It’s not that I have nothing to say.

It’s that I have too much to say and don’t know how to let it out.

Yet.

Yet?

I feel all sorts of contradictory feelings. Conflicting thoughts. But not the kind that war in the mind; just those that slosh around feeling the edges of consciousness looking for a place to settle, a zone to organize themselves in. Right now it seems they are searching for their cubbyholes, hideouts and enclaves. Trying to integrate themselves into all I have known before.

The newness of it all is a blessing. I chose to turn the corner and face myself head on. I make a concrete decision to wake up and stay awake; more than ever. To see and experience life more, in a more immediate way, a deeper way, and endeavor to make use of the present. Not to disown or deny the past, but to use the years as stepping stones that have all led me to the place I am right now. This unfolding trail has no markers. The breadcrumbs of my childhood are gone; there’s no way back, only forward. Hansel & Gretel have left the forest.

I’m going to see what’s out there. Beyond the house of my father and mother. Beyond the house of the witch. I am bound for elsewhere. I’m my own hero.

So now forty-nothing may be where I’m starting from, but I certainly don’t plan to end up in the nothing place. The void exists to be filled. Nature abhors a vacuum, even human nature. That’s why we see everyone around us, and our very own selves often trying to fill up with anything and everything to just stuff something into that gaping wound in our center. I’m dealing with my God-Shaped Hole, and I know that nothing else can ever fill it but Him.

I started teaching myself the recorder tonight, in prep for when my Irish Tin Whistle gets here. I ordered one on eBay on the cheap. I have been listening for Jason Upton for too long, because every time there are whistles and pipes in the songs it always takes me to another place. It’s beautiful, haunting, mysterious, and does impart an even more spiritual feel to the music. So, in the meantime I’m practicing on a recorder that my friend Bill gave me. Dang, it’s harder than I remember — my fingers were getting sore from covering all the holes. Er, that just doesn’t sound right. There’s no other way to phrase it though, as reaching all the holes sounds even more salacious. hah hah!

I spent some time tonight getting whacked in the Glory. It was very cool. I laughed a lot too, which I needed. I watched a webcast of this: http://www.livestream.com/godshealingpower

Oh and today I found out about Brian Zahnd, and I can truly say, wow, he is a man after my own heart, because he’s a man after God’s own heart! This is what I read that left me awed.

“Confessions of a Radical” — http://www.jasonupton.net/vision/index.php?option=com_myblog&show=Confession-of-a-Radical-by-Brian-Zahnd.html&Itemid=54&cpage=20

I ordered his book on Amazon today. Got to use a little of my Amazon earnings to pay for part of it.

I’m freaking tired. This has been a long day.

I know this is an underwhelming entry, but I can’t always bring the sparkle.

There is more on my mind, but I’m too tired to do it justice.

Till Tomorrow…

Wal-Mart enters the casket business.

This term just popped into my head tonight. Perhaps it’s been coined elsewhere before, but that’s not where I got it from; it just came out of my noggin. Here’s what it means to me (thus far, open to further definition, which will unfold as I go on). I am defining Forty-nothing as the state of being one enters when never having counted on living past 30, and thus really didn’t plan accordingly. Now, here you are, all dressed up like a pseudo-adult, but have no idea where you are going. That is where I find myself right now.

I’m here.

So this is where I’m starting from.

Welcome to my post-everything crisis. It’s a land beyond post punk, post feminist, post-bi, post-etc. It’s the place where all my past labels are rendered meaningless and of no value to me on this new terrain.

This is my second act, and none of the old rules apply.

That’s also why I’m lost. I have shed so many selves already, that I am a snake without even one layer left to shed. I’m down to my skin. This is me. Raw. Alive. Terrified, yet hopeful. Scarred, yet resilient. Feeling weaker than I may have ever felt, yet knowing that this is my strongest moment. The time when I decided that I am going to face all the parts of myself and my life that I’ve tried to outrun. No more buffers. Addictions. Escapism.

It started, in earnest, earlier tonight. And I cried. Man did I cry. My mind is ancient but my soul wailed like a little kid. She never had a chance. Born into this. But it’s time to reach my hand back and pull her out of the mess I’ve made.

It’s time to become who I really am.

Before there’s no time left.