New post

Well, im unaware again of what im going to write. Im not even editing. Just writing it up and posting. Theres usually a spelling mistake or two. Fair warning!

Well, I heard a quote one time about someone going to visit a monk for enlightenment advice. The monk said “If you have all day it’ll only take an hour, if you don’t have an hour, then it” take two”.

I think about that right now. Im going through an experience where I feel like I ‘don’t have an hour’. That time is a scares resource again. That my to-do list, is too damn high. I feel set up to not achieve it all. So that’s part one.

Part two is I don’t even know what is a priority. It all feels equal territory. Reading this book, learning coding, journaling, going for a run, eating. Am I just the product of an unstructured day. Flying by the seat of my pants. I feel with coding nothing is ever enough. I learn and learn and still feel like I have to keep learning. Perhaps that’s excitement, but its abit disastrous to follow it. Its a great way to focus, to spend a lot of time on a specific task. I just feel im in the midst a podcast series, a book, etc. and would just like more clarity or confidence on what the heck is happening!

Well (yes almost all my sentences are starting with ‘well’), now what? Im trying to sit at the computer and write because I insisted I didn’t have the time to do so, or cause it was too abstract of value. Did I really need to do it? I can talk, busy, forget my way out of it so easily. What motivation IS there to stay and do it? Apart of me just wants to write just to go to sleep being like ‘I did one’. Trying to shove content into a day. To sort through so many mixed messages. Interesting that feeling, a glow feeling.

Better to not think and write. Remember, write don’t think. Ok, well…What to type. I mean I can repeat sentences for awhile. Repeat ideas, and lack of vision. Repeat. The whole point of this is so I don’t repeat. So that I come out of this with a different trajectory then the one I was already on. So I don’t repeat autopilot and where it was taking me. This can be a post again about coding and is it even worth doing. Or should I spend more time journaling, knowing thyself. I guess there is a feeling that atleast if I do that, im not just learning coding that may one day not even be used. I feel so leisurely with my studies. So unaware of what the big picture is. Where is the big picture? In my mind I suppose. What keeps us living from a moment by moment act by act, big pictureless life. What coping mechanisms do we have to not sitting down and asking ourselves? If you don’t know where you are going then why spend so much time getting there. This is just making me want to journal now. To read this book im reading and just continue on that trajectory. To maybe sit down and ask myself where do I want to be in 6 months. In a year.

Personal content as always Adam, alittle too honest…Well, is what is it. Atleast I feel im gaining grips on what the heck im trying to deliver in my life. Perhaps im wasting time aiming, and not enough time moving. Not enough time in go mode. I suppose the philosophy is what good is go mode if you wont like where your going. It takes energy, time, to move. It can be hard to admit change, to change, to realign. Well. Starting to see that.

What will come from this. Im not entirely sure. My only priority, or idea now is to think abit. To not post it all on here. To give y’all the basic version of what I was thinking. Now im going to go to my journal and book and delve alittle deeper/




9:40 at night.

I was just about to listen to this podcast called Seeing White. Its about, (or atleast thus far, is about) the black history origins in The United States. Im really enjoying it, and was very eager to listen to it tonight. I find I learn a lot and feel more understanding and aware afterwards.
I felt really fulfilled and inspired after I wrote my last blog post that I thought I would give it another shot. Im trying to not wait for that ‘perfect’ feeling to come.

Ive wanted to write about a topic, and this topic is about a pendulum.

I shall call it:

Perfectionism vs Deprivation.

I was thinking about it a lot, and how it spawned a lot of my creative habits. Aspiring for perfectionism as a byproduct can create deprivation. We are never at the quality we expect, desire, believe, so we don’t show up, distract, avoid, and perpetually defer our moment. Showing up as we are. Maybe great content is written from this frustration. Wanting to actually be doing something else in this moment. Having so many ‘ideas’, ‘things to do’, ‘possibilities’, ‘insert reason here’.

Feel that, learning about that. Yet I am jealous of other writers. Mostly because they show up. Secretly resenting them when to be in balance is just to show up myself. To not give other writers some glorification or idolization role, but to simply feel inspired to do the same. To come here, and focus on the quantity, the aspect I do have control of, and let go of the quality, the thing that we beat ourselves up over or judge or criticize so much. Letting go.

I realize when we live in the middle its pretty fun. We just write, and see what comes from it. We don’t need to fit into any framework, and can just allow to freely let what comes come. To be perfectly accepting and non judgemental. It doesn’t have to be anything. Perfect.

Ironic. Ive been doing the Artist Way book and this has helped me. To really see the creative child, the one who isn’t trying to do X,Y,Z to be good, for others approval, for any reason, but just because its a fun experience. It can be really exciting to see what comes up during these free flow channels. So much is free flow. Even when we follow an idea or story, it began somewhere. The ether. Not sure what I think about it all, but I’m trying to focus less on understanding it, and more on just coming to the computer and writing. The philosophy that gets me here doesn’t exactly matter.

Im trying to write quick so that I can tell myself when I am done I can listen to my podcast. Im excited. Its getting late, and I probably wont have time for a whole episode. What a motivation. I remember I used to have this sort of energy for freezies. For McDonalds, for leaving school or recess. Nice to think in this moment its for a social justice issue. I feel proud of that, or delighted to see that.

I am plateauing in a way. What to write about? Im liking computer programming nowadays. Theres a clear ‘end’. Here with writing, how do you decide when to stop? Do you make arbitrary measurements? 1000 words. 30 minutes. Those can work, they can give a sense of container. Theres a certain joy to writing endlessly, with no return ticket. But theres a joy of knowing this will all be over. So my goal now, is to write until 9:55. That’s good. Im going for it.


What to say. Ive had an ok day. Computer programming is messing with my mind. There are so many websites offering tutorials and lessons and articles, its abit over the top. It can feel overwhelming. I find it hard to simply sit with one instructor and just go through all their courses. It can take discipline to not be into the shiny object syndrome of a new website, program, course, etc. Its all the same thing, in 1000 different packages. Its like seeing 1000 brands of orange juice. In the end its all the same.

Coding sounds so seductive. Freedom. Security. Progressive. The future. Independence. Whats not to like? Yet ive been feeling the experience doesn’t always live up to the hype. It feels so strange. It feels so counter intuitive to the other natural parts of my life. Stretching. Eating. Listening to music. I don’t have to be asked, persuaded, or guilted to trying it. I do it naturally.

I find the coding thing has an undertone of fear. Wanting security. Stability. And I find myself thus trying to ‘force’ myself to give it a shot. Who says itll be any of these? If everyone learns it, then ill just be back where I started. And will I have the motivation to keep it up. To learn constantly. Or will I plateau, learn what I need.

I find obsession can be the best job security. If you are obsessively passionate about a subject, chances are you’ll study it meticulously, feel motivated to learn in your free time, be a life long discovery with it. I concern I may not have that with coding. Do all the languages light me up? Does 10,000 hours in front of a screen turn me on? I feel im trying to pretend it does. Im jealous of the person who it is that for. Who adores writing code. I feel that person has a safety net. A security. I feel my free spirit is such a challenge in a field like this. But, im trying to stay open minded. I did a Myers Briggs test (INTP) and it recommended coding may be a good thing for me. So I feel disappointed. Abit deflated. Damn, sort of let down. I feel abit inadequate to be honest. But then again, maybe itll all open up and work out. Maybe things will unfold differently then they have at this moment. Maybe its the training wheels that will eventually make the bike ride easier. But am I trying to become the marathon bike rider? Or the casual stride? Hmm…

Its 9:55. I told myself id stop now. I kind of gotten out what I wanted to get out. Ill act on that then. Im done. Completed. Good bye!




Random blog post

I feel I’ve been trying to use this blog for more deliberate writing. To write about a specific place, with a specific title. Yet when all the specifics are done, so is my content. Im writing now simply to write.
This blog renewed itself earlier this month. I feel im paying 40$ for a cool domain name, rather then because I need a space to express myself. It feels so backwards. Waiting for that eventual day where ill start writing now. A ‘random blog post’ feels abit senseless for me. Nothing to write home about. I really want to add value, and I feel uninspired, why would someone want to take time out of their day to witness another human vent, to engage in random free flow. What benefit does this have to you? How does it bring you closer to your dreams, your calling, your happiness. Is there some joy from witnessing someone as they truly are? Some unconditional appreciation? Who knows. I can feel the critic in me…Theres apart of me that needs to show up now. That has written an introduction, and doesn’t know what is going to follow.

Ive written before about the idea that most writers don’t start a journey if they don’t know where they are going. Yet creativity is like a vision of the emotions, rather then of sight. We don’t know where we are going. There is no roadmap. But there is impulse. An urging. How comforting it would feel to be in a box right now. Yet everytime I try to make one I don’t show up. I begrudge it, resist, and that ‘performance anxiety’ one could say drys my well of creativity. I have aspirations, covert ones id say. I say id like to write a book, collaborate and write a movie script, write lyrics to song. I feel so passive. So unengaged with my feelings. And well, self-conscious. That ill churn out anything good. I tend to compare myself to a select few inspiring authors/writers and tend to continually fall short. Then again, if every high school basketball player compared themselves to Lebron then there wouldn’t be much confidence would there. Im trying to reframe my source of confidence. Rather then comparison to success figures and idolization, instead to acts like this. Blindly, aimlessly, showing up. Seeing what will come from this. What returns from this.

Feel like in some ways I could talk so much. Maybe I should get back into blogging just for that. To vent. To talk about how ive been learning coding and whats that been like. About covid, Vancouver, travel, dreams, sitting too many hours, cooking. I could go on a tirade. It feels abit selfish. And honestly, im just fearful I need to be more then this to be read. To be worthwhile. I have an inadequacy reflection of myself when it comes to this. Perhaps that’s why most people don’t write/create – leave it to the big leagues, the ones who really give brilliant true content. Should I be hiding this writing? Doing it in private, until im ‘good enough’. Until that day. Should I be apprenticing myself. Doing projects, courses, improving. Maybe people want to see this side of me, or simply this side of progress. The pieces and places between A to B.

Apart of me wanted to just stop the writing there. Mic drop, as they say. Not much of a mic drop moment, but still. I suppose I feel im under the watchful eye. Ive been looking into copywriting. Lyric writing. Is this going to be peoples first impressions of me? Vulnerability posts? I want to hide that. To make this a journal, but I find if its not a blog post I wont write it. I wont show up. Im not showing up for my journals lately. Im doing morning pages, but besides that, ive become absent from the idea of a writer completely. In this moment, where ive had months of ‘free time’, I feel really confronted. Ok, so its not time. Its not free space. No matter how much time and free space I have, I may just beat around the bush. I need more accountability. More clear focus.

Im doing the Artist Way book right now. I can feel that once its done it would be worthwhile to embark on a strictly writing course. Where you come in with nothing and leave with a something. Where you get feedback, brainstorming. I guess right now im more focusing on becoming a better Adam first, before I become a better writer. Its a slower process, and doesn’t satisfy that immediate desire to ‘be there now’. Im not where I want to be, but in the long run this work is valuable. Self work. Patience. I think that’s the hardest concept in a time of urgency, speed, efficiency. It literally defies our modern philosophy. To trust that your building a future you. That you don’t need to be there today. That takes esteem. To be ok with not being that now. Self-acceptance. Patience is more of a medicine and practise then anything else. To truly have it, you would have to have other areas of your life maintained to support it authentically.

Classic Adam spiel. This that, blah blah, talk talk. Does come natural. I wish I could just get paid to have moments like this. Where I just free write, say whats on my mind and heart. See what comes up.

Ive been doing electrical work lately. I think how much work is involved. How much technicality and sweat and movement and lifting. And then I feel how can writing possibly compare. How can it be an equality. To work so hard and physically, meanwhile here I leisurely sit, quietly reflect, easily contemplate. It feels like comparing a stream to a tidal wave. Who knows. Maybe for others they NEED to be moving all the time. NEED to be lifting stuff. NEED to be out of the house. NEED to be not sitting for work. That gives me comfort if that is true. I just feel a guilt. A selfishness. Taking the easy way out while others are embracing reality and working hard. I can work hard on writing, but it just doesn’t feel the same. Mentally focused, but physically, just  still.

Blank slate again. Now what to write about? Im in free flow mode. Seeing what pops up. Like a wack-a-mole, but opposite. Embrace a mole. Welcome a mole. House, feed, name a mole. Give the mole half an hour to voice itself.

Maybe this is healthy. To just get things off my chest. I don’t feel like im consciously doing so. I just feel I can funnel whatever I have on my subconscious during the week onto here. Ive had this one:

Why is electronic music being produced so much these days? My answer – most young people are living in shared houses. Its an easy form to play music, with headphones without disturbing others. Only an opinion, but ive wanted to share that for weeks!

Cant think of anything else. I think that’ll be my goal. Anytime a random idea comes up, start sharing it on my blog.

You know you could have been ‘X’ amount of pages deep into an amazing book by now, but your here with me. Maybe we don’t compare things like I think people do. If comparing wasn’t even a concept, a process the human mind could do, then what would be real? Other writers would be like distant ideas. Measured by a ruler completely different to the one I measure myself to. Crazy to think about. Where would that put me? What would I view myself like if comparisons didn’t exist in the world.

Id probably think I was self-aware, or more accurately tried to write introspectively. Some times humorous, creative, interesting. That’s great right? Would I compare myself to what I ‘could’ be. Yes maybe I am those, but am I those enough. Am I deep enough to swim in. Am I intoxicating, or sobering. Im loosing myself in my metaphors…

I guess I’m trying to say, who is the Adam who isn’t judged or compared too. It feels abit naked. Strangely enough. Vulnerable. But im not sure why. It feels like somethings missing, my cloak of invisibility. Is this Adam stepping into life? Im not sure. I think so…I can feel a desire for acceptance. For appreciation. For sacredness. I view this still as a pastime. A impassioned, spur of the moment, vent. A random vent as I named the title. I think I romanticize it being more. It being more special for people. More valuable. More important. Does that begin with you, or does that begin with me? Who chooses. You or I? Theres apart of me still astounded by this. I came into this with blinders on, invisible to what was coming. And here I am, 20 minutes later. Alive, with this foundation of words behind this one. Clearly something is at work here. None of this I intended to write. That’s pretty cool, profound in a way. To come to that. To come to nowhere? To arrive, here. I still want to hold onto that idea of how do I find the value and importance in this. It is a creative flow, something I am familiar of and something I can do fairly easily. In theory I could do that for along time. I wonder what would happen if someone just made a book of a creative flow. 150 pages of who knows what the * it will be. Just start and end. I resent that in a way, but it would be extremely informative. Its like spinning the globe and putting your finger on a city, and whichever place you put your finger on you go to. It feels that sporadic. That random.

As good as this topic is, a new flow is coming, so I will change subject.

I have what feels like endless, but what is really maybe 30 journals in my droor. Maybe 20. Anywho. Im unsure what to do with them. Ive thought burning them. Ive considered just trying to turn them into SOMETHING. Anything.  Theres tales of my trips to Europe, of my farming, of my dating life, India, Nepal, psychedelics. The stories. Apart of me feels its worth telling, but I feel everyone has these stories. Right? Well many I know may, but im in a bubble and forgetting about all those that don’t. I think to myself well tell of my own story, does that really impact, better, your story? I feel im waiting for reassurance. That there is something there valuable. But maybe its like free flow. You create value rather then find it. Its not there, its created from it. Its the musician who can turn strings into music. Give a musician and a non-musician a guitar, you see the instrument is a small part of it. What one does with those things is the magic. Can I turn it into something? I wonder. Its tedious. SO freaking tedious. My writing on paper is so messy. Atrocious and emotional to read. Maybe that’s a good sign. Who knows. Im desperate for some authenticity. Some accomplishments and results. I feel im an empty resume.

Ok Adam you cant go on forever, what now? Its been awhile of free flow, is there an end in site? A transition? A conclusion? A soft landing? Whats the point…Learning to navigate without a point is a pretty crazy idea nowadays. In someways this is so meaningless, but in other ways its so meaningful. All I see are top this, best of that, you can be a this, learn from that. This is more artistic. Where are the lines? Where is the box? I feel pretty good about that. I just want validation that this is beneficial for people. It is beneficial for me. Is that enough. What if no one gets to this point. I feel like im on an empty mountain top and I can say whatever I want as loud as I want. I can just type abunch of profanity now, maybe no one would even notice. I feel like ive wandered from the village of logic, of thought. And im in the wilderness of the blank page. What creatures exist out here? What nature grows here? Have I burned my boat to this island long ago.*

Well, I suppose if I can go on forever, its best to just stop when I feel abit tired, which I think is now. I want to eat, or do something. To engage in a meaningless activity. To enjoy a game. I feel excitingly frivolous. Well, if you made it this far, heres a stamp. Or an award. But really, ill just say a thank you. Ive been talking about how ive been looking for appreciation, but sincerely, I actually feel appreciative of you.




Collection of thoughts:

Our Dreams

Why does the idea of writing sounds more charming then the act of sitting and doing it? It is a dream because it is literally experienced as a fantasy rather than reality I chase. And it’s much easier there. I say the writer life is so romantic and what I want, yet it is all self-image. It’s a dream because nothing of my reality signifies that I am willing to commit to it. That I actually will accomplish at the level I dream I will. True, but the fact that people are growing up eating vegetables, sitting on benches, walking their dogs, doesn’t mean some of us can’t go to the moon. Collectively we are dreamers.


Waiting for inspiration

I procrastinate because I am awaiting that elusive creative insight to feed me a line or a story. It rarely comes. And when I try to write without that it comes out more plain and inspiration-less than I imagine. I am trying to label and understand what is in me before it can be released. I have an idea of how and what should come out and the translator from feeling to words never does its job properly. All my work comes out with a sense of frustration rather than creation. So I stagnate, until I erupt with the desire to write anything.


Quick starts but no follow through

Every new project begins as me putting the petal to the metal; my work is full of kick starts, surges of belief and energy, ready to finally aim and fire. But what is it but an empty promise. The ability to maintain passion is the challenge. Starting it is the easy part.


Blurring the lines

How can I blur the lines of what a writer should be, and what I am? It makes me very self-conscious that I write so outside of the box. But I am just chasing the label less, following a scent that takes me at times beyond the city walls, beyond the predictable. Writing lately is a test of faith because I usually don’t know what it is exactly that I am planning to write. I am getting more and more in-love with going further and further away from knowing. How deep is the rabbit hole of unknowns? Writing takes you to the unknown because we have no idea what the destination really is. Knowing what you are going to write is like putting a blockade in my way saying that it HAS to happen this way. Being free is frantic because you have no direction. I am on my way and I don’t know where that is.


Passionate now, forgotten after

I feel like my goal is to experience dramatic bursts of self-expression. This entertains me now, yet afterword, it immediately is unimportant and done, and I am already focused on the next one coming through me. I have to accept I do that for the moment – there is no mourning of unpublished work, discoveries not shared, and there is no future moment of fulfillment or reward or material thank you. Life’s become a firework, bright one moment, gone the next. Embrace that.


The Label less writer

To think I can’t be put in a box. What makes a writer is not if he is a novelist or a self-help writer. It’s if you take a bunch of words on paper and shows it to people. I don’t have to label this, or feel that I have to be categorized in order to write. This is why people don’t start, or change their jobs, because there’s not always labels and answers to define where we are going. People don’t leave things a lot of times because they are scared of the unknown. Of what they don’t know they will discover.


Who am I?

I don’t ask who am I and it’s mostly because I am scared of the answer being blank. That’s it’s not who I have been for the past 28 years. That who I am, what I believe in, is incongruent to what I discover. I’m scared of the shock of that, and the now what feeling. Maybe “Who am I” is a daily discovering, rather than a guaranteed label.  Maybe who I think I am is only a small limited piece of myself. Maybe the whole picture of me is more than I can imagine. It’s terrifying to start blank.



What is true?

So what is truth? Is it the ability to clearly and orderly be labeled? Or is the willingness to say what’s on your soul rather than what will be embraced, be predictable, or accepted. If I was crying while writing this, would it be a holy experience? I’d say so. I’ve been to the temples, mountains, gurus, and days of silence, and felt less sometimes then I feel while writing. That’s why it’s sacred for me. This was a place where I find truth, rather than admire the truths that others have found. Sacred sites give you the impression you can buy your way to spirituality, that you can inherit it. That it’s a destination on the list of places.



Why does addiction override my logic? Why is our body built to chase what makes us feel intense, even if it is harmful, hurtful, and even when we tell ourselves we want to stop? We are intensity addicts. We think we will be better people if we stop, yet somehow that alone isn’t enough to change us. Logically addiction is self-destruction, and we can’t logically outsmart our way through things. Maybe addiction is a fear of the unknown. Addicted to the known.




The Eagle

The eagle represents observation.


The being who’s act of being is to be above the daily activity on the ground. To be seeing. The eagle is the prestigious act of objectivity, justice. Of calculating. The unemotional act. Of discipline, of seeing what we think no one else’s sees. The eagle is bigger then our daily activities. Think beyond moon cycles, beyond seasons, beyond the near or the next. If daily life is too much, think weekly. Weekly too much, think monthly. Constantly glide to a point of seeing. Of being higher then the struggle and seeing the struggle as beasts reacting to immediate hunger. Writing for me is that act (of gliding). That moment beyond acting, sleeping, sex, and shelter. The place of observing the acts. Why we starve amongst food. Why we feel alone amongst the people. The disconnect. The idea you cant see, that cell phones and instant puts us living only in the moment, and not combined to our grandest intentions, instead our immediate moment and curiosity. Find yourself not curious of the moment, consider yourself going higher. Be the eagle.


-Written during Blessed Coast 2016


Vipassana – Seeing in the dark.

Vipassana, a 10 day silent meditation retreat – I don’t know when I first heard about it, or when I first committed to doing it.

I was working at a retirement home at the time. I was 6 months split from my ex, and just wanted something challenging, insightful, and new. Perhaps abit outlandish, someone who had barely meditated felt ‘called’ (obsessed, convinced, hopeful, gambling, etc.) to try it out. So I went, to 10 kilometers from a small Northern BC town called Merritt. I had to take a rideshare to get there. I recall the drivers were speeding the entire drive. What a way to go, I imagined, if we crashed. A car accident en route to a silent hippie retreat..

The property was wide, quiet, and had a giant hall where everyone lived and stayed. The facilitator was named Goenke, he was speaking over videos each day about Vipassana. On day one he said “if you are feeling like leaving then you definitely should stay”. I can’t remember how he supported that statement, but somehow it did inspire me to really try and go for it. I’m sure everyone in some point of their experience at Vipassana second guesses it. I confronted many moments where I just wanted to up and leave. 10 days of watching paint dry is how you imagine it at times. It was remarkable how an environment of silence, lack of stimulation, can bring about so much restlessness, disorder, and chaos within. Yet I chose to be here, along with probably 40 other people who were mostly young and split evenly between men and woman. Clearly I wasn’t the only willing to try something out of the ordinary. Clearly I wanted this for a reason…

The idea of Vipassana is to mimic a monk life. Typical scheduling for those in Asia would be getting up around 4.30am, meditating nearly 10 hours a day, with short food breaks and rests in between. Putting a Westerner into that lifestyle can feel overwhelming, and much too restrictive, and the commitment to meditating so many hours can be daunting. Yet, when I experienced glimpses of doing it, of succeeding within this crazy schedule, I would feel very capable, hopeful, and surprised.

Vipassana had moments of real astounding insight. It was dead silent – and I learned I really loved that. At times that was the best part. To just not be distracted, or interrupted, it felt like the newest form of liberation. We are free in the city, sure, but are influenced, and co existing with many forces. Here it felt like we had committed to all practice existing in this environment, and the ability to live in that container was very serene at times. It snowed during my time here, and being in a meditative state watching the snow, and the outdoors, was very magical. I felt I had nothing else to do but appreciate it. That was the value of this – the capacity to be fully able to experience something.

This meditation method is not new. It is claimed to be the same technique used by the Buddha 2500 years ago. To detail it briefly, its intention is to be focusing on sensations, witnessing them, and not reacting to them. The application of this ancient method however I had a considerable amount of struggle with. It sounds easy enough, yet I found myself overrun by backpain and thinking about all the things I could be doing instead. I don’t know what was worse, the physical pain, or the thoughts of better things I could be doing. How unfair and conflicting it can be to have so many ideas and options, meanwhile not choosing them. FOMO or ‘what if’s’ were like coping mechanisms. Justifying my lack of focus. So many places I could go. Micro sensations felt unimportant too, overshadowed by true pain, and never ending thoughts. Pain > sensations felt like an undeniable hierarchy. I think on that and realize at times I simply endured the retreat, rather than experienced it, or thrived in it. I prided myself on being there, but I wasn’t able to consistently integrate to the goal at hand. I ended up just experiencing the silence and my attempt at their meditation. I feel I didn’t get the benefit of the technique, more so just survived the challenge of adapting to this new environment.

Despite that, I for sure had some profound experiences. I remember in the span of moments, seconds, switching from struggle, mental fatigue, and unacceptance, to total calm, effortless blissed serenity. There were no “outside changes” to spark this shift. The same silence and nothingness facilitated both reactions. Who knows the what or the why behind why these emotions come and go, but there it was, happening undeniably before my eyes, within me, for only me to feel. Still it seemed more like I was watching this experience rather than making it, and there was a sort of powerlessness of sitting in a meditative state for so long, witnessing whatever arises. A false sense of creation, it happened in me, but I didn’t create it, it just bubbles to the surface automatically. It showed how much is invisible internally even to ourselves, and not caused by what’s outside of us, and perhaps not even chosen by us.

Then that would switch again, feeling the mayhem of restlessness rising slowly in this quiet, safe place, with its stimulus devoid environment. Then few hours later everything would click again, and I’d be feeling like I’m in a Zen oasis. Then out of nowhere, suddenly I was riding a rollercoaster. The transitions were impossible to predict. All of a sudden I’d be in something new. It was so hard to brace oneself for it. To control, predict, or expect it. Reality can give checkpoints. When work is over we can ‘transition’ emotionally, from responsibility to rest. Or when vacation begins. Yet those aren’t always true. Many can go on vacation still stressed, get off work rattled for traffic. The checkpoints, and indicators to shift emotions, how real are they? They are hopes, intentions to change. Not true places of shift. With always meditating, there was no checkpoints. Just enduring constant silence, and my inconsistency.

I felt simultaneously more responsible and less responsible after that.

When I feel the same things in the city, the ups and downs, how much of it is because of the city? Are the addictions, bad habits, things I love, things I resisted, are they the cause of my highs and lows? Without any stimulation or sensory, I still felt the high and lows.

To what extent can we blame our circumstances for our suffering? And when does the scale tip? When is it our internal world more responsible and less so the external?

That gave me empowerment, trust, to focus within, after seeing how much of the same feelings came up during those meditations in new environments. Yet, in me things were happening unexpectedly, seemingly uncontrollably, and invisibly. Emotions are a purely feeling based reality. I felt a bystander to my own subconscious, only a tourist to my reality. It all felt like such a mysterious nothingness. Eyes closed 10 hours a day. Yet, I was finally looking in the right place. In the dark of space within, searching for answers.

I talk about at the beginning how I was inspired by things with my ex, and how that gave me courage and hopes to show up here. During Vipassana I got deep levels of gratitude about that history between us. Thank you’s, and real feelings of luckiness and appreciation for good times we had and moments we shared. I felt I was looking for inspiration and new ideas to see our past, but really that insight summed it up. All the processing and thinking was just hoping to eventually get to that. Gratitude.

I finished Vipassana, I lasted the 10 long days. I think by day 6 or 7 I knew I can do it. For me, if you can make it to 7 you can make it to 10. It’s easy to look at it like a marathon rather than a moment by moment experience. I have a lot to learn in that sense. To enter something like that and to really experience it, rather than only complete it. I may go back, id actually like to volunteer, however lately meditation feels so inexistent in my life. Ironic too, to be able to do that, and then live the same as if you never even went. The impact and results were short lived. It didn’t make ‘lasting’ changes in my life. Who I am today has no relic’s of Vipassana. Perhaps subtly, but not definitively.

When day 10 came and we could finally talk it felt so unfamiliar. I stumbled and forced those first words. Slowly returning to the world I’ve spent my whole life in. Small chat felt so big. I recall speaking with another person there who was planning to be there for months. He wanted to do a mix of volunteering and being there as a sitter (term for someone who is attending the Vipassana), and I imagined what a vision of peace he must be chasing. This event was a challenge for me, and for a lot of people who haven’t gone it is unthinkable, yet here was this young early 20’s guy, with every option before him, choosing this. What a rare story people like that are. I never kept up with him, but would have loved to know how he changed, grew, learned. What he found in his internal journey.

The ride back from Vipassana to Vancouver was glorious. Never have the mountains along the Coquihalla highway felt so high and large. Even returning home, sitting and doing nothing felt so fulfilling. It’s so hard to understand that feeling, just a looming afterglow. After living in the dark for so many hours the past 10 days, everything was so huge. That stayed for many days. I was the topic of questions at my work for next few weeks. People were really curious how it was and I shared my experience.

I think back during Vipassana that during the ‘high’ moments I wished everyone could feel that. Yet during the everyday life I live now, I see no natural gravitation towards that. Feels ironic. For me to sign up today for a sit would feel shocking in ways. My back pain is still hard at times and I’m sure would feel very painful there again. They also encourage you not to do yoga, read, or write while there. The philosophy is nothing but meditate and rest. No distractions.

I remember the food being delicious. I also realize food was one of the few places where I felt I had individuality. I could eat what I want, and as much or as little as I want. I would emotionally eat if I had a bad meditation, or I would lightly graze if suddenly I felt complete and little need for food. They encouraged no one to fast, and to try to just eat a healthy diet. Nice to only focus on food for once, rather then check email and eat. Read and eat. Watch something and eat. Finally it was simply eat.

I don’t know what else to say about it. There are Vipassana centres all over the world, and they can be booked months in advance. We are the civilization who in part craves comforts, all inclusives, food deliveries, and at the same time is willingly going to sit in silence and strict scheduled meditations for 10 days. It’s a duality we may learn more about, but shows comforts aren’t the only remedy to struggle or suffering. Clearly too much comfort gets uncomfortable.

Writing this today, the idea of spending so many hours in the dark sounds so mystical and mysterious, but at the time was just the next step I took. How our perception of meditation changes over time. Back then I was just following the next idea, maybe times haven’t changed all that much. I remember returning home from Vipassana around December 22nd, the darkest days of the year, and some friends and I went to watch the new Star Wars movie. It felt like the most overwhelming cinematic experience after living in my head and a room for the past 10 days. It was such a theatrical way to imagine the struggle of bliss and suffering, easy thoughts and hard thoughts. It was all so symbolic. It felt ironic and funny to have that as a first initiation back to civilization. To create Star Wars probably costs millions and 1000’s of people, and to delve deep into the abyss of my mind felt like such different extremes. But there was a unified journey there. The struggle was grueling, but any journey worth walking is. Vipassana and its story are steeped in everything. Star Wars, relationships, work. Different contexts for the same thing. Reflecting on this has given me more appreciation to revisit things. If I were to do Vipassana now it would seem like a whole new person is going. Finishing it once doesn’t give me much more confidence that I can do it again. But, I think if I went back today it would be in a state of wonder. Watching a dark screen inside my mind’s eye for 10 hours. To choose that channel, it’s so contradictory. Nothing itself was the greatest freedom. How has my subconscious changed over the past 4ish years since going? How do we evaluate that? Sometimes the only way to see is to close ones eyes and go to the place inside where all you see is black. To really listen maybe it helps to spend time in the room where there is no sound. To find ourselves only when we are in an environment that is the most unfamiliar. Maybe that’s Vipassana, maybe that’s what I was chasing.




Old poems and raps from past decade.

Every other post the past few months has been travel writing. This is a more creative and experimental blog post, showing a unique side of myself and keeping it fun. Enjoy!


In second year university, nearly 10 years ago, I had a huge passion for writing raps and poems. This phase continued for many years until I got back from Australia maybe 5 years ago. Most of these are more from around the Australia time.





Candle lit, we can do it glamorous

you know I cant resist

these tango dances

how romantic

how old fashioned

we take these getaway trips

continental weekends

putting back together the pieces,

and everybit we seized of it

how picture perfect, how rightly so

how unlike him, oh there he goes

romeo of radio

do I make seduction rap

every girl I ask say the loving that


Together too much


Night and day she’s with me

Hand in hand she’s with me

Hard times she’s with me

Getting lost she’s with me

And when I need space she’s with me


Dancing together she’s with me

Long nights she’s with me

Bed together she’s with me

Meeting parents she’s with me

Those days long ago

She’s with me

Now I hear someone else say

She’s with me



Byron Bay hostel poem


no car, im in another part of the world

its a rain storm, so were staying in the dorm

playing jay-z’s encore, and laying on the floor

weve all have our dreams,

and I wanna do so many things right now,

thats how we learn about our means

its not just about this its a lifestyle,

thats why its my team

and together we tryna compete

with guys who do this for a living

who raise their kids and succeed

now im writing when im with friends

with roommates, with family

ive had to give alittle bit of life

alittle bit every night

just a bit of it all





Business is hurting,

and lately people don’t have the time

in the museum

Day to day life

doesn’t compare to history

in the museum

In the city centre

come see life on the country side

in the museum

These colours were so bright back in the day

but the paints have faded

in the museum

Im running out of new art work

and things haven’t changed as of late

in the museum

and I don’t know if anyone will understand it

so I never hung it on the wall

in the museum

theres line ups everywhere else

what happened to true art

in the museum

todays the day

but no one came

in the museum

people want autographs

but don’t want paintings

in the museum

I’ve never felt so alive

those were the days

in the museum



so close and so far


with each impulse, I’m engulfed

I’m lost, I brought us here,

its my fault

but its so soft


ive made promises, ive made bad promises

im in over my head, its gonna follow us

its all gonna fall on us

but this is so fun


I haven’t introduced ya, but its the two of us

I haven’t owned up, I haven’t opened up

I can’t keep going,

hold me


We said last time, let’s give it one more try

Well make a claim, well say well change,

We can go all the way,

unless you want me to stay





Your there by my side

Holding my hand

Looking at that world outside

Look isn’t it so wide

Isn’t it so bright


Adams Rap

Trying to go slow
I got better luck going backwards
Alittle courtesy? Certainly
And people who could barely speak English
Spoke my language perfectly
Bad weather
And we still never sat for dinner
How come I come back in the winter
Well hold my seat for me
Those waisted nights made my story
An ordinary life turned right to glory
Keep going, yet no body seems to know him
Keep growing, I grew up to seize the moment
When I see it I’ll know it
It’s my life I know how it feels to hold it
And when frozen drops
Hit molten rock
I open up
Try to close me shut
I’m so alive I can feel inside
I’ve been rolling the dice my whole
And it’s hard to admit I escaped from home
And I’ll be back cause one day I’ll be gone
And its pay cheque to pay cheque for our day to day lives
Girl to girl, what a taste of the good life
Creationist, remaking this
Innovationist, retracing this
I don’t skim no surface
So hold your breath
Let’s go in depth

Light up the paper spaceships
We taking off from a basement
Now I cheated in geography so…
I ain’t the one to ask where I’m about to go
But everyone who called me brah now says bravo
Those were the days
I said once in a lifetime to many times for my age
Head in the clouds
I’ll come down when I turn the world
Upside down.




Ive been waking up to the same music

walking to that same bus stop

same food night and day

im picking up the pace

the knight while hes still young

22 and unsung

healthier then ever, my business circle, is my social circle

whirlwind kids, dont take shit

dont give a shit, 21st century zen

a generation to call home

whats it look like when its going right

blonde hair blue eyes, too many invites, less noons more midnights

a taste of the good life

I couldent understand when she had such a slight accent

Oh ya now I remember it was her anti depressants

those childhoods days were like grand theft auto living life in free mode,

middle class family I entered the world with cheat codes

instant reloads

so ive been drawing wrong conclusions, constantly sketching myself

the brushing it off afterwords, paint you this picture







dear journal,

let me tell you about this girl

the day I loose faith in her she trusts me again

Ive lost it, im now either chasing or re-tracing

im spinning out

angry, and then begging she forgave me

my perfect who eats ,healthy so he can be mouthy

she wants to be in theatre and I dont even see her

but I see the beauty in her she cant see in the mirrors

she got her fears so innocent could practically put me to tears

I never knew foreigners could speak my language

Ill say it again

I never knew foreigners could speak my language

these words were for her, ask me if it hurts

even worse it burns, its burns even more then words







to me there is no other choice my only voice

its got me at holding point

my options there dropping I cant stay on stable ground

from laps to raps, to me im running on that same track

my hands are tied, the day I die I burn alive

saying it outright is never my favorite outlet

I dont express through my outfits

dancing I always looked out of it

all eyes are on me, and its me whos gotta face it

people awaiting on me unveiling my show case of creations shit

one more sales pitch ill be alex rodriguez..,jesus

couch surf any more ill be sponsored by billabong..god,

im being pushed around

the food I cant taste no more

the pay I cant wait no more

fuck a wage Ill wage a war,

ill turn the tides, this is animal instincts

pushed my existence to the brink of extinction,

how abnormally, ive become apart of the majority

authority over superiority, horny for glory

so now man to man we stand

one of us pulls through the other goes back

one climbs one collapse

I dont think yall grasp this, magnitude

with a pen and a pad I rewrote the rules

wilderness thats what the hell this is, wheres your willfulness




Freestyle/Tumblr of raps..

(This is just excerpts of one or two lines from different ones, all put together. Not flowing as a song, but just separate lines.)


between day light and late night

it slipped into night fall

its early autumn in late October…

sometimes I wonder what it like to be


cause Ive only been local

coming up from the coastal, and im nothing but soulful

and ill treat every track like its final lap

I dropped outa class cause all I did was doodle autographs

and I dunno whats the point of free speech if your too scared to speak

you can call me that rare breed/ that, over achieved

as a kid I had vivid dreams of becoming the voters choice

now im a man, growing up to be a poster boy,

started gaming play station, next im playing over the station

kid caesar ringleader, promoting his generation

showboating and kept saying I was taylor-made for entertaining

first place it feels amazing, I finally found my safe haven

and I keep refusing on taking breaks

right on time for me’s still around 15 minutes late

paper space ships

in my basement

make me so flirtatious

i just crave it

I want to make its an understatement

I never was patient

thats why I dropped education

lifting off to entertainment

writing till I collapse was my biggest aphrodisiac

I used to glance up at my poster it said justification for higher education

but I didnt even need the school, I just needed to be amazing

feel the pressure pressing compressing on your nerves

/feeling depressed

/leaning on your perfect mahogany wood cream desk

/feeling the defects

being low key, I unlocked so many doors

My sixth sense was always a sense of wonder

on halloween ill take the costumes off

were getting dirty in the shower

a kid with initiative and look what I did with it

host a focus group

predict on numbers I should hope to do, then overshoot

when I first got into it, before I ever put out a track

I would back to back practice laps, till I got more fast

I kept pouring more gas, writing out more raps

it goes so far back, thats one hell of a war path

thats why I feel, in my field I gotta reinvent the wheel

that authentic classic feel

gaining mass appeal

stop focusing on downsides, hoping for downtime

wishing tonight at the grocery store goes real slow

I wanan throw away these steal toes, plug on the ear phones

you dont need to be broncho

you can ease on the macho

this lyrical pill

was filled to the brim with the minimal

my hometown a gateway drug

half borderline, half born to shine

dont worry ill keep this personal, never let another person know

I promise

stand out among those who sit back,

under bet him get armaggaden

this is robbery

and you took away the most important part of me

all these people keep saying is they aint got the time

but their giving the exact same amount the greats had to find

she gets high whenever she gets low

Neat gin, Mixed emotions