A Piece On Peace

Not everyone has my taste, yet I enjoy the activities I do. I enjoy walking with no shoes on, or being the first to give money to street performers. I enjoy swimming with the current on days where the sun tells you to stay inside. I enjoy ripe fruit during the summer storms. 

When I graduated high school I thought I'd die. I cried for a week straight trying to figure out how I would manage to work 5 days a week. As if a judge sent me to 40 years of 5AM wakeups and labor… I hated it. But it lit a fire in me so hot you could put trash cans over and they'd melt from the heat. I made a pact to myself a year later, I remember the exact second it happened. With my eyes full of rust, demolishing old piping. I had to figure out how to not hate this life I created.

It did not come instantly, I relapsed onto drugs. I messaged old women. I embarrassed myself too many times to count. Man in  those moments it felt like the right thing to do, and man how low those emotions dropped when they were done. Each time I would hop back onto my path and put the past behind me, I  was building myself stronger.

But how? How in God's name was I getting stronger? Each time that passed I couldn't tangibly see the steps I avoided that would've killed me. There was no proof I was progressing. I held the door and the key at the same time.

I was getting stronger by beating my old self. I'd lace my gloves up and strike- never going to my corner. And when the past got a strike, I'd answer with three. Now that sounds all nice in words but how was it creating a life I did not hate… 

I began to take vacations and trips alone. I began taking my shoes off to walk in the sand alongside all the footprints, walking slowly on purpose, stopping and physically smelling the flowers. Things an average guy or gal would think not worthy of their time suddenly became a hidden movie only i’d watch. Just think of something a child might enjoy and yea… I'll be there! And the feeling I've been tapping into with this has been so peaceful. You're not trying to show out or do anything for people.

It's choosing yourself, rediscovering what you like after a coma, and not being afraid of being seen as a little strange. Once you have this realization, you start to see how strange everything is.

And you may even seek out to be seen as strange. Think of the benefits.

Evolution

I've been interested in evolution for a while, not animalistically but spiritually. 

In your current state, going through the motions, you are in your set standard. You could predict what may happen tomorrow, and you are likely either very happy or comfortably numb. But this state is not permanent, there is always a “What’s next” whether you know it or not. 

Let's look at Pokémon. Charmander evolves into  Charmeleon and eventually Charizard. Each stage the Pokémon is in he lives just in that set stage, until he eventually outgrows his past self and finally realizes there is a stage past his. Humans are just like that, we never know what the next evolution will be until we reach enough XP to evolve.

Ok so why the heck am I writing about Pokémon and evolving… It's because I'm at an evolution right now and I'm trying to make sense of it. 

I started weight lifting at 17, my first business at 21 and now I'm evolving into something different. I can make the shape of it out but I'm still not used to using these new characters' abilities. Like today marks the second day being cannabis free, sorta weird ey? Having to get that dopamine somewhere else apart from cannabis led me to today, playing basketball. 

But how do you go through it? Evolution is a storm and a mean one, it will take everything from you and leave nothing if you let it. You can walk in a straight edge and walk out with dyed hair and a new bag.  Going through evolution requires patience and discipline. These new skills you've learned, what? Do you think they will be mastered just because you've crossed the threshold to a new level? You need to tirelessly hone them.

Let's talk about the storm and why it is so mean … The storm is a tornado and it takes, it will occasionally spew out things for you to use on your journey but it can suck your whole house up with all of your belongings if you're not careful, and we don't want that.

When you are a child, with your first day of school outfit sitting on your bed, that feeling is electric. It embodies “The world is mine” but once you're a teenager going to highschool, the outfit on your bed starts giving you mixed signals “What are you doing” “Only children do this” then you build up all of these walls until you brute force yourself into the world. And you will, but it will be an uncomfortable moment. It is a moment of decision.

And its a moment that can make or break you.

Loves A Cold Plunge

I've made my bed every morning since I was 13, and nine years later it's still a habit. I also began going to the gym for a similar reason- a small daily discomfort, a ritual.

I wish I had brought that mentality into my lovelife.

 I've swung in and out of love like a coin on a string. And that coin was mine; no one can have it!

 I thought love was guaranteed to be easy, the movies said so. So when my first love destroyed me I was obviously devastated. How could this happen to me, and I'd soon find out it could happen again.

Treating love like a party and not a discipline was my mistake.

I took a road trip with my girlfriend at the time. It was amazing, we shared music, scratched each other's head, laughed and admired each other. We were a month in at the time, still in the phase of figuring out the love language and quirks. Then we stopped for lunch. She was talking  about speech therapy. (something I've never heard her talk about) which led to me saying “Why are we talking about this?” or ‘Where is this going?” I was curious, but tactless which led to a very awkward departure.

The significance of this wasn’t the argument itself but the choices I was faced with. Treat this like a party and say “it's no big deal”, “well have another shot”, “she's just overacting” or treat this like a discipline to be honed, worked on for as long as possible. 

             So I grabbed her hand and we talked.

It was an honest moment, not clouded by egos. People say love is a two way road, but it’s actually a two lane road, both parties side by side going to the same destination. I’ve been in relationships where I was sacrificing my morals just for some attention, where others left me uncomfortable with how head over heels the woman was for me. But this last relationship was the closest to a two lane road I’ve been down, and that gives me hope for the next time

Because now I know love isn't easy, it isn't guaranteed.

Suffering Is Not Destiny

A few years ago I thought suffering was destined to me. In family, relationships, and my disciplines... I’m known to travel across the world by myself or involve myself into a discipline so hard I lose sleep for months. I correlated the suffering I got from that to a gift from God. I wasn’t happy though- and looking back I was selfish to believe God would pin me against the world.  

Life is like filling all the seas into a hole dug in the sand. It is so massive it’s hard to differentiate what’s destined and not. But back to suffering. 

Suffering is inevitable, the time it arrives is what varies. Furthermore, it seems the ones who suffer early, tend to feel they’ve been selected to suffer the most. “I am the same man as my friends but why do they have happy relationships, why do they have a proper family when I do not?” Is all I thought from sunup to sunset in my teens. 

At the time, it ruined me. 

At the end of the day, I believe in God and Jesus Christ. I believe I was created perfect in the image of God. So why did I feel chosen to suffer for so long and still occasionally do? 

Like I said about the seas in the sand. Something's not meant to make sense to us. Sometimes, it may seem you’ve been handed a bad hand, but in reality, you need to stop playing cards. 

I wish it was easier to let go of this strain and accept the suffering as part of life as a whole. Then maybe I will be truly at peace. But for now I will write, and piece together life into a song to be sung. And having  bit more grace in what I deem “suffering.”

Information Drunk

The chase for greatness is nothing new.

Humans have always wanted to exceed in whatever they're going after — become the best guitar player, the greatest nurse in the unit, have the best car on the block…

Whether you achieve this is determined by a mixture of discipline and intelligence.

You cannot become anyone without the discipline to fully pursue, and you cannot become anyone without the discernment to adapt and overcome the inevitable challenges.

But a special thing happens when intelligence and discipline converge: someone tirelessly hones their craft while adapting to challenges — using information as a tool, not a way to trick themselves into thinking they're progressing.

That is the catalyst for greatness.

I say the search for greatness is nothing new because our current age is so polluted by information that we're becoming drunk and fat off of it — never processing the stream quick enough to digest what we're taught.

The endless stream can quickly convince the undisciplined dumb mind that it needs to become great at everything and the only thing stopping themselves from achieving that is the puny human body!

Let me tell you, that is wrong.

When you feel the pull of greatness in a certain task whether it be cooking, painting, running, you must slow the stream of information down from outside sources and take on the task with discipline. "The beginner adds, the master subtracts."

What will get you closer to your goal?

Researching for 4 hours, Or using your discipline and what you already know to do and create a piece in that 4 hours?

The answer is physical action 9 times out of 10. Or you can become fat and drunk off of the endless information stream.

I've thought I wanted things and went every step of the way to that goal except open the door because I realized in the journey, what I was seeking. Not even needing to open the door.

We sometimes figure out what we want before we even achieve it, saving us time and stress.

You don't need to finish the hunt to figure out your needs, you may realize as you draw your bow back, that you prefer the liveliness of the game more than the kill.

But raises the question, why not still release the arrow?

Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas

Landing in Vegas it all made sense, the stories of losing it all drug dealing and massacres. The city is inside of a bowl locked by mountains. Sort of like a cove cut off from the rest of reality.

Sort of like a cove that pirates would find, somewhere far enough off the path to keep them hidden but easily accessible to the ones who know what’s there. Likewise on the flight in, the characters were otherworldly. Sat in my row was a behemoth. Wrists the size of tree trunks feeding besides me… Spilling tea, snoring, bald and I think transgender? 

Its alarming to see the type who go to Vegas and the fact I saw young men like myself at a hotel slot machine, like bros start hitting the gym now or this is reality forever!

I Hate Writing Lowkey

Writing is a coping mechanism that I use to not feel completely worthless. 

The truth is my laptop and pen feel like they whisper in my ear telling me to write in them…

 It's something that I am good at for some reason, I was always good in English class getting my highest grades. The highest marks being on forms I could work freely, but that's it… When I was told what the paper was supposed to be on? FAIL! Yet on the other hand I got praise from the same teachers grading my poetry.

Realizing, I maybe decent with this I decided to run with it. I began writing poetry on my phone daily as well as journaling. Filled with sober ramblings, drunk ramblings and high ramblings, in the mist of all of that there are some gems as well as some absolutely insane entries. 

All sharing the same theme of escape. 

Plans to move out 

Times of betrayal

Times of victory

Money management.

All forms of escapism because I can't share any of it to anyone alive.

I don't have close friends, people have pieces of me but never the whole. Writing is where I become whole. It has all the pieces.

For The Gram

I signed up for a half Ironman race 14 months ago and people asked me “why?” The answer was I had no clue. 

I thought I was doing it to do something challenging. But nearly every time I was training my brain would play a montage to the music I’d be listening to.

I’d envision myself crossing the finish line, I’d imagine seeing my friends as I passed it, and I also imagined what I’d caption the Instagram post that would be going up. And the pose I’d strike once completed. 

And that question of “why” that I thought was me just wanting to prove myself to the world became something much more concerning.

I actually heard this through a podcast where Matthew McConaughey was the guest. Matthew brought up a study about nostalgia to phone use. The science behind it says our brains lean on nostalgia to cancel out the loss of control that constant phone use brings 

And the specific point he was making was this

When we are now in those moments that should be tied to nostalgia through action like a long car drive with a best friend, a friend's birthday party or going to a fair. Those may now be overridden by the phone's artificial memory, completely warping the sense of nostalgia in those moments.

I see a lot of people at parties, concerts, outings just completely on their phone. Recording or doomscrolling, and I'm just like, you're not making any memories except the videos on your phone and you're not even fully at the concert!

So think about that next time your iPhone reminds you about your 5 hours of daily screentime…