OKAY YES, I am here, and I am present, and I have finally opted in to figuring out who I am, because of the joy in that discovery. And not out of obligation, or out of fear of missing my potential, or out of anything else other than the delight in discovering what energy arises from the unfolding of the self.
There were two books that did it for me.
Year of Yes, by Shonda Rhimes. I identify with the journey she describes: she also is a deeply creative and keenly intelligent person who shied away from the public eye like crazy, and who was deeply suspicious of putting herself into anything remotely resembling a spotlight. Her process of discovery – that celebrating out in the light is just sheer joy – was something I was able to follow, because I identified with where she started.
You Are a Badass, by Jen Sincero. ... I mean, same story here. A journey whose beginning looks a lot like my present, whose history looks like a lot like my past. A path I was able to project myself onto, allowing me to see what could happen next. Hard, purpose-built tools for negotiating some persistent crags on that path.
If you feel perennially on the cusp, may I sharply suggest you read these two books.
It has been an interesting few weeks. My authorial voice varies, and right now my writing belies the warmth I'm coming from, but it is nailing the intensity I feel about this. Something has changed, and that something is my openness to my own development. Because since adolescence I've been reluctant to give my own development any honor whatsoever, and that has finally, finally, changed.
"As children do."
I've started a video series. Everything I make is from my heart, but this is the first work of mine from a heart that actively, openly, eagerly wants to see what it can become. Each video is ~sixty seconds long, and contains something that I badly want to make sure that you know. Wake up with it on Instagram - follow me at @isaacbowen. Or, subscribe on YouTube.
There are eleven videos up, as of today. There's a new one every morning, 'cept Sundays.
I love you. And, more relevantly, I love me. Here we go.