Tuesday, August 19, 2014


How do I truly internalize this wonderful summer? I feel as though I am squeezing a sponge to force out the oceans and oceans of happiness that had occurred, but I just can't quite squeeze hard enough; as though there is always more cold refreshing water to unleash, to seep out and hug my hands, to cleanse, to imbibe, to smell evaporate through your nostrils... This feeling. The endless layers that keep appearing no matter how many times I peel the onion. The depth in each word that was spoken - I yearn for it to be felt; the ephemerality of each smile - I yearn for it to be collected into a wooden box, locked into my heart, with the key tossed off a cliff. There is a force around me, a feeling from the mountains I see beyond the plane wing and clouds, the soft glow of light smeared by a paintbrush of God, stroking the horizon, painting a perfection that everyone else doesn't seem to yearn for; a touch of it, a smidge, is all my throat thirsts for, all my body aches for. I feel a mysterious force hovering about each object, each motion, each spin of a wheel along the cold concrete, each breath from the winds around the clouds I the distance. It tickles the edges of my senses, eliciting the tail end of a thread of my mind. I feel like I could swallow all oceans and still not fully quench this sensation at the edge of my senses.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

the game

the investment game is like reaching into a murky pool of water to dig for riches. many people aren't willing to go deep enough after dressing up in such a nice tux for so many years. they cringe when their sleeves are drenched in a soggy cold mud; they wince when the water coldly kisses their knees and reaches up their thighs; they can't handle this seduction.

but there are others, the clever ones, who use fishing rods to let the bait draw in the gold. these patient others let rain clouds drift away while they strum their guitar to songbirds under the sun. it's a witty trick, a ritual. triumph and disaster are just different costumes worn by the same creature to them. and the beauty is that they can play along their lives with no stress as life goes on.

all it requires is picking the right pond.


Source One - sources of intrinsic happiness
Source Two - sources of extrinsic happiness

it is now apparent to me that Source 1 and Source 2 are in such strong conflict that this balancing act is possibly the biggest challenge of my life. every party, every social invitation yields nothing but revisitation when I return to my silent abode - my safe haven of One. and perhaps better so, because between the two sources of happiness, it is One that drives me to work harder, learn more, ponder deeply and seek benefits for the larger world. it is One that ignites the fire and keeps it burning into a roaring flame capable of devouring forests... but instead, One directs the flame to carve wood together to build fortresses, kingdoms, castles.

complacency is not an option.

to cast aside all others would be a paradise enclosed in steel walls no one will ever break through unless I make a breakthrough.

do I really have to choose between the two? is Two such an alcoholic beverage, a shot glass that shoots me in the foot, preventing me from walking the restless way I always do, preventing me from sprinting at my heart's content? do I want to have a permanent crutch by my side - fall into potential complacency blinded by this deep love we all search for, a love we ironically call "the one"?

is balance possible? can we find even ground between the two - but odd plus even is always odd; nothing can deny 1+2=3. as long as my strength lies in One, I will remain my true self, even if slowed down by Two; even if slowed down by finding that one true love we call "the one".

Thursday, July 10, 2014

independence day

truly a day of independence - exploring and composing words of my own, definitions that capture observances that strengthen how we approach problems: Source 1, Source 2, cringe obstacles


soft morning sounds fade in through the window, car echoes slipping from the pebble-strewn street and levitating to hug the trees in the suburban landscape. quiet tones fill up the waking blankets, never organized, and a delicate array of petals drift about, sinking away, to the earth. this street could be a lily pond.

maybe the inspiration should stretch to make others see through your eyes: to captivate and inspire others to do good work, to live up to values, and alter all those things we never think about.

it's a pretty serious time for change, adjusting my view, yet it's important to never look too good nor talk too wise. stay humbled and kind, but the aloofness should never degrade to eery icicles dripping from poorly insulated ceilings, ready to drop, stone cold. instead it should be a quiet warmth, perhaps a candle, that directs it's kind light and heat this way and that, occasionally settling to be someone's bonfire.

Friday, June 20, 2014

why mind writing is important

mind writing: just spilling your mind out in writing. why do it?

-unify conscious and unconscious
-materialize thoughts as a whole
-the power of knowing the true name - you get closer to it
-improved sensitivity to the world, observation
-improving communication, articulation
-augmenting calm reflection, 'feel' instead of think; world peace tendencies