​
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

​

 I come here to learn about myself.

Like many of the things I do in life - there is no preconception. I just begin along a new path and follow it to where it leads. 

I was thinking about this just today. About how, by standard conventional standards (SCSes), I have fallen somewhat behind on the scale.

Do I have a home to call my own?
Do I have a spouse?
Is there someone I can call when I am down?
Do I have children? Grandchildren?
Do I have a career?
Have I achieved anything major, notable?
Do I have a stable work position?
Do I receive a steady salary, have financial security?

No, no, no, no and no. All no.

Does any of this worry me?

Not much. Occasionally, it does. But never for too long. And less and less. 

I realise I have lasted this long playing in the wild scrub, beyond the manicured playing field. Out of the limelight, never lined up in a queue, rarely filling in forms or signing documents, hardly ever getting mail or ever phone calls.

It's obvious that this is how I prefer it. 
I prefer to be somewhat removed.
I follow and flow with rhythms of my own conjuring.
I like silence. 
I like sleeping, dreaming.
I like letting time flow at it's own pace.
I like not having to do anything - instead being able to read, walk on the beach, or sit in a cafe writing lyrics or a new poem.

Sounds like I could be anti-social. But I'm not. When I am around people I really enjoy their company and their personalities. I have plenty of friends: good hearted, excellent beings I am proud to know and associate with. It's just I don't actively seek forced or extended social interplay like work environments, dinner parties, events. Give me some one on one time at a cafe with a friend, old or new, or an evening at a poker tournament with a wild mix of mild and extreme individuals, where you can join the irreverent banter or retreat into your personal space at any time. In fact, yeah, at the poker table I am very comfortable. You're not judged for anything other that your playing skills. It's one of the most accepting and interesting social interplays I know. You just be you and play your game.

I almost deleted this post because I felt I was talking about myself too much. And I don't like that. I'm not like that as a person. Got no tickets on myself. I would much rather hear someone else's stories than harp on about my own. I've always figured - I already know my shit - why use up precious time with another being bending their ear. Listen, boy! Learn! Empathise! Understand!

I've been called a good listener by many. And I respect and honour personal details that may be shared. I know how while we are, in many ways, a most robust species, we are also highly sensitive and vulnerable. If someone shares something with me in confidence, it never leaves the vault. 

So what makes me compelled, here, in this forum to froth off at the mouth like I am. Why am I opening up? And to who? What's the motivation, intention?

I'll tell you. 

I've reached a stage in my life where I fully realise the impermanence of existence. The mortality of the individual being. As well, the paradoxical nature of one's personality, one's life choices, one's destiny. It was always going to be what it is. But how did it happen? What were the stages along the way? The signs? The thought processes? The motivations? 

When someone shares their truth with others, it illuminates.

It resonates, provides options, invites consideration. 

I share my stuff here because, I get a lot out of reading the truth of others - in autobiographies, mostly. But, of course, also in personal stories told across a table, in a tent, on a haystack, or flying in a bucket seat in a sliver cigar.

One of the true beauties of ageing is the shedding of layers. The lack of need to impress. The seeing through the veils of presented images to the core nature. We are fucking amazing beings. There's no time to waste with ego-based surface garage. Once you reach a certain age it becomes all too apparent. And it's a relief. Life, where it was once all about  you, is no longer. It's about everyone. The bigger picture. You start to feel the joy of just being connected. Just being alive. Some habits, predilections, tendencies still shout or murmur in your ear, as the case may be, but you are not as compelled to acquiesce so easily. You have done it. You have done it - over and over. You've been trampling around, bumping into things and making messes for DECADES now. Some lessons have finally gotten through. We DO evolve. We do become wiser. Not much, but some. And wisdom is worth sharing. Can't hurt. At the very least it may amuse. And that's OK, too. 

Even the hint of smile on the face of just one person, one reader, makes writing this free style riffing rant worthwhile. I'm not doing it for me. I'm doing it for you.

OK, maybe a bit for me, too. But just cause I have to - no, just cause I don't have to. We can do what we want. It's not that serious.

To be honest, I don't feel the need to say anything a lot of the time. There is so much out there, so much already said, so much chatter, so much wonderful, lucid, erudite pontification on every conceivable subject, I think: why bother? Why take up the airspace, the time and energy - of my own and of the reader(s)(perchance there is more than one) when it could be spent more rewardingly. 

Let's say you are sitting in an alcove, outside a closed bakery, playing your recorder. Let's imagine you are fooling around with some new sounds and sequences, at the early stages of composing a new tune perhaps. Let's imagine that you are taking your time, enjoying yourself. Maybe there's a hat there, in front of you with a few coins in. Or maybe not. Anyway, next thing you know a fully fledged marching band comes around the corner and heads up the street you are on. They are practiced and co-ordinated, they fill the air with their syncopated music.

Are you still going to sit there, squeezing out your squeaky little song? No one can hear you - but that isn't really the point... You can no longer really hear yourself. It is definitely not so enjoyable anymore. Why bother, right? Why compete. You put your shiny stick with holes into it's elongated, purple velvet, draw string sack and move on. You might stay a moment and watch and hear the spectacle with everyone else - or maybe not - it's really not your thing.

You walk to the edge of town. Into the trees. You wander. You come across a stream. It is calming. You sit on a nearby rock, dangle your feet in the soothing water. Rays of sunshine penetrate the canopy, glisten in the water. Nature surrounds you. You inhabit it and, for a time, are one with it. 
You consider pulling out your recorder again and having a play. But somehow it seems superfluous. You are encompassed in a serene perfection. Just being there is enough. Time passes.

You get up, walk some more, absorb the gentle, glorious nature. You feel calm and content. 

Eventually, it is time to leave, to head back home. You walk out of the bush, back to civilisation. Then, you remember. You don't have a home. You are homeless. You grab a cardboard box on the way back to the alcove. It is starting to get dark, people are scarce, there's a chill in the air. You take your seat on the door step, bum on the cardboard. It's going to be a long night. You take out your recorder slowly, thoughtfully. You begin to play. It sounds lovely.

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.

I saw that word today and for some reason it struck a chord and  I began to ponder on it.

I have never been on a retreat. I still may, if the opportunity were to arise and feel right, but who knows. I am not partial to schedules - especially those that involve early mornings. I also don't like being expected to participate in things that I don't wish to. I was a stubborn child and strongly resented having to go to school and all it's brutish, senseless demands.

And yet, one day, I may get over it.

Or maybe never.

This is not what I was thinking, though. What I was thinking was about how to go on a retreat is considered a positive, nurturing, possibly life-expanding experience. But not everyone has the luxury to do that. 

The other kind of retreat - and a more fundamental one - is the kind we do on our own. To retreat into ourselves.

It's a function that is a vital part of our mental and spiritual health, survival even.

Innately, we know when we need to pull back, hide away, spend time alone, gather our thoughts, sit with our feelings.

We can do it with nature, with a book, with a movie, on a walk, a run, with music, in a bar, a library, on the couch, in bed.... wherever. 

Sometimes it is painful, sometimes with tears, sadness, hurt, sometimes confusion or anxiety.

But we go away, pull ourselves out... and somehow, with time and patience, come out the other end, ready again to face the world.

To retreat is important - a good thing. It is a mechanism for dealing with the 'too-much-nes' that comes along sometimes.

Is it not in the moments of retreat that we truly get to know ourselves?

We spend time, we contemplate, we mull things over, we let feelings wash over us, moods blow over, thoughts gather themselves and find some order.

In times of retreat, we are being brave. Brave in a quiet, necessary way. Brave in a very basic human way.

We know who we are, each of us. The world only knows a version. Everyone knows a different version, in fact, based upon their interpretation and connection. 

But we know ourselves. We've been with us from the beginning! And all the way through. How lucky we are to have our higher selves watching over us and protecting our best interests. How lucky we are that we can retreat.

Cause inside us, inside each of us, that's where the real treasures are. When you can accept yourself, see yourself clearly and begin to inhabit your soulful side, beyond the pain and anguish, letting go of the bothersome, old beliefs from the past, when you can sit with yourself in surrender, well, that is something softly, subtly, rather splendid.

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.