This is no ordinary love.

Fridays are terrible days to send out a newsletter, statistically speaking. But I woke up this morning with the oh so familiar February longing in my chest that I had to finally capture it, so here is a stab.

I wish I could cast a central blame, how uncomplicated would that be? I wish I could just write it off as seasonal and yes, Spring has given us a kiss behind the bleachers but can’t quite commit, that’s part of it. And that my brother has a birthday in February and for a few months on paper, we’re only a year apart but his mental illness has created a chasm between us that I’m not enough of a grown-up to face. Yep, part of it too. And the Hallmark holiday that I’d love to just dismiss with a PPHHHHTTTThhh, but what is actually true is that I love love and if VDay was part of the pie chart, that slice would be large enough to make one sick.

I remember my first awareness of acute longing. It was over unrequited love. I know, how exceptional. I would crawl to the very bottom of my bed under so many blankets, I’d have to make a portal for the cool breeze of Air Supply to drift in off my record player: I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you. Looking back, I think I was more committed to indulging the longing than the boy. It was then that I felt connected to the most sublime part of me.

I have a little theory about this (and you may only connect to this if you study the Enneagram). Like I honestly just downloaded this in the shower. I wonder if the desire to indulge that, whatever that thing is that makes you feel juiced, we are activating our repressed center. In lay-speak, as an Enneagram 7, I’m disconnected from feelings the most. I have to GO there. Music does it. In fact, it was one of my most cherished drinking activities and why I had my claws in it for so long, even as the trail of destruction grew to heights insurmountable. Music + booze was the vehicle that drove me to longing and longing = feelings. Never good at math, but I’ve been calculating that equation for most of my adult life.

In February, my longings are so consuming, I’m afraid they will swallow me whole. And that is what it all comes down to: fear. Because I no longer use alcohol as the trigger, I think if I allowed myself to have a February in July and another in say, October, I wouldn’t be so afraid of the longing and the emotions it forces me to feel. I need to think about this (haha, says the Enn. 7).

Explorations of longing are part of this new direction I’m moving in 2023 that I keep alluding to. I’m not trying to be a secretive asshole, it’s more of an aesthetic change and more singular focus than anything and it’s taking forever to get it just right. What to do with this longing? I make. I spin it into truth and beauty and art and without really knowing why I was being called to this reinvention this year, I guess I’m onto myself now.

Boldness has magic in it ⚡

Attributed to Goethe, the rest of the quote goes like this:

“Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Only engage and the mind grows heated, begin it and the work can be completed.”

Although that quote reads like something I pulled from a trending personal development book, it's a common sentiment that's endured for a few centuries because it's true. Acting boldly on your dreams is damn magical. And it may not always equal success by "society's standards" (said like there's a definitive definition of that) but grabbing freedom by the nap of the neck and saying, "You're coming with me", means you also get to choose the color of success that suits you.

I recently heard a man named Gideon Tsang talk about what it's like to be a 7 on the Enneagram and as we share the number, I was ready to take notes. He said something that I'd heard before, but his articulation was like connecting stars in a constellation. He said that eventually he'd run out of ways to reframe his situation, he could no longer spin the narrative, he had to walk away. 

Oh boy, can I spin a narrative: It's not that bad. The thing I want is right here, I just need to do this first (dream adjacent). What if I (fill in the blank with verb du jour)? Meanwhile, I'm spinning so hard that it's only until my face is on concrete that I'll stop.

Steven Pressfield described this so astutely in a recent interview on the Rich Roll podcast. Some of us came off the assembly line with an insatiable hole and when it's empty, it's the most itchy, uncomfortable feeling that we grab for the quick and easy fills: food, alcohol, sex, shopping, Netflix, productivity, social media. They work but it's like they're made of disappearing ink, the minute they're written down, they're gone. It's until we feed the hole with the nutrition it's asking for, the dream unengaged if you will, will it stop writhing and screaming.

Satiety is success, for me. Not taking bold actions toward my dreams? Sure, it's not that bad. Drinking myself into oblivion every night wasn't that bad either. "Life isn't that bad" is a tale I could spin until the end of my time. But filling that hole with what it's asking to be filled with is so damn satisfying, it really does feel magical. I'm so happy and you know what? Happiness is not canceled, I don't care what you read. 

My purpose in writing this today is that I hope it's contagious. I hope that wafts of Spring air, trees sprouting green, poppies in bloom and a little more social freedom (re:vaccinations) on the horizon is inspiring you to find your life's most genius, powerful, magical lust too. Let me know if you do.

If you want to see what I've been up to, I've listed a few new items in my Marketplace and you can always catch glimpses of works-in-progress on Instagram.