Category: Contemplation

Interrupted By Life

25/5/2019

It’s easy to write bullshit

But what’s the point?

Why write anything at all

If it isn’t going to be meaningful

This is what I ask myself

Before I begin to compose

What you may call a poem

I’ll let you call it that

Although it’s really just words

Spread out for comfort

Crept out from under my fingernails

Sniffing around for answers, freedom

Like us all

They seek liberation

From something

Constrict, judgement, habitual dependency

We meander from one sneaky trap to another

Fooled by life in succession

Dangling uneasily in self constructed towers

Every day another ledge

Do I have an answers?

Or even some suggestion?

If I wasn’t so busy just hanging on

Maybe I could think of one

But I’m the same as everyone

Who ever was

Destined for greatness

Interrupted by life

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Reflection

1/1/2018

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I wouldn’t say that I obsess about it. But it is something that my mind keeps returning to.

Like right now, I sit down at the cafe and pull out my iPad. Moments before it starts up, I catch my reflection in the glossy black screen face. Of course, I recognise the visage but, strangely, I am surprised by how old I am. I shouldn’t be. I should be used to it. But it still gets me. I certainly don’t feel the age of my appearance. In my mind, I am mid thirties - something like that. (Just a few decades younger than in fact.)

I know this is not an original topic and even a little boring. I have read articles along similar lines and don’t find them all that interesting anymore. (Except for one today about Walt Whitman - and how his love of nature was his sanctuary in his latter years.)

But this is different. This is me. I am going to keep writing just to see what, if anything, of interest reveals itself. I like to take lines of self inquiry sometimes and extrapolate. Delve in, peel away layers, sort through the stacks, wander down the corridors and see where they lead.

It’s interesting to wonder - wherever I end up getting to, thought-wise; will it be somewhere that already exists - you know, in there, my mind - or will it be something that could only have been created by following a particular thought paths? Do we pull things from the ether, out of nowhere? What are we accessing - is it fresh stuff or a collage, reconfiguration of pre-existing notions/concepts?

I can’t answer that, obviously. How the fuck would I know! But then, why not me? Somebody has to be the first to answer any puzzle. Existence doesn’t care about qualifications, prior knowledge, who it is doing the speculation. Everything is accessible to everyone. The only limits (in this domain) are self imposed. And why impose limits on one’s self?

I try not to. But, of course, I do. We all do. Fear and doubt and lack of esteem and courage lurk within us all. We are a never ending whirlpool of shifting head spaces, emotions. It always amazes me at how unruly my interior life is. And how constantly demanding. There were times in my twenties and thirties - actually, all through my life - when I have felt on the brink of losing control. Perhaps this is not unusual. Perhaps it varies person to person. On the flip side, my wildly oscillating mind and unpredictable spirit, gift me with a constantly flowing access to creative expression. The tap always works, I just turn it on and the flow is always strong.

Please don’t think that I talk about myself because I think I am great or special. Cause I don’t. I am a soldier in the trenches. I am one of the many. I don’t mind what you think, actually, because I don’t know who you are and it would all be biased speculation (on your part and mine) anyway. But I do feel compelled to point out that, in these speculative essays, I cast myself as a subject of interest. I have access to myself - so that is who I talk about.

I have always been interested in introspection - since about eight or nine years of age, I would say. I like quiet times. I like low activity because it allows internal observation and extrapolation. Is is just something to do, is anything actually ever achieved? I can’t say. It’s just my nature. And you gotta go with what you’ve got.

From about the age of fourteen I began to write a few of my thoughts down for amusement. The added benefit, I have since come to realise is that others, readers, may identify thoughts and qualities in themselves that are similar. Just like reading a horoscope. We all like the - ‘yeah, that’s me’ feeling of identification.

We like it because if makes things feel less random. It helps us believe that we belong. That there is a purpose. Perhaps even a meaning behind it all.

In my humble opinion, however, as desirable as this is - it is unlikely.

But the feeling (and it’s accompanying temporary comfort) is no less valid whether it be true or not. We do all kinds of things - in fact, most of what we do - is in order to connect, feel worthwhile, valued, or consequence.

Like I have said before we are fragile, volatile entities. And the journey itself is constantly different. We want to pin things down, draw conclusions - it’s part of our nature - but the truth is that everything is transient. Even our concepts of reality. Then, as we slowly, or quickly, change form, feelings, opinions, as we drift through an ever-altering landscape there are a few things we tend to grasp on to. We require a feeling of belonging, security, connection to others, peace of mind. We want to function within a limited paradigm - one that we can keep a grip on, feel like we are progressing (in some way) within. (And for most of us, at least at varying stages - this is possible. Temporary, but achievable.)

But when something takes us out of the box, when there is a sudden shift, or when we allow ourselves to acknowledge the actual complete lack of borders and the fact that we are functioning in a completely fabricated construct - partly by reality, partly by society and the rest by our own minds - then things get a bit more funky.

There are times that letting go and floating free is enjoyable (as long as you know you can get back to your comfortable construct again), and there are times when it is decidedly uncomfortable - ie. when everything is thrown up in the air and some of your favourite elements are suddenly no longer. Times like when someone you love dies, you are involved in an accident, or a part of your physical well being is distressingly compromised. These kinds of things send you into a funk.

Nothing like being in sudden danger of losing your life - that of a loved one or your most valued possessions - for you to realise just how much you value your life after all; despite it’s incessant challenges and niggling demands.

Anything has to be better than nothing.

We are ‘programmed’ to believe that. Otherwise, people would be early exiting all over the place.

So we struggle on. Questioning, contemplating, trying things, urgently attempting to satisfy our urges and needs.

When you get older, like 57 older for example, you think back to all the ups and downs you have experienced, the ecstasies and torments you have lived through, the loves found and lost, the younger versions of self that you so fully experienced - you think about all that and then when you see a reflection of your current self by chance - it all comes flooding in.

That’s me. That’s fucking me! This is me. But who am I? Still here - I can see - but so what? Is it going to be more of the same?

No, look - it won’t be the same - it can’t be. You are older now. The wild times that began in your teens and carried on through to your forties - they have waned most substantially. The wild times well, has, in fact, it seems, gotten down to distressingly low levels.

Limits are imposed upon you. Physical limits, at least. This has to be accepted, worked around. Thankfully, though, mentally you are stronger and clearer than ever.

I can still think about things. Get all up there with the speculation about things, with the extrapolations. I can write about the me of the present, in these fleeting moments and maybe capture something, somethings - like fireflies, butterflies, buzzy bees - not capture them to keep or cage - maybe not even capture but just grab at them. Do it to further come to know their simple yet complex beauty.

And I can ride on the coat tails of my previous endeavours, extract the essence, formulate theories, fabricate exaggerated tales (not that I do).

I care what I look like, how old I am - to the extent that if effects my behaviour, my options. But on other levels - it doesn’t matter. I have been lucky to have lived this long, gotten this far - and look - here’s evidence - I may have learnt something - however ephemeral, tenuous, speculative - something worthwhile.

I feel good, for the moment, in the moment. I am glad I have spent this time recording this. There are plenty of other things I could have done - but I gone done this. These words, these ideas punched out it a mini frenzy of thoughtful expression.

I have carved them on the cave wall, if you will. Maybe they will illuminate some thoughts and feelings amongst my fellow cave dwellers. Maybe someone will feel a little less alone, a little less freaked out in their own ageing, their own inner conflicts, state of mind. Maybe getting old really does bring some wisdom. If that is the word. (Sounds a bit fuddy-duddy.)

Could I have written this ten years ago?

Well, I didn’t. So now is now and what is is what is supposed to be. (Now I am just sprouting platitudes.) It is so all just speculation. But we so want it to be more than that! That’s what life is. That dynamic of input, interpretation and conclusion. We settle on something that will serve us.

There is no pinning it down. All systems are go. All the time. And what have I learnt from this outburst? Hmmmm...

My feeling now is that I will finish this short piece - my second coffee has just been consumed - get up - pack away my iPad, go for a walk and a swim (how lucky am I!) and carry on with the rest of my day.

Continue living out the pattern of my individual construct, enjoying the good bits and enduring the difficult. I will always be me, whatever age. I am used to it by now. Sure, once in a while, I will be surprised by the gap between what is and what I believe or feel, but, fuck it, who cares. I’ll likely be back here tomorrow before my swim, having another black brew, spitting out a fresh take on the deliciously devious and delightfully bewildering continuance we exist within.

Tomorrow, though, I’ll try not to catch a glance of my visage.

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Yeah Nah

10/6/2017

0 Comments

I'm sitting here in the cafe, working on a couple of new projects simultaneously on my iPad. A new book, some cover designs, the content framework for a future keynote presentation. I look up and notice a dad in his early thirties with his wife and baby. And I think...

Hmmmm, I never did that. I skipped it somehow.

I had some chances. I lived with some beautiful women in my twenties, thirties and forties. I dated quite a few. I had sexual intercourse - the thing you do to make babies - with even more.

But no babies appeared.

Relationships came out of nowhere and dissolved just as mysteriously. Some only weeks, others for years. I did get married once. In my twenties, but I knew that one was not right for me. I wanted out even before I tied the knot. (It's a long story.) I am glad that I got to experience being married, but ultimately, I am glad that I did not make kids that time.

If I had had some with some of the others - you know - if it had happened that way, well, I think I would've been cool with it. Embraced it. Some of my girlfriends were very lovely, special women. And they went on to have children with subsequent partners.

Some of them, I don't know what happened. They are from other countries and I haven't seen or heard from them in decades. They are from Sweden, the US, New Zealand, Italy and Japan. I broke up with some of them but with some we were separated by continents and just drifted apart. To be honest, I can't even remember the family name of some of them. But I will never forget their beautiful personalities, their spirits, our times together. Sitting here now, in some ways I lament our separation. There are probably three or four women that if they appeared here, right now, in front of me, and they wanted to be together again - right now - I imagine I would. But life doesn't work like that. Have you noticed?

So, I see families and I ask myself. Would you rather be in that situation? A father, a husband? I think about it. Mostly, the answer is no.

No, I am happy here. Happy to be single. To be free. To be unattached. If it was the other way round, I would be happy, too. But this is the way it is. I'm fifty six. It's unlikely that I will be making a family henceforth. And I'm cool with it. I really don't like being hemmed in. I like as little responsibility as possible. I don't respond well to demand made upon my time or my person. I don't like drama, uneasy compromise. I can handle it for a while but eventually it wears me down.

I've got a way of living and it suits me. I've become accustomed to being alone. I like not having attachments. I can do as I wish. Once in a while, very rarely, I will feel a little lonely but it's not for long and it's not with regrets. Emotionally, I am self sufficient. I know myself through introspection and deep reflection, through blood and guts, down in the dirt interaction with life. The link between me and my creativity is sinewy and powerful. I am at home in an immense imagination, a unique and multi flavoured relationship with the metaphysical and it's quirky and mesmerizing relationship with the actual.

I've been in relationships and I know how it is. It can be great but the price you pay for the upside is quite high, too high for me. Too much has to be given up, too much of the stuff that I savour - independence, spontaneity, irregular hours, long periods of focused pursuit of my art forms - have to be foresaken. I don't think it would be fair to deny a partner or children my attention to the degree I would have to in order to be as devoted and productive as I currently am with my creative endeavors with which I am fully engaged. Every day. And night. For many hours. Time undefined, uninterrupted.

Nah. Things are as they should be.

Don't get me wrong. I love children. Really, really love them and know how absolutely delightful, how wonderful they are. The best thing in the world. But I have my godsons and I have been lucky enough to be closely involved with their journeys so far - from birth to young men. It is one of the most important and vital aspects of my life. I feel lucky to have our connections. So, I guess, that is enough for me. It's a step removed, a big step, but it suffices. They are a true blessing in my life.

Not having a family of one's own is a big thing in many ways. But thinking about it now, it feels like destiny made my choices for me. Things just went this way. Having a spouse and a family and a house and a job... it's not how it has turned out for me. My path is off the beaten track. I chose not be contained, the stories are still being written, the form is still being found. Not being defined in the conventional way, my future is open ended.

In some ways I am the same as I was when I was at ten, at sixteen, at twenty nine, at forty; a loner, a dreamer, a wanderer. Making it up as I go. And I guess I like it that way. No point in looking at what I don't have and lamenting. No doubt, I would have loved to have raised a family, risen to the occasion. But I couldn't have done what I have, become who I am. You can't have it all.

Yeah. Things are as they should be.

Yeah, nah. Yeah, nah.

Yeah, nah.

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Interrupted By Life

Reflection

Yeah Nah

ART GETS ME HIGH

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Interrupted By Life

Reflection

Yeah Nah

﻿ART ﻿﻿﻿GETS ME﻿ ﻿﻿HIGH﻿

﻿﻿Author & Artist﻿﻿

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ART GETS ME HIGH

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