I woke up today at 2am. It was raining outside and the rain drops were drumming steel materials outside my window. Drum solo. The gods having band rehearsal. I knew 5 hours was not enough sleep (went to bed at 21pm last night) so tried to sleep more but was met with lacklustre results.
So then put on my “The Magic In Your Mind” audiobook on my phone and set it beside me on the bed with a volume level that was comfortable. I listened and learned about thoughts and things and how everything emerges from thought and the primordial source from which thoughts apparently arise.
I thought about doing my morning meditation after this chapter ended but tried to sleep again, much to no avail. It’s not happening so I got up. Opened curtains and windows. Urinated, brushed teeth and weighed myself: 90.2kg (I have lost about 4-5kg in last few months and wanna get down to 80kg or under. Better for yoga and wellness. I will build muscle later once body is purified from toxins.
Next I drank a small glass of tap water and went out for a walk with my ipod nano and Koss headphones. The songs were from a playlist I tittled “2021” so songs I had bought that year on itunes. I cursed the gods for a brief moment when the ipod said battery is running low although it was charging all day yesterday. There seems to be an issue with the usb cable I use to charge it. Or the socket it goes into on the ipod. Not sure which.
It was raining outside. The air was fresh. It was by then around 3-4am. Not exactly sure. The city was still asleep besides one young dude who walked past me in the park. He had a backpack and a can of beer in his other hand. Probably going home after a party or something.
I walked to the harbour and stood on a dock with the hood of my jacket covering my head and ears. Gazed out into the lake. There was a fountain there with neon lights. The sky and clouds covered the landscape and I wondered if it was also looking at me. I felt grateful that I was here. And perplexed at the magnitude of it all, including my own suffering and struggle to conquer my dreams. Then reminded myself that the art of conquering is a verb and not an absolute state. It’s all about the journey yes yes yes, I get that. Just feeling quite… rudderless.
It started yesterday after I had published the day’s post on this blog and realised it’s already quite late. I had been writing all day and getting this blog setup. When was I supposed to make music and become a filmmaker? Did I once again bite off more than I can chew? Why do I make everything so complicated? I bragged about how I had finally figured it all out. The breakthrough of needing to open heart.
It turns out I am a total impostor. These breakthroughs are just passing events. I get too caught up in them. Nothing has changed. Or maybe everything has. The heart yearns for what the mind cannot give. And the mind is unimpressed by the heart’s desires.
I had nothing left in the tank for music or film. I was hungry and hadn’t eaten anything except the smoothie I had made earlier. How else am I gonna drop another 10kg if I am eating all the time? It has been quite suprising though how slowly the weight seems to come off even I am consuming very little calories. Probably around 1500 most days.
Why was I feeling this anxiety again? And then the whole cycle of doubt starts a negative spiral vortex of bad thoughts about unrelated things and disappointed and broken and guilty for not having cured humanity of all its woes. This is when the real war begins. The big chorus of dissenting voices proudly voicing their own commands like jocks in a locker room with booming voices that can drive a man of a quiet disposition like myself quite bonkers.
My mother had called in the morning and asked when I am visiting. I did not know. But would like to go to parents lakehouse to record music. But I can only do it when nobody else is around. And recording in my apartment is limited because there are neighbours and rules. They also have a piano which is a luxury I have not been able to afford thus far. When I’m there alone I can play as loud as I want, whenever I want.
But like most people I know, my parents are living a different kind of life compared to me. They are locked into the system, believe in it and live by its creeds. They follow the media, watch the news and echo the opinions of the masses and obey the authorities that tell people what to think, what to eat, and what to do and when to do it. It is very challenging to break free from this collective madness but even more challening to be with other humans who have no wish to do so or even believe that this is possible.
Or it could just be a matter of temperament. Since childhood I have always felt quite different to everyone else. And feeling like I need to pretend this is not so and thus hide from them so they don’t cast me out for being this alien freak. And that’s probably why I gravitated towards the arts. I found solace in the works of other freaks and outcasts. Eventually I understood that this very dichotomy is what drives the artist to create his work as a bridge between these two extremes of the artist and the “normie”.
I can only handle people in small doses. And it is a very select few to whom I reveal my inner worlds and grievances, my hopes and dreams, often oversharing and burdening their inboxes and messenger screens with my manic tirades and cosmic epiphanies. When I violate this rule, and reveal my ways to those for whom they seem extreme and provocative, I am met with a barage of judgements and unsolicited advice. Because of my ongoing issues with co-dependency, identity and boundaries, my defenses are often caught sleeping on the job by the time the arrows have found their mark.
This is why I am alone most days. I have no idea how to deal with other humans. Yet I want to. I long for community and belonging. But even that becomes this unhealthy obsession. I want to heal the world and save everyone. The truth is, most people don’t want to be healed or saved. They just wanna do their things, live their lives and do their best. And I respect that.
I am too intense and obsessed. It’s just too much for most people. This makes me feel ashamed and guilty and alone. So I have to really tone it down when around others and just stay calm, not burden them too much with my complex ideas and ridiculous dreams. Why can’t you just be yourself? Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult? I don’t know. Just the way I am. And if I pretend to be different then I feel fake. So do you want me to be the real me or the one you need me to be? Even this paragraph and article gives you a taste of the force of this creative power. It can explode at all times in a million directions and you will be floored by it’s breathtaking beauty when you surrender to it. As will I and that is why I worship the divine muse and nobody else. Ever.
It is almost 7:30am and I just finished my cup of decaf with sugar and almond milk. Gonna setup the newsletter today. Then read, nap, play through some songs and think about which ones I need to record for maximum impact. Singles or albums? I don’t know man. I have no answers. Just poetry.
As much as there is chaos, anxiety and uncertainty on this path… there is also the deepest joy and euphoria on the pursuit of this mysterious entity they call love or god or truth or whatever word you wanna choose. All words lead to the same place. And nobody knows what that place is. The artist journey is about finding out.
Come what may.
