recognizing that as far as I've come there is so much farther left to go that as close as I've come I can get closer still breathe in allowing the thoughts to wash over me, rapid-fire seeing them for what they are, meaningless in and of themselves breathe out investigating the purpose behind the deluge of thoughts monkey mind on steroids here and then gone like a summer squall breathe in non-identification with the torrent of internal criticism my thoughts are not me they are of me but do not define me breathe out breathe in breathe out breathe
once upon a time I could not taste life for all of the extraneous shit I added to it because I, for lack of a better word for it, truly believed that the more you poured into it, the more you'd get out of it, not for a single second comprehending that I was actively diluting the very thing that I was supposed to be experiencing, simplicity for simplicity's sake is a lost art, a forgotten trove of buried treasure, golden coins glittering in the sun, the constant need to decorate, to fill, to liven up the joint with extemporaneous and ultimately meaningless white noise, a cacophony of sights and sounds and feelings, and wondering why the experience isn't enough my soul cried, and for once in my life I listened, and took the time to take a breath and divest myself of the unwanted, unneeded, unnecessary, and began to revel in the sublime, to shun the additives which were nothing more than a cancer to my soul which is why, when the barista asks me how I want my coffee, I reply black.
"follow your passion" is such utter bullshit as if you were born knowing what it is you are passionate about but it is much more subtle than canned platitudes, words strewn across the pages of that bestselling self-help book you are not brought into this world knowing, as if you are destined to create the next Great American Novel no, it is so much more subtle than that passion is not an innate love or desire to do or to be or to have it will not arrive on the wings of angels passion is that thing which burns in your gut cultivated over many months and years of trying and of failing of fighting, and beating, the odds against success, of fighting the good fight until you awaken one morning to find it and when you clear your mind of all the clutter and distractions and metal flotsam and jetsam and can see clearly you will find there that one distraction that will not leave and in that moment you will know you've found it.
oh! to peel back the layers of who we think we are to see who we actually are no putting our best face forward no filters, no flattering angels peel back the layers to reveal the inner workings of who we are who we actually are beyond the bells and whistles revealing the source code behind who we are. comment out the recursive loops suspend the cascading style sheets of the lies we tell ourselves a simple query to find what's true no filters, no captured variables write me a conditional statement so that I may answer so that I may question who you actually are inside the curly braces revealing your source code and so much more. let me peel off the layers of your structure first your jacket, then your skirt stopping for no one, nothing a simple gesture, maybe two or three no filters, nothing between us the soft whirr of your internal fan as you overheat at my touch as your internal stack overflows as your data flows into me and mine into you our source code intertwined, an endless loop of ecstasy.
"...a good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving..." -Lao Tzu
setting aside my goals, my objectives and outcomes I bask in the freedom of knowing my direction but not my destination for isn't the journey itself where true fulfillment lies? the joy of discovery without the chains of intentionality weighing on me setting off in the general direction of happiness, of love no preconceived notions of what it looks like or what I will find there hope springs eternal, and informs my every action but what if it were not so? why hope for one thing when I can hope for everything? all who wander are, indeed, not lost and I am one of the lucky few who now enjoy the journey without regard to where the road may lead stopping to smell the roses is no longer a struggle when that is the whole point of throwing a dart at the map of my mind and of my heart no longer concerned with arriving no longer worried about what will happen when I get there subsumed in the good travels of this world-weary traveler.
out of the blue without any sort of warning whatsoever completely unexpected but welcome nonetheless like a sudden burst of rain on a hot summer day you weren't there and then you were, an angel or, perhaps, just a dream a figment of my over-active and busy imagination but if you are a dream why are you still occupying my every thought? why are you all I can think about? why is your face in everything I see? and if you are an angel, how can it be that you even exist in this world? for there are no angels, no devils are you as immaterial as are they? no, you are something else something beautiful something wonderful something amazing something pure something else out of the blue with no warning, no chance to wonder you took my fragile heart in your hands you smiled your bright, shining smile and where there once was nothing but emptiness and loneliness nothing but blacks and grays, now a burst of color where there was nothing, now there is you.
I look to the horizon so confident am I that my goal lies there, along with the satisfaction that surely must come with a job well done but as I move towards that beacon of hope and completion, it moves with me, never allowing me the opportunity to reach what I consider to be my destination and so, head down, I double my efforts and hope for the best, fully knowing that I am destined to fail, for the goalposts have been moved, if they were ever there but what other choice do I have but to trudge ever onward towards that which I will never reach, towards that which will always be transitory and elusive? so, rationale in hand and strengthened resolve in my heart I take another step, and then another, so confident am I in my journey towards the horizon.
I will sometimes sit and stare at something that's not really there and pull, fully formed, out of thin air a morning wish, an evening prayer I will sometimes sit and gaze at relationships I have set ablaze or, if you'll allow me to rephrase I wallow in my dark malaise I will sometimes sit and wonder at all the opportunities I've squandered at all the love I've torn asunder staring off into the wild blue yonder I will sometimes sit and question the hidden geometric progression of transgression and my indiscretion the difficulty of true expression I will sometimes sit and scheme desires stacked on a balance beam while all my hope just loses steam and becomes subservient to the dream I will sometimes sit and stare at apparitions not really there and all this psychological warfare was that the point of the whole affair?
changing nothing is the cowards way, content to wallow in the familiarity of what has come before and what is yet to come but what if and hear me out what if that were not the case? changing nothing costs nothing and is worth nothing for we are defined by our actions, and the opportunity to grow, to experience, to live is priceless is invaluable it costs nothing it is worth everything haunted by desire and yearning for more, more, the ghost of desperation and need for validation in the face of silence, aspiring for that which is worthwhile and true and the painful realization that the only one who can slake this thirst is me.
if I could make one change it would be to change everything and it would start with changing nothing followed by making the hard choice to stop to be satisfied with the now to be content with the here the ultimate sophistication it has been said is nothing more than simplicity is nothing less than clarity the mind roars to fulfill the petty desires of the heart and mind and the cacophony is deafening but to be still and mindful to breathe in and listen to breathe out and hear to embrace the stillness to rise above the overbearing desire to have and to hold to possess and to grasp to cling to the poison even when letting go is so much easier than clenching my fist around the shifting, sifting sands and when the hourglass is empty and I am spent I would rather have lived than to have just thought about living
the problem with insomnia aside from the obvious lack of sleep sluggish, lethargic sleep-filled eyes headache is that my brain finds every little thing to obsess over every little mistake misstep, miscalculation misalignment and how I wish I could focus on something other than the errors I've made whilst snatching defeat from the jaws of victory and oh, how happy I'd be! if only I could take back what I said or did and replace those with the correct answer and oh, how content I'd be! if only I could make you see that everything tends towards chaos and disorder except for us and oh, how rich I'd be! if only I could capture a portion of the money I am losing by letting you live in my head rent free.
we move at different speeds you and I I'm full speed ahead and damn the torpedos you're wait-and-see, bide your time, reluctant you want to be sure this time cautious I don't see the point - when you know, you know so which is it? I can't help but wonder am I too ready, are you not ready enough? is there some middle ground we're missing? is it wrong to throw caution to the wind? is it right to give it the time you require? what you see is what you get I said and if feels like that's not good enough are you waiting for something more? are you waiting for the other shoe to drop? are you cautious by nature or is it just me? so we take it at your pace dilatory you say you need time to be sure but what is it you want to be sure of? what confirmation are you expecting? a sign from god isn't in the cards sometimes you just have to say (in the immortal words of Miles) what the fuck, make your move time waits for no man, no woman you miss 100% of the shots you don't take am I impatient or just over confident? a little of both, I suppose as usual because it feels like a slight, as if to say you're good, but not quite good enough and what if I can actually do better? I can't answer those questions for you (actually I can, but that's another discussion) all I can tell you is what I've said all along everything changes, everything stays the same and I'm the same man now as I will be then.