Sleepless/Spare Change

I feel for change in my very core;
the times, the times, I feel it so,
and yet again: In a Safe Place
knowing that the safety cannot
vibrate the chains of change free.
Stagnant standards get pushed below
pocket lint moved, I feel it so
I've grown a bit older, far from old,
far from thirty even, or twenty-four.

Tonight, the revelrous town glows
with a trivial energy, coloured naive.
Drunken stumbles and slurred stammer
give way to fumbled lovemaking;
lovely signals, mixed mistakes.
Wait, wait and wait some more,
In line, en route–bar. Dance-floor.
Problems forgotten, happiness acquired
brought to you by Visa and Smirnoff.
Reward yourself into the illusion of
happiness more
or less.

Sleepless tonight for different reasons,
as I feel for change behind their veil.
Words coined here to remember how
It was done before, so also now.
And now
for the rest.

At the Core

Cement scars pave the path for cars
the metal monstrosities of man.
Carving forth the way, for the day-to-day
with no consideration or plan.

To take it one more, to which I abhor
That we siphon the mother to do so
Suckled oil-teet dry, to which I decry
Toward this dinosaur-powered road show.

Vested Interests

Chaotic coffee shop writer’s Madness
spending words; a safe investment.
The building blocks of our future
foundation; the sentence; signed-off. Case closed.
I’s dotted and T’s crossed by the gavel,
the neo-fountain pen clackity-clack
of hands-on-keys that unlock locks
and bridge the gaps between me and there.
And so we say we do it for the kids,
and so I mean we do it for the kids,
but what I really mean is we do it for us,
not you, or you, or you, or me,
but the humans we are, the people they’ll be
when they inherit our problems, let them release
with the words we’ve saved, and so
with it, the cycle may cease.

Psychedelic Playground

People-watching with headphones on
Earswitch flipped, my music video begins
I imagine laughs and shouts,
the grinding of bike gears
and the carbon monoxide hum
of the idly absorbed.
Sniffles and sneezes, oh wait,
they’re my own, but also not.
Come and gone, what once was ‘I’
now a figmental illusion as I realize
that which I knew long ago,
and was conditioned to forget;
we all share, we all be
in the now, no you, no me,
Experience Lost, Experience Regained
hardly a paradise, but the perfect playground
to restore faith in our Universal role,
as we apply schema to the cosmically unknown.

Concrete like Hoffa, and just as illusory.

Where heightened sense meets quests begot;
The monk, the lover, Shaman Ocelot.
A slowing fast, consumption’s defeat
Still the mind, and if even, cheat.
The misconception of the Shortcut King
Played a harp plucked many a string.
In seeking out this Holy Grail
the quest is forfeit, all shall fail.
For their minds seek out the wrongest answer
a personal crusade, the consuming Cancer.
When in sounder minds, and in calmer waters
Mirror placid presented learned daughters.
To teach the lessons to humbled men.
Future. Past. Now. Again, again.

Labelmakers

No, I wasn't raised in the struggle, in the hussle,
but I was brought up to know the value of work.
and I've earned my keep to live here, too.
I've been taught the scalding truths of trust,
of understanding and the endless push to help
our comrades, near and far, different as they may be.
To live and to feel the progress of trying,
and for those that recognize this themselves,
have earned there place to learn further and say
with conviction, that we are all belonged people
of this safe haven of Earth, Littleton to Detroit,
Chernobyl to DC, Baltimore to Grosse Pointe.
Labeled as we be, people are people are people.

Musings on fall afternoon

From the cider mill to Rackham,
Fall focus regionalism and to
write what you know,
but what I know transcends far far more,
for me, anyway.
Geographical, mindset limitations,
the plight of the story untold,
until the story unfolds,
the balancing act of segregating oneself
from a larger scope, we aren't Michigan
or America, black, white or else,
but human.

Cryptic Tones (Over/Under)

The chaos of Jazz, because they know.

Intricacies of the brain, of what it is

to be a human being being here, alive.

And with that knowledge, the burden

the weight of the world bearing down

unto the partial minds of many, the frail

bodies of the lowest of low, that

which torments them into such beauty

of breaking conventions, elusive patterns,

complex seeming disorganization.

Becoming the quest to understand

to discover oneself the process

of coming to know, of coming to be,

that which accounts for mistakes,

the medicine of the music,

put in the form of these notes

to Red Herrings and cul-de-sacs

a labyrinth of storytelling prosper 

With smooth walls and sharp

turns, broad corridors and gaps.

Looming above all else, improvisation,

No two identical ways in

No two identical ways out.

Perhaps.

Switches

The stitching quilt-work of the present moment
an intricate and provocative reality woven
from eons of memory, experience, growth.
The alluring reality blanket which envelops
consumes, protects, guides, folds;
revealing more unto itself and simultaneously
concealing, fluctuating waveform monumental
moments. And with completion of this
fragmented sector of the Collective Experience
Drive, to another, and another, until Singularity.
The relative back and forward in time; X,Y,Z,
with faint, distant recollection of understanding
pulse-in regained and pulse-out lost, binary
universal conscious on one front, quantum
in yet another respect, and so on, and so off
and so on, and so off.

Some Thoughts Before Sleep

I've been thinking a lot lately about the world outside of the scope of my conscious being. There are so many brains around me, and, at any given point they're contemplating and processing their own unique set of thoughts, ideas, memories. I often find my mind in wonderment to how all these other brains around me come to think in the patterns they do. I understand the conditioning and external stimuli in the environment of their upbringing can greatly shape this, but how is it that they can overcome this and exercise free will over their life, break the proverbial cycle and think independently of their shaping? In essence, I am curious what it takes to get outside the box to think out there and look in to better understand not only oneself, but the environment in which they were a byproduct.

For me, it was a lengthy process. I had to learn to absolve my Ego, to let it first shape itself and grow to a degree, to rely on it as a safety net of my youth, then all at once, forget it. Letting go of it and understanding my place in a much grander, universal schema. Once gone, I came to know the well-crafted illusion or veil upon which my life had been based. It was a lot to swallow, a lot to come to terms with. Most that I'd known and come to depend on was simply wrong. Conversely, I felt the shackles come off, and with it, a new sense of purpose and lightness of being. I understood the point of living, of observing the growth of the universe, of existing in the present moment, and letting go of the anxiety-ridden future that had for so long plagued me.

It has been simultaneously rewarding and immensely frustrating to be where I have been of recent. The former in regards to having a better grasp on wholeness and purpose, and the latter in response to the concept that many still could get to this point. In due time, I believe that many will. I am fortunate enough to have come to these realizations with much potential life left to live. Some will realize when it is too late to reap the rewards of this gained insight, when their bodies are frail or cynicism has infected the depths of their soul. Time is important, but not all-important. To make much of the NOW as possible tends to yield the greatest quality of life.

I continue on, tormented by the words which may only reach a handful of ears with the hopes that my experiences and conclusions drawn may impact another, but hold no expectations that this may realistically be the case, for having such regard for my words and thoughts to directly shape the entirety of another mind is soberingly naive. Rather, I would like to think that I can trigger others to question their motives and beliefs, to hold a critical eye to that which has otherwise been foundational cornerstones to their life, so that curiosity drives some forward to further depths of their own selves, and eventually to the realm of the unknown. The only thing I can know for sure is that I can control and improve my own small corner of this universe, and through that, impart tidbits of my experience into the intricate memory webs of others in their own respective journeys.

Prima Materia

The chaos, the alchemy, that yielded you and me
The Golden Age of beholden days follow us around
Our ever-changing selves, nano-second blood-brethren
particles, partial prints and imprints in memoriam of time,
non-linear–what was before and what is yet to come,
the anxiety asymptote of setting it aside in lieu of NOW,
Forging every precarious moment and setting forth
upon the infinitely delimited present in our presence
and unfortunately to so many, the lack thereof; as minds
seek out saturation of TV dinners and the faint blue glow,
the shade of which so aptly painted the portrait of their prisons,
their minds locked on and in doing so, locked in, to Progress,
"Success" and the expectations set not in stone, but rather
through the airwaves, developing a sixth sense of sorts:
Tuned in, turned on, but most certainly not dropped out,
That's not the way, that's not the way, that's not the way.

Understanding Power

The infinite possibility of distraction,
forcing us to look anywhere but within,
and present us not with questions to ask,
but with anything that holds our attention
for seconds shorter and shorter, frantic buildup
to the very brink of subliminal torture.
As the puppet-masters cling to control
guiding the thoughts of the hive mind,
leading lemmings to leap, "yes sir, how high?"
And so those are the questions posed
to those most accountable, most liable
with the most to lose–power.
Ventriloquist anchormen stabilizing Noah's Ark,
From the seas of change, the dark unknown abysmal
future of man, a planetary society, a planetary conscious.

3-Minute Love Poem

It can't be done, she said.
But I knew, oh, how I knew
The me that she'd come to see
Pieces of the puzzle
fitting so very perfectly.
12:00 o' clock, middle of the night
Hands touching for fleeting moments
Bound by time, we're only human
I want it spent with her.

Idea

And so there is, no greater cause, than that of sharing ideas with one another. Ideas are, at the very core of things, the quintessential purpose of existence. Our very being, as products of evolution approximately 14 billion years in the making, are unique in our ability to observe, to decipher, record and be. With the discovery of each new idea, we are furthering the Collective Knowledge. This database will be passed on down the generations, and inevitably some will permeate more than others. Nothing lasts...but nothing is lost. Each experience gained, each memory formed, adds a new layer of complexity to the intricate web of the cosmos. As big or as little as you could ever think, the intricacy makes itself ever more apparent. There is no greater gift one can give than that of an idea. Something so seemingly simple, yet with power causally linked to paradigm shifts. The true ability to enable change. Each experience gained, each memory affected, leads to the greater understanding, the ability to live in the now, to live with prowess and fully. There is not a greater achievement than that of committing to the current and sharing with any willing ears the ideas which you've gathered over your existence.

Moustache Madness

I am the mofo'in moustache!
My goal in life: to 'stache out the sun.
If only I could get off his stupid face
then the world would see, they'd see the real me.
I'd dance and frolic through fields of sunflowers,
and allergies wouldn't mean me covered in boogers!
Blerghh, I hate allergies. Almost as much as I hate boogers.
I remember his younger days, 'stacheless in Ann Arbor,
what a naive fool. Then she came along, begging for me
I could hear my name beckoned and so I came forth
with the might of a thousand facial hairs.
He's since been called a pornstar, a pedophile, a philosopher.
And so on his face, I'll continue to thrive.
And just before he goes all Clooney on me,
and the moment is ever just right,
POOF, I'll prove my sentience, and sucede from his face,
and in one fellow sayonara, I'll outdo Dali, Yosemite Sam,
Hitler, Groucho and Goulet. Even the supernova of the sun
won't stop me. Fwoop. Darkness.

Depth Hub

The harsh reality of the realizations, the harbinger of of being in the know,
At what cost do we trade it all in for a scary sliver of understanding?
Innocence, ignorance, naivety, "knowledge," the cutting edge
Walking along it, seeking balance, or else fail, or else fall
Either back into normalcy, or down, down down,
into the depth hub, the abysmal darkness
Where curiosity draws upon itself,
and oneself becomes the allself, the only way out.
Escape velocity back up the neverending well.
With fondness, memories of my youth remain,
With fondness, the ethereal beauty that surrounds me.

Preaching

The Universe has allotted us this short gift of time to exist, to observe, to be. Do not waste it being negative. Find what you may never again. Look ahead and into the unknown, do not dwell on what is done. Find the value in the difficult times and then let them fade away into the ether of time and memory. Know that when you speak ill words to another, you are speaking to another sentient piece of universe. Many forget, but all are here to watch and learn. Some burn bright and fast, some slow and strong. Negativity is the laziness to address problems. To take out your individual frustrations on another human being is to display weakness of soul, a disability to understand that which makes us human. Do not burn down bridges, but fortify bonds. Own up to the mistakes you make, mostly to yourself, learn from them and do not sulk. Work the hardest smartest and success will purr in your lap. Do not forget that we are surrounded by our brothers and sisters, we are all unknowingly traversing massive amounts of space and time. Understand all by forgiving all. The power rests in the hands of each of us, in the actions we live, in our ability to love, learn, and be. Take not these things for granted, as this gift can easily be rescinded--the universe reclaiming her matter and the experiences that we have had--even prematurely. Waste not a moment. Live, breathe, exist.

Impeccable Timing

Tick tock, another minute,
ours to be spent.
Another Friday, another weak
showing for progress.
Facts are cold, encased
in a hardness, difficult
to (s)wallow.
Time supersedes all,
the worst of man's inventions,
An implementation of order,
caging the Chaotic beast.
Time to let go.

Swim

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.” - Dory

I feel myself travelling deeper and deeper, but to what end? Just how far can one go before adjusting the course in order to come full-circle? I often explain this complex notion to others by means of swimming in a large body of water. There is something particularly intriguing about swimming away from shore–the floating, weightless body, the depths of the unknown, the primitive stirrings of solitude and simultaneous acceptance of the surrounding universe. There is the melting of one’s body into the larger body, the emulsion between the human condition and the terrifying pressure on oneself to perform within the scope of their truest capabilities, or otherwise perish.

The currentless pull on the curiosity of the mind drives me further and further into the expansive container of water. All in the name of understanding what exactly it is that I am comprised of mentally. From early on, we learn the limitations of our body, but what of our limitless potential? Gods of our own minds, we create and destroy worlds, seeking out a counterpart consciousness to share in misery the bodily limitations and dream together of ways in which we can use our blip of cosmic time to better the universe, or at the very least contribute to the collective experience and memories that define the era of mankind.

It is important to stray away from the safety of the shoreline, for a life without personal challenge or intrigue of the unknown, stagnancy ensues. Our very presence in the water creates ripples, literally and within the Earthly mindscape. I say Earthly in regards to the mind in the notion that our minds are not uniquely terrestrial, but also aquatic, dynamic. Ever morphing from the ripples of the curious traveller, limited only to the physical container of the skull. Yet, our minds provide us a loophole from these confines, as we escape to fantastical and incredible dreamscapes. This dreamstate provides the opportunity for the mind to calibrate and function at a reasonable input level, to tread the proverbial aquatic portions of our mind in anticipation of the coming day’s travels.

But how far out is too far? Many so-called geniuses walk the fine, taught, and very much so blurred line between genius and insanity. Swim too far out and how does one return to the shore. The return is the take away, the post-processing, the sharing of experiences with those otherwise too uncertain or commitment-phobic towards the idea of promoting the human experience.

We push onwards and forwards, sometimes forgetting the lessons of those who have passed previous us, those who did not return to the shore and fell victim to the stormy seas of change. In this regard, it would be advantageous to walk backwards, or in continuation with this elongated metaphor–backstroke. Keep swimming forward, but keep your eyes out for what has already transpired. Learn from the mistakes of our fallen comrades, respecting their commitment to the cause, their martyrdom so that future seafarers could make for themselves a return journey to the architected shoreline.

The strength of humans bolster with each passing day, and while small battles will be lost and much energy expended in the process, each consecutive journey to the depths will yield slightly more results so long as there is a yearning for knowledge and a desire to know the unknown. Many fear the unknown. For that reason, it is of paramount importance that those who dare journey out make their way back to shed light and encourage the fearful to open their minds to what they already possess. Fear and anxiety, excitement and anticipation, they are all estuaries leading into the same body. It is just a matter of perspective–applying a negative or positive approach to it, respectively.

To conclude, we are not born with the knowledge to traverse these waters. They are a learned skill of our species. Some will excel, and others will find themselves highly hydrophobic, for reasons theirs and theirs alone. For those who want to submerge themselves in the former, it is, like so many experiences, a process. Learn from each journey, allow yourself time to process, to grow and recover, then head back out and do it again, only a little bit more. For those who care only to dabble and get their feet wet, all the same, just know that it may take a bit longer, but with just as potential an outcome as your sea-legged brethren. To those who dare not venture out into the waters, go and refine the land, preserve the history that is already there, so that the ambitious may understand it. Everybody has a role, do not look down upon yours if you are doing it with candor and passion.

Samsara

Pending my completion of Island, there has been much consideration on my behalf towards the notions of how one grows. Divided into three primary phases of life, these are distinctly not correlated with the concept of time, but rather with experience. One may not reach phase 2 ever within the confines of their lifeline. On the contrary, a rare individual may reach phase 3 from a very young age. These phases are dynamic and often very layered. The folds of these layers may convince an individual that they've achieved the next level, only to realize that the intricacies of the phases presented the next level in the direct line of sight, only to drop back down into a trough. Oftentimes it is the case that these phases are not defined by age-based experience, but rather the quality of the experience. Some monumental change may trigger a phase shift and push an individual to the next level. The endgame is the liberation of the consciousness. The benefits of achieving a phase 3 mentality is the ability to really focus on community and the human experience. By refocusing the lens that is humanity, individuals within society can rework the norms that act to confine and order into a more natural order of success and growth as a collective.

Phase 1 - Youthful Cartographer

The phase in which all enter the world, this is a phase of great curiosity. Many years are spent in an attempt to map the landscape in which they are existing. Trying to locate the what's what. This is the phase where most are conditioned by the norms of society. It is a very promising and transcendental phase. There exists the possibility for one to grow comfortable enough in this phase to live in a state of enamored servitude. The important take away from this phase is the ability to remain curious, to look for correct explanations, rather than theories of best fit. The Youthful Cartographer draws out the mental map for which the the rest of his life may be shaped by. It is important to, as earnestly as possible, draw forth unbiased conclusions and to think freely and independently. This phase is oftentimes colored by the words of elders, some providing valuable insight and other times subduing the passion which drives this individual. This phase oftentimes, but is not exclusive, to the first decade of life, as the Ego is still undeveloped and allows for unbiased conclusions to be drawn. That said, the Ego is an instrumental part of growth, and like all things, will reach its eventual demise, but not a second before one is ready to let go of that proverbial security blanket. It is at the end of this phase when Western society is so strongly conditioned by the notion that Progress drives all forward. The curious thing about progress is that it is nonlinear. That is to say, one can make progress in the wrong direction if the foundational blocks aren't properly calibrated. Likewise, one can continue to build a house on a faulty foundation, and the house may stand on its own, but eventually, that foundation will lead to the demise of that house. A flawed foundation is temporal in this regard, and when the house starts sinking, it can undermine those invested in that construct.

Phase 2 - You're a Nobody

Phase 2 is arguably the most important phase, and also the most difficult to achieve. Attaining this level requires a total breakdown of self. Ego Death. One must come to the realization that they're not important in order to more visibly see the scope of the iceberg that is the universal conscious. It can occur for a number of reasons. One may reach rock bottom, only to have a moment of true Realization and understand that there is no lower they can sink. Others still may gain this insight through lengthy endeavors of the mind--meditation, meaningful discussion, humbling moments of grandeur in the natural world, and so on. Some may achieve this notion through the use of entheogenic drugs. These drugs provide a shortcut to these notions of unlearning. However, none of these means of achieving nobody status are guaranteed to be pleasant. The Ego is a force to be reckoned with, and is often the case the greatest foe one will meet within their lifetime. Crafty and appealing, the Ego works to keep individuals in their respective place, craving power and wanting nothing more to reach the top. Because of this, some will attempt to reach phase 3 without any concept of what they're truly doing, only to miserably fail. Be forewarned that the Ego can allow for growth only so far. Once liberated from it, the individual is capable of infinitely more growth as a human being. Their respective powers of observation that originated in phase 1 will be again the focus of the individual as they seek to again grow, this time under refined conditions without the hampering spirit of the Ego. Again to the analogy of the house, the sinking or destruction of the house in phase 1 is when progress is made. First it is made in returning to the origin, the foundation. At that point, one can understand the flaws that exist within the foundation and adjust. That is the beauty of the beginning. It is minimal and obvious what needs to be done to adjust. There is less relying on said foundation, which means that the stakes are much lower. Only once the foundation has been properly setup can the structures on which the foundation is built support itself and prosper as an independent and significant institution.

Phase 3 - Moksha

Phase 3 is the final extrication of the soul. To achieve Moksha, one is stepping beyond the bounds of Samsara and experiencing life in the fullest extent of its meaning. Observing the universe for the sake of observing. This phase of life is the most important in terms of making an impact, as one reaches a Full Realization. This realization is pivotal for the individual to best understand the world and universe in which they inhabit. It acts to enable a planetary consciousness whereby humans exist together as humans in the natural world, finding the balance and moderation in seemingly uncertain times. Reaching phase three allows one to fully grasp the notion of a society which can combine intellect, reason and non-conceptual awareness. Combining these three things and embodying these notions, while promoting them simultaneously works to better the world, even in some modicum. Phase 3 is a true awakening from the slumber of a subservient life, one where the individual either conforms or seeks to worship a higher power. It is the trainee becoming the trainer, the student becoming the teacher, or the puppet becoming the puppeteer. One no longer acts as the inanimate object, but rather having a sense of mastery over the concepts of space, time, life and so forth. That is not to say that these people will be prominent scientists and astrophysicists, but rather possess the ability to seek out whichever truths they desire to know more. They are enabled with the renewed passion of their youth to understand, while considering the mysteries that exist behind the formal sciences. This is the true foundational block of a prosperous society. This is progress in the corrected form and the next evolution of humankind. It is about finding the balance and looking at all things from an infinite degree of angles. With the achieving of Moksha, one can absolve their pains and exorcise their proverbial demons. Having this sort of knowledge can be a dangerous thing, as it tends to lead to a life leaning more towards that of mental solitude. The best one can do in phase 3 is make the best of their own corner of the world, their mind. Any who are different from the norm will always find themselves lonely, but with the bolstered strength achieved in phase 2, one can find the reward in living the best life they are capable of, regardless of if they are a game changer in the schema of humanity. If they do end up enabling change, then their hard work has paid off, and the purest form of progress transpires. This is the aspiration of all who are Fully Realized.

These are my initial thoughts since my completion of Huxley's opus. I'm pleased with the takeaways I've gotten from this paramount text. I strongly recommend it to anybody looking to further their own existence and I'm pleased engage any faithful readers or anybody who shares strong passions or opinions about my words or Huxley's in a conversation about it. Finally, I wish you all the best, thanks for taking the time to read. I certainly feel better having put it into words after a few strange days of thinking much on the topic.

TransMission

I've spent considerable time of late on the notion of how ideas are transmitted. Humans spend much time on attempting to communicate ideas with one another, only to realize the frustrations that exist in transmitting ideas. To each person and each idea, the threshold of effectiveness is going to be different. I prefer written word, though I understand that it is limited in scope by the limitation of the words which comprise my ideas. Hence the challenge and, thereby, my passion for the written word. It isn't the easiest means, but because I strive to convey my ideas, I choose this medium often for getting my ideas pushed out there to the masses.

It really got me thinking though: is writing the overall most effective means of transmitting ideas. Part of the problem I encountered is the idea that the content of writing is often intangible. It provides a means for an individual to parse over the data and process it themselves, but what if they lack imagination or otherwise aren't as intuitive as the intended audience of the author? Furthermore, authors are limited by their vocabulary, rhetoric and ability to convey emotion and experience. Words are cold and dead by default, only to be pumped with life by one who can carefully craft them in a proper sequence.

The next step up in terms of what I deem potential effectiveness comes from the oral transmission of ideas. While it still has many of the shortcomings of writing, it avoids the distance between the origin and the intended receiver of the idea. This, however, is a catch-22. The benefit of a conversation is that it is more dynamic than written word. A writer must put forth much more consideration for the development of the idea, and therefore, is bound to be didactic in some regard. A conversation can evolve on the spot, but requires a quick mind by the owner of the idea. In that respect, conversation is more fluid in terms of conveying an idea. There is, however, a short-coming with this notion. People are often driven by the notion of their Ego, and will avoid at all costs being told what to think. One runs the risk in direct conversation of feeling imposed upon by this new notion and may safeguard their mind rather than being considerate. That is one advantage that writing has, in that the intended audience has optionally chosen to pick up the book. At that point, the author has a 1-up on the conversationalist in that the reader is more akin to pick up on ideas of the author that he or she may be defensive about in raw conversation.

This train-of-thought led me to a third, more promising notion. The idea of leading by example. I thought of the old cliche, "actions speak louder than words." Now maybe volume doesn't correlate to effectiveness and maybe it does, but that is not what I am debating here. Rather, I came to the notion that living your life by the ideas you want others to exhibit is the most promising of all methods for effective idea transmission. If you embody the ideas which you wish to convey in another, they not only resonate stronger with the degree to which you take it seriously and believe it yourself, but also allow others to passively observe those ideas, actionable or subtle. As I was talking about before, people inherently want to derive ideas and notions for themselves, rather than be instructed on how to think or act. Therefore, embodying an idea that another observes proves to be the most effective means of getting that notion implemented. It acts on a contagious and subconscious level. Once the subconscious subverts the Ego, there is a direct correlation to the propensity for integration of that idea.

Obviously this is not intended as the be-all end-all best-of-the-best means for transmitting ideas, but rather what I find it to be the most effective if applicable. Leading by example allows one to realize and prioritize what ideas and values are really worth promoting. The rest will fall by the wayside, arising as necessary. Additionally, people are curious creatures. One is bound to be observed in a social situation acting or rather, being who they are. Observable ideas therefore are important to consider. Children especially pay close attention to what is going on in this otherwise chaotic and confusing world, as they attempt to piece together a means for successful living. This is why the youth are more impressionable. They are not set in there ways and they spend much time observing those around them. They pick up on tendencies, beliefs, and habits very quickly as they see repeated occurrences of such.

It brings me back to the quote I started my previous post with, which I will re-iterate here:

"I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.”
Aldous Huxley - Point Counter Point

This is the perfect example of how I believe to best implement ideas, and thereby, change. Work on finding what you value, what you believe in. Live by those ideals, promote them, but know that people are more likely to follow in your proverbial footsteps by watching you exemplify those notions, rather than preach them.

Ripple Reflections

“I wanted to change the world. But I have found that the only thing one can be sure of changing is oneself.” 

― Aldous Huxley, Point Counter Point

An issue I've recently grappled with an immense deal, I find my thoughts in limbo as I grow to understand the conditions and pre-requisites to produce change. Change is not dictated upon or controlled, but rather is activated. None of the great game changers of history seemed to set out with the goal of changing the world. Rather, these intellectual ancestors found a focus and a passion, something they could latch onto and believe in as individuals. With that passion and that enthusiasm, they gained momentum in the form of others. The goal isn't to understand society, and it isn't to implement change. Rather, it becomes an issue of understanding oneself. Making your sliver of the world the best it can be.

One of the most effective ways I can see that come to fruition is through my writing. I find myself writing here today not for calibre or quality, but rather to put forth my unbalanced thoughts. I do not know if this piece will yield any success or results other than to my own intrinsic value. What I do know is that I'm seeing a transition in my belief system. Where I once found myself unsettled and disturbed with the state of the world, ready to call to action an uprising and change, I knew not the difficulties that would ensue. Most notably the idea that I would have to change the minds of men and women who abhor the notion of change. Fear dictates much more ruthlessly and unforgivingly than that of hope and optimism. Yet, progress come from the latter and not the former.

I once found myself at odds with a very trusted and dear friend of mine. The argument fell on the exact notion which has become the topic of this piece. While I exclaimed the flaws of the world and how they must be revised, he calmly enforced his beliefs that our own corner is all that we can be responsible for. While I initially took that as his sparking of enlightenment happening after he had been too conditioned by the very society I sought to modify, I've come to realize the credibility of his notions. More importantly, he hadn't imposed his own beliefs on me, but respected where I was coming from. I now assume that he silently accepted my beliefs and attributed them to my own quest towards wisdom. I know that now and respect him all the more for his patience with me.

I know that the best medium that I can elicit any change is indirect. That is to say, I must convey my beliefs via the limitations of written word, as difficult as it may be. I often tease myself with the idea of censoring or revising my writing, not for mass appeal, but for my own sanity. On the contrary, I have in recent time, come to realize the err of my ways and since stuck to the firm notion that my best and worst writing will come from heartfelt writing, not safe writing. The benefits are a ripple effect, resonating heavily with myself and my own agendas, then spreading wider to the eyes of the reader. In that respect, writing is a selfish endeavor, with altruistic ulterior motivations. Few would see it in such direct contrast due to the positive gains to be made by both parties, yet it is what it is. 

I seek out the beauty of words for their complexity and simultaneous limitation. It is a frustrating endeavor and one of self-motivation and great grief. I often find great difficulty in composing passages or making realizations, no matter how cryptic I allow my prose to become. The important thing I keep in mind is letting the prose become, rather than imposing my "I" upon it. The Ego is many a great foe to the mind of man. Much like what I believe to be a fundamental point of raising a child, one cannot impose themselves too much upon their child, literal or metaphorical. The result of such processes will yield only disdain and remorse; an uninspired and conditioned believer who yields to the norms because they know no other way. Or even worse, one may find themselves in a coup de'tat, their hard work turning against them. I believe this to happen in many households, the parental delusion being that one must force norms and the values that one holds upon their kin. Complacency is stagnant. One must work to progress themselves and lead by example, not by an iron-clad fist. Experience dictates values, not the other way around.

I leave you today with one final notion, and that is one of tremendous graciousness. Taking the time to read anything created by the mind of another demonstrates a capacity to grow and progress. It shows determination to make oneself a better human being, if only taking away one facet of knowledge or one particularly resonating sentence. Never stop reading. Never stop learning. Take the advice of Huxley and use it to make others enthusiastic about something. Anything. Enthusiasm promotes change. 

The Generation of Wills

How do you stop the perpetual motion machine that is man?

To service the engine? Creaks, clinks, clunks.

Let us lube it up with the polished minds we've purchased.

The problem? None of us know how the machine works.

They won't let us try, they won't let us learn their devices.

We're just supposed to toss in the coal and not ask questions,

and it's killing us slowly. We know there are cleaner ways,

better ways, and it has been said, in many ways, the dead horse Beat,

you can't teach the old maestro a new tune, the dog new tricks.

We can't conduct ourselves, not according to them.

What do they know, though? We are inheriting stacked band-aids.

The commodity now is originality, vitality, perspective.

We seek the truth, they seek our information, they can't handle the truth,

not first-hand, trickle-down this and that, anonymity thinly veiled,

responsibility pushed around, hot potato, catch-phrase.

Soundbytes, reality bites, bulldoze it away, out of sight out of mind,

and they don't mind, so we're left to clean it up,

Manifested destiny to force upon us the manual labor,

cleaning the streets of their messes,

taxing work, or so they want, and so we know.

The generation of wills, promises of what will be,

Due tomorrow, do tomorrow, manana, manana, manana,

until all that's left is the irony of their empty wills,

and our veiled wills,

to thrive at last, free from the old ways. The machine back in motion,

forward and onward, willing the now.

Foresight/Hindsight

This is apparently my 200th post. Cool.

The voice in my head wavers when it ponders conversation
of all the things I want to say to you. There just isn't enough
time, love. The Fountain of Youth exists in you and in me.
At the cost of living our short, menial lives, I can write it all down
and forever and for always we will be remembered,
the topics of teachers and lovers, with even some overlap.
Yet, that would only be the illusion of our reality
for our greatness can be in our roles, models to the youthful,
naive and vigorous. Immortal words are alive and so cold,
Imprisoned between covers, the land that many covet,
only igniting and living to their potential when exposed.
I'll save that story for when my bones ache from the miles
we've hiked, my eyes grow dim, burnt by the setting sun,
and I've had a long time to reconcile my pain and happiness.
Once the scales balance and I've done the best I can, then I'll
tell our story, and let it by my dying work to preserve our love
for as long as this funny species of humans works to grow,
while remembering their roots, and it is with all my hope that,
just this once, history repeats itself.

Re-focusing Lens

Brian Jonestown and neo-psychedelia.
A ray of light in the drudging doldrums of winter.
White on white, Spacemen 3, 2, 1.
Blast off.
Divine moments of truth.
Look skyward for Skylon, up, Up, UP.
Be Grateful and long live the electronic Jam.
Remember your roots, down to the wire.
Om, always.
Don't forget to revisit the Books often
As nothing lasts...but nothing is lost.
Dedicated to the queen of all everything,
and to our ever-expanding minds,
and to our ever-expanding hearts,
Through the threshold, the Doors of Perception.
Today it dawned on me, the sun, and I knew,
That with each pass of the sky fire,
We are getting Experienced.

Love and Winter

Melancholic winter madness;
dreary days in and days out.
Seekers of sunlighthouseboat's
WAKE.
The smog and fog and passe skies.
Winter's cold and with coldness dies.
The warmth of hearts and hearths akin,
until Spring's greens and sun again.
Smiles seen by bats hanging from
skeletal trees; through frosted glass.
Cannibal wooden cabins host
hungry stave stoves.
Combustion, compassion, comped passion.
Blankets outside, snowy white,
blankets inside, Sherpa's Might.
Heat and cold, polar opposites, fleeces, winds;
Love and Winter.

Consideration of Others

The anatomy of a day's dynamic is of great interest. The perception of one's mood can vastly alter the tempo and dictate the mood of a given day. That is to say, a bad day can easily snowball if one let's it run out of control. Event after event will be perceived in a negative manner. Seemingly trivial occurrences will fuel the fire and be looked down upon. Conversely, one experiencing a good day will see the trivial things for their positive aspects and build upon them. The mind's perception can vastly alter the landscape of our environment. In that regard, the way in which our mind interacts with the objects of the world around us become vitally important to our understanding of our connection to our surroundings. Objects are objects and occurrences, likewise, are occurrences. These things will not change. Time has set all in motion and changes will keep happening. Those changes are external and unimportant when observed for what they are. It is when we apply the mental state of a being that the dynamic of the world is truly evident.

Therefore, it is paramount that one considers the implications of both their perceptions, and that of the people around them. The mind, along with it's plethora of knowledge and experience, is a perversely powerful and, if untamed, dangerous entity. It becomes of a test of great willpower to see if an individual can consciously take a step back to consider the situations around them, both for the sake of preserving bias, but also to become acutely aware of the simultaneous perceptions being shaped by others. The most pivotal of interactions, then, becomes that between two individuals. Rather than mind acting upon object, mind acts upon mind. It is the difference from viewing in two dimensions to three. Squares become cubes and so on. Two sets of eyes are viewing similar happenings from different perspectives. More importantly, the two minds processing from different angles create a dynamic world.

The takeaway that I've concluded from these notions is to pay attention to those who surround one's environment, and always consider the meaning of emotions in relation to one's surroundings. It will lead to a more fulfilled style of life and also help bring individuals together, as they consider the notions potentially being drawn out by others. This is a key step towards a better understanding of the collective and subduing the ego for the greater good of social interaction and personal growth. This dual-purpose provides insight into an increase in quality of life.

Celestial

Who is they, and why does it matter what they say?
When you know you know, and there is no doubt.
For so long I yearned to figure it out, trying so hard,
to force the pieces together, yielding a broken picture.
Well, I threw caution to the wind and let the chaos ensue,
the pieces in the air, randomized, beautiful,
and they fell right into place.
No more restoring the photograph, this one's pristine,
and I keep looking and liking and falling more in love,
with that beautiful ginger-haired, freckle-faced, slate-blue,
seriously carefree-eyed girl I met summers ago.
And things will never be the same, for better or better,
I've grown to extend my hand and my heart out to her.
I reminisce of my infancy, wrapped in warm blankets and held,
for that is akin to this sort of love--secure, sturdy, serene.
My star-gazer, my trail-blazer, let us discover worlds,
both below our feet and in our expansive minds.
For all of time, all of space, all inclusive, exclusive,
Until we've touched all realms hand-in-hand.

Wordplay

Sticks and stones may break skin and bones,

but I know words far more reaching.

With love and religion, wars will be waged,

Until death do us all apart.

Words run deep while tensions grow steep.

Yes, limiting words, the dilemma of man

Archetypical and Dualatic. 

Lies upon lies, truths over truths,

As we cannot contain our mouths to ourselves,

Yet won't utter words, like the xenophobes we are.

West versus East, Right versus Left, Church and State

In Holy matrimony, in Holy Jihad.

Only these letters can carry such weight,

for they comprise the alpha.beta.omega.

Gods, prophets, disciples.

Languages, languages, languages

Translated and slaughtered,

Who watches the translators?

The most dangerous, most powerful,

Gods of the words of the Gods.

Listen with our eyes and see with our ears,

Choose--fewer, better words,

For who knows when they may be your last.