Here we go… the intention is to begin writing the Morning Pages before my brain floods itself with ideas, tasks, projects, regrets, desires, and all the I really should do’s that typically start my day. Well, we are in luck as I’ve been up for 28 minutes, took my antidepressants (which I have been unable to quit), made my matcha, threw some clothes on and yet my brain has been slow to start. That’s a good thing.
It’s not that my brain is fuzzy like it is sometimes, actually a lot of the time due to excessive sugar intake, or alcohol, or other intoxicants, (never used that word before, kinda like it), but maybe it’s just more relaxed because of the limited sugar intake during the past few days.
I have felt that my brain acuity, if that’s the right word, has decreased slightly. I do not feel like I’ve lost my mojo, or mental snap, or writing ability… rather it has softened. Maybe it’s true – you don’t use it, you lose it.
I can see that happening. Ok well, it’s time to get it back in gear. Start doing brain exercises. Start writing again. Creating again as there are some exciting brain activities ahead. Creating. Writing. Directing, etc… Pretty cool considering I am approaching 70. SEVENTY, and I find myself percolating with excitement about future projects, world speaking tours, publishing my book, writing at least 2 or 3 films, including the biggest film of my career. How cool is that?
How many lucky breaks can one person have in a lifetime? How many times, in how many areas have I been blessed? I’ve lived with reckless abandon, been wild, a risktaker, yet I always land on my feet… Pausing for a second to think about my last sentence it makes me wonder… why? Why have I been gifted this beautiful life? Why have I become the man I am? Why have I and why do I continue to be offered opportunities that few people wouldn’t, couldn’t imagine? Wow - is there logic in that? Is this life of mine something to simply accept?
It doesn’t make sense to me that people are suffering, starving, dying all over the world THIS VERY SECOND, yet here I am trying to see if I can taste the difference between the ceremonial grade matcha I normally have versus the new ceremonial grade matcha I am currently sipping. Is there justice in that? How do I make sense of that? Why am I the taste-tester, writing on my lovely, deep-seated couch next to my Yorki-Poo, Skittles in utter repose, while 15 miles away people are dying from Fentanyl while desperately trying to obfuscate the agony of their lives? Why is a parent holding their child’s hand as her vital signs descend towards the inevitable from yet another unknown disease. Or the thousands of people 7,500 miles away with nowhere to go, trapped in a strip of land dying of malnutrition as death continues to rain down from the skies. What has happened to humanity that this is where we are with no end in sight – yet here I sit in the comfort of my California home with a heart full of love and opportunities.
Why me? Why have I been given this extraordinary life? Do I just accept it? Have gratitude for it? How dare I take this dream life for granted? It feels beyond my comprehension to grasp the disparity in today’s world from my ethereal perspective. What is the responsibility that comes with this existence? Isn’t there one? There has to be.
I love you, Gil Junger… I love… That’s odd, for the first time writing that it feels insignificant. I love you, Gil Junger? Does that mean I love myself, or this life I have given? Having gratitude is a beautiful thing as it creates an energy, I believe infuses those around me, but writing I love you; Gil Junger feels trite having reflected on what I just wrote. Why wouldn’t I love me? It’s more than that. It’s this life I love. With all its blessing, my boys being just two of them. This morning, writing these Morning Pages, I find it near impossible to grasp the reality of my existence…