It’s been a little over 6 months now since I consciously abandoned the 9-5 daily grind for a life of creative uncertainty. I’ve had ups and downs and brushes with poverty, miscalculation and uncertainty. I’ve also had grand adventures, major life readjustments, small brushes with near comical levels of life as metaphor.
Just as an example of this, there was a persistent period of time in which I couldn’t hold on to a working vehicle or reliable means of transport for more than a few days at a time. To the point, in fact, where I not only had no car and no money to pay for ride shares or cabs, but the entire city bus system went on strike. The lesson learned? I was stuck. Spiritually stuck. And therefore physically stranded to match.
Another few weeks saw my drains not working properly, as I simultaneously built up internal anxiety and stress. I have found myself making labyrinthine wrong turns on city streets at times when I am lost and unfocused in my endeavors. I have learned to look for meaning in patterns and take the appropriate cues.
To be fair, I’m not flying completely without a net here, as I do have a modest income from my late ex which is just enough to pay the rent and some of the bills. I still have to put food on the table, but I have the freedom to be a “starving artist” without the actual starving part most of the time. I am not wealthy or really even much beyond working poor at this rate, but I have time, freedom and energy. Not to mention patient, understanding and non-materialistic teenage children willing to back this grand experiment.
Given the times and the circumstances, this may be as close as I ever get to retiring and I am still young enough, bright enough and full of motivation to grow, learn, create, try, and be that the whole enterprise has a glint of crazy promise to it.