A schism. A division of infinite depth and recursion. Everything separates in order to recombine. Atoms, thoughts, people. What is the atomic weight of words? An omnipresent mass of cognition. Each thought in our heads is made up of pieces of fractured sensory input. Strings and conglomerations and wisps of those thoughts fire off in sequences that give our minds a sense of self-awareness, a consciousness. We are conscious because we are aware of our thoughts. But there is an order above us. Our minds are pieces of a larger consciousness. Our power of perception as individuals is dwarfed by the power and purpose of the whole. Together, we all perceive the physical world, set a baseline understanding of color, shape, taste, sound, but this is not just for our own edification. R.A. Wilson said that, "[Humans] are sensory organs the Universe created in order to perceive itself." Our modalities exist not to serve our consciousness, but to relay that information elsewhere; we are to the universe what eyes are to us.
And so it goes, just like that, on up the chain.
As above, so below, and "It's turtles! Turtles all the way down."
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Take off and absentia.
It's been a while, but that's how it usually goes with me. I am horribly inconsistent with blog upkeep, especially when I know that no one is reading. Why is that, that I am more compelled to write for an audience than I am for myself? I think that's interesting, and very telling of what kind of person I am.
I'm transitioning, though. 2008 was a deciding year for me, a baseline where I determined what I would do and how I would approach my career; a jumping off point if you will. Well I've jumped. I am in the air and flapping my arms, and thanks to a few updrafts, I'm learning how to fly. 2009 is going to be full of hard work, but it is already the most rewarding year of my life, and I'm not even halfway through the first month!
So my apologies for the absence, but I've been formulating plans and hatching plots. Things are afoot now, balls are rolling, and I'm living my life with gratitude and determination. I plan to make entries here a more regular occurance; perhaps if I become a part of, or cultivate some semblance of community here I'd be more inclined...until then i'll have to wait for situations like today, where I'm in a coffee shop while my car's oil is being changed, and I have little else to do.
Be on the lookout, though. A website for my professional writing is in development and in all likelihood this blog will be fed into there.
Ciao!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
I'm transitioning, though. 2008 was a deciding year for me, a baseline where I determined what I would do and how I would approach my career; a jumping off point if you will. Well I've jumped. I am in the air and flapping my arms, and thanks to a few updrafts, I'm learning how to fly. 2009 is going to be full of hard work, but it is already the most rewarding year of my life, and I'm not even halfway through the first month!
So my apologies for the absence, but I've been formulating plans and hatching plots. Things are afoot now, balls are rolling, and I'm living my life with gratitude and determination. I plan to make entries here a more regular occurance; perhaps if I become a part of, or cultivate some semblance of community here I'd be more inclined...until then i'll have to wait for situations like today, where I'm in a coffee shop while my car's oil is being changed, and I have little else to do.
Be on the lookout, though. A website for my professional writing is in development and in all likelihood this blog will be fed into there.
Ciao!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Flow
It's the cool confidence that glides through life.
Fire, water, wind, and earth are all liquids on some level.
Obstacles are merely shifts in perspective.
There is always enough.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Return To Sender
My hair is curly, swirling in and out of my eyesight. It's gray outside, like the clouds were made of nothing in particular. I feel like I could smile if I had to, but my face is tired and I'm saving my future self from those silly wrinkles. The honeymoon is over.
In a few blinks I'll be back home, like I never left. Only I did, and the me that's coming back is someone else. Still recognizably me, but version 3.5 or 9.1- all the best, without the shit that never worked.
Peace and love. See you soon.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
There's Clarity in them thar hills!
It's my last full day here in England, and I'm not sure how I feel exactly. I accomplished everything I wanted to get out of this vacation and more, so I'm not disappointed in the least. I guess I'm a little excited to get home, sort out my house now that construction is finished, see my puppy. and get back to my "real life," but there's a part of me that's already planning my next trip.
I suppose it's natural, though it does feel like I'm being a bit escapist. It's not that I don't want to return to work, or Los Angeles, or anything like that, no, it's more like I just don't want to have to think about all of those little annoying things that come with everyday living. It's not possible, outside of eschewing material possessions and relegating myself to a nomadic life, I know, but it's nice to dream.
It always gets like this for me at the end of a vacation, though. Muddled thoughts and feelings, my mind trying desperately to cling to the insights gained from the time spent away from all the bullshit, the regulated minutiae of my other life- my non-traveling one- slowly creeping back to pester me like a persistent cold...
I think indifference is a state of being for me that comes most often during an overcast day. When I arrived here in England it was rainy and gray, and here as I'm preparing to leave it isn't all that different. I've been fortunate, though, being the child of climate that I am, that Paris and Brussels were brighter on the whole, if not the weather, the people surely.
But it's been good. No doubt, this has been an amazing journey. I have many memories, and pictures to boot. I have grown tremendously, and happily so. I realized and reclaimed something on this trip that I used to have when I was younger, and had been very troubled to have lost: an unapologetic sense of self. I know who I am right now, and I don't care who likes it or not. I am going to be me, crazy or sad, manic or pensive, I will be who and what I feel in the moment I feel it. It doesn't matter if it's contradictory, it's true.
As long as I'm happy, it's good. Yea, it's good. ^_^
I suppose it's natural, though it does feel like I'm being a bit escapist. It's not that I don't want to return to work, or Los Angeles, or anything like that, no, it's more like I just don't want to have to think about all of those little annoying things that come with everyday living. It's not possible, outside of eschewing material possessions and relegating myself to a nomadic life, I know, but it's nice to dream.
It always gets like this for me at the end of a vacation, though. Muddled thoughts and feelings, my mind trying desperately to cling to the insights gained from the time spent away from all the bullshit, the regulated minutiae of my other life- my non-traveling one- slowly creeping back to pester me like a persistent cold...
I think indifference is a state of being for me that comes most often during an overcast day. When I arrived here in England it was rainy and gray, and here as I'm preparing to leave it isn't all that different. I've been fortunate, though, being the child of climate that I am, that Paris and Brussels were brighter on the whole, if not the weather, the people surely.
But it's been good. No doubt, this has been an amazing journey. I have many memories, and pictures to boot. I have grown tremendously, and happily so. I realized and reclaimed something on this trip that I used to have when I was younger, and had been very troubled to have lost: an unapologetic sense of self. I know who I am right now, and I don't care who likes it or not. I am going to be me, crazy or sad, manic or pensive, I will be who and what I feel in the moment I feel it. It doesn't matter if it's contradictory, it's true.
As long as I'm happy, it's good. Yea, it's good. ^_^
Monday, May 26, 2008
I'll take "These Are The Days" for 2000, Alex.
Hannibal used to say, "I love it when a plan comes together," and while I echo the sentiments forged in that classic A-Team line, this weekend in Brussels came out something more to the tune of "I love it when an unplan comes together."
Oliver and I woke up on Thursday and wondered what we should do for the weekend. We researched Dublin, Edinburgh, Cardiff...nothing was working. "What about taking a ferry to Belgium?" I said without much earnest. Within 30 minutes, travel and lodging were booked and the planning ended. The weekend was unplanned, and everything just fell into place.
So I arrived in Brussels without any expectations, actually without even a plan not to have expectations. I left utterly pleased. So many of the happenings would have been fine on their own; standalone events, emotions, thoughts of enjoyment. But the fact that they occurred all at once, or in succession really, is what made this past weekend unlike any other. The most pleasing outcome of it all, I would have to say, though, was my ability to be comfortable with myself and my actions, to command the moment, experience life without attempting to control it, and really, truly own the space of my life.
To briefly recount my final night in Brussels might take longer than I'd like to spend, so I'll make a passing attempt at brevity and do my best to sum up (I'll need to start by no longer allowing myself these sprawling sentences that say so little).
We got dressed in our best and headed to the city center to try some typical Belgian cuisine at a restaurant suggested to us by the nice, young Greek woman we met at breakfast. Oliver had rabbit stew and sausages had I, and we relaxed on the open patio and drank a few wonderful liters (yes, liters) of beer as we listened to the free live music. And as luck would have it, who should walk by but the girls we met at breakfast! So we made plans to meet up later. Oliver and I finished our beverages and went up close to allow our eyes and ears to feast on the delight that was "The Crazy Mess Groovers," an 8 piece array of loud-suited Frenchmen with names like "Mr. Deebeedeebop" and "Mr. Creamy," fronted by a skinny fop in suspenders who could really belt it out. We met up with the ladies (Sophia the Greek and Hanne the Belgian) midway through the set and got swept away in the music. And then the rain came. It was magical. To dance in the rain, in a place I've never been, to music I've never heard, with people I'd never met before...to do all that, and feel 100% at home in my skin. The night didn't have to get any better, but it did.
We met up with some of Sophia's male friends (who were less than pleased to meet us, but made an effort to appear otherwise nonetheless) and we ended up at this small South American, Che Guevara-themed bar who's walls were covered in Sharpie art, open to any patron with a desire to wax philosophical. Naturally, there was a sort of tree diagram on one wall, and printed defiantly in block letters, asserting masculinity, were names of classic films. Names like Predator, Total Recall, Rocky, Over The Top. I may never understand the science behind it, but there on the wall it just made sense. In any case, after a few drinks (two pints of 8.5% Duvel for me) the live salsa music called for dancing, so dance we did. Lucky for us, we can dance, and also lucky for us, so could our ladies!
Afterwards, we wound up at a nightclub for more drinks (how am I, who never drinks, still standing? Perhaps it was the hearty Belgian meal), more dancing, and in all likelihood kissing and some heavy petting. For some reason, I wasn't thinking about the details of life. Maybe it was booze, or mania, or a combination of that and a natural high, but I felt good, I was happy, and that was all that mattered. The night eventually turned into morning as it has a habit of doing, and though what else transpired is clear as crystal to me, I shall leave it foggy for you. In any case when we woke up, the four of us had brunch on the rooftop terrace of the Museum of Musical Instruments. It was delicious, delightful, and despite getting a little rained on (again), it was a dream.
And then it was time to leave.
We said our goodbye's to each other and parted ways. I said goodbye to Brussels, but hello to a new confidence, and welcomed fond memories of a trip unplanned.
P.S. Did I mention the girls were the only people we met who didn't smoke, and just happened to have European Master's degrees in Exercise Physiology?
Bonus.
Oliver and I woke up on Thursday and wondered what we should do for the weekend. We researched Dublin, Edinburgh, Cardiff...nothing was working. "What about taking a ferry to Belgium?" I said without much earnest. Within 30 minutes, travel and lodging were booked and the planning ended. The weekend was unplanned, and everything just fell into place.
So I arrived in Brussels without any expectations, actually without even a plan not to have expectations. I left utterly pleased. So many of the happenings would have been fine on their own; standalone events, emotions, thoughts of enjoyment. But the fact that they occurred all at once, or in succession really, is what made this past weekend unlike any other. The most pleasing outcome of it all, I would have to say, though, was my ability to be comfortable with myself and my actions, to command the moment, experience life without attempting to control it, and really, truly own the space of my life.
To briefly recount my final night in Brussels might take longer than I'd like to spend, so I'll make a passing attempt at brevity and do my best to sum up (I'll need to start by no longer allowing myself these sprawling sentences that say so little).
We got dressed in our best and headed to the city center to try some typical Belgian cuisine at a restaurant suggested to us by the nice, young Greek woman we met at breakfast. Oliver had rabbit stew and sausages had I, and we relaxed on the open patio and drank a few wonderful liters (yes, liters) of beer as we listened to the free live music. And as luck would have it, who should walk by but the girls we met at breakfast! So we made plans to meet up later. Oliver and I finished our beverages and went up close to allow our eyes and ears to feast on the delight that was "The Crazy Mess Groovers," an 8 piece array of loud-suited Frenchmen with names like "Mr. Deebeedeebop" and "Mr. Creamy," fronted by a skinny fop in suspenders who could really belt it out. We met up with the ladies (Sophia the Greek and Hanne the Belgian) midway through the set and got swept away in the music. And then the rain came. It was magical. To dance in the rain, in a place I've never been, to music I've never heard, with people I'd never met before...to do all that, and feel 100% at home in my skin. The night didn't have to get any better, but it did.
We met up with some of Sophia's male friends (who were less than pleased to meet us, but made an effort to appear otherwise nonetheless) and we ended up at this small South American, Che Guevara-themed bar who's walls were covered in Sharpie art, open to any patron with a desire to wax philosophical. Naturally, there was a sort of tree diagram on one wall, and printed defiantly in block letters, asserting masculinity, were names of classic films. Names like Predator, Total Recall, Rocky, Over The Top. I may never understand the science behind it, but there on the wall it just made sense. In any case, after a few drinks (two pints of 8.5% Duvel for me) the live salsa music called for dancing, so dance we did. Lucky for us, we can dance, and also lucky for us, so could our ladies!
Afterwards, we wound up at a nightclub for more drinks (how am I, who never drinks, still standing? Perhaps it was the hearty Belgian meal), more dancing, and in all likelihood kissing and some heavy petting. For some reason, I wasn't thinking about the details of life. Maybe it was booze, or mania, or a combination of that and a natural high, but I felt good, I was happy, and that was all that mattered. The night eventually turned into morning as it has a habit of doing, and though what else transpired is clear as crystal to me, I shall leave it foggy for you. In any case when we woke up, the four of us had brunch on the rooftop terrace of the Museum of Musical Instruments. It was delicious, delightful, and despite getting a little rained on (again), it was a dream.
And then it was time to leave.
We said our goodbye's to each other and parted ways. I said goodbye to Brussels, but hello to a new confidence, and welcomed fond memories of a trip unplanned.
P.S. Did I mention the girls were the only people we met who didn't smoke, and just happened to have European Master's degrees in Exercise Physiology?
Bonus.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Prelude to a blog
We're on our way back to England now. Much blog-worthy goings of on have transpired, but I am saving their recounting for a real keyboard to do them justice.
FYI- High On Life
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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