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Be You

17/12/2017

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One of the most important things to me is to be true to myself.

Being a person is not an easy task under any circumstances, not for anyone.

We all have our own ways of dealing with life’s demands.

Bottom line is: whatever works for you.

There are always complications - as we know - and sometimes things that work, stop working. So you have to find, manufacture, adopt, invent new strategies.

That being said there are a few things that can remain in your arsenal that will always serve you.

For me one of these is to always strive to know what is going on - not to always control because that is not possible - but at least to have a good sense of where my head space is and what I think and feel about situations. Basically, to listen to my intuition, my inner wisdom and let it guide me.

This doesn’t always work, of course, and various times I have gone astray, way off track. Sometimes for years at a time. In retrospect - once I have crawled out of whatever deep, deep hole I have dug myself into - I can work out where I made the wrong turns and how I can avoid the same mistakes in the future.

A few times I have gotten so far off the track that I was lucky to make it back alive.

But such is life.

In these times I have remained true to myself but have let certain aspects become hazy, misguided, misleading.

In effect, I have slowly lead myself astray or, on some occasions, allowed myself be lead astray.

I don’t know why - it’s a gradual thing usually. Like the frog in water that gets increasingly hotter over time - too subtle to notice till it’s almost too late.

Every time I have got myself into some kind of bad place - usually either in a relationship, through substance addiction or over indulgence or through lack of sound judgement, I have had to wake up to myself and begin the long and arduous process of reversing things, turning things around through change of habits, systematic re-evaluations and reconstruction of processes. In layman’s terms: ‘Getting my fucking act together!’

This is usually difficult in the beginning but becomes increasingly easier as the efforts begin to pay off and improvements become apparent.

Looking back now my usual trigger are emotional upset, depression, boredom, loss of direction or plain old simple self delusion. Sometimes they come from an event or series of events but not always.

I have recently surmised that the best defense is prevention. Heed the early signs of decline and intervene. Easier said than done - but henceforth I vow to be increasingly vigilant - cause after a full year of recovery and disciplined self improvement - and having reached a healthy and acceptable place and energy - I realise that extreme ups and downs take their toll on the psyche and I do not wish to slip again.

Even as these ‘bad’ phases were happening, I was still aware of making the best of situations, circumstances. I am not someone who knowingly self sabotages or makes things harder for myself on purpose. This is good - but in some ways, when I am on a descending arc, it is harder to identify. ‘Things are OK’, I will tell myself. But they aren’t.

You need to be heading in the right direction in the bigger picture of things. You need purpose, self improvement though disciplined efforts, a positive vision for your future, something to work on that is rewarding and nourishing. You need to feel useful and, if possible, loved.

As someone who spends a substantial amount of time each day thinking about things, assessing, pondering, considering - when I am writing poems or stories, or cooking up new projects, working on new creative ideas or planning my life flow - I also pay attention to my impulsive thoughts and reactions to situations and my feelings about what is occurring. Watching myself be myself. Wheels within wheels. This is something I am comfortable with and have been doing for a long time. Some may say I think too much and maybe I do. But that’s just who I am. It has it’s advantages and disadvantages. I am definitely my own boss in the mind department and allow myself free rein and a lot of slack. I am not fearful and often really enjoy just going where my mind takes me. Like an adventurer. I know the pitfalls, the dangers. I have gotten lost, gone too far before and I am wary. But I do believe that I am also capable and experienced in mind journeys and confident in my abilities. Like those guys who free climb those giant peaks.

I am not showing off. It’s nothing to show off about, really. Everybody is good at some thing(s). This is one of my things.

The point I began with, though, is about veracity, authenticity. I do not like lies, untruths, misrepresentations. They cloud things, they confuse, they create fog - which leads to missteps and accidents. Truth is harmonious, it is natural, it vibrates and a satisfying and rewarding, an uplifting frequency. It’s a bench mark, an anchor, a level surface. It is where I like to be. It is where we all like to be.

Circumstance, conflicting agendas, complex human chemistry and interactions can easily push us off course, however. It is easy to get confused, become misguided. I find that by spending a large portion of my time alone, in my own counsel, allows me to avoid interference. Of course, it can’t (and shouldn’t be) avoided altogether but if you can sift through what’s presented to you and try and filter out what serves your higher purpose as much as possible - that is what you should do.

I write these thoughts, freely and without edit or censorship. I aim to express what is present as clearly and meaningfully as possible. It is rewarding for me - to write and also to re-read later, but I also do it in the hope that it will be of value to others. I do not do it for attention, praise, financial reward or any reason other than a simple and pure need and desire to express my own truth.

We all love truth. We all need truth. We also need each other. This is my way of connecting. My way of sharing. I may be a bit of an island much of the time - but I am not that far off shore to be inaccessible to mainlanders.  One of my pleasures is to return to the mainland or visit other islands and recount my solo adventures, real and imagined.

I know there are many who spend much of their time and energy on their own islands - sentient beings just like me who try and make sense of existence and deal with it in their own unique way. We are a quirky bunch, stubborn, irrational at times but our hearts are in the right place. We probably suffer more than should but what choice do we have but to follow our destinies, the paths laid out in front of us. Sound familiar? Yes, I’m talking about you. We’re the same. Similar, anyway.

And even though that does not really bring big comfort - it does make a difference. We are alone but united in our lyrical aloneness. We are harmonious notes of the same concerto.

Don’t stress, I tell myself. But fucking things keep coming at me that challenge my chill. There is no escape. But what you can do is stay true. Whatever happens. Be you.
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All Considered

17/6/2017

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    I've long been writing poems. It is something that has appealed to me since my mid teens. It's a unique way of expressing thoughts and feelings. A playful way to shine a light on your deeper, more complex feelings. Because you are being concise and using rhyme, you take your time, you sit with things. You are not just saying what's on your mind but you are formulating it into a something that is going to be an entity unto itself. Without getting bogged down or stifled, you aim to let your thoughts flow freely but also channel them into a somewhat structured vessel. It's one of those things that the more you do it, the more you enjoy it.

Poems are personal. They can't help but be. That's the other thing I like about them. That can be perceived as being hyper sensitive, a bit wussy they are, in fact, the result of brutal honesty and bold expression. You think you are too tough, too cool to write a poem? Just try writing something that is your authentic truth and share it with the world. You have to be at very least carefree, if not a bit foolish, with a sound base of awareness and confidence.

Anybody can hit someone in the face - but try doing it with a poem. And not the face - the heart. And not hitting but moving. Being a human is equally tough for us all. A poet will synthesise these universal struggles and encapsulate them in a bite size lyric. To make it look simple, easy, takes a lifetime. And just to be clear, I am not classifying myself as any kind of master. I'm just a passionate enthusiast. That's passion and enthusiasm - two wonderful things to direct towards anything worthwhile. 

Anyway, the poetry writing comes and goes in waves but over the last few years it's quite steadily been one a day. About 44 minutes each one. I don't time it. In fact, time becomes inconsequential. It's an esoteric pursuit. That's one of the good things about it, you get lost in thought. Focus and mind travel transport you to a different plane. You gather and return. Scribble it down - see how it sounds.

Ultimately you're mostly just a secretary for the universal muse. Channeling. If it's any good, it's because you got out of your own way and let it flow. It's a good feeling. That's why I keep doing it, I guess.

This is one from today:


BLUE OF NIGHT

It's cold and grey
Around here today
Still I went for a swim
Got to get in
Got to get in

The ocean calls me
Soothes my skin and
My inner being
One with the world
When I'm wave catching
Even the briskness warms me up

Getting older is a funny thing
Not funny ha ha
But strange and complex
Like a gradual awakening
To a different dimension
Not as hectic
Nor as hyped as youth
More elastic
Not as tasty and it's got less bite
But you appreciate it's truth more
Like sipping fine wine
You can take your time
Cause, more or less, you know what's in store

This may not be a revelation to everybody
But it is to me
Because like a few others, maybe many
I kinda thought that I would be young forever
Well, not really
Just couldn't picture a drop in my vitality and verve
Found it hard to imagine
Health and money and relationships
Would ever need to be preserved

I spent it all when I had it
Wasn't wasted (though I was sometimes)
But nothing saved
I guess I was a bit of a radical
Whimsical, sometimes slightly OTT misbehaved
Fuck it was great
But, as I've learnt, it eventually goes away
Goes away
Dissipates

And you are left
With hair that is grey on top of a verteran brain
Brimming with an arsenal of memories
A body that is still OK but slowing down
Standing in a very different place
With somewhat fewer options
That's just a reality

New things to be learnt
Like grace and pace, humility
Boldness now displaced by sensibility
There's a new kind of vulnerability
A leveling of intensity
Which, quite honestly, is a welcome relief
And there's more self belief
I mean, hell, you made it this far!

Hats off - ha ha - no one cares that you are losing hair
Sure at first there's a smidge of despair
But vanity wanes
As you become more philosophical
You make less complaints - cause what's the point
You can show restraint
And small tragedies just seem comical

So what I am saying, I guess
Is that although some elements do get less
Other things come to take their place
More subtle, more precious, more enduring
LOL
It's called maturing
Can be both alarming and assuring
Even alluring
Take it as you will
Cause what is what is

Funny
It was a muted, bright afternoon
When I started to write
And while I have been focused on expressing these words
Around me I've observed the transitioning light
From the warm orange sunset
To the cool, deep, dark blue of night

And you know what
Everything has its time and place
And it's alright
I do believe that
It's alright


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smalltown/bigmind

20/3/2016

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I just had a vegie pizza (with anchovies and pineapple) at the local, old school pizza joint. They mostly do take away but there are two short bench tables up front and one or two small round tables up the back. It's so not trying hard that it's charm is irresistible. And the pizzas are made by an Aussie maestro. Prices are fair (this is starting to sound like an ad!) and they've got Chinotto - a deal clincher for me.

I get the medium and I leave two pieces. That is just the right amount. One extra piece and it's too much. Two extras and I feel heavy. Working out that this is the ideal size and amount took a bit of trial and error.

Anyway, driving home (it was 8:06 on the dash), I reversed out of the spot right in front and drove home, approximately 6 minutes away, through the centre of town. It's a Sunday. Along the way, I saw a total of three other cars. No people.

That is the first thing I like about living in this little town. (Population 3K and change). The second thing is that there are no traffic lights. None. There's one roundabout - but it never gets too busy.

The third thing... and I haven't planned this out, I am just going with the flow... is...

Meh! Do I really want to talk about living in a small town? Nah. I mean, it really is good. Not stressful, friendly, accessible.... etc. But I don't feel like writing a list or even thinking about it anymore. So, I'm going to change topics. 

I had a nap a little while ago. And after I woke up I thought about how refreshing it is to break the mind continuum by throwing in a sleep. During a day, you have to keep track of things, you have to deal with realities, schedules, other people, driving, weather conditions, communications... And it can be a little wearing. It requires concentration. That's fine but at a certain point, sometimes, you just want to opt out. And what a wonderful way snoozing is to do so. It's like floating. Your cares and concerns drift away, you can shut down for a time. Refresh. Seriously, I'm a great advocate.

I do believe that I have a naturally busy mind. Not only do I pay close attention to my surroundings and events, nuances and formulate thoughts and opinions from them, but I also am constantly thinking up new ideas for creative projects: stories, songs, books, movies, plays. On top of that, I tend to regularly observe my own thought patterns and tendencies and speculate on them, assess them and note them. I step back and look in from the outside. Why? Because it's interesting and it's something I have always done. It's like being a scientist of sorts, unpaid and unheralded, one who's job is to investigate the mind of himself. It can get quite wild, murky, disturbing at times. But it is something I have always done, so I am reasonably comfortable with it. And I learn things. I adapt. 

It is not foolproof, of course, and there have been times when I have spiralled. This tells me that I am fallible. And that, also, I am not fully in control. Even of myself. Sometimes, I just try and ride the wild horse. I just have to hang on.

This is true less and less. The older I get the more tame my mind has become. Or is it just more familiar. Are we old friends now. Does it care for me?

The interior life, eh! Some of you will be able to relate. And outsider will observe a person sitting in silence. But, oh, the goings on inside! My god! 

This is why I am so grateful for creativity. It is an outlet, a focus. It gives me a form in which to channel much of this electric, pulsing energy. Because we are so much more than just our basic entities. We are mini-universes, each of us. And yet, to the outside world, we present such cultivated tiny packages. 

In some ways, I guess, as a species, we are just now learning to open up more, be more expressive, more exorbitant, more truly representative of our complex souls. There is no need to hold back, to cloak, to disguise or restrain. We're all from the same crazy source. We're all facets of the one. The more of ourselves we release - the more it encourages others. And on and on. We can grow together, be free together. Release ourselves and each other. 

Not just us small town dwellers... but everyone!! 
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Fun with Thoughts

19/12/2015

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​Lying in bed this morning, thinking...
 
I thought about these blog entries and how what I am essentially doing is uploading my brain. I deas and daydreams that aren't shared, committed to words, are essentially lost in the ether.
 
On the other hand, thoughts that I make the effort to write are on record. As well as having my regular existence, I am creating a mirror of my mind - or part thereof. Of course, it's actually just a small part, a tiny part - probably less than .1%. But even .1% is still so much more than zero.
 
Because, as humans, our existence is limited, we do things to stretch the energy of self, to expand ourselves and leave a legacy. These legacies originate from a real being but they, by nature, become something else. While still based on what exists, they often grow into something beyond their points of origin. 
 
If you think about actors - what they do is present personalities for consumption. The record of their existence is magnified, mythologised. Their faces, their energies, are captured and amplified into the imaginations of millions. Their worth, their content is based upon their presentations of human being-ness. They are role models in many ways for many, on how to be a person. They present options. They start out their careers as regular, everyday people. As they progress, improve, hone their craft, gain attention and popularity, they themselves expand, take on the added energy from the attention that is garnered on them and become 'larger than life.' Inside each of them resides the original model, but it gets deluged by all the focus and pressure and expectation from the public, fed by the media.
 
With writers it is different. It's not about them - it's about the stories in their minds. It's about transferring, giving shape to their imaginations and amplifying that. In many ways, as humans, we live in two realms: the real world and the imagined world. I find the interplay between these two to be fascinating. These days the two have a lot of crossover. It is not implausible that eventually the imagined world will overtake the real. For some it may have already started. The power of story, while it has always been powerful, has got new and amazing tools at it's disposal and is increasingly engaging. One can easily get lost in all the different types of imagination presentation out there. In some ways it dwarfs our individual lives. It's like a snowstorm, an avalanche of outside imagination coming at us. No harm done, in most cases, it's our collective. For people from my generation, we had plenty of time to formulate our own identities. We were based in a simple world. What was, was. The biggest thing out there was movies. And most people would see only one of those a week - at most. The rest of life was all interracting with reality. TV was there, too, but it was more like a distraction - not all encompassing. It was a snack in black and white. On a tiny, petulant, rounded edge screen. 
 
Back to my original point - in some ways - if you do not create some kind of digital record of your existence these days - then you won't exist beyond your actual years. But if you create stuff - you can live on - you can be expanded upon, amplified.
 
Most of us have our facebook indentities. They are simple personality extensions. Our online representatives. We communicate and connect with and through them. I have many relationships that, while they began in reality, have grown and expanded through facebook. Some people, like old school friends from Tokyo, I may never actually see again (because they live in other countries) but our ties live on. Some people that I am 'friends' with I have never actually even met! We connected though common interests (art, comics, etc) and share brief moments and support - and we feel like we know each other - but may never even meet. It's kind of amazing. Mostly because this is only the beginning of the trend. I am speaking of digital existence. When our lives are translated to binary code. 
 
We aren't there yet. And in some ways this is a pretty special time to be a human. We are on the verge of crossing over. You will experience it in your life time. Some will go willingly, others will resist - even till death. Either way, it doesn't matter. We are headed where we are headed. Resistance is futile. Embrace things and the ride is much smoother. This is a good general rule, anyway. I'm not saying don't stand up for what you believe. Not at all. That is a vital part of a good life. I am saying when letting go is the only option - recognise it and just let go.
 
I have decided to embrace this practice of recording my thoughts. I have deemed my life lead to this point worthy of inspection, assessment, representation, interpretation and documentation. I am not doing it for any personal gain. I am doing it for the same reason I do most things: to see where it leads, because I got the impulse and was nudged along by circumstance.
 
I remember when I first started these blogs three years ago. My first entries where cranky and directionless. I was a bit like a child wandering around the playground. Still am, but now I am familiar with the space and know how the rides work. Now I am calling in other kids off the street, shouting - come in, have some fun. Let's explore our identities, our perceptions, our tendencies together. Let's share information on who we are and how we work, join together in exploration, examination and discovery. Let's pick it apart and put it back together. See how it works. Let's, let's, let's!
 
Through communication comes connection. Through connection comes expansion. Through expansion comes liberation. And everyone wants to be free! Share your feeling and thoughts, find a format that suits you and write them down. Even just for the reward of getting them out of your head, it is worth it. Not to mention what others may learn and gain from your sharing. Come on! Calling all minds! It's the newest revolution and it's just beginning. Well, not really just beginning - it's been going for ages. Growing. It's growing. Come, pee on the dirt. Join us.
 
Oy, not on my shoes!
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slave and master, both

18/11/2015

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I was just doing ordinary things yesterday when around 5:30 in the afternoon, as I was walking up a regular street, I got a burst of a feeling of how extraordinary ordinary life is. 

These feelings are most poignant when they come out of nowhere, hit you by surprise. It's a bit like you are coming awake in a dream and realising it's not a dream but real.

Nothing happened, per say, I just suddenly realised how miraculous it is to be present on this planet and participating amongst my fellow humans, many of whom were walking by me, each with their own dispositions and outlooks (often readable from their faces, their walks), in this amazingly complex and impossible to truly comprehend matrix we call reality.

Everyone was going somewhere. We're a busy species. Everyone, from what I could read on their faces (assume), was thinking about things in their life. I could suddenly see and feel all the mix of emotions and thoughts streaming around me. Life - the whole thing - is so immense that we tiny little humans with our personal stories and agendas are essentially insignificant. Our stress and worries certainly are. And yet, at times, they consume us. We get caught up. Everything we think is important we truly believe to be important. But it's not. It's all transient. Life is actually just a cosmic ride. 

It would help us all to shift our perspectives. Easier suggested than adopted, of course. But, really, really, we are shackled. We are victims of our own minds.

How to self liberate? Step one: know it is possible - and desirable. Two: try. Take yourself out of yourself and just observe. Remove attachment. Surrender. Be in the moment.

It all becomes a string of cliches - and this is a pity because the substance and power behind those words is key. It really is the way to begin to unleash your own truth and find a wider, more soulful understanding of what it is we are doing here.

I'm no guru. I'm down in the trenches with the rest of us. In it's own way it's comforting, familiar. But in another way, it is sad and wasteful - of our true potential. We are magnificent beings, much more than we realise. It is a dream we are living. And we can wake up into it. 

When you get a moment, as in 'get' a moment - hold onto the feeling of what can be. Find the hunger for it, for expansion of consciousness, for a taste of enlightenment. It's what we are here for, as a collective, all in it together. We're each distracted by our solitary stories and only rarely break free to see the grand beauty of the big picture. But it is there, it is there. Right now. Right here. Reach, reach!
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ruminations scrutinsed

19/1/2015

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I was driving in my car today, on the way to the beach, when a small cluster of thoughts swirled around my head, pushed hither and thither by the blasting air conditioning. It was one of those hot summer arvos when sweat pools in the tiny cave at the base of your back.

I was considering what I write about in these blogs - and why. If there really is no point to something, then why do it. I certainly am one who tries to streamline my life as much as possible in order to have maximum chill time / creative time. 

I realise that in the long run - in the bigger picture - that any little personal recordings like this are of such infinitesimally small consequence that they are almost completely futile. However, we all have to do something with our lives - you know - to fill in the time - so as long as an activity like this brings some measure of reward - to myself/and others - then it's not a bad thing.

Then I thought about how I love reading memoirs and autobiographies. I pick up a couple each week from the library and usually finish at least one of them. Not only of major achievers and persons of note - but equally of those who have chosen interesting paths or experienced unique situations. Often the more obscure ones are even more enjoyable. There's something to reading an honest, untrained voice that feels immediately comfortable and accessible.

So, I thought; these notes, these artist recordings - perhaps they are a bit like those. For the reader the relaxed and easy presentation of the inner workings of my mind and psyche may work in a similar way that those books do for me. They don't have to be slick or snazzy - or really even have something momentous occur - it's just pleasurable to inhabit another's headspace sometimes. Just to take a break from your own.

So, yeah, I thought to myself. That's enough of a good reason to keep these small rambles tumbling out. I know how much I like to temporarily inhabit other head spaces for let. I can continue to make the effort and allow at least partial entry into aspects of mine. It's not really mine after all. It's just a particular twist and flavour of the same thing we all experience - this collection of experiences, challenges and small awakenings that jostle and mould us - this funny old thing called life.

In some ways this here is my way of sharing - of giving back. Offering temporary respite to whoever has somehow - by design or happenstance - stumbled upon them.


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beyonder landing

18/12/2014

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I was lying on my bed early this evening, having a rest before the night's entertainment episodes (Project Runway All Stars, Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and an ep or two of the final season of Sons of Anarchy), thinking about the day, thinking about what is, what could be, things that are and things that may be, as well as some that never will, when I considered what this blog entry might be.

I usually don't think about it too much in advance, just shake up the jar, open the lid and see what spills out - but I wanted to write something with currency, perhaps even temerity. I wanted to do this because I have an internal rating system in my memory and carry a constant idea of the aggregate weight and substance of my recent entries. If I feel there has been too much fluff or self indulgence in sequence, I try and mine the deeper recesses of my creative subconscious for some stuff of greater value, higher payoff, more meaning. If not gold, because gold has to be stumbled upon, not manufactured, then at least a good vein of silver or some random shiny diamonds.

And did I find anything while mining my mind tonight? 

Maybe. I cannot say.

What I did come up with was the realisation that whatever I write here in this cyberspace journal, my artist's diary, is really only a translation of what goes on in my head. And a pretty rough one at that. Rough and basic. Very basic. The true nature of what occurs in our minds is so vastly more complex and incredible than we could ever express with mere words that it is almost inane. It's like a super genius explaining something to an eight year old and then getting him or her to then retell it to a friend the next day during playtime. 

Seriously. I was paying some close attention to the amazing, yes, amazing, cerebral zinging that was going on while I was prone pondering this evening - and I knew, that there would be absolutely no way that I could ever, EVER express the full spectrum of the stellar light show that was occurring. Still, I resolved, I would try. At very least I would be able to explain and apologise for the gap between what goes on and what is reported. And that in itself, that may be somewhat illuminating.

What I am saying is true for us all. We are so much more complex than we realise. We are absorbing and processing and filtering such a vast amount of information from so many sources on so many levels in our every waking moment. And then, when it comes time to condense and arrange it, we end up with, by default, a simplistic sliver of the whole. It's not a surprise, really - or a revelation. But the interesting thing is that a lot of the wild thinking can be observed in moments of solitude and respite and not only enjoyed but quietly marvelled at. What beings we are! Incredible. Way, way, way beyond what we give ourselves credit for. And way beyond what we are currently able to manifest. Or type out in a soliloquy. And this is a good thing to acknowledge. Because it means that we are all very much richer than we know. 

Take a look, have a listen to what goes through your mind when you take some time out to quietly think or meditate. Once you go out beyond the breaking waves of the chatter, there's a whole ocean of incredible power and timeless beauty there. It's yours. It's you. It's all of us.

Despite the horrible tragedies and injustices that are occurring daily in our time - that seem to be coming to a head, perhaps - there lies beyond a splendid and unlimited array of alternative realities within each of us. Accessible now. 

Go on, go take a look. See for yourself. It's just like someone whispered. The change we long to see in this world comes from within.
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ignition

25/9/2014

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Just a little spark is all I need
Like this morning
I was awake
More awake than some mornings

Just a little spark
I read a word
Just a single word
That lit a fuse

Ignited by passion
It's not a predictable thing
Passion lives in a world of it's own
With it's own rules
With no rules

I think of Raymond Carver
His words
Chosen
Select
The effect
Sublime

I think of the artist
Say Picasso
No, Van Gogh
Or Hockney, yeah, Hockney
The colours presented
A miracle to behold

I think of a lifetime
So much struggle
By the time we realise
It's not the game we thought it was
It's too late
Too late

So any spark
Be it in the morning, at night, at twilight 
Forget the cocktails
Get up from the patio
We're gonna dance
We're gonna dance
Cause this may be the last chance we get


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skull guru

23/9/2014

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Someone asked me the other day why I like putting skulls in my art.

I like skulls because they are powerful icons. They represent many poignant things. Life, death, mortality, fear, even freedom.

By making them colourful, ornate, lively, it softens their confrontational power and makes them accessible and almost friendly. After all, every skull used to be someone kicking around on the planet with organs and vessels in a skin sack attached.

They evoke contemplation about the past and the future. In a sense about the whole enterprise of existence. How fragile it is, how temporary, how paradoxical. No one knows what is next - it's life's greatest mystery - but a skull is a reminder - it's coming!

Making them into colourful art is like trying to bring some life back to the dead. Not possible, but fun to try.

You can see some of my recent skull work on this site - click on skull guru. Git some skull into ya!



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in box

30/8/2014

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I get into my room and close the door and the world is mine. I am away. I am detached. Flying free.

It's not a very big room, or glamourous. Say three metres square - enough room for my bed, my desk, two bookshelves and a small space to stand up in in the middle. The floor is wooden and I've placed a fuzzy black bathmat beside the bed for when I step out of bed. Bit of luxury for the feet, you know.

The walls are covered with my paintings of various sizes and using removable hooks I've hung a few dozen nicknacks. A little Mexican skeleton, a smiling heart, a poker medallion, Indian dream catcher. The ceiling is high; which I like and appreciate. I've covered the window pane - comprised of three single, metre long, opening-out windows (always open) - with a mesh I found in a cupboard to keep out creepy crawlies. There are, however, spider webs in every upper corner. I don't mind them. Sometimes I see a spider and once I saw a tiny mouse.

When I come in here, I almost always close the door. It's my retreat. I eat my breakfast (sliced fruit in bowl - watermelon, papaya, kiwi, banana, passionfruit), in here every morning. When I say morning, I mean my morning; it's actually closer to lunch time more often than not. On the rare night that I am not out at a poker tournament, I will eat my dinner in here (salad or scrambled eggs), too. 

After I have done all my net surfing, research, writing and creative stuff of an evening, say around midnight or one, I will drag the small folding desk away from the wall and closer to my bed. There I have set up some pillows and cushions in the corner against the wall. Instant lounge room. I plug in my TDK cordless headphone jack into the back of the Mac and click open the orange cone logo for the VLC player. From my hard drive I select an episode of my latest favourite series. Could be anything ranging from a Canadian cooking contest (Chopped Canada) to the latest UFC bouts to comedy like Portlandia or Parks & Recreation. If I want a snack, I'll have those rice disks that everyone loves with some hummus. I've been meaning to make my own, but I usually buy it. Sometimes, I'll add a dollop of sweet chilli sauce to customise it. If I am still watching something around two am, I'll make a coffee with one of those Robert Timms coffee bags. It doesn't stop me from sleeping when I am ready. 

I share the house with two others; a girl and a guy, both around my age. We are all peaceful, quiet, creative. Karen designs and makes unique, luxurious garments and Mikey is a substitute highschool teacher and a high ranking chess player. There's a herb and vege garden outside and a roving chicken. There's a caravan up the back and Scotty visits a few times a year. He makes a living on the stock market. We are all single and OK with it. You get to a certain age and realise that being in a relationship is not the redemption, the reward, the necessity that you used to believe. I feel lucky to be in a household with two other decent and compassionate, respectful people.

But I still close my door. I like being alone. Withdrawing. Letting time float by. I like the night. I like silence. I like the feeling of being mildly stoned that comes from just being really mellow and peaceful, solitary. Sometimes I just lie on my bed and think about things. Sometimes I drift into slumber and dream magnificently. Days and nights can blur and blend, weeks can go by without a ripple. I don't mind. I know the path leads nowhere/never ends. I am in no hurry. My needs and desires are minimal these days. It's easier. Nothing to prove, nothing to lose. I appreciate nature, children, humour from any source... I appreciate still being around to see and experience whatever happens. I delight in my own limitations and insignificance. 

In my lifelong struggle for liberation, I have found it in a little box. Alone at my desk or prone on my old bed. Soulful, serene and satiated by simplicity.




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put up a parking lot

11/8/2014

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My brother Mook sent me this picture of a parking lot in Tokyo yesterday. In it's place, up until recently, was Roppongi Square Building. RSB housed five or six nightclubs, a tiny cafe and a sprawling, ground floor game centre. I spent much of my youth in that building. 

I was a regular at the cafe, afternoons, after school, I would ride my motorbike there and hang out with the cool twenty-something Japanese dudes drinking coffees and puffing away on Seven Stars. I was the only foreigner there, somehow I had been admitted into the congenial gang. Sometimes we would saunter into the game centre and play the latest low-tech, novel amusement machines - bingo pinball. 
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I had completely forgotten about playing these machines but suddenly I was reminded how much I loved playing them. They were quite difficult to master - many decisions and stratergies and also ball control with gentle tilting and jousting with the machine. I wish I could play it again. Right now. Getting the ball down to 23, 24 and 25 - sometimes crucial -was a major task and then navigating it into the exact number you needed to line up your bingo - well, when achieved was an ecstatic moment.

The game centre had plenty of electronic games, of course. This was mid to late 70's, so it was all about Space Invaders, Mission Control, Car Driving Games, Pac Man and the like. During the day, on weekends, my brothers, Mook and Rich, and I would go there, if we weren't in Shibuya - which offered more great games centres PLUS pachinko (upright Japanese ball bearing game) PLUS movie theatres with the latest releases. 

At nights the Roppongi game centre was very popular with post dinner visitors and pre and post disco and nightclub revellers. I can smell and feel the boozy, smokey atmosphere right now. Even at their rowdiest, Japanese are quite contained and always polite. It was an awesome place to grow up on so many levels.

And many levels is what RSB had. My favourite discos - Nepenta and Giza were housed there. I would go there at least one night a week. I had a three piece suit and cowboy boots. It was the disco heyday in Japan, Saturday Night Fever created a frenzy and nightlife boomed. I had so many experiences there, across the threshold, that I plan to write a book about it one day soon. I saw things, did things, was immersed. I grew up there. From kid to seasoned night crawler. Roppongi nights. Like no other.
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We lived in Nishi Azabu. Our modest home was positioned right in between Hiroo Station and Roppongi Station on the Hibiya Line. Before I got my motorbike and started riding to School, I used to walk down to Hiroo (pictured above) and catch the subway and two trains to school. In the bottom right hand corner of the picture, downstairs, B1, was a tiny black leather, atmospheric cafe called Eruza. But everyone called it Comos. It was where the girls from Sacred Heart International School would go after school to hang out, drinking brews and smoke. A few of the boys from my class would go there after school also, arriving around 45 to 50 minutes later with commute. I was lucky to live close by and would almost always be part of the last group to leave around 5:30 or 6. I could just walk up the hill, Zaimokucho, to get home from dinner. It was the most education I got, down there in that dark, moody cafe. The banter, gossip, information exchange, romancing and friendship that were created and nurtured down there were priceless. 

Even at the time, I remember feeling so lucky and grateful being able to have such a valuable after school outlet for personality exchanges and general youthful exuberance and conceptual rebellion. We smoke ciggies, drank iced coffees, told stories.... there were tears, uncontrollable laughing sessions, serious arguments. But we were cohesive. A core group of about a dozen girls and half a dozen guys. My best friend, Jenny, a Hawaiian girl, was a cheerleader, sports star, academic achiever and very friendly and popular. She was an essential part of my belonging and maturing. She was very kind and beautiful on every level. We never dated. She went out with my friends and I went out with hers. The friendship was more precious, too precious to risk loosing. I was, even back then, in some ways an outsider, a joker. I had long hair and would risk getting in trouble at school if it meant getting some good laughs. In fact, I remember more than a few times, being suspended from school, and riding my motorbike to Comos, spending the day hanging out there reading one of my ever present paperbacks, waiting for the girls to arrive. Jenny would see me there already at three and know I had been mischievous. 

She was equally as playful in spirit but managed to avoid reprimand. We shared a love of fun and people. Her acceptance and embrace of me got me in with the rest of the girls, too. (I was 9 months to a year younger than everyone in the year.) There was a Texan, a Korean, some Japanese American halves, a Brazilian/Japanese at the core. I got close to them all and learnt SO MUCH from them about the workings of the female species. Many times, it was just me and the girls. I would just sit back and listen, absorb, throw in a joke now and then or answer a query, as best I could, about my own gender. It was almost like being a spy. But I never betrayed their confidence. Not once. I had too much respect for what I considered in many ways to be the superior sex. They were certainly more mature and wiser. Plus, they definitely looked and smelled better. I loved being around those girls! I think I kind of knew how lucky I was but tried not to make a big deal of it. Looking back now, I realise I was REALLY lucky. Insights gained then have taken me far in relationships and in generally understanding and appreciating humanity.

Ah, all these memories from a picture of a parking lot. They pulled down the building of my youth but they can't touch the priceless and golden alter of my friendships and experiences.
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Fragments

6/8/2014

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Picture
Fragments of memories of experiences long gone
Fading but not forgotten
Fortune's favourite song

Keep pushing that replay button

Did you ride high in the sky that day?
Did you holler with pride, screech with joy?
Was the whole world yours for that moment?
Tell me, was it unreal, did it haphazardly happen?
Your one of a kind, unique and special favourite story?

We all have them stored away safely

Some shouted out in barrooms 
Some still secret between just you and them
A few even made the papers maybe
Some just make you want to go back again

But you don't get second chances
In this showreel, fluttering, fleeting
And no returns, no two time burns
The drums just keep on beating

So move on to new peaks and pinnacles
You haven't finished until the end
Do not be dragged down by the mundane or the clinical
You've got the reputation of your lifetime to defend

Fire up
Loosen out
Grind and grind some more
Chin up
Crush the doubt
Power aid your core

With every thousand new dreams
One true adventure is born
Honour your primitive need
To be ignited, invited, reborn

You are still breathing, aren't you?
Then there is hope, there are chances
For in the end, you want to be there laughing, wild eyed
As your skeleton does it's majestic final dances



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pushing past the past

20/7/2014

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Picture
I was walking along the beach this afternoon, thinking. Thinking, as I always do. I try to trudge out any noisy, annoying, negative thoughts within the first kilometre or less, so that I can get to some useful cogitation, some thoughts of substance; elevated mindfulness. 

The early part of the walk, the downer thoughts usually have to do with the sadness I carry around. Sadness that comes from childhood. Sadness to do with the lack of love and support I received as a kid, the inner struggle that was ever present, the loneliness, the insecurity, the tears.

I try to see beyond, to make amends, to forgive, forget. But I can't. Sometimes I feel like I am damaged goods. That I am doing the best with what I have got, but that I could have been so much more. Other times, I just, shrug and say fuckit, carry on. Expect less. Accept. Surrender. 

Waa, waa, waa. Isn't everyone just the same, though. Aren't we all fallen angels, broken machines, injured souls. I think so. So it's really about coping. And carrying on.

Anyway, I was walking along today and on my way back, I mentally compared life to the beach stroll. At a certain point, you turn back. On the way back you are covering the same ground, but you see things differently. Just like when you hit your forties or fifties, you have lived a fair chunk of life and you can actually use it to look back on and consider who you are and what you have done. When you are in your teens, twenties, you just go for it. You have no perspective. 

Obviously, things slow down as you get older. Some things you have done hundreds, thousands of times. You are well versed in the everyday requirements and expectations of being a human. (Hopefully.) Your needs and urges wane. Your ego has taken countless beatings and can now shut the fuck up sometimes, take a back seat, maybe even disappear. 

You've most likely been through at least a few wonderful relationships that end, either badly, terribly or not very well. You've seen the ugly side of yourself and others. You have tried and failed. Tried again and failed again. You sometimes get lucky and somethings work out alright. 

Mostly, though, you realise that life is not all fun and games. It's a challenge. And it keeps on being one. The parameters shift but the rules stay the same. As hard as it all is, you wish it didn't have to go by so quickly. There are many, many things you would do differently, given the chance. But you don't get second chances. Not really.

Strangely, there is a certain calm, acceptance that comes with age. You probably believe more in destiny. You know what you can do and can't do. You know how to make do with less. You know how to enjoy more from little. Nature appears more vividly and has a bigger place. Children offer delight, hope, warmth and a reason for still caring, still fighting. The miracle of existence, as a whole package, can be appreciated more often and readily. You know you are going to die. You've seen it happen to people around you. You may or may not think about it much, but you definitely know it's coming, getting closer. This can be a comforting thing or a frightening one. Depends on the individual, on the day, the circumstance.

Sometimes, not today, but every few weeks, I look out onto the horizon, while on my walk, and think, every picture I have ever done, even if it was expanded to 1,000 times it's size, would only fill the tiniest fraction of a single percent of this vista. Every day, every hour, the glorious outlook; the sky, the ocean, the beach changes and delights. A dynamic, breathtaking, living work of art. What I do, making little pictures, well, comparatively, it's just laughable. Of so little consequence. Why do I bother? It will never amount to anything. It is of absolutely no significance. In fact, my life, is of no significance. Not in the long run. Not really. Not when you realise and understand that it's all just a self created illusion. Not one of us is more that a grain of sand. So why bother? 

See what I deal with on my daily walk? These are the kinds of things that go through my head. And looking at me, from the outside, if you chanced to see me walk past - you'd just see a dude taking a stroll. You wouldn't look twice. But in the silence, behind those squinting eyes - a battle rages. The struggle of self. The coming to terms with the quagmire of existence. The never ending questioning. Like the waves crashing on the shore. Relentless. And yet, soothing. Somehow. Kinda soothing. Comfortable. 

One step at a time. Down the beach and back up it. A dip in the ocean. A frolic in the waves. The sun shines on skin. The seagulls jeer. The spirit is uplifted after a commune with nature's essence. The petty concerns washed away with the tide for another day. 

I'll be back tomorrow to do it all again.


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cat n me

13/7/2014

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"Miles from nowhere
Guess I'll take my time
To reach there..."

Cat Stevens was a guiding force in my formative teen years. I learnt every word on the album Tea for the Tillerman and would listen to it (on vinyl; end of side A, flip it over and put the needle back down on side B, rpt - a process unknown to more recent arrivals on Planet E) over and over. So many incredibly soulful, meaningful, spiritual songs. All of them as relevant and poignant today as they were when first released in the early 70's. 

Father and Son
Wild World
Where Do The Children Play
Miles From Nowhere
But I Might Die Tonight
On The Road To Find Out

That's just some of them. I'd have a favourite for a few months and then move onto the next. As a rebellious teen, I didn't get any guidance from my parents or school. I was pretty much left to my own devices to work things out. Real world experiences, friends, a steady flow of books, and a few select albums. Cat was number one. He had it all - the inventive, pure, melodic music with the meaningful lyrics. Other faves were Elton John (Yellow Brick Road) and Jackson Browne.

"Be wise, look ahead
Use your eyes he said
Be straight, think right
But I might die tonight!"


Cat was an anti-establishment, anti-authoritarian guy. He seemed, in his mellifluous, calmly charismatic voice, to be talking to my young teenage self, saying, "you are right not to buy into all the bullshit, find your own way." Some of this I had worked out myself, it was innate, but having Cat back me up, with his wisdom, quiet charm and self assurance sure helped.


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u be u

22/6/2014

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Just saw a picture posted on facebook of a distant cousin of mine. It was a post-lunch shot, out with his wife and mother-in-law. He's wearing slacks with black leather shoes, a tucked-in shirt and a sports jacket. Everyone is smiling and happy. And I'm happy for them. 

It did feel a little formal and forced, however. And it reminded me of times, long ago now, when I would do things like that.
- tucked-in shirt
- uncomfortable shoes
- ironed pants
- attending functions I would rather not

It reminded me that my goal in life has always been to be and become as liberated as possible. We are all bound by social structures of some sort. One way is to accept them and carry on. There is plenty of good stuff within the confines of conformity. This has never been my way, however. I have never enjoyed forced conversations, false politeness, pressured attendance of functions or events not of my choosing....

I realised, looking at this photo, that I have come a long way. 
- I'm almost always barefoot or in sandals
- I wear comfortable shorts all year 
- All my shirts have the sleeves cut off
- I no longer attend stiff or formal gatherings
- I am not expected to behave in any certain way by anyone

etc.

And the important thing here is that this is the way I prefer to be. This is how I function most efficiently. The less stress, expectation, pressure: the better. I rarely get mail, my phone almost never rings, I don't get invited to dinners or parties.... and I am so relieved.

It's not that I am shy or do not like people. I love human interaction. It's just I don't like feeling trapped or having things expected of me. When I go to the local cafe in the afternoon, all the staff knows me and we joke around. Same as poker in the evenings; it's very friendly and social. But it's also very accepting. If you don't feel like chatting - you don't. 

I guess I have found a place, sculpted a format of existence, that is well suited to my lone wolf, artistic gypsy temperament. I realised all this, just now, seeing that photo. I could see where my cuz is at. He may, too, liberate himself. He may not need to. He may love his place already. But me, I found that way of living to constricting. I had to get divorced, I had stop wearing shoes, I had to curtail social interactions that were no longer meaningful or rewarding. I had to move out of the big city.

Instead, I spend time alone, thinking, making art, reading, writing, playing games, joking around... all the good stuff. Simple, nourishing, natural activities. The stuff that I have always enjoyed the most. If - or when - I can make a more than just surviving living out of it all - then I will add travel and driving a nice car to the list. Until then I'll count my blessings.

If you are able to claim what you need in life, and you can, then you should. Only you know what best suits you. Find it, work it out, go for it. You'll never have it all - but, hey, you might just find the less you've got the better.


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    ART GETS ME HIGH

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    Author & Artist

    Lewie JPD 
    Blog Mission Statement: 

    "I am taking this opportunity to openly and freely express my simple truth in a relaxed, stream of consciousness manner, without self judgment or editing while transcribing and celebrating the process and practice of being an artist.

    My goal is that I will have some fun recording sentiments and thoughts as they come to me, coupled with my recent imagery. As well; to learn something of value and share something that may inspire/offer insight to other artists, creatives and sentient beings."


    Disclaimer: He's high!
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