And I. am. petrified.
I am petrified that this post will paint me too open. Messy. Without power. That's all anybody wants: to feel safe, self-possessed, and like they belong. But I think I'm finished asking for access to spaces that were never built with me in mind. And I believe we have the power to create our own spaces and sense of belonging everywhere we go.
Somewhere Out There is a daily meditation where I produce songs. Super imperfect, unfinished and flawed but there and in progress. All I ever wanted to do was write; it just so happens I really like people, and my songs needed a singer, so I signed up for the job. But there is no song without space for nothingness, too.
The goal is to create one song every day for the next year. So 365 songs by May 29, 2019. During that time, I'm not sure what else I'm looking for. I guess people with whom I can build them. And just, to be ok with myself in the meantime, without attaching any sense of self-worth to what I can produce. The being and the process of doing are where I think we find our contentment and sense of "I'm alright." So every day, without an album, or a book, or a red carpet appearance--anything that says to the egoic self "oh you're a somebody now," I'm alright. I'm scared... I'm still doing this, though.
Somewhere Out There is an exercise about focus, discipline, consistency, and patience. And being present. It's about giving permission to be unfinished. To be unsure. To be nothing like what people expected of you.
Here's a snippet from the first exercise. It's called "Elation."