Time files fast these days. Feels like just yesterday I was pulling out my summer clothes and readying for warmer weather. The seasons are swiftly changing with the roar of Canadian winds, and I’m now exchanging button-up shirts for layers and thicker jackets.
Fierce winds push loose leaves across the yards like yellow and orange tidal waves smashing on brown beaches. The garden out back withers away and crumples to dust. The glorious plants that I grew over the last few months fight for survival in a house with few good bright spots. No matter how hard I try to keep the falling foliage under control, there is no denying Aeolus.
The cold is coming. The season I dread the most is knocking at the door. And with it, another six months of breathing dustbox air, of shoveling the driveway and marching through knee-high snowbanks, of short days and long nights, and of seldom feeling refreshed in the face of biting winds. Now we also have to fret about influenza and novel coronavirus — on top of doldrums, seasonal affectedness disorder, holiday stress, and dangerous roads.
I despise winter almost as much as I do Donald Trump. It brings out the worst in me, recesses all of the good momentum I try to build during the year and withers me physically away, chiseling my health away with every passing winter season. I tried to move away to warmer climes last year, but it didn’t work.
It was a flawed, miserable attempt at escape from the anchors that drag me down in my life.
Thankfully, I currently have a great, interesting job where I get to work from home. Much has changed since I left the professional world for a different path, yet a lot has remained the same. There are many disappointing and disheartening parallels to where I was in my life ten years ago, but I remain vigilant and hopeful this time around.
I’ve got great, supportive friends. I’ve found my voice and my platform, away from the buzz and turbulence of social media. I’ve survived the jump off the cliff and the rock bottom depths. I’ve found renewed confidence in myself, my art, and my place in this space. I’ve come to appreciate the silence away from the feeds and bickering.
I’m at peace with a “less is more” approach, and am finding that the more I clean up my life, my content and my story, the less stress I encounter. Simplicity has its merits, and an overencumbered life has gravity that cannot be undone while beneath it.
Minimalism leads to clarity, because too much stuff, too many voices, and too many commitments causes distraction and confusion.
With all of my possible might, I’m going to do my best to continue to clean up my life over the course of the next few months as I’m in virtual hibernation.
Many of you who are subscribed to this blog saw a flurry of posts recently. This blog has been running since 2010, and I’ve had several iterations across different platforms (livejournal and Blogger). Over the course of the build of this site, I ported content from those sites into this one, and didn’t move content out of Draft status. Additionally, I made live some previous blogs that were under lockdown, and published some content that was more more personal and less polished than my newer work. Rather than trash all of those imperfect content pieces, I’ve decided to share them, so the story of how I got to who I am now is more clear for everyone.
I’ve got Echoprism Vol2 to finish and release, and a publishing calendar of exciting projects next year, including the tenth anniversary release of “Obscurious”. A lot to do, with too little time to accomplish it all.
No more hiding, no more bullshit. The closets have been packed with closed boxes, clothing containers, and chattering skeletons for too long.
If you’re reading this, thanks for being part of my journey, and caring about the static of this artist’s life. I appreciate your patience as this experience evolves. I’m a one-man creative army, and I have a lot to tackle.
Less is more. More space. More time. More life.