I have this theory...
There is a real simple formula
you could call it the key to life
but it will take you a lifetime to figure out how to use it.
we are lazy like that.
its a human thing.
its no great secret really
its just three empty words in the wrong hands
but it can unlock the universe if you let it.
3 is the number of dynamics and change.
thinking
reacting
silence
that's it!
the triad
I knew you'd be amazed.
if you can be bothered with it, here is the explanation -
thinking=suffering
reacting=conditioning
silence=freedom
Since the day we learnt to think we have taken on the experience of suffering. thinking creates suffering, creates misery. thinking is the seed of the experience of suffering.
Reacting is what we have learnt to do towards everything.
We are conditioned to repeat the same thinking over and over, bound up by our reactions, and so we develop the sense of suffering.
it deepens and it grows.
If you stop reacting you can stop thinking,
if you stop thinking you can stop the experience of suffering,
you undo the suffering.
or rather, it undoes itself.
as if it never existed.
because it only existed since we learnt to think it into existence.
the way to achieve this
is through silence.
true mental silence.
no thinking.
Silence is probably the hardest thing a human can learn to achieve
the whole world is thinking all day.
its almost a law,
some would say it is a disease.
If you try to stop doing it
you'll risk being outcast
laughed at
ridiculed
the suffering will hurt all the more.
its just how it is.
besides which,
we have been thinking for most of our life
ever since we got taught how to
its not easy to unlearn something and replace it with emptiness.
which is why it would take a lifetime to master
and no one has the time
so nothing will change for me or for you,
in this lifetime
but then why should we expect it to?
whats the rush?
this lifetime, the next, what the hell does it matter, we'll get there eventually because where else is there to go?
and one of these days
we'll be so bored of going round in circles all the time
we'll just say
oh fuck it.
and that will be the day
we start to see things change.
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
I didnt forget you
I have been away a long while.
travelling. seeing the world.
spending every last cent
until I was left with nothing.
like burning in some kind of celestial fire
letting everything go
reminding the gods I am here and I am willing to go the distance.
I have been on the other side
trying to make sense of the things we are afraid to face
things we all try to avoid
ultimate things
not good things, painful things
scary things
the fears.
I stood today naked in front of the mirror and took a good look at myself.
I felt I had neglected myself to some degree, not my body,
I mean deeper, on a deeper level.
I stood there, staring into my own eyes, something I guess we all have done
wondering just what is looking back.
and then I said three simple words -
'I love you'
It felt awkward at first, like narcissism
but then it clicked and I understood;
'I love you' was my way of saying thanks to myself,
and maybe a little apology too, for making it so hard when I dont think it really needed to be.
I think it is time I stopped travelling now.
just let the calm descend again.
I travelled many thousands of miles,
alone, sleeping in deserts, woods, far away places amongst nature and the stars
and other times alone on the streets of unfamiliar cities with the hounds of hell growling at me from the shadows.
I did these things.
I have been down to the bottom and seen what is there.
You cannot win in that place.
but somehow you have to come to terms with the fear without it stealing your soul.
They say I am tough, say I am one of the toughest
but I know the fragility of human life
is not something you can ever trust, or hope to save.
I stood there before the mirror.
The person looking back at me was stranger than I could ever hope to really know.
it was ancient and that scared me
the fact I was aware of it.
I suddenly felt incredibly weird and alone.
but then I saw something,
caught a glimmer of it for a moment deep in the eyes, something I had nearly lost, like the sudden silver flash of a fish in dark waters.
and it made me smile.
It was beauty.
maybe I wasnt such a mean son of a bitch after all.
I hadn't forgotten love,
no,
I guess I had just hidden her deep, deep down,
kept her safe
in my soul
in my heart
where she belongs.
when I find that calm
I will let her shine again
and you can come to me
no longer afraid
and I will embrace you
and kiss your forehead
and the thing you fear most, afraid even to mention
will be brought safely home.
I will be the one to tell you
that everything is going to be ok.
travelling. seeing the world.
spending every last cent
until I was left with nothing.
like burning in some kind of celestial fire
letting everything go
reminding the gods I am here and I am willing to go the distance.
I have been on the other side
trying to make sense of the things we are afraid to face
things we all try to avoid
ultimate things
not good things, painful things
scary things
the fears.
I stood today naked in front of the mirror and took a good look at myself.
I felt I had neglected myself to some degree, not my body,
I mean deeper, on a deeper level.
I stood there, staring into my own eyes, something I guess we all have done
wondering just what is looking back.
and then I said three simple words -
'I love you'
It felt awkward at first, like narcissism
but then it clicked and I understood;
'I love you' was my way of saying thanks to myself,
and maybe a little apology too, for making it so hard when I dont think it really needed to be.
I think it is time I stopped travelling now.
just let the calm descend again.
I travelled many thousands of miles,
alone, sleeping in deserts, woods, far away places amongst nature and the stars
and other times alone on the streets of unfamiliar cities with the hounds of hell growling at me from the shadows.
I did these things.
I have been down to the bottom and seen what is there.
You cannot win in that place.
but somehow you have to come to terms with the fear without it stealing your soul.
They say I am tough, say I am one of the toughest
but I know the fragility of human life
is not something you can ever trust, or hope to save.
I stood there before the mirror.
The person looking back at me was stranger than I could ever hope to really know.
it was ancient and that scared me
the fact I was aware of it.
I suddenly felt incredibly weird and alone.
but then I saw something,
caught a glimmer of it for a moment deep in the eyes, something I had nearly lost, like the sudden silver flash of a fish in dark waters.
and it made me smile.
It was beauty.
maybe I wasnt such a mean son of a bitch after all.
I hadn't forgotten love,
no,
I guess I had just hidden her deep, deep down,
kept her safe
in my soul
in my heart
where she belongs.
when I find that calm
I will let her shine again
and you can come to me
no longer afraid
and I will embrace you
and kiss your forehead
and the thing you fear most, afraid even to mention
will be brought safely home.
I will be the one to tell you
that everything is going to be ok.
Monday, 18 February 2008
Dante's Inferno
A crystalline pain searing through my blood.
Is this just some chemical reaction loosed of a gland, or is the world about me turning, looking to crush me down?
I see red, I feel the dragon stir, vengeance, to WAR!
I stand on a balcony over-looking the city, and call council on myself by light of burnt tobacco.
All years of Buddhist teaching weigh in, and thank Christ!
Without it I would have been slain dead by the jackals many moons ago.
But oh! If only it were able to neutralise the hot blood that easy, wouldn’t life just be a breeze.
Instead demons swirl at night, come the wolf’s hour - ugly grotesques disguised and cloaked as thoughts.
Wish I could banish them and reach a peace in sleep but something sinister lives there too.
My god! Are we cursed? Are we damned?
Sometimes it feels to be that way.
Who hasn’t cried alone in the night, howled at the moon, tortured by some unseen, unknown. At once beyond our boundaries, yet somehow, without doubt, the Self.
And in a strange and tired way, I do take some joy from the mystery, because I know there is little I can do.
I should have died young and good looking, as in having the audacity to achieve survival, I am left feeling like a man caught in the strained grimace of a shit that will not budge again for all eternity.
Is this just some chemical reaction loosed of a gland, or is the world about me turning, looking to crush me down?
I see red, I feel the dragon stir, vengeance, to WAR!
I stand on a balcony over-looking the city, and call council on myself by light of burnt tobacco.
All years of Buddhist teaching weigh in, and thank Christ!
Without it I would have been slain dead by the jackals many moons ago.
But oh! If only it were able to neutralise the hot blood that easy, wouldn’t life just be a breeze.
Instead demons swirl at night, come the wolf’s hour - ugly grotesques disguised and cloaked as thoughts.
Wish I could banish them and reach a peace in sleep but something sinister lives there too.
My god! Are we cursed? Are we damned?
Sometimes it feels to be that way.
Who hasn’t cried alone in the night, howled at the moon, tortured by some unseen, unknown. At once beyond our boundaries, yet somehow, without doubt, the Self.
And in a strange and tired way, I do take some joy from the mystery, because I know there is little I can do.
I should have died young and good looking, as in having the audacity to achieve survival, I am left feeling like a man caught in the strained grimace of a shit that will not budge again for all eternity.
Wooden hot box
I took to exercising after Christmas. It was in part to lose some belly fat and admittedly because I was just bored and lonesome. During this time I made a discovery; If I pushed myself beyond 30 minutes I experienced a euphoric sense of confidence. It was subtle, but having been depressed for the better part of 4 years it was a noticeable difference.
I liked it.
So I kept at it.
Then, as a treat, and to serve as a carrot to do that damn exercise, I gave myself a relaxing 15 minutes in a sauna at the end.
I often had it to myself.
So I threw Eucalyptus oil in the water, turned out the light, and sat naked in the dark.
The heat and exertion pushed me to the edge.
Sometimes I even got an erection, it felt good.
I found something there, in that small wooden box.
I found the veil thinned, I found the lines of sanity blurred.
I felt fear, a tremor, and a terror as the heat grew and at some point I realised
I had re-created for myself an ancient ritual -
The Sweat Lodge.
A place where the mind was forced into submission by the gods of heat, and vows were offered up into what could easily be a spiritual moment, a holy cauldron.
I spoke to my family there, the dead, my happy ancestors.
I asked for guidance there, and did a lot of thinking.
Through that heat I could feel the winds of the other side, and I fancied that they listened to me as I called out.
Then finally when I could take it no more, the heat pushing me to unconsciousness, I would stumble out and let a cold shower bring me back down to earth.
It felt good to know that even in the heart of this soulless machine, I could find a place to connect with the gods.
I liked it.
So I kept at it.
Then, as a treat, and to serve as a carrot to do that damn exercise, I gave myself a relaxing 15 minutes in a sauna at the end.
I often had it to myself.
So I threw Eucalyptus oil in the water, turned out the light, and sat naked in the dark.
The heat and exertion pushed me to the edge.
Sometimes I even got an erection, it felt good.
I found something there, in that small wooden box.
I found the veil thinned, I found the lines of sanity blurred.
I felt fear, a tremor, and a terror as the heat grew and at some point I realised
I had re-created for myself an ancient ritual -
The Sweat Lodge.
A place where the mind was forced into submission by the gods of heat, and vows were offered up into what could easily be a spiritual moment, a holy cauldron.
I spoke to my family there, the dead, my happy ancestors.
I asked for guidance there, and did a lot of thinking.
Through that heat I could feel the winds of the other side, and I fancied that they listened to me as I called out.
Then finally when I could take it no more, the heat pushing me to unconsciousness, I would stumble out and let a cold shower bring me back down to earth.
It felt good to know that even in the heart of this soulless machine, I could find a place to connect with the gods.
Once upon a time...
There was a time when the only thing that mattered to me was my guitar.
Every moment I was away from it was a longing to hold it in my arms. But more than that, it was the pluck of the strings, the joy of finding notes resonate together like forgotten melancholy. Join one on two and tunes unfold.
That was all that mattered to me.
Not because I was ignorant towards the world, nor uncaring, just because whatever made me, also created within me a rule, a law, maybe even a curse; unless I was locked into the arms of a song, I could feel no peace. It was as simple as that.
It was a passion.
I played everyday until I was 27. I waited for her for all those years. Thinking of nothing but her. Dreaming of her, every minute of every day believing she would one day be mine, completely. In the end hunger, loneliness, and the emptiness of the wait drove me to seek a cure to my longing. I found it in the world of man; in work, in money, in friends and good times. No, it wasn’t all bad. But I missed her, and my dream of her, once clear, began to fade. It became an echo. Something I could vaguely remember, but never quite recall.
I write this now aged 41. Already in many ways a veteran of the world. I found myself thinking about her today. So I took pen to paper and let my story fall out onto the page. I feel a shiver in my backbone as I write, and a sigh makes my chest rise then fall. There is a tear there too but it does not swell. She was a mystery to me all along.
Every moment I was away from it was a longing to hold it in my arms. But more than that, it was the pluck of the strings, the joy of finding notes resonate together like forgotten melancholy. Join one on two and tunes unfold.
That was all that mattered to me.
Not because I was ignorant towards the world, nor uncaring, just because whatever made me, also created within me a rule, a law, maybe even a curse; unless I was locked into the arms of a song, I could feel no peace. It was as simple as that.
It was a passion.
I played everyday until I was 27. I waited for her for all those years. Thinking of nothing but her. Dreaming of her, every minute of every day believing she would one day be mine, completely. In the end hunger, loneliness, and the emptiness of the wait drove me to seek a cure to my longing. I found it in the world of man; in work, in money, in friends and good times. No, it wasn’t all bad. But I missed her, and my dream of her, once clear, began to fade. It became an echo. Something I could vaguely remember, but never quite recall.
I write this now aged 41. Already in many ways a veteran of the world. I found myself thinking about her today. So I took pen to paper and let my story fall out onto the page. I feel a shiver in my backbone as I write, and a sigh makes my chest rise then fall. There is a tear there too but it does not swell. She was a mystery to me all along.
Grandfather clock in a country house
I miss certain moods; the space, the silence, the slow tick of a grandfather clock in a country house where time seemed to almost burst in fat, rich tension.
Here, like London, I feel like a boat in rapids.
You get addicted to this, addicted to speed. I guess at it’s core lies the thrill of death. But I miss that mood. Pure inspiration, pure thought and feeling.
Indulgent? maybe a little, but then it offered the chance to take life in, to ponder it.
Here, there is only time to live it.
But when I want to steal away, find that peace again, I have to work at it. Fight to slow down. Cut swathe through the sensation of imminent boredom and the illusion of monstrous anxieties, which really are just shadows cast by my former self, a trick of the light.
Call a halt.
Call it to a stop!
And here I lie now. Sipping gently at the moment and maybe letting a cheeky smile play about my lips. Let others race about instead, the machine turning; the grind that never stops.
I just lie here.
Staring up at the clouds passing between me and the sun.
There isnt a lot going through my mind right now and to be honest, I find some relief in that.
Here, like London, I feel like a boat in rapids.
You get addicted to this, addicted to speed. I guess at it’s core lies the thrill of death. But I miss that mood. Pure inspiration, pure thought and feeling.
Indulgent? maybe a little, but then it offered the chance to take life in, to ponder it.
Here, there is only time to live it.
But when I want to steal away, find that peace again, I have to work at it. Fight to slow down. Cut swathe through the sensation of imminent boredom and the illusion of monstrous anxieties, which really are just shadows cast by my former self, a trick of the light.
Call a halt.
Call it to a stop!
And here I lie now. Sipping gently at the moment and maybe letting a cheeky smile play about my lips. Let others race about instead, the machine turning; the grind that never stops.
I just lie here.
Staring up at the clouds passing between me and the sun.
There isnt a lot going through my mind right now and to be honest, I find some relief in that.
Rushcutter Bay
Now me and this place are starting to have some history together. I take a walk down to the point at the end of Rushcutter bay. It looks back, north west, to the city and the harbour bridge. I feel strength breathe in me, I feel pride, like maybe I fucking made it after all, yea, maybe I did.
I escaped that drizzling rat gutter. Swapped for a place just as cold and dangerous beneath the smiling surface, but I’d sooner meet my end here in the sun beside the sea with some kind of belief in my heart, than back there in the cold, grey lament of a failed life.
It’s never going to be easy, and it is always going to be a big fucking joke to someone. And I am still making all those schoolboy errors that lose me favour and somedays lose me friends too. But I found a picture, got sent it by my mum, in fact, and it is of me, before the bastards got hold me and turned me into what I am now. And I was smiling, a big toothy grin, and I was happy. And just to know and remember I felt that once, yea, that was enough. It made it ok, you know, whatever happens.
I escaped that drizzling rat gutter. Swapped for a place just as cold and dangerous beneath the smiling surface, but I’d sooner meet my end here in the sun beside the sea with some kind of belief in my heart, than back there in the cold, grey lament of a failed life.
It’s never going to be easy, and it is always going to be a big fucking joke to someone. And I am still making all those schoolboy errors that lose me favour and somedays lose me friends too. But I found a picture, got sent it by my mum, in fact, and it is of me, before the bastards got hold me and turned me into what I am now. And I was smiling, a big toothy grin, and I was happy. And just to know and remember I felt that once, yea, that was enough. It made it ok, you know, whatever happens.
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