Europe and India this past year, busying myself with humanitarian efforts and works of faith, I lost myself. But on the State bound plane ride home, as the earth dropped further beneath me, a prompt was whispered in the depths of my heart.

“It’s time to be, not do.”

The sentiment has rung true. But the initial excitement has long since dissipated. It’s not fun finding yourself sitting on a stagnant sea. Who goes to the beach to watch a motionless body of water? No one.

But it’s only when the sea stills, that a reflection becomes distinguishable. But more than a reflection, if that sea were to sit still just long enough, the dust settling, the water becoming crystal clear, you could stare past that mere reflection to the depths of the ocean floor, discovering the beauty of the coral beneath.

What will we find as the sea murk nestles below? What if the deepest parts of us are discovered, not by digging, but simply being?

My meanderings as of late.

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