Heart To Heart

Aspirations and dreams seem like a walk in the park for everyone. Inspirational thoughts scattered across online personality profiles, yet elusive to the person I know. Aspirations, dreams, goals…seriously, what is the point? I’m sure your life is brimming with 99 reasons to aspire, and my rambling is not one of them. I mean, what’s the point for me? You can’t answer that any more than I can now. I’m aiming for the answer this year.

Why am I so restless? Because I’ve never had the time to be. The cause and formula were always there. Born to a young mother, adopted, and raised by my grandparents. My father was never really in the picture; my mom left me when I was five, I was diagnosed dyslexic and saw a therapist for that time until I left elementary school. My grandparents died when I was nine, six months apart. I grew up in a post-industrial town with one McDonalds, a couple of movie rental stores, lots of bars, a Five and Dime, and a skating rink, my upbringing was a blend of heroic and fantasy from cinema, a true child inspired by the 80’s.

In my formative years, I aspired to be like my bother, the engineer. I have no mind for math though. I aspired to be a theatrical performer, minoring in theater, and majoring in Social Work during college. It seemed natural since I had spent much of my life being someone else and having a soft spot for those broken and/or in need. Most of my ex’s were some mixtures of broken with family issues. I never had a true mentor, guided only by ethereal representations of the divine, I took the Pinocchio route. I spent a short time on what felt like an island of misfit toys and contemplated then attempted to end it all. Another aspiration thwarted, for good reason, I guess.

At 25, inspiration struck again. This time, my muse was a redhead who scorned me as redheads do, the inspiration of graduation, venturing into the great big world, seeking to understand the divine, and a soon-to -be good/ old friend. Our relationship, in many ways, mimics Frodo and Sam in the Lord of The Rings. I scarified budding love for an old flame, a flame that should have been extinguished long before it burned bright. I worked tirelessly to achieve something more than my humble beginnings and soon understood adult-style defeat.

So, what are my aspirations? To be something that matters. I already am to my wife of six years, my four-legged companion, as well as family and friends. But want more. Not the more of excess, as that is dangerous, but that of earned accomplishment and accolades. In different ways I want to be like my brother at 52. I cannot make up for the time he has put into his career, namely 25 years as an engineer at one of the top production companies in the world. A man who can build an ionized, blue light, self-sustaining filtration system for saltwater fish in one year. I want to be able to support my family doing something I know I can do, writing stories. Give the truth scope, as Paul Bentley once said playing Geoffrey Chaucer in the movie “A Knights Tale. “

My focus is on the journey not the cliched “live, laugh whatever” thing, but the open road adventure. I’ve never ventured much. I spent 12 amazing days in Italy in 1999, tasting Italian wine, sitting in the Florence square surrounded by street performers, exploring quiet streets with charming mom-and-pop stores. One store, filled with alabaster hand carvings, drew my attention and most of my vacation money. Those tiny pieces of art still hold many memories for me. I threw coins in fountains with wishes and dreams attached. Dreams to return, aspirations to become a wandering poet, desires to be like Jack Kerouac (whom at the time I knew little about but desired his free open road spirit). I wanted to express love bold in terms, then soothe the soul with a soft rhythmic melody, like Don Juan.

This is the perfect time; I’m currently on leave from work, taking care of my ill wife. There is an awakening of a spirit of knowledge and principle within the world. I want to squeeze it for all it’s worth. Sure, I’m late to the game but I bring wisdom others do not and a perspective many don’t tend to have.

I would like to awaken the spirit of adventure, travel, heroics, and fantasy, unencumbered by the drab mental gymnastics of our current social landscape, perhaps it’s too much, but what is true adventure without folly, risk, and antagonists aspiring towards great reward, all while stumbling towards a prize, with love mingled into all of it. I mean love in all its forms- Ero’s, Agapa, Philia, and Storge. As a forgotten orphan, except in terms of family, I long to make a name. I know I stand on the shoulders of greats who have come from some such beginnings as my own namely, Edger Allen Poe, who’s birthday it is today January the 19th,, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, all of whom were aspiring writers and all orphaned young.

I’ve read and listened to much of C.S. Lewis’s life story, and while I don’t have his mental prowess, I aspire nonetheless towards it, much as I do my brother. As I write this, I know it has the sound of a blooming child’s dream, and perhaps that is the case. There is a part of me that needs to mature. My adventure needs to transition from the senses of a young Indiana Jones type to something like the swashbuckling heroics of his older self. It seems, however, keeping a part of the young boys memory alive helps me to create. I think that is true for many of us.

I recently watched the movie “I Can Only Imagine.” It is a true story about the lead singer of MercyMe. While the abuse he endured was not a part of my young life, I very much felt the weight of the strain Bart, the lead singer, and his father Arthur had. I know the fear of having a dead-beat dad and never wanting to be “that guy”. Yet in a strange way you also want to redeem your father from his own foolishness. I don’t want to be my father, who is a case book definition of a dead-beat dad, but I do want to help redeem him from his own foolishness. I want to write that story.

I want to write stories that have real life grit. Show both the humanity of others and the dark side of life. As mentioned earlier I want to write stories like Kerouac by romanticizing the road, all the while keeping it real. I want to explore the Macomb like Poe, reflecting the darkness of our day. I want to inspire stories like Lewis and Tolkien, giving new life to the very old archetypes we all understand.

I’ve thought about a fiction story, inspired by real places and people, centered around a childhood video game I played in the early 90’s at the waning of Arcades. This obscure video game was unique for the time and even now. I think I could play on the mysteriousness of this game and how such a game has become so obscure while being so revolutionary for its time.

There, that is my aspiration-eclectic for sure, but heartfelt and honest. I will revive the fantastic, mentally rich, menial upbringing of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Allow me to create here, and I will. I am resolved to find my purpose and place this year-purpose in writing and storytelling. Vocal will be my outlet, life love, the grit of real life and imagination adventure my muse. Forged by one with an enigmatic heart.