The Cares of this world | PART 1

What do you do the moment after you realize that you've been chasing wealth, instead of chasing your passion? This breakthrough revelation has been long coming and hard won. The reasons that it took me so long to travel this winding road of self-discovery may not make sense to everyone.

For the last year, I have been seeping in a bastion of frustration, trying to figure it out. How do I maintain my life, really my lifestyle, my standard of living, and still pursue my passion? You see, I refuse...maybe I should say that I have refused to be a starving artist. I am not built to be broke, like really. The truth is, I was raised broke, and hungry, and worried about my next meal, until about the age of 15. Those scars have never left me. The tension of responsibility pulls at me constantly.

I see bold delicious letters, written to lovers whose ears have yet to burn with desire. One day, I will compose the answer to heart songs. My words will narrate passion. My paragraphs will scream, "pain". Yet, in reality, I have been harboring secret dreams.

What do you do when you are a person of great faith, yet somehow the faith for God's provision doesn't extend to believing that you won't be dismissed if you are not the best performer on your job. If you don't work longer hours; if you are not always presenting the next great idea, the consequence is an impending layoff. You’ve become the type of person who never has time for anything else, but makes time for work, based on the fear that if you don't, you will end up in the virtual "unemployment line".

What do you do when you've been lying to everyone else and even yourself; but you didn't even realize it until you late bloomed and discovered your passion. I wasn't intentionally a sham. I have just been passing as the embodiment someone else's dream; and I didn't know how to crack the code to my own greatness. I hope this will help someone else.

The thing that I could always do with ease, the thing that I have never doubted, is my ability to move hearts with words. This, and my ability to paint a Roman sunset in the form of a perfectly draped bodacious outfit. - I have never seen a Roman sunset.

In spite of this, irrational fear has gripped me. I have gone through seasons of lack and seasons where I had so much overflow, that the evidence of my purchases fell from my closets. I accumulated things for a sense of preparedness. Yet, I have been feeding fear. This big hungry insatiable evil ugly monster, called fear of poverty. Fear of failure, because that would lead to poverty. So the proverbial “hamster wheel” is where I’ve made my home.

…more to come

It is heart-wrenching

Vulnerability. Lack of privacy. Judgment. Mean-spirited, insecure people.

Those are my fears, sometimes those fears keep me from releasing my writing to the public. Whenever I am sad, longing, hopeful, scratched by pain, bruised by disappointment, I write. Writing is the remedy; In my head, I hear Adele singing. We can interchange her voice with any melancholy artist. If you can relate, you are an artist, no need to verify. You may paint silhouettes and sunsets to personify sentiments. You might dance on top of invisible clouds when life rains down. You may even be a writer. 

The moments that allow me to produce my best work, take a toll. At times I run from my first love because I don't want that icky heart-wrenching feeling. The idea that someone will read and critique the result of my most vulnerable moments, enrages me. I have arguments in my head prepared for those small-minded, linear, shallow people - that I have not even given a chance to manifest!  

Sometimes I don't want to feel, because I know it drives me toward keystrokes, fallen tears, and a composition. My greatest fear in surrendering to destiny is that one day. someone will be talking about me, out loud, on like television, and they won't even know me. After I have bloodied pen and paper, cut up operating systems and snatched my heart from my chest, I imagine that someone will punch the last breath from my body...with a response. 

Fellow writers, be brave, I need your art to comfort me when this moment comes.