There is a certain shade of blue that drenches the pre-dawn sky. It sneaks above the rooftops, fading into the night’s sky’s remnants so that if you’re not paying attention, you might not even notice its there. It’s that shade of blue that’s unable to be replicated. While people might try, it’s the same blue that when we see it on attempted on a shirt, we think, “What in christfuck is that?”
Maybe our minds find incongruous the location of the blue. Maybe it’s a matter of it being something that man will never be able to replicate. Like people.
I didn’t know how I would feel today — the second “anniversary” of Jason’s death. Yesterday, I’ll tell you, was an immortal cluster of emotional fuckery. My therapist sent me down a path I didn’t want to nor did I expect (or really need) to go. I don’t feel that it served me in light of everything we’ve been able to accomplish in my Sorting process. All it seemed to accomplish was fucking my day, heart, and soul up right and proper. Maybe I needed it. Who knows. But today, I’m taking inventory. Why?
Not because of the “anniversary” of Jason’s death. A memorable event that’s sent shockwaves through my soul, no doubt. But nothing to celebrate or continue to memorialize. I don’t even think Jason would want that.
What I think he would want, though, is looking today at the lives of everyone who surrounded him for his 29 years and seeing that they’re taking inventory.
Who are you letting into your life? There is finite space. People come and go. But the people we let into our lives (or blanket forts) are entirely of our choosing. No one can come in without our express permission. There is no finger pointing. Only my finger.
Who are you keeping in your life? I’ve realized that everyone I let into my blanket fort needs to be of that certain shade of blue. Irreplaceable, without compare, unable to be replicated, and with a beauty that comes from within. There will always be assholes lined up to do business and waste part of their life with the next asshole who comes along. It doesn’t have to be me.
What are you doing with your life? Sitting still. Waiting for permission. Fearful. Fuck the three of those, I say. If there’s something you want or need, go out the fuck and get it. Find the people who can help you achieve it. But living your life has nothing to do with other people. It has everything, however, to do with you. I woke up this morning and walked to the gym at 5:45am. Thirty seconds into my walk, I said out loud, “How will I kick ass today?” I didn’t ask if I could. I asked how I will. Wills make a life. Ironically enough, they also seal a death. But you aren’t dead (even if that’s how you feel some days — don’t I fucking know it). You job right now, just like mine, is to DO. And you can’t DO if you’re wallowing in stillness, mired with waiting for some mystical sense of permission, and fearful of what the next step looks and feels like. JUST FUCKING TAKE THE STEP.
Inventory. How much of that certain shade of blue is in your life? Do you see it when it creeps over the horizon or do you miss it because you’re blinded by all of the shit that you’ve let block your view? Yesterday, I laughed so hard — with such maniacal fervor — that I broke down into tears. Maybe you know what that feels like.
The build. The giggling that comes from a place inside you that you didn’t even know existed. The pressure, screaming to escape while you wonder why you’re laughing because whatever it is reallyisn’tthatfunnyholyshit but you can’t stop. It’s all-consuming. It’s the cruelest and simultaneously most brilliant act, this laughter. A thousand fingers tickling you that can’t be swatted away. You’re an absolute loony right now, aren’t you? You’ve lost control and for once you’re not afraid of what anyone thinks. You’re consumed in release — one you didn’t know you needed and couldn’t manufacture should you realize (ever) that you needed one again. Louis CK and a bag of dicks couldn’t make you laugh harder. But here you are…winding down. Tears streaming. Sobbing. The laughter collapses to an incomprehensible leaky faucet routine and you’re left…
Spent. And better.
Getting rid of things that don’t serve you doesn’t have to hurt. It can be a glorious release (especially if you never bothered to put on mascara that morning).
Where’s your certain shade of blue? I ask. Jason will always be that inimitable hue. And I’m delighted to realize there are many others who have come along in the past two years who all share the same hue. But inventory — you can’t stop taking it. And you can’t stop living. Having tried desperately to do so (the stopping living thing), I’m much more a fan of taking inventory and asking how I will kick ass. And if I have to kick someone’s ass — my own included — to get it done, consider it kicked.
A special offer from a RHW reader
Yesterday’s post is asking how my friend Jason Womack and I can help you with your business. RHW reader Annie Sisk has an IndieGoGo campaign designed to do JUST THAT: help you. For a measly little $25, you can get business productivity coaching from her. EXPLAIN TO ME WHY YOU’RE NOT TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THIS. Actually, don’t. CLICK HERE and go to her IndieGoGo campaign and get in on the sweetest coaching deal that’s will help get some of you pointed in the right direction. Here’s the caveat: her campaign ends today. And who knows — she might become one of your shades of blue for all she might be able to do to help you kick ass…for $25. Oh — and for $100 (still dirt cheap) you can join her Mastermind group. Extra flippin’ sweet.