A recent art venture has me pondering my past and present...
The local art space had me planted with two lovely women who were venturing into a communal art experience where we were learning from each other and from instruction.
One woman asked, "And Simone, your parents, your family...?" ... enter open ended high-note question...
"They're dead. My parents, grandparents - everyone but my brothers..."
Initially startled, people try to settle into my statement with a follow-up question, "So your children...?"
"My daughter will soon be 26. My son, 22."
"Wow - you look so young."
... Sweet words - ever spoken so true...
"Indeed. I was. I was 15 when I had my daughter and 15 when I married."
I wish I could record the expressions of the many people who I have said this to... and then I remember days - ... years ago...
Never copping to my real life when I was younger - real: living in a children's home; less than functional parents; a father who had a genetic disease that would haunt all of us for the rest of our lives; a mother, whose very disposition, would haunt us for the rest of her life...
Nope - I didn't own any of it - I imagined stories of New York, family disputes and more... jeez, louise... I never wanted to claim my reality... and yet - today - in the now, the real - when I speak it - it is completely unreal.
Attempting to dissect the real that I never dreamed at the age I was trying to deflect and told so many tall tales: I have flown in private planes, experienced the 'high-roller' experience in Vegas, actually cut a check for $37 million dollars, seen opulence that proved to me that excess was so inordinate to real life, seen Europe, tasted the beauty of loss and excellence, understood that all that is shiny is nothing more than cured light...
These incredibly highs and lows in life have made me bitter and the most delicious bitter-sweet.
Ask me if I would prefer to be balanced on the edge of unreal grandeur - or found in a corner of forest and fauna. (Ask - please - because it took me quite some time to be real with others and with myself - I choose forest - and real - and hard - and brilliant - and faithful. Ask.)
Recently, a beautiful soul expressed, "you say such raw things" in your writings...
Likely my penance - I'm writing to my core.
I'm no longer trying to stake my existence - or validate...
I am just being. It's hard as fuck.
... and it's real.
Thank, goodness.
Be blessed.
... and loved.
... and known.
Dude - be you - and great.
§
The local art space had me planted with two lovely women who were venturing into a communal art experience where we were learning from each other and from instruction.
One woman asked, "And Simone, your parents, your family...?" ... enter open ended high-note question...
"They're dead. My parents, grandparents - everyone but my brothers..."
Initially startled, people try to settle into my statement with a follow-up question, "So your children...?"
"My daughter will soon be 26. My son, 22."
"Wow - you look so young."
... Sweet words - ever spoken so true...
"Indeed. I was. I was 15 when I had my daughter and 15 when I married."
I wish I could record the expressions of the many people who I have said this to... and then I remember days - ... years ago...
Never copping to my real life when I was younger - real: living in a children's home; less than functional parents; a father who had a genetic disease that would haunt all of us for the rest of our lives; a mother, whose very disposition, would haunt us for the rest of her life...
Nope - I didn't own any of it - I imagined stories of New York, family disputes and more... jeez, louise... I never wanted to claim my reality... and yet - today - in the now, the real - when I speak it - it is completely unreal.
Attempting to dissect the real that I never dreamed at the age I was trying to deflect and told so many tall tales: I have flown in private planes, experienced the 'high-roller' experience in Vegas, actually cut a check for $37 million dollars, seen opulence that proved to me that excess was so inordinate to real life, seen Europe, tasted the beauty of loss and excellence, understood that all that is shiny is nothing more than cured light...
These incredibly highs and lows in life have made me bitter and the most delicious bitter-sweet.
Ask me if I would prefer to be balanced on the edge of unreal grandeur - or found in a corner of forest and fauna. (Ask - please - because it took me quite some time to be real with others and with myself - I choose forest - and real - and hard - and brilliant - and faithful. Ask.)
Recently, a beautiful soul expressed, "you say such raw things" in your writings...
Likely my penance - I'm writing to my core.
I'm no longer trying to stake my existence - or validate...
I am just being. It's hard as fuck.
... and it's real.
Thank, goodness.
Be blessed.
... and loved.
... and known.
Dude - be you - and great.
§
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