On the far side of Teotihuacan

hot air balloon floating over pyramid Photo by Julián Stimbaum on Pexels.com

A lifetime ago…I journeyed to a place. I’d sat down design before I had any net for the grievechronic baby burgeoning within me, the “plan B accountant-level” gig evap’d, and I’d had no actual fuck what I was doing, really…besides that I was doing It.

I was a new Christian too, with all the Hades that was queuing up to see if that call was as pure as it had come across the chasm to me staring me in the face. But I was still fresh back from actual Hell my self, suited and booted…so I stared right the fuck back like “say something~” lol.

Journeying to this place had been a miraculous mea culpa, a leap I had no proof beyond faith that this God saying I was his kid more than any human I’d been assigned to was telling me the truth. I was daring my heart to have been wholly wrong about Holy Spirit and his crew, still writhing in the throes of reverse culture shock gaijins didn’t even really talk about in hushed tones at the time.

It still tickles me to this day that when all was said and done…where he sent me on the way to this place I journeyed to was Teotihuacan. The most insider of insiders “In search of” inside joke he could’ve ever joked with my ass. Lifetimes ago are as such for good reason, but it doesn’t mean the memories will ever stop slapping, even when you stop being sentimental about them and technically let them go.

This place he sent me to on the far side of Teotihuacan was where Grievechronic showed itself to be the minimum ten book saga it was going to need to be to even start it correctly. The Universe assigned to me. It’s where the baby of the book went Triune on me, becoming the first triplets in earnest. Where I saw it all come to fruition, saw me on the far side of the brunt of it, understood that this wasn’t going to be just a hiatus from designing menswear, not even a detour, but a deepening of the understanding of what the Outfitter call on my life was destined to be about.

I remember sitting at the cairn …built into a bar I was hunched over a picayune Toshiba pounding it all out into…of that moment at the end of that sojourn, thinking I needed holing up a good month in that spot to do right by the vision in the most Virgoan way.

What’s hilarious to me is though I never made it back to that Kairn to write & literal decades of running around writing via AOLAB stretched between me and it. . . sitting back in that territory 21 years later…it feels like only a month has passed.

I even look like just a month has passed.

Because the light that beamed out of me due To journeying to that place rolled back all the stressed out old ageisms and family bad vibes that had coated me in geterdone mode, design wise. I may have even had more gray hair before that space than after it. & by the grace of God that light in my eyes found at that oasis- that light of understanding that the bigger picture I was stepping into was going to be something I’d have to embrace Enjoying the Ride of in order to stay sane as I moved through it- has been the ONE constant in all of this.

I never even thought about Something needing to be…like really done on the far side of publishing the Ninth book in grievechronic.

But God did. God thinks about me with love in ways that boggle minds beyond mines allatime.

To be here, with the second triplets who’ve been part of the cherubic caravan for over a decade…peeking around me, taking it in, all “this is niiiice~” as their elder siblings are yaaaring alll ova the place and their momma is…sleeping…off the entirety of that journey she sho nuff did indeed enjoy the ride of lol….is wild.

So, Kanpai , Kairn! No Malibu Rum necessary this time to get me outta my own way, ego-wise.

We’re all on the same page coming in.

Life…is a trip.

Live it.