At this point, it’s not really a decision it’s just something that happened as a way from the silence…
I woke up with the usual things nagging and pulling at me; you know…
The ‘resistance’ of the entrepreneur.
I only do work that comes attached to my higher purpose…
No, I will not be helping you purchase shinier chains.
I will not be helping you silence you inner voice through the use of shiny objects.
For me, I feel like the resistance ha been a force that was so much stronger than everyone else’s even though I know that’s a lie.
Just because I grew up in a trailer eating Malt O Meal and watching rats gang bang in my school clothes doesn’t mean I’m mentally more susceptible to this shit than anyone else.
Everybody gets it to varying degrees, no matter your lot in life.
That lower voice, telling you what a fucking loser you are and how you’re gonna fail.
That one I don’t really hear that often anymore.
The rebuttle is always “Compared to who?”
And then I just keep going about my day.
I’ve been through that song and dance thousands of times; day in and day out for months now.
I don’t remember hearing it that much back when I had a ‘normal’ job.
The lizard brain – nice and comfy – was always telling me I was safe and sound.
“You’re good to go,” it said. “Stay right here and help someone else build out their dreams. Eventually that fire inside you will die down.”
The voice is so polite when you are not actively pursuing a way out.
When you are not running through the woods like a prison inmate who has just scaled the walls and made a break for it, the sound of barking bloodhounds in the distance; the voice is very quiet.
It has very little to say…
Some days it doesn’t say anything at all, it just let’s you be.
It let’s you go to the club and get fucked up, wake up the next morning feeling like shit.
Through that cloudy haze you usually hear a different voice, like a mom coming home from work to find the entire house filthy: Your higher self.
“What the fuck has happened here?”
Fuck that voice.
You know there is always a way to silence THAT voice.
There are so many ways away from it these days you can’t even count them.
Sugar, alcohol, money, women, drugs…
You can get away from it easily if you truly want to.
You can stomp out the fires before they even get started at any time you desire.
Anything but hearing what you truly have to say…
It would be just too unbearable to hear what you really sound like.
To make such a hefty alteration to your reality, and then feel like you are forced to keep going once you start.
And it is like that…
Because there is no more powerful drug than being yourself and speaking your mind.
Once you’ve done it once and have got a taste, it’s irresistible, but it comes with a price.
Just like any drug you have an addiction to, you have to keep your blinders on and do crazy shit to keep making it happen.
The equivalent of stealing lawn mowers and trading them in little Mexico for eight balls of coke.
In the real world it’s things like leaving it all behind, selling everything you own and maxing out all your credit to keep going.
But the rush is worth it…
Being in the zone, being in flow is worth it.
Every minute every second of it is totally worth it; no matter how I or any of the people I know who incessantly bitch about the things happening in our lives, it’s fucking worth it.
I would go to end of the earth for this fucking drug, I will sell everything I own when it gets rough and I try it over and over and over again.
I wouldn’t say I would steal for it but I would be a bum for it.
I would pandhandle under a bridge to keep this life going if it ever got that rough.
I will never go back that old life.
I remember it, clear as day…
Scaling the fence of the prison, landing down on the ‘other side’, blood cascading down my arms and legs from rain (has to be raining, this is my movie) and the cuts of the razor wire.
The shock of it all, maybe dropping that first plocamation online, maybe quitting your job with no plan, it feels like this escape.
Eyes wide open, alive, one word in my mind from a higher self who understood the implications totally, and yet calm cool and collected: “RUN.”
As you sprint away from your old life in pursuit of the new one you get the feeling that someone is chasing you and it’s not long until the hallucinations begin…
The other voice that starts in, like a ghost hovering right in front of you as you zig zag through the trees and dodge branches.
“Where the fuck are you going you mother fucker, are you trying to get us fucking killed?”
The change of the lower voice: the transformation from a once docile and accommodating friend to a now frightening and totally negative fiend is complete.
And it screams at you the whole journey through the woods, peoples sheds you sleep in, the next morning when it’s time to continue; when you are eating twigs and berries.
It’s always continues.
It’s been months in these woods, living loudly away from the silence.
When I first got out, it was like an episode of Prison Break.
I found a car that drove me far away to another location, only to have it break down.
I’ve met people who have aided me along the way, cheered me on in my journey.
They are still there and push me along the more value I add in their lives.
Through this all I just live for these moments of freedom; the moments that I get to be lost in the flow, creating my art.
There is nothing stronger than this; I get to truly be me and forge this new life.
My laptop is back now (to some degree), and it does make a difference being able to push these keys.
But that was an instance that would have been a huge problem for me.
And still, I would have had to continue on without it.
I got really good at using my iphone and now, now…
I can actually fun my whole business from it.
All I need is food, a phone, and wifi and I can make this thing work.
I can retain my soul and continue on, but it does feel good to press these keys and let the flow come out as fast as I can type on a keyboard, which is actually fucking fast.
To get all of these thoughts out of my head and onto this medium is something I can never get enough of.
I’m not racing any clock, as the lower voice would have me believe, I’m merely getting everything out as it comes.
And the lower continues to speak non-sense to me; but ask me if I give a fuck.
Throughout this time in the woods it has all happened to me, all the things they said would happen, and yet I am still here.
So, ask me if I give a fuck…
Who knows what happens from here?
Who knows if they prison guards catch up to me, and try to take me back again.
I will spend my days plotting my next escape, and it won’t be long I assure you of that.
I will never go back, and I don’t feel like that’s even a remote possibility now.
I feel a change coming, something shifting in this reality.
Call it tests passed or whatever…
I’m just getting that feeling of Senior-itis.
That feeling I got back the day they called my name in an actual prison (rather than this metaphorical one I’ve been speaking of), that day was different.
That day, I’d decided that I had just had enough of the bullshit.
Enough of being trapped.
Enough of the silence.
It’s not going to take me two years to learn this lesson, to tire of mountain of resistance I have put myself through and continue to on a daily basis.
As a matter of fact it slow up day by day now.
I’m losing those fucks and I’m losing the desire to continue putting myself through the guantlet.
You’ll find this happen to you when you begin your journey, or if you’re even in the middle of it right now…
There comes a point where you feel as if it is time to stop and just accept that you are the puppet master and you are the one putting your mind through these constant battles and tests.
One day you’re going to feel as if you had enough and let yourself be free.
Let yourself enjoy the moments in the sun, and then give yourself the permission to come out of the woods and accept the new life as a free man in a new job that pays you to do only one thing: be yourself.