My inner peace, as much to be achieved whilst living in Los Angeles, was hijacked by a bizarre sound, jarring to the nerves. It was distant but immensely invasive. The regularity of these reverberations was truly startling. They certainly weren’t fireworks or motorcycle braps.
My mind immediately started to think the worst. Anxiety consumed me. Is that an automatic rifle or some shit? What the fuck?! What do I do if there is, in fact, some crazy person on the loose? Holy shit.
How did all those kids feel when they discovered their terror was a reality? I can’t imagine. But then again, I kinda just did. The feelings; tangible sensations, consuming my being were too much, trippy to the touch.
We know all this horrendous shit is happening around us at all times, yet do we ever stop to really empathize? Or are we too damn busy over-exerting our thumbs from behind an illuminated screen with someone named Larry or Debra about how Jesus says we need more guns?
Life is weird. And us humans are really fucked up. This can be a terrifying truth to accept. Yet, there’s always a flip side–the ever-perplexing paradox of our human experience.
This is why we absolutely MUST practice compassion. Take a damn breath every once in a while. Tell people you love them every chance you get. Be in the motherfucking moment. Because frankly, that’s all we got.
Image by Gabriel Levesque
Another day waking up in paradise. And by paradise, I mean arising to the sound of a 4 pile car crash outside my window, hours before my alarm intended. Living across the street from one of the Pacific Northwest’s busiest roadways doesn’t have any perks, just lots of irks, like constant screeching and hollering, a thick film of pollution that consumes every surface in your home– like a secretion from some dark lord– and a constant reminder that everyone is always going somewhere, perpetuating a steadfast state of anxiety.
As my one year anniversary with Los Angeles quickly approaches, I find myself asking, “What the fuck are you doing here?” I know, in theory, why I moved here. But nothing of that sort has quite gone to plan. I guess that’s the way life works, huh? I know, though- I often forget, there is a shit ton of magic happening here. There’s also a shit ton of shit.
I’m partially convinced LA is some kind of purgatory, like a hellacious Disneyland for insane adults. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. But the question is, can you? Should you? And if not here, where?! THAT is the ever-perplexing question that continues to rear its ugly head, time and time again.
Is there a place that exists sans such torture? What does it look like? Or, is that place just really inside of us after all? As my coffee starts to kick in, this is what I’m convinced to be true. We’ve seen some bedazzled Pinterest quote a time or two telling us that everything we seek is inside ourselves. That’s where the real nuggets of wisdom are. Somewhere, inside of me, there is a crystal clear ocean, with the perfect ocean breeze and a steady flow of piña coladas, preferably served via bronzed babes in minimal bikinis.
Am I alone in this thinking? If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be? What is stopping you? What would it look like if we helped each other get there?
Think about this, as I go rinse off from the coffee sweats currently brewing inside my love’s fuzzy robe. And remember, “darling, the moon is still the moon in all of its phases.”