Word No Word

Consider the following two statements: "In this moment, I am free;" and, "In this moment, I am not free."

At any given moment, both of those statements are true, but one is likely to ring more true than the other.

In this moment, I am free...to pick my nose, to run around the room, to write, for example.  In this moment I am not free...to move about the cabin, to live on Mars, to legally consume marijuana in my current location.

And maybe it's literal.  Maybe for whatever reason I find myself in a log cabin in Vermont, overlooking Lake Champlain, able to write but otherwise tied up for some reason, maybe voluntarily, involuntarily.  In that moment, I am literally not free to move about the cabin...and if I'm tied up involuntarily, then my degree of freedom is really diminished.  Good thing I can still write.

The commonality in this moment where I am not presently tied up in a log cabin and the potential moment where I am...is that I can write.

So there's some sort of communication channel happening.  If I'm in prison, I can write.  If I find myself in dire circumstances, I can still blink.  Which is slow, ephemeral eye writing.

Communication works in layers and at the moment I feel particularly endowed with word.  Calm word, not frantic word.  I'm tied up in a good way and taking it slow.

So this dichotomy of freedom - I'm free, I'm not, to varying degrees, to vary contexts, in an ever-changing flux.  That's life, as far as I can tell.  Sometimes the barriers are external, a lot of times they're invisible.  No word.

But in all cases, whether I can see it or not, if I have any shred of faith sometimes, it's faith in connectedness, connectedness of people and people, of people and the environment, of the internal and the external, above and below.  Connectedness, to me, is God.

In some of the more fantastical states of mind, the micro-dyamic, multidimensional wave of time and space is seen, felt, understood, vibrating in one infinite moment.  The form is recognizable and solid enough, but there's really only energy.  No word.

The moment I write these words, I am free.  More free than not free.  The words I wrote yesterday were from a different place.  It was the same moment.  But a different place.  The world was different.  I reacted today to the world differently, more positively, than yesterday, and the world reacted back in kind.  And I was just being myself with all my insecurities and sensitivities and anxieties.

As the cycle goes, some moments I am not free.  More not-free than free.  And the world reacts in kind.  Help is offered and I refuse.  I must manage all the details.  It's a separate world.  As separate but connected as The Upside Down is in Stranger Things, and that's a fitting metaphor.  That's a good show.  I know I connect to it because that metaphor helps me understand myself...that and the retro 80's vibe that I could live in all day despite the monsters.  Just gimme some warm synths.

To be totally free is to be free in the moment.  To operate at the level of life.  To be connected to life itself.

It's also to let go of the notion of what freedom is.  Because in this moment the words I write have a different connotation, are coming from a different place inside of me.  I see myself mirrored in this English language script.  In the higher level concepts I'm building in your brain.  Ooooh, creepy, I know.  But that's what writing is, essentially.

Do you trust me, asks the author, implicitly?  Will you let me lead you down a path that, for me, in this moment, is my path, but in the moment you read it, in the course of reading it, it becomes your path in mirror, enveloped in the warm jello glow of assimilating experience.  What I'm saying is I'm writing a book.

And if I've gone too far, if I go to far, then I firmly believe there is no judgement for the expression, the expression in this context, with words, with ideas.  And therefore, I hereby give myself permission to write whatever the fuck I want.

And by that I mean, no filter, no audience but the one I choose.  Complete freedom.  This is my freedom.

And there's other stuff too, like music.  That's pretty solid.

People Look Away

Oftentimes when I'm feeling shitty, in the dumps, depressed, I don't know what to do.  It's like I have this raging emotion inside of me, but any outlet of it is essentially sound waves bouncing off empty walls.  It feels like I'm struggling against something that isn't real, arguing against someone who isn't there.  And that doesn't make any sense to me.  And I'm struggling with that at the moment.

The thing about it is that I seem to be stuck in the cycle of it, the loop.  Not just me, there are a lot of people living out trauma and living with trauma.  I would even tend to say that life itself is trauma and then some people get a much shittier end of the stick than others.

On the level of society and day-to-day, I can't complain.  I can take Lyfts wherever and get my groceries delivered.  I don't have to deal with how I look, the color of my skin, or my perceived gender.  No one really gives a fuck.

But at the same time, I struggle to eat some days, sometimes for stretches.  Like, what's the point?  It's a hassle.  It's work.  It's not enjoyable, it's something I have to do because to not do it gets uncomfortable.  And over the long term, my lack of healthy eating habits is turning into digestive issues.  Awareness is a good thing, but food is stocked up in the fridge and making oatmeal is a struggle.

I have all the resources I need, I want for nothing, and yet I feel like I'm behind glass a lot of the time.  Screaming to emptiness.  I screamed the other day, really just let it out, just gutteral vocal shredding and spit and throwing things and pure rage.  Found out later the upstairs neighbor was alarmed and grabbed his gun.

I have this power inside of me to terrify people, I think.  That's how it feels to me.  I mean, my emotions are terrifying to me and so it's natural to think that others are scared of them as well.  I mean, people don't like to look at trauma.  When you've got it in your eyes, kid, most of em will look away and those that smile are not to be trusted.

That's my reality.  That's my existence.  And that's others' as well, and so I guess the key to this whole thing is to start focusing on helping other people with this stuff.  I've gotten better, I've realized some things and so maybe I can be more directed in my efforts to externalize my trauma in a positive way that helps others.

Just Do Ittttttt

In my head, I've been meaning to write more, to express myself more, but sometimes I get stuck.  The words are there, but they are weak.  They don't have enough energy behind them to cross the barrier from the mental realm to the physical.  

My thing has always been to start new.  Whatever it is, whatever creative project, or almost anything really - the formula for my creative output was to scratch everything that was there and start fresh.

This is a great way to learn in the long run, but also a frustrating, exruciating one.  Now, however, instead of mulling over the discrete details, I'm finding myself just starting to act.  Fuck the thinking and the reveling in the idea.  I mean, that's fun, too.  And that's a valid and necessary phase of the creative process.  But that isn't the only phase - it isn't in itself creativity proper.

To me, creativity at its finest, from anyone, is pure self expression in the moment, others' perceptions and thoughts be dammed for self-protection purposes, but also others' perceptions and thoughts be allowed and celebrated as well because that's life happening and because other people can be awesome sometimes.  Because creative expression in the moment - playing music, e.g. - is the sum of the expressors and the expressees expressing in the moment - and that total sum is greater than the individual parts discretely added up.  It is a continuity.  A continuous space.  And then it's over.  And then it repeats.