Since my last post, I have been struggling with the usual pests–fear of poverty and procrastination–but also with a sense of mortality, my own and that of my parents.
…. so funny. I started this post, maybe, two years ago, and I am still stuck in the same drama. Want to write, worry about money, feel sad about the mortality of me and everyone else, and need to be a shamanic practitioner.
However, I have made a few discoveries:
I am a shaman. In a small way, but still. Not just a practitioner. I actually help others. My community may be tiny, but I have one.
I am a writer. I choose to be one, I will learn to be a better one. Dammit.
Money. You can always make more. And I will.
I am a bookstore owner. I should start acting like one.
I love my family like crazy.
So, I am working on putting all my writing into an electronic format. Dreams, shamanic journeys and insights, essays, novels, everything. No more handwritten journals. I am a child of the technology age. In pursuit of that, I am recommitting to this blog, to Read (Think) Books’ website, to the Duke Barkin sites, and to my new/revived private blogs. I can attach images, audio and whatever to each one.
I also plan to bring my portfolio, scribd site, facebook page, and linked in page into the fold.
The job jar is overflowing… shamanism is the best thing my brain has found to make my life work since dream work. Which is still part of the stuff. Yeah.