Essays

Clean vs Muddy Moves (An Essay)

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unless and until a move is crisp and clean

stripped of a reaction

an agenda

or another person in mind

stripped of the need (and all the words)

to explain

to justify

to prove

to get

to build a bridge where none is required

to soften or avoid the razor’s edge of truth

until you reach that specific point

the zero point

where nothing matters at all

the power and impact of that move is diluted and effectively made limp

turning it into yet another messy bit amongst other messy bits

blending in

not standing out

so what’s the fucking point?

that trying-but-not-hitting-the-spot move

that tainted / muddy / laced-with-matter move

that spilling-over-because-you-have-collapsed move

won’t do a damn thing except keep that mess in place

because a weak and sloppy move is not sharp enough

it’s not potent enough

and it certainly can’t be felt deeply enough

to rattle

to collapse

to erect what needs erecting

it can’t pierce the veil

like a clean move can

a move that’s made

because it’s true

not for anyone

or anything

else

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Effortless Hard Work (An Essay)

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if it was easy to truly be yourself

to move as freely and as naturally as you did when you were a child

before a lifetime of conditioning determined your moves

then everyone would be doing it

but they’re not

because it actually takes effort to live in integrity

which is crazy because it takes no effort to be yourself

it’s the most natural thing in the world

but to contend with all the illusory add ons you created along the way in lieu of being you

while in a family and in a world you chose to shrink yourself for

THAT is the hardest work there is

until

of course

it’s not

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Living An Endless Shroom Trip (An Essay)

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When I spend money while being free of matter, I don’t feel like I have less money than I did before I spent it because energetically nothing has changed.

I just went from one move to the next in the physical but the move itself isn’t felt internally (distinguished from the previous or the next) because there was no matter.

It was just another moment on a cloud.

Energetically, I’m not even making a move.

I’m just being me.

The money / move itself is irrelevant.

An illusory transaction.

Of course that’s not how it looks or feels in the world of matter.

It doesn’t make it less true.

It’s never about the details of a move.

It’s about honouring the truth.

It’s about floating through space with as little obstruction as possible as you seamlessly dance from one moment and (non) movement to the next.

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Smudge On The Eyes (An Essay)

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when there is smudge on the eyes

a distorted lens that discolours everything

one cannot see themselves

situations

or others

as they truly are

and…

in order to cope with that misperception of self

of the illusory other

of what is actually going on

(and the discomfort that arises from a truth one cannot own)

one projects what’s false

and deflects what’s true

effectively ‘protecting’ the illusion

while convinced it’s truth

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Cleaning The Inner And The Outer (An Essay)

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internal and external cleaning

is a constant refinement

an endless clearing

a seamless dance with matter

and there’s always a sigh of pleasure as i take in what i’ve created

experiencing this ‘new’ space for the very first time

feeling so much lighter and lovelier than when i visited last

more pure

more ME

stripped even further of debris

it’s a forever job

tending to one’s inner and outer home

or rather a living work of art

each stage

a masterpiece

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The Illusion Of A Purpose (An Essay)

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In a call the other day, the fellow was talking about not having a purpose aka a made-up concept to attach himself to.

You know, to give himself / his life some direction, some meaning, some much needed motivation.

Something he can create an identity around.

Something to make him feel more ‘like a man’.

Because being exactly who he is and following his natural movements on the daily isn’t enough.

There needs to be an add on.

Something quantifiable.

Something more / other than this.

I told him I don’t have a purpose.

He said it’s different for men.

I found that amusing.

Mostly because he just put us both in a separate category based solely on physicality (ignoring the energy aka the truth which would completely disprove his point if we really were talking about the masculine and feminine) to explain why I’m fine not having a purpose and he’s not.

It’s not because I’m a woman.

It’s because I’m not attached to bullshit.

Regardless of gender, regardless of conditioning based on gender, an illusion is still an illusion.

Purpose (or lack of), like self-worth (or lack of), like value (or lack of), like countless other things that aren’t actually real, is just a human-made concept to attach to and create a story around.

Something to hold on to, to point to as the reason you feel the way you do, or do the things you do you think you should do.

Something to avoid being the living truth.

Which comes with no labels.

No terms.

No concepts.

No thing.

Your ‘purpose’ is to BE yourself,

unobstructed,

if there had to be a thing.

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You're Asking The Wrong Question (An Essay)

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It's not: "How do I get the clients / make the money / overcome the addiction / heal the pain / resolve this health and / or relationship 'issue'?"

It's: "When will I stop saying YES to a NO? When will I stop supressing what's true? When will I make being the living truth my full-time job regardless of who or what is in front of me?"

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You Can't Waste Time Or Money (An Essay)

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You can’t waste money.

Just like you can’t waste time.

Because neither exist, ultimately, in the land of energy.

In the world of matter, however, money and time seem very real.

Quite valuable, in fact.

And both matter a helluva lot.

How you spend and save them is what it’s all about.

Always running out, it seems.

If they both stopped being tallied though,

oh, what glorious fun it would be.

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I'm Like Shrooms For Your System (An Essay)

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working with me is like being bathed in sunshine, sparkles and rainbows

while riding a unicorn in a parade of flying kitties

and simultaneously getting an upper cut, throat punch and / or kick to the gut

and if you’re really ready to rock and roll (on the very cusp of IT)

you’re also getting thrown off the unicorn

being submerged in water

and getting kissed on the forehead

when you decide to pop back up

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Layers vs Levels (An Essay)

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My energetic ‘standard’ is always increasing.

Sharpening.

Purifying.

What once felt like top spot becomes the given spot on route to the next top spot and the next as I clear my board like a boss and the next ‘level’ becomes available.

Which isn’t a level at all.

What’s being revealed has always been here,

beneath the freshly stripped layer.

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The Hot Window Awaits (An Essay)

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There are dynamics that flatline and die, and ones that remain clean and alive even when they’re not currently activated.

The ‘hot window’ is when the activation is boomin’.

The turn on is palpable.

Sparkles are everywhere.

And you just know the purest magic is right here, right now.

Then when the turn on shifts (as it’s meant to), that particular ‘hot window’ closes and reopens elsewhere, creating a string of hot window moments that make up your whole life.

The key is to keep moving as each window closes.

To not stay where things just shut down in the hopes that they’ll open back up again.

Maybe they will.

Maybe they won’t.

But the ‘next’ (current) hot window awaits.

And when the dynamic is clean and alive, the illusory gaps between ‘hot window’ moments in that particular dynamic can be spaced out over weeks, months and years, and never be diluted.

Shit’s still hot and bangin’ when your respective systems choose to play again.

Because time has no impact on a clean vibe.

It’s always just now.

Only in the world of matter do we measure time and personalize or try to ‘fix’ the ephemeral nature of those sparkles.

We point the finger at the other as if it was their system that botched up the vibe.

No.

Nothing got botched up.

What’s true is what’s true.

And truth is never personal.

If shit’s no longer activated between you and another, it’s because you both got exactly what was available to you through that particular hot window.

Your being extracted all the gold it could from that experience while it was alive.

Perfect.

No need to make you or the other wrong (or less),

or to make the whole thing a problem just because the scene is done.

The masterpiece is complete.

On to the next one.

And the next.

And the next.

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