This is an archived blog from when I ran Conscious Public Relations Inc. from 2008-2018. Excuse the potential outdated-ness!

Lessons learned from feeling funky this past week

Not sure what exactly it is, but I’ve been in a bit of a low energetic funk this past week. It all started with an unexpected e-mail that I overreacted to and tried to deal with over the long weekend so that I would forget about it, which led me to that state of what the hell am I doing again?

Maybe the lingering sense of empowerment from SVI wore off, or maybe it’s just me returning to an old habit of feeling guilty for doing nothing wrong – in any case, I learned how difficult it can be to keep up the passion for my work and for things I believe in. Especially when you are on the side of the conscious, and are fighting for so many good causes, perhaps it’s the weariness of battle that inevitably makes its way to the body.

I thought about the times when I used to write poetry, because it’s been about 6 years now since. Much of my poetry was dark and soon as I met Leo I wrote so little of it; I wonder if it’s the remaining darkness that needs spilling or if I’ve just stifled my creativity for too long.

And finally, patience. I learned that I have to be patient with myself; passion is not a 24/7 job, and I only have this body to operate in. I learned that I have to be patient with my clients and everyone else I encounter because despite our differences and opposing opinions, we are all connected and if I cannot help my fellow man it does not mean he becomes my enemy, it just means it’s not our time to be aligned right now. It can be so easy to just let the anger win, but it doesn’t serve anyone.

I’ll leave you with “DREAM 20080420A” which was published in an anthology soon after I wrote it. It’s not the most cheery, but it represents how I feel sometimes.

I am at a school
There’s a man
In a hallway
Holding a machine gun
I can’t see his face
But I know
He’s playing a game
Shoot anyone walking by
Rapid fire
They scream
Their bodies jerk
From the impact
Of bullets penetrating
They collapse to the floor
As more keep running in
Into his view
And he keeps shooting
Bodies falling
Blood spurting
On white walls
And trophy cases
A teen mother
And her baby
Shot down
People slip and trip
And he’s laughing
It’s a game to him
Shoot em up shoot em up
And I’m standing
Right behind him
He can’t see me
As he shoots and shoots
The shots loud like firecrackers
The bodies keep falling
And piling up
But I just keep watching
And I can’t help feeling
It’s all my fault
It’s all our fault

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