Vitamin J

Teal Swan is (has?) one of my favorite perspectives, and I listened to a new video, yesterday, while I epilated my legs.  And arms.  And mustache.  And x y z — 

— I do want to mention, by the way, my greatest three life hacks for women, which I don’t see in common use but which I do recommend:

1. Epilating, instead of shaving or waxing.

2. An IUD (non-hormonal) for birth control, instead of condoms, hormonal birth control, or getting haphazardly knocked up.

3. Permanent cosmetic tattoo for eyeliner and brows.

I also recommend a plant-based diet and heavy barbell lifting, but that’s for everyone, not just women.

So I was listening to Teal Swan.  She was challenging me to not to half-ass anything in my life.  If there’s anything I cannot do, in a whole-assed manner, then don’t do it, she recommended.  Anything I do agree to do (important phrasing) — do excellently.   

Teal said that half-assing things, anything, is vibrationally dangerous because you’re basically emitting a signal to the universe: Hey!  Half-hearted headquarters over here!  Go ahead and send me some half-assed opportunities, some half-assed ideas, some half-hearted people, some half-hearted circumstances.  That’s the language I speak, so give me a bigger vocabulary of half-ass. 

I don’t think there’s any such thing as a truly original idea, by the way; and I don’t think there’s any such thing as a truly un-original interpretation.  Each of us is a chunk of unlimited potential, metaphysically speaking, filtered through a lens of embodied perspectives and experiences that has never occurred before and which will never occur again.  So it’s important for each of us to eat, and excrete, as many ideas as possible, in this time we have with one another, for the continual expansion of all-that-is.  When I write my little blog, I feel as if I’m doing that in the manner most available to me.  I love this blog.  It’s only been just over a week, but I go to bed excited to wake up, and I wake up excited to get started.  I’m a morning writer, and when I start my day with some writing, especially in some self-published form, I just feel — like I’ve earned my right to be here, in some magnificent way.  It’s what, to me, feels like the right homage for all the abundance I enjoy.   

I used to feel as if a tension existed between my creative-expressive self (this version of me) and my gotta-earn-an-income self.  However, since most of my own personal development has occurred in relationship to others, and much of *that* has occurred in various work settings, I can see that the yogi dream of meditating at the top of a mountain, or the artist’s dream of creating, ad nauseam, from a place of navel-gazing tranquility, can’t spiritually approach the value of banging around in the world, continuously running up against the rough edges of (ultimately) my own defects of character.  A knife of perspective can’t just be rough all over — it has to be absolutely smooth where it should be smooth, and absolutely sharp where it should be sharp.  And it needs to have a handle that’s comfortable and safe to hold.

Here is a brainstorm of the things I suspect I’ve been half-assing:  

Where I live.  Only once in my life have I made a deliberate decision about moving somewhere based on the one factor I truly care about — climate — rather than a job, a job, or a job.  Or some type of job.  Luckily, I have aligned with a sexy life partner man who is even more severely aware of his climate preferences than I am, and luckily we have the same climate preferences.  I don’t see us returning to our pre-pandemic lives, actually.  We both know too much, now.  

Who my friends are.  This problem has largely been solving itself, in recent years, lollll.  But let me clarify: I’m open to friendship with any type of person from any walk of life, encountered under any circumstances.  The random-er, the better. They can have any level of drama in their life which they are tackling any kind of way.  They just can’t be an idea straightjacket for me.  If I have to dumb myself down to hang out, I don’t wanna hang out.  

Under what circumstances I prefer to work.  This is a quality of life factor I was making big strides on, before the pandemic.  For many years, I thought I hated work and working, and maybe I do but in some sense it’s “Vitamin J”, for job.  I accept that many forms of personal expansion, besides dollars, are available to me through Vitamin J.  However — I can’t be miserable.  The good news is, the things that make me miserable vs. happy at work are entirely different from — sometimes diametrically opposed to, I think — the things most other people seem to want at/from their Vitamin J.  For instance, in my last job — for which I am now collecting unemployment because of the pandemic, or the overreaction to the pandemic, or something that looks like a pandemic but is actually a strategic and surgical removal of our Constitutional rights in service to a larger agenda which is probably diabolical and definitely global in scale, fucking whatever — in my last job, all the things I wanted were what no one else wanted so I easily fast-tracked straight to them, and was thriving financially and personally on a previously unprecedented level, all the way up to the shutdown.  This makes me happy, as I feel confident I can re-create this set of vibrational commitments and circumstances moving forward, now that I’ve proved to myself it can be done.  Meanwhile, I’m collecting unemployment and writing blogs in a gorgeous beach house with the love of my life and our little critters, while drinking a fabulous coffee, and we have a squat rack in the basement, so I’m not complaining. 

How I interact socially.  One of the things that makes me so good at writing is that I’m so bad at bringing myself to bear, verbally and in real time.  I just blink a lot and smile.  So of course I appreciate having a way to be myself that isn’t, often, taken by the social current and driven straight up onto the rocks of “so…anyway…”. Others report that I’m not as bad, socially, as I think I am, and maybe that’s true.  But I always feel I’m bringing a gun to a knife fight, on some level, looking for the spiritual/authenticity-doorway traction in any situation, and then I forcibly make myself stand down.  Apparently the entire world wants to just hang out and…I don’t know what!  I mean, I guess that’s the issue.  There’s something I need to surrender to and then it will be good.  I will say, my all-time favorite social milieu was Army boot camp.  I know that sounds strange, but it was.  When you take an entire group, and categorically remove their ability to perform both individual and collective bullshit affectations, what you end up with is…brass tacks.  The nitty gritty of who people are and what they’re able to bring to bear.  Now that’s socializing!  No party has ever been as fun as hanging out in the cattle car, on our way to the grenade range.

That’s a good enough self-survey for now, I think.  On to the next glorious thing.  

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