I have promised to overcome my fears of loneliness, vulnerability, and failure.
My fear of being alone is mitigated by the community and I’ve cultivated and am blessed to participate in. The bonds I’ve forged in spirit and word are reflected in deed when the opportunity arises. This results in sharing of trust.
When I intentionally bring people together harmoniously, I’m aiming for companionship to overcome mutual loneliness. I seek and craft a space of fellowship for those too afraid or uncertain to seek it out themselves.
My fear of vulnerability comes from a place of pain. Opening up leaves you prey to malicious intent. Rarely does malice manifest in those persons with the gall to act upon it. Occasionally, cruelty is wrought upon the vulnerable. If you open you heart to the world, you do run the risk of being hurt. If you don’t open your heart, you run the greater risk of never truly living and loving humanity on a deeper level.
I’m overcoming my fear of vulnerability by putting my thoughts and feelings out into the world. I’m not letting anything prevent my openness, be it judgment, criticism, or lack of an audience. I’m here to live earnestly, intensely, and honestly.
My fear of failure is overcome with one of my favorite words, “no.” Telling myself this when I’m feeling laziness or self-doubt prevents the fear from overwhelming me. When I do fail–usually epically–I don’t let this get in my way. I sift through the ashes and salvage what I can. Then, I dust myself off and start over.
I have come to give life my heart and my voice.
My heart is the conduit through which currents of passion flow. It connects me to the earthly and divine. It’s an existential bridge to all aspects of my life.My heart pulsates for me, and for those who share in its radiant light. My heart beats for no man, but for all mankind.
My voice is made of words and story. These I share with the world, whenever and however I can. I give my heart in my words. I write and share my voice, infusing it with earnest vulnerability. I’m not truly sharing a story unless my heart’s in my throat and those listening eat my words.
My passion is making new stories for the sheer joy of creation.
I love wild nights which happen infrequently. I also love those nights of repetition and regularity. So many of those “same” nights bleed together into a fantastic tapestry. My passion is weaving these threads together, crafting an adventure in the everyday. My passion is living the extraordinary from the ordinary.
The thing I want to most experience in life is love.
I want the kind of love that only comes once-in-a-lifetime. With a heart so big, I’ve loved and lost more times than I can (almost) count. I’ve know so many shades and varieties of love, you might question how I still believe in “true love.” It’s not the romantic in me, despite my minor tendency for sentiment and ideal. No, it’s my rationale, via process-of-elimination.
Every boy, man-boy, or man I’ve loved before has taught me something new:
- about love;
- loving somebody;
- how to share myself;
- what it’s like to date your best friend;
- how to lose myself;
- how to find faith;
- and how to feel and trust again.
The list goes on and on. In all of this love, I’ve found fragments of what true love is “supposed” to be. I put these parts into a greater whole. It’s even a realistic “big picture” sort of love that will come when meant to.
My promise, gift, passion, and desire extend into how I live and breathe. If you’re unaware of these things in your heart and soul, you must seek them out. Stop worrying about happiness and start finding yourself in the fabric of God’s universe.