The all is one. Where we come from is where we’re going. Don’t forget to consume what you have discarded. The past and the future have folded together. Origami that cuts away illusions of separation. Hate and love lie on opposites if you accept the line manifests as a circle. Into the next universe, the serpent sways and expels every particle into being. How else do we explain these repetitions? These moments of acknowledgement that the unknown doesn’t feel unknown at all? How can there be linkages across linear time? It must be webs reknotted a million times in circles, ad infinitum. How else can you meet someone and feel like you must have known them in a previous lifetime? A möbius loop bringing us closer and further, closer and further. Parallel lines can meet on a 3-D plane, so let’s look at life a different way. Recycling our DNA from how we weave stars to build parking lots. And when the dragon sets it all aflame, from the ashes a phoenix will be made.

I’m becoming wary of reminiscence. It’s starting to become a pathology to keep looking back. Always reconsidering, always realigning and repeating (and here we are speaking of change!). Picking at scabs will only create scars. Investigating every nook and cranny trying to dissect what could have been different. When it has been laid to rest, why do we feel the pull to become gravediggers, exhuming memories that never were real in the first place? Suffering with autopsies to try to understand where we went wrong. All my hopes for someone who never even existed, who couldn’t exist — where do I learn to let that go? How powerful is the grief for a childish desire, all these expectations burning away even the sliver of security, a blanket that could never keep your heart warm. How do I stop digging? How do I get the strength to muster to cut the threads that must be severed. The spool ran out a long time ago, so what am I trying to put through the eye of the needle? It’s all just ghosts. Of an idea an identity never rooted in actuality. Behind each relationship is its shadow. It swallows you whole and only with time will you learn to drop the shovel and let it go.

How do we conceptualize a past too painful to remember? Some minds dissociate, seeking refuge in an alter self. Some people escape — oh addiction calls so sweetly, and in so many names. Indulge and live fast, be so busy that thoughts can’t take hold. Can’t gather together, falling prey to winds as you go a hundred miles an hour. Some shut down, freezing out anyone who gets too close. The heart builds a fortress and the mind remains a vigilant guard, seeing threats in every shadow. Some live in the past. Stunted and repeating memories, so intense that the present is what’s hazy. Time flies them by. Some push past the pain and dance with history. They reject heartbreak — the heart is a muscle and it must be used to grow strong. They learn and live, and embrace the bittersweet scars that envelop them. We must stay soft despite the suffering without respite. How else can we move forward? 

Concord in echo chambers means so little. How do you make an impact on someone very different from you? How can you bridge the gap between mental worlds? Gather threads into cohesion, weaved through with reason? How do you whittle the tongue just right? Balance volume with silence, authenticity with deftness, vocabulary with simplicity? Starting is rough when you are verbose without filter. How do you move with energy that is welcoming, yet unassuming? What’s the path to learn passwords that can break through walls and barriers. Or rather, let you walk in elegantly through the front door. Be welcomed in like family not a stranger? How do you design a message without killing the messenger? Because you are the messenger. I don’t know, I don’t know, but I must know, because knowing isn’t enough, and action only scales in numbers. How do you get a tiger to change its stripes?

It’s lonely at the top. Population of one. No where else to go and there all alone. What do you do when everyone is miles, lightyears, eons behind? When the world is plunged in darkness yet you know only light? Turn back and head down. Climbing in reverse but leave rope and shelters for when you come back. You must come back. But not alone. Reach out a hand and walk for miles, for lightyears, for eons. Until you touch. Until you radiate connection and light a flame that sparks every match to light. And on and on we must go until everyone has a hand to hold. And forward we must carry on and carry an inner light that darkness cannot extinguish. Back to the top. Population: everyone.

We were not meant for comfort. Once settled into a routine, the material envelopes us. We slumber in the same-old, same-old, and call it happiness. Even when surrounded by luxury and privilege, community and security, we are lost. There’s a restlessness in our spirit that is not being discussed. As we climb up on the hierarchy of needs, our culture stops, falls short of the clarity and fulfillment of self-actualization. We must challenge ourselves, daily, to step out of our comfort zones, for that is what makes life rich. It’s the synthesis and exploration of new ideas and experiences that provide the foundation of our purpose in this world. We were not meant for happiness, we were meant for purpose. Avoidance and escapism are the solutions we take to stress, not recognizing the difference between the stress that shuts you down and the stress that sparks your soul. Without purpose, a human is nothing, even when surrounded by everything else.

How do we come back together? How do we reverse severed ties? Foster thorns to bloom? Looking back at those who have come and gone from our lives, we ache for the ‘what ifs’ of all that never was. Missed potential is a haunting force, reappearing in dreams of confrontation. But what about reconciliation? Our world does not reward conversation of what went wrong. Rather we are dialed into the social capital we derive from dismissing and cancelling others. From the personal to the societal, relationships of love that fade away without opportunity to recover. How would that look like? How can we have open and nuanced dialogue of the spaces between us? How do we call up a long-lost connection and dissect what went wrong in the first place? How do we learn to forgive and heal? Or should we even? I begin to wonder if we can try? I could learn to be better, if I knew where I have failed. I could learn to be more open, if I could speak to the worlds that are closed to me. I could find a needle and sew lives back together, if only I knew.

Energy flows all around us and in us. The universe is just energy flowing. Wavelengths elongating and contracting. Energy getting excited and then calm. Movement and stillness. Transfer. The sun to the plants to us to the dirt to the insects to the frogs to the birds to the cats. We hum in melodious harmony with each other. I eat an apple and thank it for all the work in its creation. My organs take the energy and manifest it. What do I do with that energy? How to do I honor all the work that has been put into place? Do I speak poorly, do I lounge without purpose, do I cause harm? Or do I thank my body for manifesting so, for the tools it gives me? Do I run, do I climb, do I reach out to help others? To be alive, to channel the energy rather than let it sit stagnant and pool.

We start off young and bright-eyed, only to be pulled down from the horrors of the world around us. The lively garden that was supposed to guide us, instead, becomes a dark forest, with thorns and vines and vipers ready to ensnare us.

We become scared. We feel alone in this world, so deep in our own anguish — other people are a million miles away, and every time we call out and no one hears, we get quieter and quieter.

We fall silent. We writhe around in our sleep, consumed by nightmares and fantasies that hurt more than nightmares, because they aren’t real, and we know they will never be real, and we wake up, and we ache. Our pillowcases become vessels of tears.

It has been like this for so long — it feels like forever, it feels like it’ll be forever. I don’t want this to be forever. I rather be in nothing.

Yet, we breathe once more. Some people don’t. I lay roses down for those who have sought peace in nothingness.

Someday, somehow, usually unexpected, usually at the very worst time (or maybe the very best time) we are shown love in a way that actually connects with us. Sure, people have tried before, but not at the right time, or not in the right way. But this — this was the right time, this was the right way.

This love feels alien and familiar, it is comfort and it is truth. There were other times you thought you felt this, but those times, there was always a catch, something insincere, something with the taste of thorns and vines and vipers. This is not, this is the lively garden, willing to plant down and help you grow.

It’s a love that heals, and the days are less dark. We love those that help us love ourselves. Because it is very easy to love someone else, it is very hard to love ourselves. If we don’t love ourselves, the love we have for others is wrought. We need love that is a soothing salve, a hydrating glass of water. It cannot fix everything. I don’t believe in saviors. It’s a companion sitting by your side as you pull yourself out of the water that has sunk you.

What a healing magic love is! It can wash away years of pain, softening the sharpness with each wave. Bright eyes and hope, a purpose, with the support to overcome all of life’s challenges.

A better world is one where we are born into fruitful gardens, not ensnared woods. That is not where we are yet. But one day, our children will venture into the dark forests prepared, not thrown into it without a safety net.

With souls lit with the sweet rhythm, a glow brought by the love we have, we are walking hand in hand, shining like flashlights in the dark, reaching out to those still surrounded by demons and suffering, we are offering a hand to hold, a step out into the light.

In the potion of Maturity and Great Life Decisions, calmness is an underrated ingredient. We often cite knowledge and research, discussion and introspection as traits of value. But for all of those elements to exist, we first need to be calm.

In survival mode, humans are constantly in states of fight or flight. There’s anxiety that courses through us, an adrenaline rush to make sure we have enough to eat, clean water to drink, and a safe place to sleep. It was only when those things were a certainty, consistent with stability, did we begin to relax. To settle in one place. To build cities and civilizations, to become friends with our neighbors, to create language and art.

These days, for most of us, we still have those certainties, but our minds can sometimes still feel like they’re stuck in survival mode. So we’re anxious — about our relationships, our careers, our meaning in life. There’s a pit of worry in our stomachs, that no amount of money or food or power can satiate. We revert to our primal instincts and thrash the environment around us with claws. You cannot grow in survival mode — you can only survive.

However, when we are able to shift our perspective to find peace and stability within ourselves, we can begin to grow. Most people have grown up in some form of survival mode, with its side effects and trauma lingering to modern day. But the only step forward is to stop thrashing in the water. Asking yourself, whether your actions are rooted in fear or growth.

As we build calmness within ourselves, we are more aware of those who are still scared, who approach the world with claws outward. We must walk to them slowly. We must be patient. We must reassure them. Like those who did for us, or like how we did for ourselves. When you’re calm, you can trust others, you can keep your fear from escalating into anger or close-mindedness. You’re the stability that can walk into chaos, bringing peace to others. Calamity becomes calmness.
 

In many religions that say there is a heaven, they clarify that such a place is unfathomably wonderful — beyond human comprehension. But for all of us, when we close our eyes and imagine, we have an idea of what heaven looks like to us. If heaven is created by god in such a divine way that we are not privy to its description, what is that image which springs up in our minds?

The heaven I imagine is one that, in some form or another, I can tangibly reach in my own life. It’s the heaven I want to experience here and now. It’s what I am looking to achieve in my day-to-day. Maybe it’s not something that will come to fruition fully, but as close as we can right? As close as we can, we have to try.

If we are made by a higher power, than our abilities to imagine heaven is no accident. It’s a path lit by lanterns to guide our purpose in making a better world. All we know for sure is that we are alive in this moment and this moment only. That all we have is this third rock from the sun. We can’t wait until the afterlife to experience utopia. We are not excused to glaze over our time here and wait. Our utopia is one we must make on earth.

And if there is an actual heaven? Well I guess we’ll find out if it is truly amazing beyond our wildest dreams.

I’ve been thinking of inbetween places. Hallways and alleyways. Airports. The gaps between bars on a graph. What happens in these arenas of limbo? What grows in places no one designated a purpose to? Like dandelions making their way through the cracks in concrete — it's enchanting.

The creatures that make crevices their homes. Not asking for much. Not at all. Just a little bit of space that no one else is using. No one else is thinking about. I like to wander into the emptiness between houses. Toeing the line between properties, feeling like I could sink into the divide and end up in another world. Perhaps inbetween places are a kind of portal. Hiding more than meets the eye.

Enter the surreal kingdoms that exist in the moment between breaths, and in nothing else. I love finding these gems that are found in plain sight, but only if you're looking very closely. It's rewarding to experience magic that scarcely few others see. Who looks into the carved holes in trees?

Let's bring together a team of explorers, heading into the field with notebook in hand, balancing telescope and magnifying glass, squinting closely for the trick of the light. Who knows what this kind of adventure can lead to?

For most of us, the furthest we consider our last will and testament is asking our friends to delete our internet browsing history. And who knows, maybe we will reach our 200th birthdays or be immortal, and have little need to think of such things. Even so, for several years now, I have kept a will I do my best to update each January. Some may find it morbid or excessive, especially with the relatively few and unimportant possessions of a teenager. But keeping a will had made me feel more adult, being proactive by creating a plan to make things easier on the people around me. With the years, my ‘estate’ has grown with my age and life experiences. Part of a will is logistics — what to do about the money in your bank or the t-shirt at the back of your closet. But it is also about legacy. Of preserving sentimental effects with your family and friends, of making a difference to strangers, donating to your favorite charity, or saving lives with your viable organs. I have to ask myself what standards I would like to keep or discard. Would it be too much on my loved ones to ask for my body to be cremated into a firework, lit, and turned into the bright colors of the sky? Putting my affairs in order also brings up questions of my current state of the union. I ask myself, “if I died right now, would I be satisfied?” or am I consumed by loose ends? Life is your master or death is. I confront this fear by taking the time to contemplate my last will and testament. My days have more clarity, as I am motivated to value every precious moment.

Atonement is not really a word we are familiar with in our lives. It's been used traditionally in a religious sense, to reach reconciliation after confession. In our modern era, we don't bother much with repairing damages in our relationships, exponentially so the more casual our ties are. Technology lets us block or ghost with ease. I can understand the value in removed removal, especially to get out of toxic situations that would only worsen with confrontation. However, such a black-and-white action also takes away the possibility of atonement. We don't offer paths for people to make amends to us. Instead, we cast off, we sever ties. And for ourselves as well, our biggest regrets have limited opportunities to resolve with dignity. We can accept our mistakes, we can come to terms, find closure without further interaction. But wouldn't it be so much better to heal by doing something constructive? Overcome with guilt of stealing flowers from a neighbor's garden, a child can knock on the door with new plants to accompany a profuse apology. So I ask myself, what would it take for me to forgive a person? And then a bit further, what would it take for me to welcome a person back into my life with sincerity?

All matter in the universe fulfills either art or function, beauty or purpose. With that premise, it’s easy to divide the world into a philosophical dichotomy. Do you offer me aesthetic pleasure? Or do you offer me utility? But it's an illusion to take on this linear way of thinking. What’s delightful for me is how beauty can be functional, or function can be beautiful. An artist might appreciate how beautiful street lights are, how they can be tuned and timed to direct traffic perfectly. While an engineer can pause by a painting and appreciate its function as a catalyst for creativity. Instead of thinking of sleeping as turning my body off, I try not to neglect the night shift of my mind, who wakes up while I snore, eager to process my day's experiences into long and short term memories. The world is brimming with movement — we are not rigid nor static. We flow from one state to its opposite, or even fulfill both at the same time. The universe lives in cycles where ends and beginnings are next to each other, not lightyears apart. Discarding lines in favor of loops encourages me to be more spiritual, validating the seeming paradoxes in me as expressions of rich variety.

It’s weird not knowing where to go next.

Like you know where you want to end up, and you can see it clearly, resting on fundamentally solid bricks. But what to do right now is just a hazy, cloudy, foggy mist.

I have turned to measuring. Placing my values and dreams on scales against each other, straining my eyes to see which direction the balance tips. Magnetizing my priorities and bucket lists in the hopes that something can point unwavering in my compass.

Living on the whims of necessity and passion has gotten me here, but when neither stays to compel action or inaction, I’ve become ensnared in limbo.

When the destination is just out of reach, and there’s no lighted path in between, I sometimes feel as if I’m kept in purgatory.

I'm profoundly scared of delusions, of being delusional. It's a trick I have played on myself, an illusion built up by constructing what I want to see, what I hope to see, rather than the reality of what's actually there.

It's a bad habit, I know, to be all up in my head, to prefer the lies of my imagination that let me keep the status quo for a little while longer.

But reality makes its presence known sooner than later, and you're forced to evaluate the steps you took that prioritized comfort over truth. The truths that are gritty and shitty, but which are at least real. It's a constant battle — the beautiful lie or the honest truth.

So what's next? Reconcile myself to what I have to accept, begrudgingly, reluctantly, unfortunately. But at least then, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because then, the avalanche can be cleared, the road built, a car filled up with gas that can now go somewhere beyond Neverland.

A purpose is a strong thing. And to some, it precedes existence. Are we born into the world with an innate destiny, or do we seek outwards in our free will to decide for ourselves? No matter how it happens, it must happen. A soul without a purpose is a body without a soul, a heart without love, a mind without stimulation. 

To save the world is to save yourself. And the only way i know how to save myself is to follow the calling that has always been in me, even if in different combinations and permutations over the years. 

I can’t help but think that the first step in solving the myriad of issues we face is to reach that calm within ourselves, the eye of clarity amongst hurricanes. The troubles in our minds weigh too loudly, overriding any material conflict.

But once we are clear in our senses, in our purpose, i do believe we can weather the storms, ride the winds to a better world.

C'est facile de parle de les océans que séparent nos corps, mais qu'en est-il de la distance que sépare nos âmes? On vie sur petites îles, avec les arbres de penses et fruits de cœurs. Chaque nuit, nous montons des montagnes, où il y a un phare, notre communication avec le monde. Pour heures on envoye signales de lumière, en l'espoir de trouver les autres comme nous. Si on les trouve, on ira rapidement à la plage pour construire un bateau. Peut-être toute des personnes font le même ritual fou. Oui, à tout moment, on pouvait aller, mais seule, le voyage sans raison ou destination est plus dangereux que rester en un endroit. C'est ça que j'ai peur — d'aller en la vide et de me perdre entièrement.

We found sanctuary in the secret places, hidden between spaces that separate the city from the sky. We're filtered by rays that flirt through clouds, and in the brief moment before sunset, we shine like angels that have kissed the ground. Touch — until we find ourselves in trouble, and then, just a bit more. For we're runaways and rebels who only have ever known danger clawing for our shadows. Heartbeats hum with the flutter of wings, but even that's too loud for the things you can only say through soft, soft whispers. Concoctions of ecstasy to course through veins, for this second won't last more than a second, and you never know if there ever will be a second. We sew stars to the highest reaches of our blanket forts, pulling together constellations so distance becomes imaginary. Light sparklers to make wishes that are too delicate for the ferocity of fireworks. 

How lucky we are to know the elixir of life in the magic we make.