Twenty four.

I really like being twenty-four.

Eighteen to twenty-two was a roller-coaster, a crazy ride full of ups and downs, and in the background, an uptempo soundtrack did play. A soundtrack which played, spinning on the record player, until finally reaching the end. No more sound played.

Sunshine, dismay, realisation and growth were the hallmark of the year at age twenty-three. Twenty-three taught me how to sort and filter, and this was not achieved without pain; this pain was a gift, albeit a blessing in disguise. This pain taught me value, it taught me strength, and for this pain I am grateful.

Twenty four has only just begun and yet, Graduation, with distinction…this moment, distinct for all other moments in my time. This moment is but a manifestation my belief in something better, discipline and sheer force of will. A self-overcoming in the face of significant odds; I escaped the self-imposed prison.

Twenty-four has me excited for the next 20 more; the start of a tremendous adventure. I’ve undergone my rite-of-passage, and now I am ready for another 365 x 24.

I really like being twenty-four.

You are a work of art.

Art is neither good nor bad, it just is. It is a unique creation, unlike anything else that has ever existed. To judge, to compare, you must judge and compare in reference to something. We only know the light because of the dark; we only know the hot because of the cold; we only know the good because of the bad.

We judge ourselves in reference to the culturally propagated image, the ideal body, the ideal woman, the ideal man…the archetype of which you believe to be the epitome. This ideal exists only in your mind, and a different ideal exists in the minds of all others. Haven’t you heard? Everybody likes different things.

You cannot compare artworks, for they are fundamentally not the same. To judge an artwork, a unique creation, is madness. Each person holds a unique ideal for what something should be like, and when each person gazes upon an artwork, each person will experience the same objective entity in a subjective, and unique way. To judge art, to compare art, to judge in reference to the unique ideal that you hold, or to compare two artworks which are not the same, is madness.

Apples and oranges, peaches and plums, don’t compare yourself to anyone because you, you are the only you, you’re the only one. 

Black holes.

Nothing can escape the gravitational pull of self-centeredness; nobody can escape your selfish stranglehold. I watch my comfort and happiness creep toward your event horizon, you are a black hole. Your self-centeredness drags everything inward, never to escape. Your vibrational frequency repels me, an early warning. You must remain at an arm’s length, for if I dare to venture closer once again I will inevitably be swallowed whole.

You can spot a selfish person easily, well, at least most of the time. Be careful of their words and actions, for these speak volumes…this is your early warning system to protect against the destruction in which these people leave behind them. Remember, you should hold your hand out to those who are drowning, but you do not have to drown with them.


The pedestals on which we place.

When we place others on pedestals we simultaneously devalue ourselves. We place them above us, we tell ourselves that they are above us, they are better than, they are the ‘other’, the exception to the rule. This is a devaluation of ourselves because we are asserting that there isn’t an even playing field, they are more accomplished, more attractive, more muscular and therefore their value is higher. What a self-destructive thought pattern, no? Moreover, this notion contradicts the notion that all human’s have equal value, for if they had equal value, why would be place them on such a pedestal? All Humans hold equal value, although, they may be unequal in capability, however, this does not detract from their inherent value.

All Humans struggle, we all feel pain, joy, sorrow and love.

We all the bleed the same. 

On relaxation.

Relaxation is not something that comes naturally to me. I often take things too far, this is an important fact. My self-control is a precarious creature; a turn of the winds increase the volume of liquid to my lips – the cells inside me vibrate joyously. An unnatural hedonism has swept over me, a resting point alongside the beaten and trodden path. A deserved pause in time, akin to a drop of liquid atop parched lips. Relaxation is an art, a learned skill, a skill for which a users manual does not exist…trust me to require such a thing.

I lie back on the floor, drink in hand, music in my ears and presence in my heart.

what a feeling.

Who are you? Who am I?

Imagine this; a close friend approaches you and tells you that the way you treat them makes them feel insignificant and small, would you change your behaviour if their criticism was justified? If you do change your behaviour, does this mean that you are not being true to yourself? What does being true to yourself even mean?

What if through the exercising of your self-awareness you noticed that your behaviour creates negative reactions in other people in your life; would you change your behaviour? What if instead of changing your behaviour you said the words “that’s just not who I am”. What a strange concept, who you are…what does this mean? Where does this ‘who‘ live? In which region of the brain does it exist? Does it even exist anywhere?

This ‘who’ is nothing but a collection of ideas, and behaviours, that you hold and engage in. If you change the ideas that you hold and change the behaviours that you act out, does the person that you change, or are you the same person? If I am somebody who values health, and therefore I engage in activities that increase my health, and then suddenly I cease all these behaviours…am I still the same person?

What does it mean to be you? Are you your body, or are you your mind? Both? If you are your body, does this mean that once all of your cells are replaced in your body every 7-10 years, and now you have a different body, does this mean that you are a different person? Why would you not be, all of your cells are different? Maybe you are your DNA sequence, who knows? What happens if you’ve eaten processed red meat, smoked and drank heavily all of your life, and suddenly your DNA strand mutates; you’ve got cancer. Does this mean that you are anew? Does this person that you once were cease to exist? What if you change your beliefs…the ideas that you hold in your mind to be true of the world; does this mean that you are a different person?

The concept of self, who you are is nothing but a fiction. You are not the thoughts within your mind, nor are you your body or your behaviours. You are the thing that observes the body, and watches the stream of thought appearing in your mind, and you are also the thing that chooses what to believe. You are nothing but pure consciousness, a manifestation of the consciousness that inhabits all beings on this Earth.

I am consciousness, consciousness is everything, therefore I am you and you are me.

We are all one. 


My inside buzz with excitement when you cross my mind, what a strange thing indeed. A shot of adrenaline, is almost what I feel. I didn’t realise until the little green monster came knockin’, an uncomfortable realisation it was; the realisation that I felt for you more than I anticipated to. How naive of me, how could I not? The treasure that you harbour in your mind is something that I want to continue to discover. Your mind is sharper than a blade, and the way in which you wield your weapon etches your name in my thoughts. A deep respect for you is what rests inside; I’m scared to tell you about how I feel…I’m only human. I feel insecure in your presence, a mere man, flawed and imperfect. A random turn of events, a real coincidence, an alignment of something caused us to be face-to-face. I’m a definite skeptic of the mystical, but the way we fit that I cannot believe to exist.