I’m still often bracing myself. Against the punishment that’s going to happen. But it didn’t happen this time. I borrowed the money for the cardiologist who said I have a mild prolapsed valve but my heart and my arteries are in great shape. My arrhythmia can be treated with beta blockers.
My fears didn’t materialize. There was a time when they did. This time they didn’t. It feels strange. It’s the beginning of seeing I don’t have to stand on the outside of that place called abundancy, looking in, craving to go in. I’m beginning to see that I’m allowed in.
One step at a time. But I get so impatient. I’ve got so many dreams, some of them big, some of them not so. I want to: earn money from my writing – sell the film script I’ve finished and the next one I’ve started, and the crime series novel and book on my banktuptcy experience I’ve started; finish them first (that one I can accomplish easily); own a grand piano; have a good car; own a house in upstate New York and California on the coast somewhere, and here in Cape Town, and travel between them; walk the Great Wall of China; buy new underwear and new clothes; wear Armani and Chanel;
Fly in a helicopter; take violin lessons again and get a good violin; get a new; sing jazz standards with a piano player for an audience; sing with Michael Buble when I’m confident enough; drive a car around the US, visiting small towns and the canyons in New Mexico; visit an old mining ghost town in the US; see the northern lights; take the train across Siberia in winter and be warm; see current movies and go to theatre;
Fly in a hot air balloon, take Italian lessons so I can be fluent; be able to afford to buy books; learn to ice-skate then skate in Central Park in winter and on the canals in Holland; go to the Metropolitan Opera in New York; learn to ride a horse; own a horse; take dancing lessons – ballroom and Latin American; get a row-boat and keep it on a lake; visit Europe, Russia, Australia, Hawaii, Greenland, Alaska, Iceland, Scotland, Ireland; visit hot places, cold places, fjords and deserts; stay in a luxury room in a castle; take another trip up the Nile and temple-hop and stay in the hotel where Agatha Christie wrote Death on the Nile;
Visit the bush here and see wildlife and stay in a beautiful game lodge; get a digital camera; have a face-lift; do an expose on the Yearning for Zion cult… It goes on and on.
Simon Cowe – is that his name, the Idols man? The one who gets off on persecuting? He was interviewed about his dreams and all he wanted was to own his personal plane. I felt sorry for him. With all those resources, and that’s all he could think of that he wanted? Unless of course he was being sarcastic…
Anyway, what I can do now is do this blog thing, and finish my second film script and the novel I’m writing of the same story. None of that takes any money. For now I’ll do whatever work comes in to stay alive. I can sell my bed and a welsh dresser I have. It’s scary, but I tell myself things will turn around for me. I can buy another bed later, when I can afford it. It’s just material things.
And at least I’ve had a back-up experience that wasn’t punitive. I think that’s pretty significant. I shan’t give up on my dreams. One step at a time.