Free write – channeling

Feel like all I want to do is channel things, to be impulsive, to be like an artist walking to a new canvas everyday. The last canvas feels like another life time ago, even if it was hours ago. What a habit to need so much variety, freedom off the leash. Its rewarding to channel that here. I imagine its like any artist, any discoverer, there is always more to uncover. Feel thrilled to chase that, to delve deep into that. Feel myself practicing this relationship to my work. To seeing I can direct my energy to here. To see yes there is so much to do, so much to uncover, yet there is so much fulfillment, release, relief, from all those pressures, simply by being here. Reporting on my subconscious, on destiny, on wherever I am, whoever I am.

Its an endless journey of traveling through oneself. When does this trip end. When does the tourist become the resident. When does the sun set will depend on where you are. Its possible to follow the sun. For it to never set. A setting sun only appears in a fixed place. What about when we are floating, free, away from everything we know. Does the idea of a sun and reality come to mind. Can we simply be artistic, creative, imaginative? To play with ideas bigger then our logic can handle. Dreaming out my league – I love it. I can see I use this as a editorial center for my own subconscious. Pasting collages of my inner world onto a page, in fragments, cut out of thoughts like magazine pages. To the objective observer they may appear as unconnected dots. Multiple story lines intertwined in one. Stories beginning and ending simultaneously. Such is nature, dying, birthing, thriving, sacrificing, all around us. The tree is built on the decay of its surroundings. The universe but an after effect of a lifelong journey of time. Where do we all come from. Where did big bangs come from. Its all so rich and unanswerable those questions. Yet, humility is just that, the fact that there are unanswerable questions. Even the answer of the big bang almost discredits just how long, unimaginable, uncontainable, the world and everything within it really is. Its hard to put existence in a box. To trully settle into comfort. Maybe life is best lived with questions that cant be answered. Actions that cant be explained. Dreams that cant be contained. Perhaps that is the energy of the universe. The unexplainable musts. The totally innocent and wild. The freedom of living without answers. Perhaps that point of stress, is trully a point of humility. Death is the equivalent of the question unanswered. Could we have done more with our lives? Did we aspire to enough? Find our calling? Did our search mean anything. Perhaps those questions dont require answers – even though we yearn for it. Perhaps the best life is the one that doesn’t scream I have an answer, but instead says I ask deep enough questions that answers are impossible.

Am I living gods version of me?

Am I here for a reason?

Does the world have a place for me?

Does the world need saving? More saviors? Are we living in better times then every human being before us?

Answering the question is a small part of the battle, the point is to feel the question. To really feel the emotional response to it. The thrill. The shreak. The freight and the fury of movable energy. What a storyboard we play life by. Humans, security deprived. Seeking any measure of guarantee. For our families, our homes, our careers, our old age. We are begging for guarantees in the land of randomness and make believe. What illusion are we fighting for? What investment do we think will reap the reward we need. Any attempt to answer those deep questions in life is a settling. We settle for an answer. A solution. Best to have the question unanswered, then a misunderstood answer. Than a false sense of security, than an unclear understanding of the true power behind those questions.

I shall call this post “Lifes unanswerable questions”. I know the title at the top is different, but I started with the title above so I wont edit it. The title for this story begins at the end.


Same thing of many names.

-Its a form of sickness to not be afraid of what you should be afraid of.

When I lifted up my journal to begin writing, I noticed my ink cartridge had fallen out of my plastic pen. It felt so bizarre. Ofcourse, it was probably right next to me on the floor, but symbolically, it felt like a request to not go into my head. To not use writing as an excuse to avoid feeling everything. Writing is not your parent to shelter you, its your companion along your journey navigating through integrity. The thing you let accompany you into places you may or may not want to go.

Be aware of that – how our addiction to content may very well limit our depth. Too concerned with bringing something back to the tribe that we end up staying on very short leashes. How free are we? How transparent will I be if my goal is simply to write about it or make a blog post. Well I exaggerate certain parts, downplay others. How truthful will the truth really be.

The writing is the after glow of the experience. The map. A map is a detail-less existence, incomaprable to the richness of the reality and infinite details. How misfortuned we are to be so comfortable. To have something to hold our hand the entire way. What can we expect to find with those safe guards?

Ill be humble. Theres deep depths and truths that others have walked further then I have. Totally willing to own that. Growth is a pyramid. 3 parts small, 2 parts medium, 1 part heavy. Pyramids are built from the bottom up, from the general to the specific. The common to the brave. The height you can touch will depend on the bedrock you stand on. Create the soil that can touch the sky. Ive heard that ‘if you want your branches to be as high as heaven, your roots will have to be as deep as hell’. What truths have I seen yet? Im a bypasser, a casual onlooker. I hope thats changing. Progression is a natural flow of life. Progression is the sacred geometry. Higher heights, deeper depths. The tree branches expand, the roots dig down. What comes first?

God id love to be irresponsible right now. To over do something. To say ‘what limits?’ That seduction of progress. Patience is just as truthful as bliss. The cold just as sacred as fire. Yes id love to over reach. To justify it on chasing truth. Freedom. Expansion. Call it what you want to call it. To say no – ill trust my truth as it is today, can feel emasculating. To try and not romanticize the ‘more truthful truth’.

The capacity to genuinely feel is a huge strength. Even to acknowledge, “I feel numb, egoic, careless, bold to a fault”. Its the same force of addiction. Numb to the effects, to feeling, so obviously we will repeat ourselves, our negative cycles. If we wernt numb, if we truly felt, then what would we repeat? A painful loop of pain?

-Show me, dont tell me.