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Photo cred: Sarah Williams

My Fucking Feelings 01/01/17

The Joshua Tree, lowering my energy, and trying to stay.

I was a very high strung kid. I remember people always telling me to shut up because I was so loud. I hated it. No one likes being muted. When I was sixteen and folding jeans at a Miller’s Outpost (The Gap of the 80's), the cool older guy who had crunchy hair and tight jeans and should have had a better job at his age, phyically stopped me with his arm once and told me to “relax”. Since then, I can’t stand it when people tell me to relax. Nothing makes me boil more.

The other day, I went to an energy coach. She commented on how high my energy was. I didn’t even say anything. But she wasn’t referring to my voice. She was referring to what my body was giving off. I told her it was passion. She didn’t find it funny. She suddenly had crunchy hair and tight stone washed jeans. But I leaned into the session. I chose to be open to the experience. I’ve made a decision to open to everything these days. She was a nice lady. It was a little out there. But by the end of the hour, she said she balanced me out. Fingers crossed.

I sat in traffic on the way home and did a good job of being calm. I don’t mind traffic like most people. I surrender to it. I think so many don’t and let it take from them. I use it as treatment to teach me patience. Like dating. In traffic I was thinking about all the crazy tech shit the nerds are creating these days. Like augmented reality and face recognition and planes that fly in space so you can get to Tokyo in an hour. And I’m not excited about it, to be honest. I’m not sure if it’s advancement or regression. Our feet don’t touch earth’s soil anymore.

Rewind to last weekend. I went camping at The Joshua Tree. It was a last minute thing. I’m not a big camper. Actually, I don’t know how to camp. It’s not something I did as a kid and I could count on one finger, the middle, how many times I’ve gone as an adult. Unless there is an engine involved, I am not a big fan of outdoor activities. That’s why I said yes. I wanted the stretch. I forgot to latch the tent cover so the fucker was flapping the entire night like a runaway kite. I also brought a blanket instead of a sleeping bag and quickly realized why sleeping bags keep you much warmer than a blanket, even if it’s a beautiful fake mink Korean blanket. I also forgot my pillow and felt the keys inside my backpack press againt the back of my head like it was trying to unlock it. Unfortunately, it didn’t. All this is predictable John Kim.

I stared at the stars mostly. They danced wildy. I had conversations about past lives and “happy”. Screamed “love” on top of a rock around midnight. Remembered someone telling me to “follow my heart”. I kept that in my back pocket. And I accidently kicked an oven mitt that was perched on a small rock and laughed about it more than was appropriate. Because when you’ve had four pieces of chocolate mushrooms, that’s the funiest thing you’ve experienced in your life. “I see the oven mitt with my eyes but when I kicked it it didn’t match what I saw. The oven mitt is soft but what I felt was hard”. Anyway, there is something magical about that place. I get why people go there. The Joshua Tree and mushrooms go together like Bruce Lee and numb chucks. (That’s me in the photo above sporting girl sandals I found after misplacing my Doc Martins and holding a giant mag flashlight I felt was my sword, watching the fire breakdance for hours.)

Back to now.

Staying.

I just went on a night walk. I was in my head way too much today. I got “hooked” as Pema Chodron would say. I felt really sad tonight. Not sure if it’s from the confusion of dating or all the energy that’s pent up with no where to go except these keys I’m punching right now. I went to a Guns & Roses concert last night and noticed how old everyone looked. They were all my age, people I would have gone to high school with. But the guys were mostly balded with giant beer bellies and bags under their eyes. They looked like zombies wearing G & R tees. It made me sad. For many reasons.

I know I’m all over the place but here’s what I’m painting. Humans. Losing touch. Technology pushing us away from earth. The answers I believe are not in the sky. They are in us. I’ve always said that. And I say us because we are tribal creatures. I know how I feel when I’m around people I like. There is magic there. Energy. It’s real. I’m going to work on controling mine a bit more, setting the frequency to where it’s the most clear. Because I believe we hear better when we are still. And finally, the word “happy”. I was thinking about it on my walk earier. For the first time, the word felt plastic. Rehearsed. Like the world before we learned it was round.

The word I’m interested in these days is conciousness and I know due to the commercialization of wellness, it’s a little played out. But I don’t know what else to call it.

Let’s just say instead of chasing happy, I want to be awake.

But I’m still unsure what that looks like exactly.

Actually, I know it’s not supposed to look like anything. Because if you think you know, then you’re thinking and that’s not it.

It’s a state.

A way of being.

And I know one door into it is to

Stay.

In the now.

As long as you can.

Where stars dance and oven mitts are funny and loud may just be someone’s overly sensitive ears.

Where you can feel someone’s energy like warm water, redefine attaction, and learn to kiss again.

Because our thoughts will eventually kill us.

If not the ones swimming in our heads, then the ones backed by billionaires that are creating our future.

  • Angry

Author of “I Used To Be A Miserable F*CK” . IG: theangrytherapist.

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