Escaping the bucket

Life is so interesting. So extra-ordinary and congruent (not sure why that, but sure), enchanting. We spend so much of our lives seeking importance in the world out there that we forget to look in the one place that importance actually resides: within. Real power is authentic power. It’s finding oneself outside of the bucket, ahead of the curve, above and beyond the human dilemma. Creating your own lane and cruisin’.

I was talking to Bernard about that last night, about having escaped. About how the real struggle is having freed oneself from the bucket of crabs, all the while having to still co-exist within the bucket (from above), because you still have to be human when you’re human, even when it feels like you’re not. Even when you’ve overstood the basic-ness of the human being, the trivial-ness of this little existence. Even once you come to realize that the real real is so much grander and greater than this and there’s no adequate way of embodying that… yet.

It’s as if your only options from above the bucket are to wear a sign that says, “Woke,” which will be mostly confusing to the average Sally Boo-Boo, or you just say fuck this noise, throw the papers in the air (that’s what humans do, right?), and run off to a foriegn place to live off the land. You escape. Far, far away. And because neither of those options are exactly plausible, you float around the human realm while your Soul mostly pouts and your mind is in a constant state of, “You want me to care about, what?! The color of the bottom of my shoe? The name on the inside of my tag? How well I can paint and color in my face so that I can trick people into thinking I look like someone else? Is this real life? Is this thing on?”

How silly. All of it. So silly. And once you find yourself above and beyond the silliness, be prepared to be alone. Dolo is the name of the game when you’re cruising the coastline of “normalcy”. Which is not to say that there aren’t others who, too, have escaped, as Bernard so Divinely reminds me, but that is to say that those who are also cruisin’ the coastline are few and far between. Ships passing in the open sea.

It’s totally worth it, of course. Worth the solitude and the feeling like an alien-ness and the side-eyes from the models poppin’ bottles. An ‘if you only knew’ smirk from me, in my sweatshirt, yoga pants, and 13-year-old girl make-up skills. If you only fuckin’ knew.

With Love, Solé