When One Door Closes, Meditation Begins
Life as I know it these days is a cavalcade of desirable interests riding down the rails like a freight train, while the boulders of reality, responsibility, uncontrollable redirection and retreat into the darkness from the inevitable unknown randomly tumble by. Some only threaten, while others cause devastating damage. Some railcars are clamped to the track so tightly that, despite catastrophic damage, will never leave, despite the amount of energy it takes to keep them intact.
But if there were one thing about me that stands out, it’s adventure. That new relationship energy, or NRE, is what fuels me, keeps me afloat, and makes life’s difficulties tolerable. And the only way that works is to counter it with the reflective balance and grounding of meditation.
A few years back, I sought adventure in creative writing, something I’d not done much of ever. As my nerdy, research driven brain sought out sources of knowledge, recurring names and connections of admiration began forming. I noticed that many of them had accounts here, on SubStack, and I joined to connect, be inspired, and grow from their energy and knowledge.
But ADHD and other issues caused me to forget too often. Fav’s here would occasionally send links about their contents, and I’d forget. Make notes about notes. It’s life as I know it, the bane of my existence. For instance, I recently remembered (again!) that I’d started building content for a blog about memory and aging under a pseudonym, but like many things, have forgotten countless times. It was started at 5000 days until age 70. Now, well, it’s a lot shorter.
Writing fictional short form erotica has stuck because of the creative pleasures it affords me. No matter what happens day-to-day, the joys it brings to myself and life with my partner will likely never leave. Every day has gotten better since I started doing this. Not that I write every day. Mental blocks keep that from happening, but the variety of content often fills the gaps with learning and research to write for different genres and tropes. The sole consistent component to my creations is honoring the underlying theme of human connection. Hetero male-female, female-female, male-male, combinations beyond two all exist in my portfolio, as do role play, domination, and various lifestyles.
Fast forward to a few months ago, when one of my favorite authors and editors mentioned a new story site that was in the final creation stages and looking for contributors: TheoReads.com. It’s a platform of stories that range from basic romance to steamy and beyond in an easy to navigate platform with access options.
The timing was perfect, as another site that I’d been steadily writing for had put new contributions on hold. I spoke with the founder, who offered me a contract to write for her. NRE surged, and I hit a stride of writing new content more aggressively than ever.
In parallel, my own conscience, the Jiminy Cricket on my Pinocchio shoulder, reminded me of other works and ambitions that were already in play. A book on economics that I’d started and stopped for over a decade. My first novella, the first time I’d ever written content of more than 5,000 words, that I’d signed a financial commitment with an editor on.
Challenge accepted, I leaned into the coping mechanisms I’d developed throughout my professional career that enabled me to succeed. They had resulted in being sought out as creative insights and accountable results. I’ve often wondered if I would have been thought of differently if they knew that these desirable traits stemmed from coping mechanisms for my inconsistency and inherent scatterbrained mind. It really hasn’t mattered. Doesn’t matter. Won’t matter hesse days, so long as I meditate regularly.
It’s been fun watching the quality of my writing ebb forward. I can still only generate 2 or so short stories a month. That’s more of a mental constraint that a time one, but most if not all with be visible on Theo or web page, www.ramonequides.com.
A final thought: There’s a relatively unknown song from Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection release that’s always been a favorite: Amoreena. It’s got that right level of funk and swagger I enjoy, especially the live version on 11-17-70. The opening lyrics reflect the abundant passion I feel when re-embracing a love that has been misplaced.
Just lately, I’ve been thinking, how much I miss my lady
Amoreena’s in the cornfield, brightening the daybreak
Living like a lusty flower, running through the grass for hours
Rolling through the hay like a puppy child
The economics book is an Amoreena, as are the novella, short stories, and my blogs. Combined, they breathe life into me, as they all have unique properties. If I can keep my ducks in a row, and find my rhythm again in juggling this polyamorous blend of creative desires, then life will once again be sheer joy. I know I work best when I’m taken to the edge, so long as I check the map and test the tires with responsible regularity.