I thought I was living an intentional life. Turns out, I was deluding myself. Quite a lot, actually.
It is known to most of the two hundred or so people for whom it might matter, that my band, 7th Root, has gone inactive. Technically, what we agreed to do was to reduce how frequently we get together to maybe once per month or so, and to continue to work on our new music together, and to finish the current album. The agreement further noted that, should the interest level hold, we would consider picking one weekend per year to do one or two concerts. As new material became voluminous enough to warrant, we'd of course consider recording another CD.
In my general tendency toward unbounded optimism, I envisioned us doing one album per year, and the annual concert set would, in part, serve as the CD release party.
But somewhere in the back of my head, I knew that wasn't what was going to happen.
Creative people, of course, like to create. But these artists were done being fired up about creating in 7th Root. They had moved on, and had taken up other projects into which they were heartily infusing their creative energy. What it would take to galvanize our band into this idyllic alternative was the same quality which had been lacking in the first place, causing the band to collapse into the state it was in.
That quality is Leadership.
Scoff if you like; a year ago I would have joined you. But I submit to you now that an eggregious failing in leadership is precisely what allowed the once-fertile fields of 7th Root to go fallow.
Now, my band would chastise me if I did not admit there were also a host of other considerations that brought us to the stagnation point, and they are correct. However, they have openly denied that leadership was ever the issue. And, a year ago, I would have been as naive as they are about it, and agreed.
But I have seen the errors of my ways in this regard; due to my astounding lack of leadership, I managed to kill the most important organization of my adult life, and maim several others. So when, shortly after that, the band went largely inert, there was no mistaking the pattern.
I've had a lot of time to think about this, since killing everything that was important to me outside of my family and my job has left me with an unprecedented amount of free time. I've been keeping busy, mind you; being an irresponsible git for several decades does leave one with much that needs doing. But, by and large, I have not been filling the time with activities of the intellectually-challenging sort. So I've had a lot of time to process just what the *bleep* I've been doing wrong -- and more importantly, what to do about it.
Some things jump readily to the forefront; other, slightly more subtle issues, likewise did not take much time to unravel. Many of them bring new light to old cliché statements I've been hearing since I was a tyke, and while I had accepted them, apparently I had not understood them the way I thought I'd had.
However, some of the problems were notably more subtle, and as I ran the archaeologist's brush over the remains of my would-be legacies repeatedly, I did eventually unlock some of those mysteries as well. These deeper failings forced me into a sort of philosophically-driven outer silence.
For once, the reason I had disappeared from notable social presence was not due to distraction of the whimsical sort typical for me, but rather because I had actually withdrawn. I had committed crimes against myself of which I had not even been aware, and the realization of this struck me deeply. So, like a wounded animal (a comparison I've been able to make far more often in my life than I'd prefer to admit), I withdrew into my cave.
I had been so genuinely convinced I was the Right Guy for Everything. Sure, I would admit, other people had talents. Of course, I would concede, some were even better than me in certain ways. But, I would interject, they don't "get it" like I do. It was only me, I would deduce, who really saw the big picture and was therefore the best choice for everything.
Stop.
Ah, yes; now *that* is a familiar combination to nearly anyone who's taken even a passing interest in philosophy: Ignorance and Arrogance. Frequent bedmates, those two. And what an eternally, boundlessly, toussled bed I'd been for them. They'd made themselves quite at home here, and I'd been mindlessly aiding and abetting them for a very, very long time.
So I spent a lot of time working over those items, and, typical of me, was often distracted into other realms of thought. But the loss being so grievious to me, I would eventually circle around and get back to dissecting the breadth and depth of these demons. As each loop began, thanks to much guidance from the Initiatory lessons of my life's experience to date, I was very mindful of not getting locked into the same loops over and over again, analyzing without application.
And so I have been, slowly, painfully, awkwardly, and with limited success, applying to my life the principles I've found to be lacking in my day-to-day living to date. I realize, as I walk through this desert, I am a very long way from that Oasis. I am alone. There is no god where I am. And, ironically, that will cease to be true only when I actually succeed in this endeavor.
I also realize now that I am, essentially, attempting to once again be able to claim with a straight face that I am living an intentional life.