This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.
Dear Sara,
Who knew, who knew!
I certainly didn’t.
In fact when last time I wrote you, over the moon that I was finally clear on my calling as my alterego LS Harteveld, an identity that has long been more the real me than the real real me;
I thought this calling for this alterego meant I had figured out my professional life for 50 percent, if not more!
In fact when last time I wrote you, over the moon that I was finally clear on my calling as my alterego LS Harteveld, an identity that has long been more the real me than the real real me;
I thought this calling for this alterego meant I had figured out my professional life for 50 percent, if not more!
.
No, MORE!
More than 50 percent, because when I knew “what went here”?
I knew it was also less difficult to figure out “which went there”!
More than 50 percent, because when I knew “what went here”?
I knew it was also less difficult to figure out “which went there”!
.
If
– sexual wealth
– sex for solitary women
– and non-monogamy went here, under LS Harteveld.
Then yoga and Bon Jovi stayed “there”. Under my real name.
If
– sexual wealth
– sex for solitary women
– and non-monogamy went here, under LS Harteveld.
Then yoga and Bon Jovi stayed “there”. Under my real name.
.
And also:
If I was the professional “here”, from the point of mutual exclusiveness it automatically meant my work under my real name would not be professional. It would be on the spectrum between leisure and side-hustle. A hobby.
Perhaps a profitable hobby or one that would make me world famous, but nevertheless; A hobby.
Nothing more.
If I was the professional “here”, from the point of mutual exclusiveness it automatically meant my work under my real name would not be professional. It would be on the spectrum between leisure and side-hustle. A hobby.
Perhaps a profitable hobby or one that would make me world famous, but nevertheless; A hobby.
Nothing more.
.
I was very excited that my calling as LS Harteveld gave me permission to drop the last ambition under my real name. It was all fun and games now.
Or so I thought.
Or so I thought.
.
Because do you remember the assignment I got, not these two weeks, but the two weeks prior to that? The one I was supposedly done with, and that had not lead to massive shifts?
.
It was the assignment to take stock where I was out of sexual integrity.
Where was I sugarcoating, downplaying, or straight-up lying through my fucking teeth in order to keep the peace, not ruffle feathers and basically behave in a way that would not so much as scratch a two-thousand year old patriarchy of female sexual oppression?
It was the assignment to take stock where I was out of sexual integrity.
Where was I sugarcoating, downplaying, or straight-up lying through my fucking teeth in order to keep the peace, not ruffle feathers and basically behave in a way that would not so much as scratch a two-thousand year old patriarchy of female sexual oppression?
.
It bombed.
And it bombed hard.
And it bombed hard.
.
And just like early June’s mind-blowing realization that I have little in common with people who accidentally run into me, connect with me in real life (not connecting to LS Harteveld);
That’s how the final week of June crashed and burned my “leisure” “fun” “hobby” work under my real name. As it turned out I had been out of sexual integrity there.
And now I was in it.
That’s how the final week of June crashed and burned my “leisure” “fun” “hobby” work under my real name. As it turned out I had been out of sexual integrity there.
And now I was in it.
.
It burned more quickly than a polyester clothing, and all I can say is that it’s a good thing no one was wearing it.
In fact, I was wearing a proverbial black motorcycle jacket that protects you even when you fall off onto the concrete so I m good.
Just that I realized that there had been things in my life that had needed clearing out and cleaning up, after all.
In fact, I was wearing a proverbial black motorcycle jacket that protects you even when you fall off onto the concrete so I m good.
Just that I realized that there had been things in my life that had needed clearing out and cleaning up, after all.
.
It was called:
A social life.
A social life.
.
A part that had survived the pandemic and that had actually gotten better. It had proven one of those pandemic-proof spots in your social life that you didn’t realize how valuable it was until all else dropped out and this didn’t.
That’s where the bomb dropped.
That’s where the bomb dropped.
.
And I realized;
Okay.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
Okay.
Thank you.
Goodbye.
.
And that stepping into full sexual and professional integrity here, as LS Harteveld, meant my social life would be cleared out of anything not that.
Anything not in sexual integrity or professional integrity, would be purged from my life.
Not by me, it would just be. Automatically.
Anything not in sexual integrity or professional integrity, would be purged from my life.
Not by me, it would just be. Automatically.
.
It reminded me of the first day I was going to scout for yoga locations, in 2003. I had my first appointment at the end of the day.
My boss asked if I could stay longer, and I said No.
I lost my job right then and there, before I had even seen my first yoga space.
The moment I had determined my professional focus, and I was no longer willing to invest in my job what they had been used to, it blew.
My boss asked if I could stay longer, and I said No.
I lost my job right then and there, before I had even seen my first yoga space.
The moment I had determined my professional focus, and I was no longer willing to invest in my job what they had been used to, it blew.
.
And a similar thing happened now.
.
So the good news is that I am in total sexual and professional integrity.
.
The bad news is that I realize my social life is not compatible with that.
Now in its defense: I already knew that being a writer is a huge strain on your social life too. I ve known that ever since I started writing 15 years ago.
It’s just that the being in sexual integrity part, seems to be the final blow.
Now in its defense: I already knew that being a writer is a huge strain on your social life too. I ve known that ever since I started writing 15 years ago.
It’s just that the being in sexual integrity part, seems to be the final blow.
.
So here I am….
.
Lonely road, Sara.
Lonely road.
Lonely road.
.
But I can’t remember I have seen her more clearly in my life.
..
~Lauren
An unexamined life is not worth living
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