Life in Analog

It’s one of those days- when it doesn’t feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but rather traveled  to another dimension of myself. Wait, Im awake?

IMG_6428It’s just that I don’t know when I’ll be “me” again. Or if I’ll even know when I get there-like falling into an avalanche and suddenly not knowing which way is up- my internal navigation might be off.

I feel like a satellite pointed into the vast blackness of myself. But there’s too much electronic noise. Signal cant come through. They do say this is the problem with

analog—too much distortion

But I’m not digital. I can’t be digital. There just aren’t enough ones and zeros to color me completely from skin to marrow to soul.

Digital- I know, it’s more efficient. It’s all at our fingertips, everything we could possibly want to know. But the more I know, the less I feel, and that is perhaps my worst fear. I think there might be a direct correlation between how “me” I feel and how much of me I “feel”. It’s so easy to get lost in the doing, the going of life where each day becomes the next and each month the last. We can lose ourselves here, where the colors of life start to all bleed together.

We can all too easily forget who we are and what the fuck we’re here for when everything comes down to just getting it right, having the right information, the best, most calculated course of action.

I can Google every question I might have and fill my mind with more information about any one topic than could ever possibly be proven or peer reviewed, and even then, what does it matter? What does any of it matter if I can’t tell my own truth from another’s opinion?

Im not interested in what you know. Im interested in who you are when you’re naked, not just of clothes, but without judgements, and opinions., free of labels and shoulds’.

But the truth is, we are becoming more like satellites and less like animals. Still, the system we are running this data through is mostly water, this body is mostly body you see, and all of this information it creates insulation- between us and us.

Fillet me open. Take my beating heart and scrub the layers of doubt and fear from these hungry arteries. I know how to do nothing less with this gravity of life than to take the weight of oxygen and let it lift me from the inside out. I know nothing less, than to with prescience and precision,  turn my insides out and feel this world on the underside. What else is there?

I have no interest in the “right way”. No interest in becoming anything. I have every interest in being and feeling and doing this now with the most of me that I can muster. How much of me can I fill into the square inch of this moment. Let’s forget about the next. Let’s forget about the last. Let’s just forget everything. That’s a good place to start- from scratch.

Choice, Challenge and Opportunity

Challenge and opportunity are the same thing through a different lens. Its like a room, and walking into a darkened room and standing there, or turning on the light. Same room, different experience.

I was walking the beach today and passing person after person. Just taking them in through my eyes, and wanting to see if I could maybe understand from the way they smiled, made eye contact, or did not- what was going on in their worlds. We all have our own worlds, and I’m willing to speculate that 9 times out of 10 someone is going through a challenge of some kind. Maybe that is it, maybe the challenge is there at first for us to be able to see the opportunity, and it’s this opportunity that once realized, catapults us into the next phase of life, with a greater ability to live it completely.

Maybe challenge is like a Magic Eye, where at first its all fuzzy and can be overwhelmingly IMG_6411frustrating. I remember sitting with pages that I just could never get, putting the book down and opening it again and again trying to see what was behind  the blurred dots. Opportunity is when this all comes together. Suddenly the eyes readjust, and that is when our little brains line up with the expanse of our hearts and stop trying to force the picture, but allow it to come into focus. Wasn’t that how Magic Eye was done too? You squint too hard and you just narrow your view, contract the picture. You have to relax, open, and soften your eyes. Then it comes into clear view. Magic. 

I heard recently that people travel not to experience a new place, but really it’s to experience themselves in a new place. We all want to be taken deeper into ourselves, fall in love more fully with ourselves. When we are in a state of complete in-loveness with who we are, where is there to go? What is there to do? This is what happens when challenge becomes opportunity.

Sometimes it’s not that clear, sometimes that light switch in the darkened room is not visible and sometimes we have to read the brail of our lives with the lightest touch of fingertips instead of seeing it with opened eyes. We often have to feel our way through the muck, the complexity, the challenge. But here’s where simplifying comes in. We make small choices to effect big changes. Sometimes, no, most times, we don’t have the slightest clue what our small choices will lead to in terms of big life changes. Think children, think new jobs, think new moves, think death.

The way we make small choices is the same way we make big ones- one choice at a time. If you have two options, great. If you have an infinite number of options, even better- while this makes things potentially more “challenging”, it’s also indicative of the open nature of your mind.

Take all of the choices and then take the highest road, you know which one this is. Or just make a choice and adjust from there. There’s no wrong choice. There’s just life, and adjusting to life. Whichever choice you make will bring you another challenge and another opportunity. And that’s the point. Its not to make choices to avoid challenges, it’s turning challenges into opportunities…again and again and again. Its becoming more proficient in the dark, and learning to read brail more quickly and learning how, maybe someday, to have night vision.

The Epic Journey of Words

These words aren’t coming easy right now. They seem caught in a tide pool between the ocean of “everything” and the land-lock of “is”. Somehow paralyzed in these fingers right below the knuckle.

“Press on”, I tell them and from the weight and gravity of bent joints like crab legs fingering salty rocks. The words will come. They have no choice. Still, it’s been far too long since I inhabited myself and the world in this way. As though I were dropped off into the Amazon after spending a month in a deprivation tank, but opposite. Because the world that feels so striking as it pumps through these collapsed veins, is the mirror reflection of stillness cast against the shadow of life’s carnival.

Lights and sounds rebound from my center and travel upwards. My lungs siphoning them millimeter by millimeter, each inhale builds them a little fuller, a little more dimension and composition, and they grow. These things, these word-lets are alive you know, latent—kinetic.

Then these words pass through the heart, but this phase will take more than the line I can allow it now. This phase happens instantaneously but with the prescience and precision of lifetimes. This phase will take my life to traverse the inlets of and will be the single source that brings my fingers to this keyboard in hope of Morse coding my soul into the future. There is a suphoto (9)spension bridge I believe that hangs on the symbols of speech, attaching soul to time.

And, to the throat where most of this gets stuck. Song helps, it forces these, one balloon at a time upwards , higher. Most of us don’t know the more we shove down our throat the less room we give these to rise. Most don’t know the less truth you speak, the more the muscles atrophy, and momentum is lost in the dankness that caves create. Listening is a lost language that we must relearn in order to expand. We must allow the osmosis of space and silence to permeate our constructs.

The words that make it this far- they do something curious. There is this strong river that picks up with current from the top of the throat and up to the mind. Once a part of the water they get mixed up and agitated, breaking bonds, separating solute from solvent. That is why a sharp mind is so important. It’s all about reconstitution, really. They are arranged into a symphony of color and light that the eyes bring in. They smell and taste of all things poignant. And here they bake in the sunlight for sometime until perfectly golden and then pass once more, this time more like descending a spiral stairway, from the mind to the lips. Sometimes, a slide can be created, but it is best used with caution, before descending these so quickly. There is a seasonality to their spiral decent and the journey should be regarded each step.

Now, they reach the lips. And press up against them, sometimes all clustered and clamoring to get out, one golden bubble at a time. There is a hidden lever here, one that is controlled by something both within us and without. One that cannot be named, one that lives in the un-space of faith. It is this that pulls the lever and allows each out. A single note at a time. Building and expanding in the space around the face like a cloud of dandelion and in a moment is both gone and here forever.