Cut the hippydippy horse**** . Tell the truth.

I want to write a little more about just what this means--authenticity.

I mean let's go ahead and immediately address all notions of Pollyanna perfection and sappy feel good emanations  here shall we?  Bc believe it or not Spiritual Kel cant stand being associated with any of that NewAge hippydippy horseshit.  And as that is the case, it's a fine line I dare to walk on this here blog. Because I will gladly use touchyfeely words like "authentic-self" and "inner-life" and "emotional work". I will readily speak about sitting down and "finding stillness" and "taking quiet-time."  However, it is precisely because I live daily with my own crazy fucked-up head piece that I value and emphasize these things.

What's that word mean when I use it anyway?  I'm not even gonna lie, I'm not sure.  I dont know the answer.   Does it conjure someone who stretches long on the floor each morning doing her daily yoga moves or who allows 20 minutes of calming reflective time with her steaming cup of chamomile tea at night?  Cuz it shouldn't, or at least not without the other side of the picture to make it entirely whole.  That same tea-drinker deep-breather also leaves work gets in her car and starts screaming at the very top of her lungs (with the music turned up so in case passing cars or dog-walkers see her they think she is just trying to sing.) She sends text messages to her best friends that say I am sad and fucking lonely right now: WHY DONT I HAVE A MAN!? or Could you help remind me right now to treat this evil part of my head like the terrible crazy sock puppet that it is...

Authenticity is about being honest.  And honesty takes courage and that's all I know about that.  I mean, once I avail myself to being true as I can to me, well.  Then the Real Work truly does start.  I already posted last week about the immediate complications that lay directly on the other side of such a decision.  Ernest Hemingway sort of said it when he said the writer's job is to tell the truth.  "I would write one true sentence," he said,  "and then go on from there."  Pretty immediately it gets tough because so often what's true means what we're feeling about something, and as I tangent-ed last week  most all of us are walking around with the superwall inside built on the society lie that feelings aren't real or valid.  Soooooo.  How the hell are we supposed to keep it real if that's the confusing message we're still trying to decode.

This all comes down to a sneaking suspicion I have, and I am going to go ahead and put it out there right quick.  And let me say here that credit for these ideas, or anyhow what prompted them are a buddy I'll call T3 who recently started his own blog.  T3's first post got me really thinking and in response to what he's writing about allow me this--I think that the reason most people are scared of allowing themselves to sit with how they are feeling is because they are scared to feel fear.  EVEN THOUGH FEAR IS THE MOST PRIMAL CHEMICAL RESPONSE THAT OUR BODIES KNOW HOW TO ILLICIT.  And further, most people are terrified to feel fear because it almost immediately makes us question one inherently archaic premise:  Life, plain and simple. Or anyhow our existence, and if there's any point. And this friends brings us face to face with the playing with our own bellybuttons issue of issues... (du du duuuu)...God.

And my oh my does he really exist.

Ahhhh head for the fucking hills!  And while you're there, sit a while would ya?  And ask yourself the questions that count.  Dont bother with the freaking answers you know?  Let them arise as they will when you stop fighting and trying to figure it all the fuck out.  Just be brave enough to sit inside those questions even as they haunt you.

I got news friends.  We're all spinning and sizzling and rocking and rolling across this crazyrad galaxy alone and therefor completely together--it's what we all got in common, answerless questions, afterall.  What I know from my own keepin it real diligent adherence to living a life that is authenticaly fulfilling to Kell is just this:  I am who I came here with, I am the only one going through this thing every step of the way with me, and I am leaving out of this place one day with me, alone, too.  So I might as well do all that I can to be intimate as possible with me, this person with whom I am in charge of steering along in order to enjoy the hell out of my ride.  And that means getting to know--consciously with my cup of chamomile tea, or batshitcrazy screaming my mentalmess at poor Beth or Katie over the phone--who I am in this moment by being honest and trying not to hide from myself.  And the very next step I can take on this path--hey blogoworld--is then being honest with you.