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. 

 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. 

I can't talk for everyone. I can only talk for myself. But, ironically, it seems the more accurately and honestly I talk for myself the more it is aligned with everyone.

Make sense? 

I come to this forum and communicate here without schedule or external motivation. It happens when it does. Sometimes I wish I was here more often - because, frankly, there is never a lack of things to express/explore - but I have reasons for not making the effort. Sometimes I am just too lazy. I mean it does take a level of discipline and application. It is an effort to access, assess and describe what is going on in my head, in my being. It is often interesting for me to see what comes out - to read where I am at, so to speak - but it still requires some dredging, concentration and motivation. Not doing it is so, so easy. Having said that, I have been recording my state of mind/spirit/heart regularly in journals since I was fifteen. All the way through. The bulk of it has never seen the light of day, which is as it should be because it is primarily done to inform and enlighten (and lighten) myself.

It's only in the last few years that I have been opening up (as it were) to other inhabitants of the same planet in the belief that somehow by sharing my individual truth in a straightforward and unedited manner like this may be beneficial to others. I don't know who or how but if it has a positive effect in any way, lessens the burden or brings a smile to even one person, then it's worth doing. Because sharing is caring. LOL. Cliche. But true. And I do care. I really do. I have always been empathetic, sometimes at a cost  to my own well being, but it's a good thing, not a bad thing. We're all bits of the same big one. LOL again! That statement reads like the first words of a sermon by a caveman preacher. Which is perhaps, something I would have been OK with back in the day. Way back.

Interestingly, my paternal grandfather, for a time, was a preacher and used to speak his truth on the streets of Kings Cross. I think it was somewhere after his divorce and just before his playboy phase. He died in a fiery Ferrari crash in Europe, loose ends - financial and emotional left scattered back home in Aus. A dramatic departure but quite fracturing to his family. He left a big gap - he was quite the big man, self made multimillionaire, friends with Billy Graham and Shirley Bassey, a dandy dresser with a hefty appetite, a big tipper (a good thing), and a showman. I didn't know him very well. I was only nine when he left. My single strongest memory of him is him taking my Mum, me and my brothers out to lunch in our first ever fancy restaurant in 1969 Sydney, then taking us to a toy shop in town and saying 'Whatever you want, boys; on me!' How could I forget him! (I went straight to the bicycles but my Mum though it too extravagant - so I settled for a game of Twister. Harumphhh!) Didn't really get my money's worth till I played it semi naked with the girl next door. (And then it was like riding a bicycle.)

So, yeah, caveman preacher. I reckon way back in the day, in an earlier incarnation (yes, I do believe in reincarnation) (have done since a few lives back), I would have been comfortable in the role of observer/overseer/speaker of truth. Got a bit of shaman in me. Wise man. Pass the pipe. Come hang out and we'll have a yarn about what's bothering you. Yes, those fucking dinosaurs! I know. Life in general isn't easy when you are a hunter and gatherer - on a physical level - but it isn't smooth sailing when you are spiritual journey cognoscente, either. But, hey, I am not complaining. (Cause I know complaining is a waste of time. Early lesson.)

But yeah, like I was saying it's not always easy to write this stuff. Admittedly, this one has been and rather fun, but, but... my point? Who cares! It is what it is. Life is full of contradictions. The point is to find what you like and are at least semi-good at and go for it. Don't think too much. If you can find something worth doing - do it. We all have to do something - even if it's slacking off most of the time and then writing a few words of lighthearted drivel once in a while and considering it meaningful. Even if it's that! You could have my job, eh. Then I could retire from sermonising altogether and commence my next phase: rich playboy. Sounds like a plan.

I was talking to a couple of guys last night at poker. I've met them before and know their names, but I don't know much else about them. Turns out that one of them is a year older than me and one of them a year younger; 53 and 55.

In between calling bets, folding and raising we mumbled a comment each about 'getting on a bit':

"Time is no longer unlimited. It makes for greater focus."

"I've been through a lot, survived all kinds of situations. I don't worry about little things anymore."

"It's not too bad. I preferred being younger."

I think one of these was really said. I just made up the other two. No one really talks about anything meaningful at a poker table. We're all trying to win the hand. If nothing else, it is a game that demands concentration (for optimum play).

But what of getting older? Hitting the mid fifties?

It is a surprise somedays, to look in the mirror at myself and notice that my face and head have aged. Of course, I know that decades have passed since I was young. I was there. But at the same time, it doesn't feel like that long. 

If I was to still look 35 or even 40, I would not find it discomforting or strange. It's as though the ageing of the body kind of rushes on ahead, on it's own volition, at a certain point and then calls out to you, 'Hey look! This is you! You've got grey! You've got wrinkles now! Less hair - on the head - and more inside the ears!'

Acceptance is the only option, of course. A cynical surrender. A dissassociative shrug.

On the inside remains the sterling will, the sharp focus, the tuned awareness. In fact, over time, some of the internal mechanisms have actually improved. Experience is the greatest of teachers. Lessons have been learnt. Dues paid. 

And then you start to consider people who you have know or have met or interacted with over the last while who are in their sixties and seventies. You don't feel quite as distanced from them anymore. You understand the slight slowing down, the laid back attitude, the inner quiet that some possess.

You realise that you are on the verge of joining a new club. You are also on the verge of leaving an old one. Younger people aren't seeing you as one of them any more. They haven't for a while probably. But you are noticing it more. It's fine, it's alright, because you have been in the club for long enough. It's activities don't interest or inspire like they used to. You are seeking something different. Something with new rewards. 

It is not all about more, more, more anymore. It is not about being as extreme as possible. It is not about affectation. It is not about talking up your game, seeking attention.

There is no time for these things. Time has become more precious. You want to fill it with things of true value. Things that are meaningful and enduring. 

If you really think about it, you realise that it is all laid out for you. The process. The sequence of a life. It has been done by all before and will be done by all after. Your perception shifts in an age-appropriate way. In a sense, there is no option. You realise the limits of being. But you also realise the miraculous wonder and grace and beauty of it all. You realise that you are only a tiny player in a massive game. You, in truth, are of little consequence. You will, whether you like it or not, be leaving before too long. It may still be a few decades off but what's a few decades? Weren't you just 35 yesterday?

And time goes faster, too. That you can attest to. Days whiz by. A year isn't long. This has it's benefits, too, though. You know that you can plan things in advance, work towards things and that the future will bring reward if you do. You have seen how things work. You have made the mistakes. And you have learnt.

So, it seems, a life is just that. It is something to experience. A complex, intricate sequence of events that connect together in the form of days lived and things done. All the emotions generated and spent, all the people that have come and gone, the places visited, the experiences lived through. All that. And what? Here you sit writing about it all, and it's as though it was just a story. There is no proof. No one else cares, not really. It has all amounted to nothing - in some ways. And yet - there are feelings of, I don't know, accomplishment, achievement, value, dignity, honour, amusement, bewilderment, satisfaction, acceptance....

It's like... OK. Hmmm... OK. Let's just keep going, then. I kind of get the idea now. I'm past the middle, heading into the third act. I still have some options. I shouldn't waste them (like I have in the past) (as you do). 

I have become someone. I have an identity. A past. I can work with it. There is a level of comfort, familiarity. I know what works and what doesn't. I'm going to gather up what remains available to me, take a clear and honest look at my current position and situation and see what I can do to create something interesting, something of worth. 

Yeah, I'm still here. I'm going to give it a shot. See if I can't surprise myself, outdo myself, extend myself beyond limitations set in the past. If this is me now, who is the me that I am going to be in ten years from now? Who do I want that to be? Pretty sure no one else is going to make it happen. I'm going to step up. Yeah, I'm going to really start living. Not the kind of living you do when you are young and it's all presented to you, tank full and no limits. No, a new kind of living. Decidedly different. A take-control but let-it-go kind of thing. A new awareness. A new care. A new gratitude. And with all that - a new chance to fully discover and perhaps even become one's truest, true self.

​Sounds like a plan.

After a long hard nothing 
Into something
I have become someone
Extremely familiar
To myself
I must be true

Because, because
This journey
This odyssey
This long, long sequence
Of events
This outrageous collection
Of incidents and occurrences
Begs for meaning
And validation

And who else
Who other
Than the instigator
The actor
The inhabitant
The perpetrator

Who better

To strive
To find
To define
To mould

Some kind of sensical 
Credible
Enriching
Uplifting

Form
Story

Historic recounting
Present portraying
Future formulating

Who better

Than self

To do that
Feels like
What I should do

At this point
In the evolution
Of another everyman
A unique genetic and circumstantial  
Concoction

Have I not struggled
Most of my life
In one way or another
To make it here

Is that not something 
Worth breath
And voice
And exploration
And extrapolation

Isn't now the time
The only time
There is

If I have thought it
And I write it
Will it not be true

For true
Is what I seek
And salvation
And liberation

And to be understood
Or not

But at least
To know in my heart
That all the love 
I have known and shared
Has not been for nought

All the tears cried
And the blood split
And the hells faced

Not for nought

For something
From nothing
Is something

And that something 
Is a life

A life worth acknowledging
Honouring
Humbly considering
As valuable
With value
Of value
Value

Just another word

Yes

But for the poet

Words
Have meaning 
Tremendous

Words can change
Words can transcend

The tyranny of suffering in silence

Words can connect
Connect with other souls

Your soul

This is a poem about you
About you, too

We are talking about 
Just how beautiful
You are
You are

Eternal

All of us

Quite the same
In that regard

Let's laugh!

And laugh
And fall in a heap
And forget
Our worries

Just for a while

Let's do that
Let's do that

And call it poetry
Call it living

Because it is

There's a lot of implied pressure and expectations these days from mainstream society to be ambitious, aggressively proactive in pursuit of career and financial success. It has always been present, growing since the eighties, but with the massive increase of numbers of strivers, step-uppers and wanna-be-famousers it has become even more competitive out there in every field. It is a way that many people, in fact, measure their self worth.

The downside of this is that for every winner there are many losers. As well, the make-it-at-any-cost attitude does no favours for the moral integrity of the game players. Egos battle, feelings are disregarded, the non-achievers are scoffed at and relegated to the fringes. The whole game is one that gives massive financial rewards to the top of the pyramid and a pittance to the bottom. Obviously, it is not fair. In fact, it is blatantly unhealthy and unethical. 

There are other options to partaking in this ruthless hunger for gold, however. There are other ways. Better ways. It means first seeing beyond the noxious and infectious fumes of capitalism and materialism. It requires one to see the big picture, ponder on the finer points of existence and choose an alternative that is uniquely suited. The choices are vast, though, in some cases they may require some contemplation, as well as a pinch of courage, a glint of resolve.

It all begins with you. Who are you? What do you believe in? What are your natural instincts, passions?

By listening to yourself, your inner voice and paying it heed, you will start to find your direction. Ignore the calls and shouts of the outside world - family, school, the media - this is a very personal thing and the answers come from within your self.

Whatever you choose to pursue - and you can chop and change as you feel the need - or pursue multiple paths at once - do so with commitment and integrity. If what you are doing makes you happy, feel valuable, feel worthy, feel empowered - then you are on the right path.

I don't know why I have started to sound like a self help book. So, I'll curb it. I guess, though, what I am trying to say is that there are unlimited options - helping your grandmother, kayaking, salsa dancing, sewing, cooking, volunteering, spontaneous travel - and that they exist across a wide spectrum. One needs to not be narrow minded. One needs to question. To seek answers. To acknowledge one's own internal struggle and not look away. Stay with it. Stay with yourself. Invest in yourself.

Oh, no. Self help book lingo returns. Ich! Sorry.

I suppose I am speaking to the young. I am trying to encourage the rewarding journey of self creation. Climbing walls and peeking over. Going too far sometimes. Getting lost. Feeling the pain of existence. 

A lot of the best things in life are not written about in magazines. Or online. They are secret treasures. They are precious and personal. They are yours to seek and discover. There is no map. You need to trust. You need to keep searching - for that thing - that thing! - the whatever it is that only you know.... 

Reality is only limited by your imagination. And your imagination knows no bounds.

There's no point in writing something if it doesn't mean anything or lead anywhere.

Right?

But wait. Who is to say what has meaning and what doesn't? And who knows where certain paths will lead if one is not bold or foolhardy enough to embark down them without prior knowledge of their end point?

OK. So the first statement is untrue. 

Good. I have made a statement and then contradicted it immediately. 

Drama.

Life is made up of drama. We need drama. We seek drama. We are addicted to drama.

What's another word for drama? 

Conflict.

What is it that draws us to observing - and becoming involved in - conflict?

Conflict is the pairing of two opposing forces against each other in battle until there is one winner or at least a resolution.

So there is struggle, intensity, anticipation, anxiety, stress, entanglement and friction.... and this builds and builds.... until it is resolved.

And this resolution is extremely satisfying. It is indisputable. There is a victor and a loser. One side wins, the other concedes - by choice or through being overpowered. And with the all the emotions and entanglements that it evoked are calmed and dissipated.  

And that process - the process - is about throwing things in the air/in the blender/in the water - and seeing what will happen. 

It's letting destiny take it's course. It's creating an event. It's an experiment, a test, a trial.

And, we, as humans, love that shit. We can't get enough.

Relationships, sports, combat, war, racing.... all that stuff. All the same thing.

Dynamic existence. Growth through conflict. Evolution through engagement.

It's part of our make up. Our DNA. Drama Now Already! We are all calling out for consciously or subconsciously.

So, what am I saying? Why am I writing about this in my art blog?

Well, as pacifist and a generally serene individual I tend to believe that I try to avoid drama. And I do. But lately I have come to realise that is completely unavoidable.

It will find you. No matter what. 

Not only that but as soon as one thing is resolved and put to bed, another will jump up in it's place. This is true even in the most peaceful and simple lifestyles. 

I am writing about it because I have been observing it in my daily life over the last few months and thinking about it... trying to come to terms with it.

My goal is/was to try and make my life as 'undisturbed' and 'undisturbing' as possible - so that I can concentrate on creating new things as well as just enjoying simple living. But there is so much that is beyond one's control. And the potential conflicts are never ending. 

Every time you venture out. When you stay at home. A comment from someone. A stranger's voice or laugh or choice of conversation at the cafe. Some one on their mobile in the library. Selfish dog walkers on the beach not respecting the rules.... etc, etc...

Aaaghhhrrr! Sometimes I want to scream. And I consider myself to be pretty mellow. Am I hyper sensitive? What's going on? 

So, I have realised now - it will never end. There will always be irritations. Conflict. Challenge. There is absolutely no escape. To wish for it is futile. Some things cannot be changed. 

What's needed is patience, acceptance, surrender. And more than ever. At times I even consider getting involved in the demanding lifestyle of mainstream society again... if it's going to be difficult anyway - why not jump back in the deep end and go back to hand-to-hand combat?

But, no. It's not for me. I'll stick with the monsters I know. The ones I create. The ones I meet by chance. The ones that surprise me. I'll keep dealing with them - as I live day to day in my artist's way - writing, making art, conjuring up plays, TV series ideas, movies, comics - as I sit in the local cafe or walk along the sandy shore or retreat to the sanctuary of my bedroom in the share house I'm in. 

Bring it on, I say. I've got this far ...on the road to nowhere. I've dealt with what has come and I'll deal with what's to be. Like us all. We just keep fighting new monsters.