Monday, June 13, 2011

If you let go of their hand, would they still be holding onto yours?

A few years ago I met a woman. I was initially attracted to her but when I found out she had a boyfriend I quickly lost interest. But I think that in spite of her boyfriend she was interested in me.

In the beginning she was the one to contact me. She would call me every few weeks and that was the only time we spoke. After a while I grew to really enjoy her company. At that point we both contacted each other equally.

About a year and a half ago I realized that she hadn't called me in months. We still spoke but it was all because of me reaching out to her. I decided to see if I was the only one holding onto our friendship. So one day I decided to not call her again until she called me. I never heard from her again. It seems that when I let go of her hand, she slipped her hand out of mine and walked away.

I bring it up because there was a girl that I mentioned a couple of postings ago. She was the girl that decided to start dating her ex-boyfriend again. Initially I was the only one initiating contact. When she mentioned her return to her ex I immediately stopped feeling very foolish that I mistook her politeness for attraction. I had been texting her every other day and I kind of felt that she replied to me because she was to polite to ignore me.

Two weeks after I stopped texting her, she texted me. I thought it was a good sign so I invited her out again. She never got back to me on it, and when I contacted her again she declined saying that she had made other plans for that day.

I then decided to not text her again. But yesterday, two weeks after our last contact, she texted me again. It seems that as opposed to the girl from two years ago, this recent girl didn't want to let me go.

I bring it up because although I keep letting writing go, it keeps contacting me. This morning some who read my book emailed me. He said that he would do me a favor and not write a review for Run From The Reaper. Damn, that stung!

Well, I replied by thanking him and letting him know that not only had I stopped selling the book, but that I am rethinking my career path. He replied back saying that I shouldn't quit. He then said that "there is a storytelling gift there." Is he serious? This is the guy that from his first email clearly felt like he wasted his time in reading my book. Yet in the second email he is referring to my "storytelling gift?" What the fuck?

Also, after his first email where he made it clear that I had wasted his time, I then emailed all 200 recipients of my book giveaway and told them what the situation was. I was surprised at the amount of people that wrote me back telling me that they had already read it and had enjoyed it. I was not expecting that.

And tying everything together, it seems that like that recent girl, 'being a writer' doesn't seem to let me go. After making the decision to walk away, the footprints of my writing remain. I'm sure that if I ignore those footprints long enough they will fade away. But like the girl, what else do I have going on right now?

So now I think again about my legacy. How much longer do I really have left? All of my books except Fixing Cupid are about something. They are all different from the standard fair. They are books about masturbation, talking penises and traveling the afterlife looking for God. They are about the importance of embracing the part of us that we usually run from and how to connect with others. My books are unique and they make the world a slightly better place for them being here... and not just because they're entertaining.

When I was 17 years old, I used to meditate twice a day. Strange things happen when you meditate so often. What happened to me was that I became psychic and I could feel colors. At that time I had a vision about what my life would be. I knew that I would be a spiritual teacher. But what I realized one day was that I was drifting further and further from normality. My life was becoming increasing less like a life that others could relate to. And I felt that the best spiritual teacher has one that had the ability to relate with the troubles of others and use that understanding to become an even clearer teacher.

When I realized that was when I decided to stop meditating. I dropped everything spiritual that I was doing at the time and reentered "normal" life. But if I think about it now, my books feel like a continuation of that mission I started over 20 years ago. If I really think about it my books teach spirituality (the connection between everyone) in stories that others can relate to, and it does it with the immense life experience I've gained over those 20 years. It seems that even when I didn't consciously think about it, there was always a part of me that never forgot my mission.

The question is, now that I've made the actions of my subconscious conscious, and now that I am free from the dictates of my 17 year old self, what should I do? Was the mission that I set out on 20 years ago a worthwhile mission? Perhaps not. Yelling into a dark empty room usually isn't. But maybe if I were to eliminate the idea that I will ever earn a living writing, and in turn only wrote books of substance, maybe in time they will mean something to someone else's life.

But the question is, am I that noble. I would like to think that I am not. But that idealist 17 year old who had pledged his life to making other lives better at the expense of his own, seems to rule my actions in a way that I can't escape. I think that when I'm on my death bed my adult self will be very bitter about my life. But I also think that the 17 year old might be very pleased. I think that if there was a way to kill that 17 year old, my life would be significantly better. But I don't know how to do that. And thinking about it now, "this is why I fail."

No comments:

Post a Comment