​
Society presents a reality
That is at least partly constructed
For the benefit of those in power
For their profit and self advancement
With disregard for consequence


It’s up to you to use your intuition
In the formation of your decisions, your perception


Don’t be easily manipulated
By the ostensible, subversive undercurrents
Of the social requirement pushers


What is life?
Who are you?
Question it all, question it all


There is no standard answer
Allow your mind beyond existing parameters
Don’t let social norms restrict you
In your quest for personal truth and meaning


Because
If you think about it
Humanity is but a construct
An amalgamation of concepts
Agreed upon, accepted


Going with the flow is expected
Acquiescence is encouraged
And by all means, when it suits you
Use the paths already forged for your progression


But when you come across
Elements of standards
Moral, philosophical, practical
That demand you compromise your behaviour
Go against the grain of your innate awareness
Resist
And forge your own way


Investigate your natural instincts
Through research, discourse, quiet contemplation
To lead to a more expanded understanding
Of what things are
Of how things work


You’ll quickly see beyond the construct
Move beyond the fences
See that society can so easily restrict and limit us
Box us in
Categorise us for it’s own advantage


Through fresh concepts, words and actions
Express your essence and your truth
Illuminate your unique take on life, the world and everything
Formulate your reality to suit

​

Through my writing, I investigate the inner workings of my thoughts and feelings, using words to steer towards discovery, understanding and a degree of enlightenment. ​

I can site down with nothing particular in mind and let the words flow - in the form of a poem, a short story or a short essay, such as this, to reveal what they will. Leapfrogging from thought to thought at times. Sometimes more like sitting on the bank of a gently running stream and observing leaves float past, recording each ones peculiarity as they pass.

I do much of my writing when I land at the cafe, after an hour at the beach where I stretch, walk and swim. So I am invigorated, at ease. The cafe is right nearby and outdoorsy. I have come to get to know most of the staff, who are a particularly good spirited bunch. This adds to my feeling of comfort and belonging - which in turn invites free flowing writing.

My other form of self expression, the most recent addition, is music. I have been attending a creative college called SAE studying music production for the last few years now. The campus is delightfully low key and has wonderful facilities. Each day I have access to any of six studios, in two hour slots, in which I can hide away and focus on my song creation. I use a Berlin based software called Ableton Live, considered to be the best in the world, to craft my tunes. Ableton has a steep learning curve and although I was making sounds pretty quickly, it wasn’t until after two and a half years of study and practice that I felt confident enough with my creations to begin releasing songs. I spend six hours, six days a week in the studios experimenting with new sound combinations and structures; basically, playing around having the time of my life. I say that, but at times it is challenging and takes dedication and commitment to see a project through - especially because sometimes they go awry - like a pack of wild horses - and have to be corralled into some level of obedience.

The third way that I express myself is through my artwork. I first attended art school in Sydney a full forty years ago and I have no stopped making images, in some form or other since then. I have had studios, on my own and shared, over the years working on big canvases and have had twenty five solo exhibitions of my work over the decades. These days, almost all my work is digital. I use an incredibly versatile app called Autodesk Sketchbook on my Samsung Note 8, using a tiny stylus on the screen to create, using collage, an array of textures and brushes as well as Photoshop style adjustable layers (average around fifteen per image lately) to create new images. I spend one to two hours every day on these pictures; usually three new ones per day.
It is fun and relaxing; an exploration of colour, shape and image manipulation. I earnestly seek out fresh thrills - exciting juxtapositions and dynamics. It’s an exercise in free experimentation and thoughtful positioning and ordering of levels. I explore mood and atmosphere. I strive to innovate and create visual excitement. Again; it’s play.

Spending time every day involved in all of these forms - usually eight to ten hours - gives me purpose and fulfilment. Although I have at times made money in each of these areas, I would not call any of it lucrative. My motivation is pure. I just love the act of creation. Writing this now, I realise how lucky I am to be able to exist in this manner.

You could say that I am expressing myself, and in a sense I am, but mostly I just feel like a conduit, allowing the creativity to pass through me - onto the page, into the picture or into sonic wave formations. One can detect ‘my style’ in each of the forms but it is not something that I am consciously aware of.

When I review my work, I can learn a little about my internal workings, but it is not really something I do or am that interested in. I am just happy to be able to get busy with the next project. Like now. I will finish this and immediately embark on some fresh image making. Then I will head into SAE and into the studios to work on some new songs (I usually have two or three going concurrently). What a life, eh!

Simple, serene, expressive.

Is coming to terms with one's insignificance a good thing or a bad thing?

Not sure. But it certainly frees up a lot of time. 

Regardless of the ultimate futility of it all, I have been voraciously spending six hours a day in the studio working on new tracks. 

Nourishment, it appears, comes from creative expression - same as always - but now add the tasty sauce of productivity satisfaction and you've got yourself some chewable results.

Not one to neglect my art, I spend a minimum hour a day on making new images. And the same goes for my writing: minimum hour a day.

I can almost feel death coming. Not yet. But I am aware of it's eventuality more profoundly than previous. 

It's what we are all racing towards.

I ask myself - am I doing all this stuff to leave a mark? No.

Why then? Cause it is rewarding, feels good. It's how I relate to life. Like all creators; I am compelled.

Fills in the time. Masks the pain. Distracts from the struggle. 

Creating new stuff, for me, is fun because there are no rules and I can be loose and try new things and not worry about outcomes or opinions. It's a relationship with an open minded giver.

It builds internal layers, adds pieces to the puzzle, lubricates thought; centres you.

Discipline is adopted willingly. That's something special right there. 

You can do whatever you want. Putting effort into effortlessness. It's an art. 

I saw this picture and quote a few days ago and liked it but noticed that it really stuck with me. We strive for comfort and security - it's natural, but regardless, life is constantly throwing us curveballs and making things challenging. Perhaps the best approach is not to fight it but to use it. Mr D reckons so. In fact, it appears, he seeks out the uncomfortable. Myself, I am not going to do that - cause I get plenty for free all the time (discomfort - physical and mental), so I will continue to savour any down time (sleeping, napping, escaping in a book, with a song or walking on the beach) but seeing this picture and quote have changed my mind about the uncomfortable times. Rather than curse them, I am going to use them. Let's see if it works!

 It's not that I am lazy - but I can be so lazy.

Motivation is overrated. Success is a mirage.

Gimme a camel, some fresh dates and a cup of tea in the desert, surrounded by nothing, any day.

We aren't going anywhere. Nothing matters, ultimately, so why get caught up in it?

Because it's so seductively real-feeling. Our minds trick us - drive us on - this thing, that thing, the next thing. Want, want, want.

Why am I writing this now? Because I feel I should. A little. (Also, cause I do like writing these things - once I get going...) Why do I feel like I 'should'? Because I have been doing it for five years now and to miss a whole month would be - I dunno - negligent. Wasteful.  Some part of me believes I am building something. Something worthwhile. An artist's journal. Insights into my mind. 

At the same time I know it's nothing that original or deep. Just the free flowing ramblings of another survivor. I feel like a teenager right now. This is how I used to write at thirteen. Just put down whatever comes. (Which is actually a good way to write. But you are supposed to tighten it up later, edit, make it a little fancy, polished. Later never comes.)

We didn't have LOLs back then to punctuate our sentences. We didn't have lots of things. No blogs. No computers. I used to write in notebooks with a ball point. 

Where was I? Oh, yeah; forty four years back. Say hello to the new old me - or the old new me! 

I haven't changed much. They called me lazy in school. Labelled me. Underachiever. But why waste time on bullshit! I knew life was not going to be what they presented it as. I knew what was useful and what was useless (for future me.) Stuff like - physics, history, Latin (yes! we had to study it! OMG, right!) - most of the academic stuff. English was good. Maths - good. Art - oh, yeah! Choir, drama... now we are talking! 

I was right. I didn't quite know it back then, but I was a free spirit, a mini rebel, an artist. And nothing has changed. Well, lots has changed. I have lived a life. My best friends from school are all heading towards sixty now. Those great people I remember as vital, good hearted, zesty, lucid sixteen year olds. They're all doing things, they've been through it all, too. You don't know how it goes until it's mostly gone. Seems like a bit of a rip off in a way. But there's no point in complaining. Cause no one is listening. You're the adult now! The authority. If you can't fix it - no one else can. That much you know. It's beyond ironic.

So why do I bother? Same reason everybody else does. It's easiest just to go with the flow. Keep being who you are. Doing what you do. How you've always done it. 

And although I have very little in the way of material reward to show for my devotion to creativity and passion and self expression, to living free spirited, unattached, unemployed, still making stuff up, creating every day - although I have not found success in the current social definition of success - I have been able to keep it going for a long time. Been a bohemian, a drifter, a dreamer, a poet, a romantic. I have not given up.

I am who I am and who I have always been. Same kid. Feeling life deeply, strongly, wildly. Overwhelmed at times by the ferociousness of reality, the demands of a sentient mind. But coping. Making the best of things. Taking what comes and dealing with it on my own terms in my own way. 

I never had any choice. I was born to be who I am. That much is clear. I resisted, circumnavigated society's insidious pressures to constrain and contain me. I have eluded conformity. Things haven't turned out ideally but they don't. Not for anybody. That much I know for sure. But if you are lucky, you can hang on to yourself - be true, face it or flee it as the case my call for - but follow your inner voice, stay alert, aware, open, hopeful. Keep dreaming.

Sure, be lazy. Unless you feel like doing something. Unless you get a good idea. Then do that. 

Not into psychobabble
Quick new age cures
Life, by nature, is flawed, unstable
Replete with random potholes and
Sudden detours

Mistakes made over and over
Forgive yourself!
It’s human nature
Heightened states of threat
Prolonged exposure to distress

You know how it gets

Somehow, we survive
Adjust, reconcile
Do as we must
Metamorphosis takes a while

Ever evolving self
Often undetected or downplayed
Like a glacier
Or a slow cook roast
Over time we get philosophically remade

Restructured
Revamped
Upgrade

Dead or improved
One or the other
Get bruised, lose a tooth
Learn to suffer

There is always a lag
You’re never rid of those bags
The first few decades will fuck you up
Then a couple more to recover

Ever evolving self
The process is slow
Transformation ephemeral
Progressively we grow
But change is not always pleasureful

All faults excused
Face it - we’re fallible
Dead or improved
The hard lessons are the most valuable
​
Dead or improved
Don’t worry
You’ll get there in the end
One way or the other

​Used to be a time when, if I was waiting for a plane to depart, I’d grab a coffee, pull out my iPad and immediately start writing a poem. I am at an airport now, Gold Coast, heading to Sydney and I am writing - but I am writing about how when I used to do be in this situation I would immediately, habitually start expressing myself lyrically. I am writing, in a self observational way, about how I have observed in myself a different energy and behaviour to usual.

How? What’s different? (A chorus of other in the Departure Lounge spontaneously chimes.)

To be honest, I think that for the moment at least, it appears my romanticism, my idealism, have waned slightly. I used to feel compelled to express my emotions through creative prose. That was kind of a barometer for me. Right now, I don’t feel that. It’s not that I feel bad or lacking, it’s just that the thoughts and feelings are not making their way to the front of my consciousness, requesting (or demanding) to be released, expressed.

(The chorus is silent now, uninterested in the bard’s introspective monologue. They return to their personal devices - tune back in to interior diatribes of their own.)

What I do feel is more of a calm. Less immediately compelled to visit the muse. It’s not that I don’t feel like being creative - it’s just that, I guess, I am not in the mood to do it with rhyme. Instead, I am writing this confessional (what a weird, loaded word!) - so still writing but in a more perfunctory manner. So, what am I confessing? Do I feel guilty for not sprucing poetry? Not really. But it is unusual. Although, if I consider where I am at in my life, it does make sense.

To explain: six days a week for over a year now, I have been spending four to six hours in the studios at SAE where I am studying electronic music production. So I have been awash in audio magic. Actually, not all magic. Quite a lot of process. Trial and error. Exploration. But what I am saying is that my focus - a new language has been found - and my new language has been sound, noise, melody, beats.

And, quite frankly, it has been surprisingly engrossing and rewarding. It began three years ago, when I discovered a new joy playing with Garageband on my iPad. I soon became addicted and committed to creating all kinds of crazy songs using loops and vocals recorded directly into my iPad in cafes, in my car, wherever. I made something like 140 songs over a year. They were pretty raw. Sometimes I would have beginners luck and smash out something kind of OK - I wasn’t even doing proper mixing, not even volume levels! - I relied more on concepts, lyric content and enthusiastic inventiveness to push things through. Naively, some might say delusionally, I went through the steps and brought out an album - releasing a proper CD with fancy cover, illustrated lyric sheet and even had a launch night at a local cafe (Rock & Roll Coffee Company, Mullumbimby). Sold like five copies! Actually, not like five: five. The thing is here: I did it. Completed the cycle.

Fate took care of the next step by calling to my attention an open day at SAE. Why not?, I thought. I always drive by, curious about the inside. Having traditionally been more of a film, images guy, I never really considered pursuing audio but when I turned up, I was curiously enthralled by the studios and got some good vibes. Tentatively, I signed up for a twice a week course in Ableton - electronic music production. Fortuitously, I was eligible for a scholarship that would cover 90% of the cost. Nothing to lose. Even then, when it came time to fully commit to commencing, I got the jitters. Did I really need to do this? As a big lover of routine and a commitment-phobe, I got very close to not going ahead. But something kept me in there.

A couple of times, after the first two classes, I felt out of my depth. I had no idea how to even make the most basic of drum beats, for heaven’s sake. All the others were experienced performers, most with active and dynamic SoundCloud pages, song releases, band experience.

So what kept me in?

One was the software itself. Ableton, despite seeming somewhat overwhelming at first is like a magic playground. Each new toy is like a puzzle to be worked out but once you have cracked the code and can use the new element it adds an exciting new layer to your production capabilities. And the best part? The possibilities are endless! The kid in me (never far from the surface) is continually delighted by the fun factor. Playing with sounds - making stuff up. It’s like sonic Lego. Phonic papier mache. Audio art class. Love, love, love. After getting over the first mountain of challenging newness and confusing complexity - which for me took about 3 or 4 months of solid application. (So worth it!)

The other thing factor in my sticking with and becoming an Ableton advocate was my teacher/mentor. For me, someone who never took easily to the teacher/student relationship, he was the ideal leader. He led by example. Chilled. No pressure. But always patient with us newbies, attentive to individual rhythms (figuratively and literally) and generous with his time and in sharing his amazing skills. I am certain his easy style and low key, natural encouragement helped me hang in there during the make or break early stages. And beyond. Like a flight instructor he got me to the stage where I could fly solo. And I am up in the sky as often as I can be. I salute the squad leader, ever grateful.

After I finished the Music Cert III, I signed up for the Diploma in Music Production. While there was still some Ableton in that one, it was more expansive - with some excellent music theory and studio technique stuff. Another teacher appeared who would adeptly educate and inspire me. A highly motivated, passionate Scotsman, also with a vast knowledge and lots of talent. I am still there and still learning. It’s awesome to be in an instructive and productive environment. Starting on ground level and making the slow ascent. Back to school at fifty seven. Who would have thought!

So, what am I really saying here?

(As much as I enjoy and advocate just going with the flow with writing - like I am doing here - I like, whenever possible, to consider what I am going on about and to share something that may be of value; a whisper of insight, a summation of substance of potentially applicable relevance to those in the chorus who may still be sticking around. In this case: thee.)

What I am saying is: taking on a whole new strain of creativity and starting right from the beginning has had it’s challenging moments but, at the same time, there is a wonderful freedom in coming in cold, being totally green, a beginner again. If I review my own path from the start, three years ago, to now - I have gone from being a curious novice with an interest and passion to now being someone with a pocketful of skills and some sauce sachets of knowledge who can - on his own - a build a decent tune from the ground up - from beats, to bass, to chords and melody to effects, levels, mix and mastering. I’ve gotten pretty good at something new. On a leap of faith, a bit of luck, providence, professional guidance and self belief. I recommend it. When life presents you with the opportunity to expand - take it. Or not. Sometimes it’s a waste of time. Luckily for me, this one was a good one.

Where it may lead, I cannot predict but for now, I am enjoying the ride. Less poem writing at airports but, hey, not a big price to pay.

You can listen to my recent audio creations here: www.soundcloud.com/lewiejpd

​I'll be honest. 
I thought it would get easier.
I thought my life would lead somewhere, I don't know - grander, more bountiful, more integrated, more rewarding.

I haven't given up. I still may get there. Things still may turn out how I envisaged. 
I do have doubts, though. 
But doubts are nothing new. Doubts are like flies, mosquitoes. Everyone gets bugged by them. And everyone hates them.
You try and flick them off, squash them if you can but still, you carry on with what you are doing.
Annoying, though. 

My doubts I can deal with.
What I am attempting to come to terms with is the balance between being grateful for what I have and acknowledging my yearning for better things.
I accept myself as a person. I am comfortable in my skin. By no means has it been an easy entity to inhabit but I have endured and learnt to make the best of things.
Beneath my outwardly chilled demeanour there is a churning intensity. Much of my time and energy is spent attempting to channel it in positive ways, subdue it, make friends with it.
Over the decades I have struggled with anxiety and depression, addictions, weight fluctuations, close to the edge  life-threatening experiences.

I share this because it is the truth and I feel no need to hide anything. I know that many, if not all, experience some, most, all or even more of these things. We usually just shut up about them and endure. 
I feel lucky that I have found my way through to this point and can be open about it.
My storyline, in most respects, is not particularly unusual.
I can say that as someone who has always been sensitive, perhaps overly so, and hyper sentient (I can't turn it off), that were it not for the release and understanding, integration that has come from my various forms of creative expression - I would not have been able to endure. 
So, I ask myself, still, and often: What is the point?

Is it just about surviving?
What is 'making it'? 
When will satisfaction, peace finally come? 

It's a rigged game. 
The challenges, demands, the things that get you - they never stop coming.
Work out one thing and two more pop up.
There is no retirement from life. It's work, work, work until the last breath.
And we kind of fear death, at least prefer to stay alive - even if and when it feels like shit - because of the finality and incomprehensibility of death.
It lurks, taunts us sometimes. Even beckons on occasion. 
But our instincts are strong. We must continue. We must carry on.

Looking back, it makes sense how I got here. If I look at the steps, factor in the choices, the circumstance, the paths taken, the random, the coincidental - it all makes sense in retrospect.
But when we are younger - when we are formulating our dreams, envisioning our futures - we cannot know what lies ahead. We construct our ideals from the concepts at our desposal at the time.
And then, over the years, things happen - maybe from our own doing, but also from pure chance, due to others, or just because they do.
We adapt, we carry on.
We thought we knew where we were going but there are so many unexpected twists and turns, dead ends and surprise peaks that must be scaled that we become a little flabbergasted, weary. 

And all along, time slowly ticks away. Suddenly, years have passed, then decades. We are shocked to see in the mirror a reflection not of our hopeful, idealistic spirits but of weathered and battle scarred veterans. Any of us who are not suffering from or who have suffered some form of psyche PTSD is lucky and amongst the very few.

The world being in the state it is at the moment with the good people, the average population being hoodwinked and bullied by unscrupulous, selfish politicians and their greedy, morally vapid money and power accumulating cronies in big business doesn't help. We are oppressed, make no mistake about it. We are being twisted into submission through rules and laws and agendas set by the gang at the top calling all the shots, serving only themselves. There is still goodness and kindness but it is only to be found at ground level. The current set of people in power have little care for the well being of others. We're forced to struggle to survive on little or noting in a game rigged in favour of the elite.

So, the system is doing us no favours. We're becoming fragmented, frazzled, distracted. No easy paths to leading a simple, uncomplicated, pure lifestyle. And it's only going to get faster and thicker. 

I have no answers. I just take each day as it comes, wade through the swirling, pungent swamp of uncomfortable demands and try to find a tree branch to hold onto or a tiny patch of shore to crawl on and lay down for a minute, to snatch a brief day dream of how I thought it might have turned out or how I wish it would, knowing that any minute a storm will hit, the marsh men will shake me from my slumber and move me along, a gator will appear... something, something not to my liking will poke or prod me, bite or scratch me and force me to unwillingly get back in to the pit and carry on with the struggle.

Bleak?

A little. But not far off how it feels more often that not these days. Is it just me? Or does it feel unduly tough being a human these days?

Like I said, and I'm being honest - not what I expected.