fixation, part one

fixation, part the second

fixation, la troisieme

fixation, DAY FOUR

fixation intermission

So I guess it's safe to say that this didn't turn out to be a haiku. . .

If you asked me about life goals I would tell you I have never had more than three. The same three. My whole life long. Boring, boring, unadventurous me.

These goals were clear and sequential.

The first was love. Like a flirty girl trapped on the side of a Grecian urn, my quest for true love was ancient and unwavering. If I had to wait until I was in my sixties before it hit, I was willing to wait. Everything else came second to that goal. Why the fixation? You?ll have to do your own analysis. All I can do is tell you the facts, ma?am. Just the facts.

But, lo and behold, I hit the jackpot d?amour well before my sixtieth birthday which meant goal number two had jockeyed up into priority one position: freedom.

I am a child of the sixties, cut my teeth on the music of Joni Mitchell (think, ?Coyote?), CCR, The Allman Brothers, The Rolling Stones, Gordon Lightfoot (yes, shut up?I was a child!), Linda Ronstadt (Retrospective?a fucking gorgeous album that is not available on CD and I know every word, every breath on every song and it?s a double album), etc. You get the point. My childhood was bathed in talk about FREEDOM--- freedom of expression, freedom from ?the man?, freedom of speech, freedom in life choices. It was paramount to me that when I grew up I lived without any constraints but those of my own making.

I would say I have largely achieved this goal. At least, I have achieved it in satisfactory measure. It?s probably pouring it on too thick to say I live in a state whose motto is ?live free or die,? but I do. And once we?ve moved to Soliden where we?ll be off-grid (free of the electric companies), our principal shackles will be taxes and road maintenance. And who ever gets free of taxes? I may be a dreamer but I?m not THAT far gone.

So that would bring me to Goal #3.

Up until a few weeks ago, I would?ve have told you that goal number three has been to make my living as a writer. It was my fixation. And as much as I appreciate the warm and supportive comments that tell me my dream of being a successful writer is not the same kind of addiction as a neurotic, mentally-ill romantic obsession--- I stand by my original analogy. For me, (and my GOD ask anyone in my family and they?ll stick their fingers in their ears and shout ?LA-lalalalala?we can?t hear you make her stop TALKING about the gonna be a writer someday?we can?t listen to that shit NO MORE!?) this dream became a fixation.

But praise Allah, a few weeks ago, I lifted my bleeding skull from the granite slab where I have been pounding it over lo these many years. I rolled onto my back and just stared up at the sky.

Something had shifted. What I wanted most became absolutely clear to me. I wanted peace. Peace of mind. Peace of heart. Peace of spirit.

Peace became goal number three and the writing thing rolled down the hill, merrily, merrily merrily.

Because you haven?t known me for long you will have to take my word when I tell you I have always been about the fight. I was born for the fight. Raised for the fight. Never left the house without a chip on both shoulders. Hell, I even had bags of spare chips I would carry in my purse or pockets ever ready to toss one and get the fight on.

The need to be right (as I mentioned here) was always paramount. Well, this warrior princess is laying down the sword. Pulling off the chainmail. Tossing in the mace. She?s done.

This past week I have moved onto new ground and I have to tell you it feels fantastic. Fucking fantastic. I am at peace with myself. Who I am. Where I am. And with what I?m doing. I have never, ever, been here before.

And, it looks like I have Dick King to thank. I mean that with total seriousness and no sarcasm. I thank him. I send him blessings of thanks. I know that I am right and he is wrong, but it doesn?t matter.

Because what did I want the whole published book thing to bring to me anyway? Increased happiness, right? Well I have it. By pushing me through this whole experience, Dick King has set me free.

I am so intensely happy to be where I am. I wouldn?t wish struggle and pain on anyone. I truly wouldn?t. But I can tell you, I am glad I have gone through this whole sequence of events.

I?m in a totally different place than I have ever been in my life (on or off drugs). It is that good.

You know that scene in Angels in America where the guy is visited by the angel who comes in, giant wings beating, and says ?greetings Prophet, the messenger has arrived?? (Or something like that?I never read the play so the line isn?t memorized). Well, I have my own angels. Two angels! And they have brought me a message, too.

They say, ?Spring! She is here! Get your bells on! Come run through the fields with us! Let the dancing begin!?

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