It might be a little odd for someone around my age to put this into words, but I’d like to make sure that I get the facts written down clearly before we move on.
I’m the type of guy that doesn’t mind being by himself. Or, to write it with a more thoughtful, even finer point, I’m the type who doesn’t find it painful to be alone. Well, not most of the time.
Because as once was, I find that the extended amount of time I spend running alone, whenever I get the chance to, not speaking to anyone, to be painful whatsoever. I have held onto this solitary tendency of mine for quite some time now. Eight years to be exact.
Of course, throughout life, it gradually grew on me being around, and therefore living with someone else has both positive and negative circumstances that accompanies it.
And being a chef by trade, I fully grasp the importance of leading by example and being a team player, and by living with, teaching, learning and growing with other people throughout my life, I’ve learned the obvious point that most of us don’t know how to operate full time on our own in certain situations or surroundings. So gradually then, or perhaps, by putting my own sort of spin on it, through my own experience, I’ve learned how to operate at peak performance within my immediate surroundings when I have to, whether it be surrounded by those I love, or left alone to my own devices.
I guess you could say that by sticking my nose into all sorts of creative things and ideologies I didn’t really need to, I‘ve acquired the practical street smart skills I need to survive and thrive on my own throughout life.
Is this right or wrong of me?
Who knows?
But if there is a line between right and wrong, I either crossed it, or snorted it years ago.
Though this desire to be alone in my own mental stillness when I need to be hasn’t changed at all. Which is why the time that I spend running, maintaining my own healthy silence is very crucial to my overall well-being, and heaven forbid, a lot healthier for me than writing most days.
Because when I go for a run I do not have to talk to anyone, nor to anyone must I listen, not even myself. All I have to do is turn up the music and ponder at the beautiful scenery passing me by, all the while focusing on the finish line.
A QUICK QUESTION
I once was asked, what I thought about when I run. The individual inquiring, may or may not have been familiar with running at length themselves. But ever since that question I often think of what I think about when I run.
So, what exactly do I think about when I’m running?
In all honesty, I haven’t a clue.
On cloudy days, I suppose I wonder whether or not it’s going to rain or snow. And on sunny days, how excruciatingly hot and dusty it is. On smoky days I wonder if, and when, the winds will shift in our favor. When I am sad I suppose I think about gloomy things. When I’m happy, I guess I think about all of the sunshine that I see.
Sometimes though, random heartfelt and painful memories do bubble up in my mind just as well.
Occasionally—hardly ever really in all honesty—do I come up with any concrete ideas as to what to write about.
But every so often, I do think about unraveling the ideas of mine with certain images of poetic and philosophically written knots of life, love, and the pursuit of happiness, on the vague chance that they may help to keep not only my own mental and creative landscape alive and healthy, but others too. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll help me to endure the pace with everything that this brutal place has to offer.
But really as I run, I don’t think of anything worth mentioning to anyone.
I just run.
I run in a void.
Or maybe, I should spin it around another way: I run to create a void.
But as most everyone should expect, a twisted thought or two will slip into said void. A man’s mind cannot always be a fully functional vacuum, some sort of thread always get entangled in the process creating quite the mechanical mess. The nature of human emotional patterns and behaviors is not strong enough, nor consistent enough to remain sustainable within a creative vacuum.
WHAT I MEAN…
What I mean is this, the kind of thoughts and ideas that invade my emotions as I run remain subordinate to that void. And lacking any clever content they are merely random thoughts that fix themselves upon that void, and then they project and disperse themselves as they see fit throughout my mind and out of my mouth.
The thoughts that bounce around my mind while I run around this high desert trail are like thousands of little white clouds in the sky.
Clouds of all sorts of different shapes and various sizes. Some come and others go, while the sky remains the same sky as it always was, blue. The clouds are nothing but wayward part time companions that will soon pass away and disappear, leaving nothing behind but a beautiful hue of blue.
The clouds both exist and don't exist.
Much like my ongoing creative process and the thoughts that come with it..
They have so much depth and substance, though at the same time, they have none at all. And I can merely accept the vast expanse above my head for what it is and just soak up the gorgeous scenery as I run.
And now here I am again, running through a void, if you will.
Some days it feels really strange, and I can’t tell if I am happy, or in the throes of a depressive state filled with doubt and pain, or scared shitless, maybe acting foolish, or just plain fucking confused to the core, or whatever the hell I’m feeling.
Probably though in the long run, it doesn’t really matter, because the prior thoughts are nothing more than temporary feelings that like clouds, will eventually disperse into the nothingness of blue sky above me.
Because for me—and probably everyone else for that matter—this trivial life is just an ongoing experience, and the things that I’m feeling are the first time that I’ve experienced feeling them.
YET TO BE EXPERIENCED
If things in their current state were something I’d experienced before, then I would be able to understand things more clearly, but this is the first time, so I can’t get a grip on everything just yet.
All I can do in this moment is refrain from making any over detailed judgments and just accept things for what they are—out of my control.
Because from my own experience, I’ve learned over the course of my life that competing with other people—whether in my creative and personal agendas, romantic affairs, political and religious beliefs, or even in my field of work—is just not the sort of lifestyle that I try to live anymore.
I’m absolutely better than no one and no one is better than me. And that’s that.
So please forgive me in advance for stating the obvious, but this world is made up of all kinds of different people with their own egocentric personalities. Personalities that have their own sort of certain values, perceptions, attractions, and projections to live by, and the same holds just as true to me.
These trivial differences though, more so than ever, have given rise to numerous ambiguous disagreements, and the combination of these disagreements have given rise to even far greater misunderstandings, and it has put "us" all in a dire situation that is bound get out of hand. Hell, let’s be honest here, it already has.
And to be honest with you, I’ve grown quite sick and tired of it all, the bickering back and forth of finger pointing between society, especially all of “us” over the past eight or so years. Because as a result of this, people are being unfairly criticized, and people are unfairly criticizing others based on their own self-absorbed perceptions.
This goes without saying, and we are all guilty of it. It’s not necessarily much fun to be misunderstood or criticized for how we feel though, but rather a hidden painful experience that sometimes gets the best of those whom are misunderstood in a deeper, more esoteric numbing of the soul kind of sense.
A PAINFUL NECESSITY
Yet, as I’ve gotten older, I’m slowly but surely coming to the harsh realization that all of our pain and suffering is a necessity of this life. It’s like the old cliché, that what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.
Because if you think about it, it’s precisely the grief and the pain we’ve all felt at different points in our lives that affects all of us in its own little way that differentiates ourselves from others, and from that grief we’re able to create our own independent and solitary selves through whatever it is we are going through. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.
Take myself as an example. It’s precisely my ability to describe some aspects of a landscape—both exterior and internal—that others cannot. And to feel differently about things than others do, and to choose words that differ from theirs.
And this beautiful creative burden of both a blessing and a curse has allowed me an unforeseen ability to write down most of the romantically rebellious words that bounce around my mind, heart, and soul and share them with you all on a little phosphorous lit screen. Well, at least those that I’m not apprehensive to share quite yet.
But because of this I have found myself in an extraordinary situation in which a lot of people like to read what I’ve written.
This mind you, is in itself, nothing short of an absolute miracle, and one that I am extremely grateful for, and yet some don’t like to read what I write and that’s perfectly fine too.
And it should be noted that whatever this “creative experience” is by the way, kind of all happened on accident. And I never imagined it would get this far. That my friends, is the honest to God truth. But here I still am, eight years to the day from sharing my first post on the Intrawebs for the whole wide world to see, aptly titled "Creative Outpost" which I have shared below for your reading pleasure.
THE FREEDOM TO BE...
And the fact that I choose this freedom to keep being me in the realm of a seasonal depressive funk and not pretending that everything is just hunky dory, is indeed, my most essential creative quality. But said freedom can be very a painful, lonely, and confusing thing sometimes.
It shouldn’t be.
But it is, painfully plain and simple.
I guess looking at the positive side of everything, it‘s the passionate price a person has to pay, in order to get to know one’s truest self. And just as well, to be emotionally and—now it seems—socially independent.
Such is the absolute truth of freedom I should suppose.
So that’s what I believe, and I’ve tried to live my life as accordingly creative as I can to me. Most times, I actively seek out some kind of company, usually my kid’s, and every so often, that of a beautiful woman's. There are even some instances that I’ve sought to be the life of the party in a room full of strangers on any given random night just to hide from all the pain.
Though, as I’m older now, and especially for someone in my creative style of work, solitude is, more or less, an inevitable circumstance that allows me the opportunity to somewhat heal.
This solitary circumstance though, is kind of like a double-edged sword. It protects the external shell of me, but at the same time it steadily slices away at my so-called soul from the inside.
And I think, in my own way, I’m aware of said impending danger—most likely from my past experiences—and that’s why I have to constantly keep something in motion, whether it be my legs, my hands, my creative approach, my mind, or my kitchen, something always has to be running.
I guess this is the Zen I find when running, as to use it in a way to escape the burden of things I cannot control, even myself most times.
In a weird way pertaining to said Zen, you could also say that by pushing myself to certain limits—in order to heal from the lolly-gagging aggravation I feel deep down inside myself at times—running at long lengths helps me to point my own self towards a more positive perspective.
Not so much as an intentional act, but as an instinctive reaction.
ALLOW ME TO BE MORE SPECIFIC
When I feel I’m treated unfairly (from my own perception, at least), or when someone that I care about and I’m sure will understand me, doesn’t, I go running a lot farther than usual. And by doing this it’s like I am physically exhausting my arrogant discontent for whatever it is deep down inside of me that is bugging my ass about the situation.
I guess it helps to make me realize how creatively winded I really am and how limited my own inward abilities truly are when confusion comes around. I become much more aware, physically, mentally, and spiritually of my low points, and my inability to focus effectively on my own self, let alone, my own damn breathing technique. And one of the positive results from running a little farther and faster than before is that I become that much stronger moving forward by getting it all out.
To write it more simply if I may: if I’m angry about something out of my control, I direct that anger towards bettering myself. If I have a frustrating experience that upsets the hell out me, I use that to push myself a little harder than before. I silently absorb what negative feelings I’m able to when running, releasing them later, spinning them in a different direction, and in as positive of a way as possible. And maybe even perhaps, as if to add a little flair and personality to the narrative of an ongoing story.
But I think for most people, my creative personality takes a minute, or days, months, maybe even years, to warm up to. As it typically takes me a minute or two, to warm up to you and yours too.
There might be a few—very few, mind you, I’d imagine—who are really impressed immediately by me, and I, by you, but only rarely would anyone in their right mind warm right up to each other so quickly.
And is it ever in the realm of possibility for a creative personality to be liked and fully trusted by everyone?
I haven’t the slightest idea, though probably not, or maybe there is somewhere upon the outskirts of a really big city. It’s too damn difficult to generalize though. So I try not to.
Truth is, not everyone is going to like me, or agree with me. And that’s the truth as to one of the reasons as to why I like to write, and even truer as to the fact why I will never stop writing...
But that’s a whole other commentary altogether.
Let’s get back to running.
THE ZEN IN RUNNING
I’ve gotten back into a running lifestyle again, I started nonchalantly a little over four years ago, then rigorously for a few years after that, but got sidetracked back last June, and have picked it up again full steam ahead over the past month or so.
And now, I almost feel as if I’m obsessively running through all of the misunderstood pain, all the misplaced happiness, all the soul-searching confusion, all the while setting the pace, until the time comes for me, myself, and I, to cross that finish line of my own expectations and revelations.
What that might mean for me, now that I’m approaching my late forties, I don’t know yet. But I have to think that it means something filled with good fortune, or maybe it’ll mean nothing profound whatsoever at all, but there has to be something of significance to it, one should believe.
SETTING THE PACE
Anyways, right now I must set the pace as I see fit, because my ongoing creative process depends on it.
I’ll wait till later to think about why I must do it in my own little way, and what it all means. But putting off thinking too much about these sort of things has become one of my strongest suits as of late, it’s a skillset I’ve sharpened as I’ve gotten more creative and a little bit older.
So as I situate my shoelaces tight upon my shoes, I set the playlist to a few songs that push me in the direction of which it is I must go, I rise up from the ground in which I've been sitting with legs stretched, ready to run through the wilderness within again.
With the trade winds wafting at my back, the river meandering around the edges of endless sage, clouds chasing each other across the sky, reflecting upon eternity, I start to run.
MOVING ON
Picking up the pace, I‘m struck by a premeditated thought: even if my creative approach doesn’t improve, there’s not much I can do about it. I’ve gotten older, time has taken its mental toll. It’s nobody’s fault, not even my own.
That’s just the way it goes. It’s forever been written there in the literary fine print within the rules of the creative game. Things change, and nowadays moving in whatever inspirational direction I must is something I truly believe in, and what I must do next, is only achieved by setting my own pace.
Because once you set the pace my friends, the rest will follow. It always does.
Do I know where I’m going?
Not necessarily.
No, actually, I don't at all.
It is exactly what it is.
And besides, what choice do I have now anyways? I’ve come too far to stop, and if I were to quit now, I’d be stuck out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere with only my own thoughts to snack on.
So I can only focus on the path ahead of me, and what it is that lay ahead, and the creative direction I must take to see my way through this thing.
Will I run straight ahead, will I run backwards, or will I run in a spiral around this circuitous wilderness?
The answer to that, is for me to decide, and only me.
And yes, in my own way, I can say I’ve fully enjoyed the creative directions I've approached throughout this life so far to the fullest extent, even if I can’t always say that I’ve fully enjoyed the fallout from my own choices in a personal sense.
So as I set the pace today, I tell myself not to think of anything but the clouds up above and the river that meanders next to me. But essentially I’m not thinking of anything but what I should be, and that is becoming a better, more stable, and consistent version of me.
And just as well I will always wonder, how might a shell of a poetic man like me might be able to create a safely written space for everyone he‘s ever loved, and even those he hasn’t yet, and to offer them a place where everyone feels welcome to stop on by, maybe read a few words that help them to escape the brutal pace this damned place has to offer.
But I don’t have a clue how to do that yet, because these sort of questions have their roots in my ongoing creative and egocentric process. I’ll figure it all out eventually though. I always do.
Because at the end of the day, all I can keep doing is being me. And no matter what anyone says, does, or doesn't do, nothing's going to stop me from pursuing what it is I had envisioned when I laid the foundation of this sort of creative outpost a long damn time ago.
Yes indeed, I aim to see this dream through and keep doing what it is I creatively do, and I still have a long damn way to go.
Til the next time.
Yours Truly,
Ryan Love
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