Getting Lost

I am currently stuck. And I am looking to get unstuck by getting lost.

In the last post I left in early August from London, I identified myself as "The Poet, formerly the Writer."

Yay for unpoetic, so very awkward exposition about how I am carrying old content, only available through the archive (link found in welcome) into a new reality.

It’s a new day. And the Shady Sapling side is older, but this content is produced by a new me.

I am at the point where I do not need to distance myself by using the third person to write about history. And, more importantly, write about writing, my creative journey, and how it is all embodied with authentic expression. Writing from the third person helped me obtain a certain mindset and find a particular voice.

It helped me play a role.

But the only role I am playing these days is as my authentic self.

The tone and voice of these posts will be different, a unique, fluid stream of consciousness. A way of letting go to get lost in expression.

Getting lost takes trust.

Getting lost means rejecting timelines, timescales, arrivals, and destinations.

I will get where I am going when I am supposed to, no sooner and no later.

Getting lost scripts flows reflecting meandering cascades. Or maybe cascading meanders?

I dunno which...

Getting lost has value but not value oriented toward accumulating surplus. My words are not transactional.

I will never create to exploit or be exploited. And when I find myself in that position, I will have gone from getting lost to trapped. Hopefully, I can realize it before it is too late.

Who knows. Life is twisty.

Getting lost liberates and uplifts, and it helps stability on the swerves and turns.

Flighty and floaty, getting lost inspires and is inspired by the unfamiliar, the unknown.

It steps into unimagined space, a constructed space already imagined but gone to ruin, forgotten, discarded.

Returning, reliving is not about repeating.

So lesson one, and the only lesson I will ever give ‘cause yuck.

But anyway, lesson one: history does not repeat itself.

Thinking history repeats is not only materially impossible, it is sooooooooooooo boring, y’all.

More soon, stay safe.