Monday, June 26, 2017

Check List

...

-become completely aware of how you spend your time
-become completely aware of how you would like to spend your time
-become completely aware of any goals you have (if you don’t have any, don’t worry)
-botch things that you aren’t proud of
-make sure you’re happy
-make sure you’re happy
-make sure you’re happy
-stay busy
-spend a lot of time with other people
-make time for yourself
-address your emotions but don’t get lost in them
-get lost in your passions but mind the list above
-make sure you’re happy
-if you’re lucky, sanity doesn’t matter, don’t sweat it. just mind the list above


Hope this helps,
Christian

PS- make sure you’re happy

PPS- make sure you can be happy being sad. that’s a lot of life too

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Ground Control to Major Stick In The Mud

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." -John Keating, Dead Poets Society

I'm always stumped when I meet someone who is completely obsessed with matters of fact. You know the type...no romantic bone in his body, all work and no play, never stopping to just breath and enjoy the aesthetic pleasures that life has to offer. This person might as well have been born senseless, because he damn well seems to waste them on rather menial affairs. Hellen Keller had seen more beauty in a day than a bloke like this will see in his whole life.

All work and no play makes Jack wonder why he's here. As a kid I imagined working every job. Every time a suspecting adult asked me what I'd like to be when I grew up, I'd give a new bizarre answer. As a matter of fact, I still do give a new answer every time the question is posed. I'm eager for all different kinds of work and for a bulk of it to be playful as well...so that this dull Jack doesn't have an existential fit.

My parents told me growing up that I had the capability to be anything I aspired to be...I wholeheartedly believed them and I'm extremely thankful for such an optimistic roof to have been raised under. I've seen other families that completely juxtapose the dynamic of mine as well...gone into survival mode...stressing their kids to the point of getting cookie cutting money making jobs for the purpose of providing for their future family (yet to even exist) with excess at whatever cost that may come to be, most likely their own attention I'll venture to guess.

I must continually come to touch with a reality that allows me to be a whole new level of intimate with my surroundings. If fresh eyes laid on this eager world is color, it is important for me not to let my world desaturate. The moment, my world starts to go gray...I must remind myself of the vastness of life and the perspectives I've likely not taken a look through yet; it's moments like that, which I am able to regain traction on a perfectly romantic outlook on my life.

Right now I really enjoy reading in my spare time. I love spending good time with my friends. I like laughing more than I think I ever have in my life. I'm becoming extremely fond of good surf. And I'm pretty sure that birds sing sweeter songs than they used to.

My soul in February of 2017 belonged not to my schedule, rather to the holes in my schedule.




Thursday, January 12, 2017

The Last Moment is Increasingly Old


When the universe makes me feel minuscule, when all about my ego is deteriorating, it’s important to find humor in my awe, because that’s what I really am; I’m far more awed than I am scared. When lined up shoulder to shoulder with the universe at recess, it’s no doubt I will be picked last. However, it’s the moment that I realize that I have the opportunity to stand on the same line as the universe…in that moment a tide goosebumps sweep over my body and I am humbled beyond measure. In the moment of being so humbled, my eyesight would peer through what it was previously fixed on, all that was physically sharp goes out of focus and my sights peer through all until I feel like I’m looking into the very fabric of space and time.  In the moment of awe, all is hilarious; existentialism takes grip of my being and an ironic flood of purpose pumps through my veins.

I take a visit to the restroom and I look at myself in the mirror. In the mirror stands someone I’m not too particularly proud to associate myself with and I try to avoid eye contact. Eventually, our eyes meet and the whites of his are blood-red.

 I find amusement in the power I give to things that never asked for any power. I just handed myself over in trust that it had my best interest in mind, tangibly or intangibly. I decide that I should go off to my bed, where stress is immediately replaced with dreams of closure. I then give power to the actual physical nature of my body, the one that wants to repair my body and mind while my consciousness takes a break.

The next morning I roll out of bed into a new year.

The metaphysical is a witch, she gives us the confidence to pursue our future with whatever vigor we wish to put forth.  But we gave the metaphysical the power of confidence and that irony should not be put to bed without recognition. The worst days of my life were days that I went without seeing the big-picture-play-write that I was taking part in. I am Truman Burbank, and I think it’s important to see the humor in that.