Since the last full collaboration I recall happened more than ten years ago on a fanfic, I can’t say that I can think of situations where I’ve had this. The closest is when my now longtime friend Aldous reached out to me to form our friendship and the now gone-from-my-life Lionboy called me in the middle of the workday to have a fit about how “dangerous” Aldous was.
Of course, Aldous was not trying to tell me who I could and could not talk to. It seems to me that the dangerous person is usually the one telling you not to make new friends. In Lionboy’s case, I might have been perhaps a bit more cautious than I might have been with my new friend, but by then I had realized he was really very controlling… and doing it without any legitimate claim. It’s not like Lionboy and I were in a relationship.
I also see that now as throwback energy – as long as I had the family connection, their controlling and invasive energy would find ways to follow me through other relationships. In the case of Lionboy I had no trouble telling him where to stuff it and that was that.
I will say that there is a divide between Pagan-land and sci-fi fanland and artist land: sci fir and artist land tends to look at new projects as things to try with the hope they will succeed. Most of the time, when I have tried to start any new project among Pagans, where the other Pagans do become member-collaborators, I am first told by whoever will find me that it’s all “doomed to massive failure” and if I proceed anyway, how I am somehow corrupt for daring ask people to contribute to such projects.
Why? Because I drift towards projects that are events and activities people have never seen in Pagandom before.
The attitude is really quite tired, as is the willful spread of apathy like a nasty case of free-thought ebola. Any chance of thinking for yourself drips out your eyeballs.
In Paganland, the Capulets are the Pagans, the Montagues are the people that competently handle money and believe in it as a way of sustaining a group. There really does need to be a marriage – but sure enough, when somebody makes it happen, that Montague gets banished to a southwestern trailer park.
If I gain anything by this opposition it’s an excuse not to do it. I’ve already realized that martyr is a terrible color on me, as is my usually vain hope that someone will step up who is just as capable. I am realizing the more I write these entries that all these complaints are why I want to teach the Artist’s Way to Pagans.
Until I do the ultimate of Road Openers, stuff around here is just going to suffocate.