A sort of detached Euphoria spread warmth within my bones. I looked at my hands and a memories flooded in. All of the things I have created, all of the tasks I have completed, all of the beings I have touched, all of the warmth I have felt, all of the sensations. These brown limbs have felt eternities of sensations. For that, I am.
Sometimes I feel like we are responsible for curating our lives with such rich intention and forethought… But we are judged on how effortless we can craft these intentions, practices and details to appear.
In a world as seemingly connected as ours, I feel as if we have disassociated ourselves from each other.
AMEN that uniqueness and self love and personal aesthetics have been accepted by the status quo, (it’s about time). But I can’t help being retrospective… Dreaming of small towns where someone was not a stranger for long. I do not know of such a place in my lifetime, i was born in the age of television & computers. I, most likely just like you, am a spawn of mass media. There is nothing I can do about when I was born.. in this vessel with this mind.. harboring this soul. My cards have been dealt. My youth has been nearly spent, my naivety is nearly depleted, I hope.
But still I feel and insuppressible need to smile at strangers.
To connect with those nearest to me, to be grateful for not being alone on this vast, watery rock.
I just gets me.. imagine how different it would be, how many things would no longer matter, if it was just you here.
I used to have fights with female companions over who was the friend I loved the most, who was the best or most beautiful.
Now I see people, and I mean, physical, tangible, people as fellow divinities walking amidst a vast, watery rock.
It’s funny… I preach about the importance of letting go and being mindful and focusing on connection, however, my own mother has to remind me.. on nearly a weekly basis.. to not take life so seriously. Because in my mind, what else is worthy of such severity? Many answers have risen. Thankfully haha.
Most of them I have not yet decoded, but if I am only 19 years old and I’m capable of these thoughts, patterns and manifestations… then what will I be capable of 38 years old? That is entirely up to you.
some people believe a monotheistic God governing our every action , will and plea, some people believe that the energy you radiate in the universe comes full circle, some people believe that your soul is recycled through time.
Most of these ways of living are mutually exclusive however I believe that they are all saying the same thing. (Once again, still decoding.. but results coming soon.)
I hope that my intentions are clear, that this elevates you from whatever mortal situation you have fallen prey to, as so many of us have. And that you are now aware of the beautiful, cataclysmic destiny that comes with being human.
Love you always,
You are more than a bulleted list or a note of remembrance. More than a get-rich-quick scheme, more than the lint in your pocket too. More than the education you have forgotten and the knowledge you are striving to gain, more than the honorific before your name, more than the name you didn’t even choose and, believe me, more than the identity that you have. Continue reading “All of the 1 in-a Trillion Moments”
I am a but a humble novice in the art of Eastern Philosophy but my passion for its power is heavy. (Hilariously corny, i know!!) But I can’t be so embarrassed about my love for soul satisfaction!! Because then how could tell you how amazing it is or not to feel shitty about life or your purpose or confusion??
When I feel hollow or un able to contribute anything meaningful or to a conversation, relationship or merely existence, I share. I feel like that’s common practice, right? Sharing takes the place of words and theories. It’s in a league of its own, pure action. It is an act of transference. Not always pure in intention, but an act nobody can complete alone. Think about that… some, if not most, of the best sensations on earth are only felt in the presence of other beings of your species. And in case you forgot, yes, we are one species.
So today, no brilliant wisdom has possessed my skeleton, no magic has manifested in my thoughts and no chemicals have crystalized. But a dope ass song is pulsating through my veins! The link is below 🙂
It is a beautiful Brazilian love song in Portuguese. Tim Maia is a legend and his sound is simply transcendent. I hope you share the feeling, enjoy!
I am thankful for the ants in my pantry, for the blemishes on my epidermis, for the vessel of a body that I call home, for the 1’s and 0’s lighting up this text, for the oil on my hands, for the wax in my basset hound’s ears, for the chipped black paint on my parent’s chimney, for the Texas snow that doesn’t exist, for the self loathing that does, for the dirt on my feet from morning yoga under the gazebo, for the glorious book I have yet to finish, for the plants that didn’t make it to today, for the star that made today a possibility, for the indigenous cultivators of the island I reside on, for the lumber mills who destroyed this land’s fertile soil for the cookie cutter households I grew up in, for the children who strive for greatness in the face of adversity, for the children who never had a role model of greatness, never had a father, never had a mother, for the children who were born with life altering differences, for the mothers who fabled those consequences onto that child, for the mediums of expression that make it okay, for hollywood cinema that crawls into our streams, for music presenting our power of time manipulation, for the ants not in my pantry, for the children born with gold spoons in there mouth, for the infinite of lives lived before, during and after mine, for the bread that absorbs the alcohol in my stomach, for the alcohol that numbs the scars of the world, for the endless amount of sacred items that heal and alleviate those pains. For the love and light that cherish our being.
This is first post that isn’t being fueled by inherent inspiration. The rest of the stories on this site are the sort of impassioned scribblings of a love-struck adolescent. Which is why I love them! Which is why I have had such lovely feedback! Which is why they shall remain the same- Honest.
However, since I really love this gig going on… I never want it to end. As with any journey or discipline, certain things need to be made clear…
In the parking lot of an urban Walmart, it hit me. I’m being tested. When you’re in the thick of the action, your survival skills kick in and it gets ugly.
Doubt, shame, guilt, naivety, jealousy (which is just a prettier word for insecurity) come knocking on your door. If you’re not comfortable with your self then you answer thinking.. just maybe.. it’s an escape from whatever new trap you’ve fallen into.
Alas those thoughts are temporary tunnels that lead to more disappointment. And disappointment turns into resentment and resentment turns into hate and hate is just a very thirsty form of love.
I guess that I just wanted to share that I went from being like “Oh dude I’m at Walmart on a Thursday night, my life is shit”
to being like …
“Dude these cynical levels of low self worth are just temporary manifestations of my anxieties of what I have yet to accomplish and share with the world. And, sweet we’re at Walmart… I can grab some beer!”
(All of this in less than 60 seconds)
I love beer. I love Earth. I love sentience. Quench your thirst.
Comfortability is almost a commodity in America, for even the working class. Many are still without here and in other spaces of the world. However, one sense of comfortable we all fall prey to rests in your mind.
After listening to The Art of Being Yourself on my drive to my grandparents a flood of fresh perspective drowned away the stealthy cynicism lurking in my mind. It’s totally all the rage to be cynical about… everything. All the cool kids do it. Even the not so cool.
This video, which is a bit long yet not tedious, hit the nail on the head by asking one question (very cliché yet seemingly unanswerable)… “Who do you think you are?”
Caroline McHugh confronted me. Right there. She straight out told me, I am not my feelings because I feel them. I am not my thoughts because I think them. I am not my stuff because I own them. I am not the people I love for obvious reasons… I am not even the person they love because how could they know me? Can you honestly know and honestly love the same mind? I’m not sure. I’m not sure if I even want to know that answer.
I am a fucking Werido. An only child who’s imagination swallowed her up. For so long, I was embarrassed and ashamed of my passions because they were never “fashionable”. I constantly craved to create this Frankenstein Bride of the woman I would, with out a doubt, become. And throughout high school it was working. All smiles and nods and people throwing money, drugs, and even opportunity at me. Me. But it wasn’t me. My closest friends never even knew me. My parents never knew me. I had no idea what I was, but I knew what I was becoming. Such a beautiful nightmare.
Maybe I leaped in time? Because I’m not really sure what brought me from A to B of mentalities. I have no clue what switch went off. I was externally “put together” and internally empty for so long. Now it’s the opposite. But my saving grace is… I’m not even 20 years old!!! My independent life has not even begun, and I drank enough in my teens to satisfy my lifetime. (Not huge fan of alcohol or what it may exorcise out of people)
Moral of the story… Be the you only you know how to be. Revel in those secret moments that no else is around to experience. It is no easy task in this digital world to be comfortably lost in your mind, to manifest your imagination into these secret moments.