Unfinished

What does that even mean?

I have been blamed a lot for not finishing. For abandoning projects. Angry disappointment makes people shout ugly things at me. I have wasted their time. Not lived up to their expectations. I made false promises. Have worn out their patience. My whole being is misleading and unworthy of their trust and love and attention and contributions. I am a waste of space. I need to be removed from sight and erased from their lives.

I am not even exaggerating. All too often this explosive moment of failure, of collapse left me stunned, unable to respond. Bleeding and hurt.

Left-brain people do not understand right brain people. And by that I mean people who have accepted the lead of one hemisphere (constantly or just for a bit). Not at all implying anyone is missing half of their mind. It is still there, but its hardly used, listened to, given time or credit.

Left needs a plan with a clear goal. A time frame. A beginning and a determined end. A finish line. A project is a well defined separate thing. And therefore relatively easy to finish. Done. Check. Evaluate. Make new plan. Nicely one after the other. Well ordered, fucking insane in my view. (sorry more f-swearing than usual in this post)

Because I was blessed with the right hemisphere curse of natural order. Which is indistinguishable from chaos to anyone inflicted with left hemispheric dominance. To me nothing is separate, or surplus. Nothing ever finished. Of course not, life is a play in progress. Notice the replacing of the word work. A word patented by the L’s. Patenting, copyright, ownership, exchange, value, profit and almost any other word used by money traders are unrightfully claimed and put to work by the big L take-over. Especially the mentioning of ‘hard work’ is a great indicator you are dealing with L. Placing work very high up the ranks as a condition, as a lead factor in succeeding. To get there you need to work hard.

The Moloch size bully that is leaking its infectious disease topdown, was the same energy that gave so many the ‘right’ to reduce me, to assault my form, my way. Left hemisphere takeovers harden the perimeters of in or out. What goes where takes on compulsive proportions. Let's hope that project never gets finished.

I am a stubborn little bugger though. Somewhere deep I knew I had to forgive them. They had no effing clue. Left hemisphere never has. Great servant, awful boss. But I want to keep that strange phenomenon called work for another date.

Let's talk unfinished.

Humanity is unfinished. I know, because I understand unfinished. The project is a play in progress. The outer boundaries of the human endeavor always have been artificial lines. And the more we include (read colonise) the sooner the bubble will pop. The lines are fading, have worn out after centuries of moving and shifting. Soon we will have to replace them with much lighter fences. Mere ritual indicators. Here ended the human realm the old stack of stones will say. But no one remembers. Even the biggest project will be abandoned. We will have transitions. Soon the human patch will be invaded by the weeds and seedlings and creatures of the wild. The uncivilized will eat the finished, take the lacquer of the finished product. Right will prevail. Not because I have prophetic insight, or lethal weaponry, but because it is clear as day that L has no clue of the real state of the world. It has no idea of the way nature works. Still busy making plans, in a frantic hurry to finish the project. It cannot see. It is senseless. All data is outdated.

L will accuse the right before it lets go. L will become loud and hurtful. L will push out, diminish, ridicule, and attempt to remove all things right. It will hijack and domesticate anything that serves. It will eat anything to stay alive. Become unreasonable. Go insane.

But right survives. Because true progress comes from those who know being unfinished is the way of nature.

When my son was nine (he’s now fourteen) we had an idea for a book, an illustrated story, that he and I could work on together.

Bramble’s Hole

An old and very deep sandpit now full of water. The fenced patch no longer in use. Overgrown with a dense forest still containing the wreckage and rusted machinery. The forbidden terrain held a deep lure for the boy. He wants to check if the rumours are true; the old Mr. Bramble still lives there and keeps a dark secret. Or an enormous treasure, depending on who is telling the story.

The day after his ninth birthday, the new bike seems the perfect vehicle for a ‘quick’ visit to Bramble’s Hole.

We started gathering ideas but didn't get much further than a rough sketch and several good conversations. Yes it is unfinished, full of unused potential. But the enchantment of that little project still brings me a smile, still holds a promise.

The first draft of the current ‘big’ project is nearing completion by the way. The main reason I haven't been as active with publishing essays. Often the core creative work is invisible to people at the other end. I am often seen sitting in a chair near a stove, apparently doing nothing while I know that is the ‘work’ that counts for a writer. Be patient with the creative.