“I have an idea that the only thing which makes it possible to regard this world we live in without disgust is the beauty which now and then men create out of the chaos. The pictures they paint, the music they compose, the books they write, and the lives they lead. Of all these the richest in beauty is the beautiful life. That is the perfect work of art.”—W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil
Little moments with profound impacts. A thousand thoughts racing through my head and an abject feeling of clarity.
Beautifully ironic contradiction.
And I know… I know from my intrinsic understanding of what is right and wrong, that I indulge in what is considered to be “bad” for me.
And yet, caught up in moments of utter existence, I do. I indulge. In senselessness, in irrational behaviour, in actions that turned into the mistakes I’ve made. And all of it can be reduced to conscious and unconscious choices to release my hold on the control of my life. Complete abandonment of myself to the chaotic devices of any singular instance of life.
But this is what I think life is;
The this and the that that happens in the middle of thinking and not thinking.
The “take it or leave it.”
The essential bit that is lost in the translation between the ideal and the real…
And the making sense of it all, after it is over and done with.
“I learned through my body and soul that it was necessary to sin, that I needed lust, that I had to strive for property and experience nausea and the depths of despair in order to learn not to resist them, in order to learn to love the world, and no longer compare it with some kind of desired imaginary vision of perfection, but to leave it as it is, to love it and be glad to belong to it.”—Hermann Hesse
Sometimes I close my eyes, and utter silent prayers . I send them out into the vastness of the universe, that I may never, ever, lose this ability of mine to see the beauty in life. Despite everything. In spite of all of it. Regardless of anything… Always these prayers;
I hope you never cease to make me randomly burst into smiles and a silly dance when a track moves me to.
I am continuously reminded that from the moment we are born into this world we have roles thrust upon us; Daughter, son, grandchild… A religion, a nationality. Inherited. Out of the womb and into a blanket, metaphorically wrapped in a pre-conceived notion of our lives right then and there. Then, throughout our lifetime, we pass our days assuming more roles; Sister, brother, friend, lover, wife, husband. We grow into ourselves. Explore our passions. Discover our likes. Develop ideas. Change our preferences. We grow into ourselves.
We’ve been pre-defined and refined… And now, here we are.
I’ve been told that “No man is an island,” and I’ve seen and understood the invisible connectivity between all of us. I know that our lives are built on relationships. But I’ve lived the life that has been the proof of the difficulties between living for yourself and failing to fulfil a role; Sometimes I don’t play the part I’m supposed to because I get caught up in the rush. In the difference between the clouds and the pits of hell. In the chaos. In the existence. In the fast-paced, beautiful, time-consumption of it all.
This life is short. Time is not as promised to us as we mistakenly think. Life is meant to be lived hard. To be consumed entirely. To be devoured with intense passion and an insatiable thirst for more. To be experienced and ingested and understood and taken for what it is. Nothing more and nothing less.
So can you really blame me? For wanting my life more than the one you tried to impose on me? Can you really blame me, when if you had the chance, you would want that too?
Stop holding on to everything and everyone you can’t control…
"…when i think about you, i am reminded of the way steam rises and escapes and the way it licks up the sides of coffee cups and leaves behind little droplets of itself. i sometimes think i am covered in these droplets of you.
i am unsettled by the temporary nature of things. i told you once that i love chaos, but that is not exactly true. i have a deep fondness for order and systems and cycles. and yet, i don’t see how they apply to me. one thing is certain; water is a constant. we are nothing without it.
being in love with you is like writing my name on a fogged mirror. i enjoy the impressions i have made there, and i try not to think about forever.i will write my name fresh on you every day. i promise…”
“For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Lift our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. feel. Add our little consequence to the tides of good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love; the passionate search for truth other than our own. With longing; the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved. For so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on.”—Gregory David Roberts, Shantaram
“I like nonsense; it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living; it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.”—Dr. Seuss
Buy me a ring that will turn my finger green so I can imagine our love is a forest – because I wanna get lost in you. And I swear I grew like a flower every hour of the fifty years I was with you – and that’s not to say we didn’t have bad days. But when morning came, you were laughing. Yeah, there were times we were both half-in and half out the door but I never needed more than the stars of your grin to lead me home. For fifty years, you were my favorite poemand I’d read you every night knowing I might never understand every word but that’s okay – ‘cause the lines of you were the closest thing to holy I’d ever heard. You’d say, “This kind of love has to be a verb.” We are paint on a slick canvas – it’s gonna take a whole lot to stick but if we do, we’ll be a masterpiece. On nights you couldn’t sleep, I’d lay awake for hours counting sheep for you and you would rewrite the rhythm of my heartbeat with the way you held me in the morning, resting your head on my chest and I swear my breath turned silver the day your hair did, like I swore marigolds grew in the folds of my eyelids the first time I saw you and they bloomed the first time I watched you dance to the tune of our kitchen kettle in our living room in a world that could have left us hard as metal, we were soft as nostalgia together. For fifty years, we feathered wings too wide to be prey and we flew through days strong and through days fragile as sand-castles at high tide and you would fold your love into an origami firefly and you’d throw it through my passageways until all my hidden chambers were filled with lanterns, now, every trap door, every pore of my heart is open because of you – because of us.
Love is one kind of abstraction. And then there are those nights when I sleep alone, when I curl into a pillow that isn’t you, when I hear the tiptoe sounds that aren’t yours. It’s not as if I can conjure you up completely. I must embrace the idea of you instead.”
The way things fall apart to fall together, to fall apart. The way falling apart isn’t always bad. The way my heart races and slows and beats erratically. The way I get shy. The way I feel too much. The way I don’t feel at all. The way I’m scared of everything and nothing. The way thinking about my mom breaks my heart. The way I want to lay and be silent, but I have too much to say. The way I hope you want to lay and be silent. Realizations, revelations, clarity, and epiphanies. The way joy works with wonder. The way fear works with hate. The way doubt collides with my body. The way my mind fights back. The way I fight back. The way love is resistance. The way stories are the only thing that matter. The way my mouth moves when I talk. The way your hands look. The way that I’m afraid to play these guitars because it’s the only thing I have left of you. The way I like people too much, or not at all. The way I understand balance.
There’s a magic in the depth of this sound that is designed to take your mind to places. An escape from reality in the form of some sort of cerebral transcendence. A journey of the mind to its limits and sometimes past them. An adventure with all the thoughts in your head.
Follow the subs, the percussions, the bass, down…
All the way down.
Let the music take you to places beyond the scope of your imagination. Let it loosen your grip on reality and let go of it for a moment, because the truth is, a bit of insanity is crucial to survival.
Close your eyes & let go; Embrace this audio-wanderlust-adventure.
entranced and unsettled by the vastness of the universe, experienced in a jolt of recognition that the night sky is not just a wallpaper but a deeply foreign ocean whose currents are steadily carrying off all other castaways, who share our predicament but are already well out of earshot—worlds and stars who would’ve been lost entirely except for the scrap of light they were able to fling out into the dark, a message in a bottle that’s only just now washing up in the Earth’s atmosphere, an invitation to a party that already ended a million years ago