If I have to make a birthday speech this year at the huge party my cousin's throwing me, it will be this:
In my early teens I never thought I'd get to 30, that society couldn't continue in the obviously stupid way it was set up, and I would instead die gloriously in a beautiful riot of blood & unshakable idealism before my mid-20s, because otherwise would be a compromise of my knowing better than everyone else, and having to settle for a world that was less than I deserved.
It was reading so many books & my writing that saved me from this. In words one can preserve ideas so they can spread, build whole universes from nothing, cast spells into the minds of others, and remake the fundamental way one thinks.
Yet when I crested 30, I actually expected to know everything, to fully understand how it all worked, to have my game down, and be precisely where I intended to be. And when that so wasn't the case, I was soooo angry because you then find out it's the exact opposite. You can know alot, but you will never ever be close to knowing it all, you can learn the pattern, but the game is larger than anyone conceives, and your position in the world is a construct that only comes from the centeredness & confidence from inside you. And even if you did succeed in all that, the values of those things isn't a constant, and you have those very same questions to contend with anyway.
This mental dissonance is a hard truth. Your paradigm shifts whether you want it to or not, and you let go assumptions about how the world works.
You then forgive people their humanity, or you accept their insurmountable imperfection, at least tolerating them, or find a way to insulate yourself from their unchanging foolishness. You open the doors and love your parents again as people, even though they will only always see you as children, which is just how it is. You realize the value of family, and discover why your friends, that adoptive family you create, is worth so much.
Behind my life, I am thankful for the orlog built by ancestors and family that I have lucked into. While family isn't picked, it's fated, this has so much to do with whom we become, the values we baseline from, how we first engage the world, our expectations of self, and the levels of trust we can extend to others from which the friends we keep stems from. The circle of people you keep reflects who you are, and you are my reflection.
With such partial enlightenment comes an unexpected vulnerability. I found in my 40s that I wept at things like dorky love songs or sappy films or others' personal stories that affected me in a deep way I'd never have let them before, and that disturbed and surprised me and still does. Sometimes that's painfully crushing and sometimes that's enriching in the fullness of its experience in the way a child first discovers chocolate, or thrilling as a first love.
For the few of you who really know me, the past few years have been internally so very difficult and trying. My unwanted divorce, the passage of my father's long decline and sad but merciful death, then a break-up that unexpectedly amplified those emotions. There are things in my life that I miss, and I miss them like a corpse misses its breath.
Happiness isn't objects, or wealth, creature comforts, or entertainments. It's the moments we acquire, the times we peak in our lives, and the deeds & words & art we make that may outlive that life. You become 6th grade valedictorian. Your headlines in one of the country's largest newspapers win recognition & cash awards. You lie in the sarcophagus of the great pyramid in Egypt while no one's looking. You write, handbookbind, and publish a limited edition novel. You date way, way, way more than your fair share of wicked smart, exceptionally beautiful, and joyously compatible women. You spot a chupacabra. You throw two parties that people still wistfully talk about decades later. You write a perfect sentence that transcends its own expression. You have a Viking themed wedding with a whole roasted pig on Midsummer. Sixty people show up at a nightclub just to hear you read two poems. You launch a Norse Mythology blog over eight years ago that you add to every week and is globally viewed everyday. You begin work on a map that could significantly change how people view the intersection of sacred place, history, legend, the monstrous, and the divine itself.
I want to thank you for giving me one of these moments, right here, right now, at this moment of turning half-a-century in my life, and recognizing my value in your life.
Thank you for just being here and much love.
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| [just a candid homelife shot. Note that NorsePlay swag Map Of Midgard shirt!] |
