Feed Me

Feed me,

Inspire me,

Invigorate me,

Stimulate me,

Quench my thirst.

Love me,

Hold me,

Support me,

Nurture me,

Quell my self doubt.

Unlock me,

Open me,

See me,

Accept me,

I am free.

To My Beloved Time

To my beloved Time,

I feel as if I’m losing you. It seems like you are running away from me. Where are you going in such a rush? We have been together ever since I can first remember. In the start of our relationship it felt like I had so much of you. Sometimes, too much. At a tender young age you stifled me and I felt like I was the one running, trying to pull you along with me. Now as I have matured, it appears you are ahead but are leaving me behind.

Can’t we just slow dance for a while and enjoy each other? Hold each other close, breathe in our scent, cheek bone to cheek bone and feel our heart beat? Or even for one moment, can’t we just stand still, holding hands and view our world with a smile? These are my desires, as I feel exhausted trying to keep up with you. I fear that this has become a one way relationship. Despite my efforts, there are moments where I lose you for minutes, hours, days, months and even years. I look back over our long history together and feel saddened that some of it appears to be a blur when I used to be able to remember and savour so much.

I lust for you like no other. I’m ruled by you. I bow to your feet. Without you everything seems to warp into chaos. Where do you go when you escape me? Will you ever return? I fear I know this answer but I pray, one day, that you can prove me wrong.

You are unforgiving my love. It pains me to be with you, yet I could never live without you. You are my unconditional partner in life. With that said, I know that I must continue trying my best to keep up with you, to manage both you and myself so that I won’t lose you and fall into an abyss that would surely challenge my sanity.

Yours Truly,

A mere mortal

xo

Five Stages of Grief Within Twenty Minutes

A few days ago a couple of my friends came over to watch a movie. After conquering our indecisiveness the anime film Porco Rosso was chosen. We settled in and let our imagination enter the world of Miyazaki while our eye balls were licked with his artistry. The film was coming to a wrap, the resolution of the plot was just around the corner (or so I thought and expected) but no, it ended without the ending that leaves you satisfied with a grin or watery eyes. I couldn't believe it, this wasn't like Miyazaki! How could this be?

My reaction was amusing and after minutes of hearing my rambling a friend commented that it had seemed I had gone through the five stages of grief. It stopped me short. I had actually had gone through these stages, all within twenty minutes!

1. Denial. I couldn't believe that it was the end of the story. I sat through the credits just to see if there was some implanted hint that could help conclude the story.

2. Anger. I believe I spoke to the screen venting with the final words being 'F*$k you!' What was the point of this?

3. Bargaining. Surely there was an explanation! I was willing to give up my time to scour the internet in order to find the answers to my questions.

4. Depression. I felt down that was all that I was going to get from the movie. Why had I bothered to watch it?

5. Acceptance. I accepted the end. That's how it was.

After my grief I discussed the film further and the end without having an end was perfect for the story. How could I have ever doubted Miyazaki? It was beautiful in every aspect, as always. I just thought it was interesting that the five stages of grief can be applied to such minor reactions.

A Moment of Serenity.

Knee bends

Hip drops

Shoulders roll back

Chest rolls forward

Back curves

Chin pushes out

Eyes close

Eyebrows raise

Lips prickle with a grin

Fingers click

Smooth lyrical words caress the ears

Tickling nerves as it flows through the spine

Toes mimmick the drum beat

Body loose

Vocal chords tighten and vibrate

Harmonising to the melody

Serenity.

I remain stuck, for now.

I want to write.

To vocalise my thoughts by tapping my fingers across my laptop's keyboard as if I had a purpose or even a tangent of thought worth expressing.

I can't even seem to be able to hold my favourite pen (that's right, I'm one of those people who dig stationary, among other things but that's for later) long enough for it to swivel and illustrate my rounded, loopy and cursive writing.

Except now. Except now it's useless. I can express my blockage of sorts, yet unable to record the numerous thoughts that rush/float/circle/jab/whisper/converse through my mind.

I may have had a few moments of doing this but they have been scattered and unreliable. They have occurred by sleeplessness where my frustration leads to me to the keyboard and I spray the verbal diarrhoea in one hit on this blog or a spark of inspiration occurs spontaneously where I hastily record it in my wee notebook, which I take everywhere.

So it is now one of my resolutions to sit and remain so until I write something/anything down on a regular basis, preferably one of many pointless ponderings.

Let's see if iron will will prevail.

Blockage

Blockage --> something preventing flow and progress

perfectionism --> strength or weakness? --> an obstacle to build strength --> pursuit of something refined and worthy --> inspiration or inhibition? --> its my blockage to true expression --> how can it be perfect when it should be raw and free?

This is my blockage to break or at least attempt to corrode it by facing it, pushing it and accepting it... somehow.

Acceptance.

What will be, will be.

What is, just is.

What was, was.

Let go and flow.

Be present.

Don't expect.

Enjoy now, appreciate yesterday and be open for tomorrow.

Getting Through a Desert...

I’m walking through a barren desert. I am alone and in every direction that I settle my gaze there seems to be nothing relevant. Except for one sweet, sweet, succulent cactus, which held so much promise after its bloom but now stands far from where I came as I had no choice but to move on.

I walk. I crawl. I even, on occasion, sprint towards mirages but they only dissolve as I get close, along with my certainty. However, there is one mirage that keeps its distance and seems to be guiding me in the right direction. I have learnt not to chase this mirage, but to calmly stride its course because I believe this mirage will eventuate. It’s too real. It grips me – its truth.

I have been drying out, getting raspy and I am unsure how I could embrace this possible nourishment. All I know is this mirage has the potential in fulfilling my desires and getting me on track so that I can confidently walk out of this desert and look back with pride. I will have survived and be forever stronger for it.

I just have to keep on walking and have faith.

Jazz

Tonight proved that jazz will forever be relevant. I observe the majority that represent my age group and feel so far removed from what that culture is. I'm 21. I don't drink (much), I don't do drugs (anymore) and here I was tonight, sipping on a classy bitch of cocktail, in a beautiful rustic style bar, tapping my toes, rolling my back, eyes glazed with a serene grin, all just by being serenaded by jazz.

Dim lights, a light hum of numerous sets of friendly banter, smiles, all of which had jazz oozing in between. When you listen to every instrument they are all filling out their own unique niche and when they are placed all together it formulates a harmonious groove filled with soul. I find that much of music today tries to chase that outcome. Jazz remains on it's pedestal and will forever be appreciated and loved.

I felt content at the bar, in my world of wondering thoughts, writing and be raptured by the music. I love that this occurs weekly. It's my weekly hit of this culture where artists come together, all with their own 'modern' projects, all wanting and feeling the need to get back to this form of music. Flying Lotus, I believe would be an example. He is forging a path forward with his music yet his heritage is jazz based. I'm sure there would be many more examples, as I believe jazz helps you appreciate music at a deeper level. I was raised with jazz and it has forever influenced me in the most positive of ways. It has structure yet so much freedom.

This shit gives you gratitude for soul. It just gives. Tonight was the perfect example. People from all walks of life were smiling, dancing and just being in the moment.

My affair with music

You cannot intellectualise art.

With music, the first thing I notice is how I feel. How do the sounds drench and consume my body with a groove or melody...

I let my body and thoughts swim in it's fluidity (no matter what form this music may be).

It is then, and only then, do I allow myself to start dissecting the scapes and elements of that song to grasp how it has this effect. Flow. Ride. Be.

My favourite music is the type that encapsulates your whole being and takes you on a journey - saturates your muscles so they sway in smooth motion to the beat. Close your eyes and float.

Music is my sedative, afrodisiac and endorphin rush. It opens inner doors that let emotions run free leaving the heart and soul refreshed, ready to take on whatever may come.

It is a beautiful thing...