Music and More

Inspiration

Inspiration is something I chase because I think its necessary for growth.  What I have recently acknowledged is that inspiration can leave a bitter aftertaste.  The aftertaste is a metaphor for my realization that I get jealous.  Seeing someone be great is sprinkled with disheartening toxins.

The variety of emotions that are created when I am inspired are mostly encouraging, but there is a shadow cast.  In the shadows I can make out the profile of jealousy.  The jealousy provides an opportunity for me to recognize my deficits because I can notice cynicism sparkling.  Paying more attention to this I can recognize the judgement.  The judgement is my ingrained competitor invoked by my ego.

My ego recalls my lost expectations and my failed intentions.  Then it asks my false self to torment my creativity with guilt and shame, holding it accountable for the dreams put aside. The stronger and more stable my false becomes I am allowed to observe the delinquency of my ego at work.  I have had the opportunity to see the manufacturing of sadness being pushed out the door into my conscious packaged as cynicism.  I am tapping into the sadness that lurks under the comparison and inadequacy that is part of the brew when feeling inspired.

I have a competitive catalyst in my constitution.  I have an idea that it lives in my ego.  It has motivated, punished, and misguided me.  It has a craving for inspiration and cannot digest the judgments that result from interpreting them.  I have not learned to take the packages of cynicism and repurpose them as something productive.  The consequence is my suffering.  I am flushing the filters that help me see sources of suffering to reduce the seepage of disappointment into my happiness.  I have found a way to collected and sprout these sadness packages.

 The awareness is helping me sprout the toxic packages into forgiveness, grief, and anxiety.  The toxicity of my disappointment is positively correlated to the synthesis or coagulation of my sadness.  Whether or not the production is useful depends on the toxicity.  Regardless it can now be better managed by my improving wellness systems that are alive and thriving.  As I am able to metabolize my suffering, I can profit joy.

Immigrating Without Borders

      I immigrated from Albuquerque’s city life to a quieter Santa Fe.  Santa Fe is 50 some odd miles north of Albuquerque along the Camino ...