Linkstream!

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It feels like it’s been a decade since I last shared links with you! I’m here to make up for that today with a ver­i­ta­ble plethora of stuff for you that I’ve been col­lect­ing for the last bit of for­ever! Enjoy!

Hope you have a fan­tas­tic week­end! I’ll be back with many many posts in the upcom­ing weeks so def­i­nitely check back! No more slum­ber­ing hiatus!

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I DIDN’T QUIT

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I want to quit. Every now & then I come up against a wall & think I could walk away, I could quit, it would be so much eas­ier to sit back & blend in. I could quit so eas­ily.
Symp­toms include watch­ing a lot of real­ity tv (which is absorb­ing, I real­ize because it takes me away from the pains of quit­ting or stay­ing). I call it lazi­ness which is really just sell­ing myself short, it’s more like the prover­bial deer in he head­lights.
Symp­toms include not lifestream­ing, inten­tion­ally block­ing my flow, inten­tion­ally lim­it­ing myself.
Symp­toms include not writ­ing or cre­at­ing or writ­ing but not pub­lish­ing– the gen­eral form stuck­ness takes.
It’s eas­ier than we think to come undone– but I’m more often more sur­prised by how easy it is to restart & get regen­er­ate.
Once you start you can’t ever go back. For a while the seda­tives work. You tell your­self you can just quit, you can live a socially pre­scribed life & feel nor­mal & repress all that pas­sion & desire you really are, & you tell your­self it was just a sac­ri­fice & it will all be ok.
We think it will be eas­ier. How could it not be, its been done to death already.
But there’s that nag­ging feel­ing, those moments of self hatred that come with self denial. When the self is denied, dis­ease firms, anx­i­ety, sick­ness. It’s a lot eas­ier to just get over it & unstick our­selves than it is to spend the dura­tion of our lives aban­doned & regret­ful.
It’s a really fuck­ing sim­ple deci­sion actu­ally. But here we are, hav­ing to make it over & over & over again. Do or do not.
I’m good enough to live my life, my pos­si­bly (prob­a­bly?) ONE TRUE LIFE AS THIS EGO, exactly how I want, & you are too.

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Personal Mythology

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I tend towards being nat­u­rally ver­bose. I’m a chatty Kathy. I’m almost always will­ing to talk about what­ever you wanna throw at me, but some­times I find myself repet­i­tively telling the same sto­ries, to new friends, to old friends (in excess?). I used to just blow them off as being silly tid­bits of nos­tal­gia, but I’ve been exam­in­ing that view recently.
Some­times they’re triv­ial sto­ries, like how my bas­set hound got annoyed with my grandma’s chi­huahua that one time, so he pro­ceeded to lift up his leg & pee on him. Some­times they define us, like the time I climbed that pyra­mid or the first time I ever took acid.
The sto­ries, no mat­ter how much or how lit­tle they say about our lives, are our own per­sonal col­lec­tion of mythol­ogy. Drip­ping in arche­types & pat­terns they are made of the same stuff as dreams & cul­tural myths. Those moments we repeat inces­santly can become tools for free­dom when we look for the ques­tions & pat­terns in them.
Why do I tell this? Who am I telling this to? What do I want them to know about me? What impression/projection am I try­ing to con­vey? How does this story com­pare to my dreams? To soci­ety? To ancient myth?
How do our sto­ries define us? How do they limit us or keep us stuck in the past, or how can they free us?

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Philosophy: a study of life

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It’s hard to explain to peo­ple (like my mother some­times) why I would want to study phi­los­o­phy or why I would iden­tify myself as a philoso­pher (isn’t phi­los­o­phy after all a tedious, dead, schol­arly hobby for old men or peo­ple who laze around with no prac­ti­cal ambi­tion?)
What is prac­ti­cal­ity other than repet­i­tive pat­tern form­ing? Life is this whole big per­for­mance art piece & half of us are walk­ing around lost with our heads cut off, search­ing for a pay check so we can drench our­selves in booze to numb this non­sense. Zomb­i­fied in our offices & in front of tv sets, is this prac­ti­cal­ity?
Phi­los­o­phy is the dream­ers game. When med­i­tated on & under­stood emo­tion­ally, we can apply it to the way we live our lives & then it makes a dif­fer­ence. Then it becomes a painters tool & we can trans­form, we can evolve. It takes the search for answers, the whys & what’s & mys­ter­ies for us to lay the ground work for evo­lu­tion. We can begin to cre­ate out own mean­ings & change our per­spec­tives & cre­ate a sense of magic in our lives.
All artists, whether inten­tion­ally or not, are philoso­phers, all poets & entre­pre­neurs & even politi­cians are philoso­phers (even though theirs is a often a phi­los­o­phy I don’t sub­scribe to). Phi­los­o­phy defines how we live our lives. Whether pos­i­tively or neg­a­tively, with beauty or cyn­i­cism, our col­lec­tive per­cep­tions are are our life philoso­phies& study­ing phi­los­o­phy as a sub­ject cre­ates new thought pat­terns, chal­lenges our beliefs & con­cep­tions & helps us become crea­tures of mean­ing.
So study up.

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Creativity & awareness: a case for self involvement

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I would like it if self involve­ment didn’t have such neg­a­tive con­no­ta­tions.
Isn’t all forms of cre­ativ­ity ulti­mately self involved? & why is that con­sid­ered so ter­ri­ble & lowly? One can only expe­ri­ence & under­stand the uni­verse from an indi­vid­ual per­spec­tive, from our own indi­vid­ual jour­neys & expe­ri­ences. If self aware­ness is praised, how can self involve­ment be frowned upon, how do you become aware with­out being involved? Self involve­ment is not nar­cis­sis­tic or ego­is­tic, & think­ing it is is just a myth that allows for author­i­ties to enslave & con­trol.
Self involve­ment ulti­mately leads to self ful­fill­ment & mind­less con­sumerism becomes replaced with a sense of spir­i­tual mind­ful­ness, con­sumerism & blind obe­di­ence can­not coex­ist with self ful­fill­ment.
The solid world has been dis­solv­ing for a while now, with our knowl­edge of the quan­tum world, abstract sur­re­al­ism & now the dig­i­tal era. We need less phys­i­cal & triv­ial things in our lives, which ulti­mately frees us up to cre­ate & become involved with the self.
In east­ern mythol­ogy, it is explained that the uni­verse can­not expe­ri­ence itself, exactly like how the eyes can­not see them­selves with­out a mir­ror. The ego, the self, is that mir­ror, & it is our respon­si­bil­ity as an ego– to expe­ri­ence it.
So really there’s no choice other than to expe­ri­ence things as your­self. You can’t expe­ri­ence it as some­one else — that posi­tions been filled & you can’t expe­ri­ence in soci­eties terms or any­one else’s because that’s already hap­pen­ing too. & that mis­er­able, anx­ious, ter­ri­fied thing you feel is the uni­verse telling you BE YOU IVE DONE THIS ALREADY, IM HERE TO EXPERIENCE ME AS YOU!
It’s bold & dar­ing & vul­ner­a­ble because it’s not a pat­tern, it’s not some­thing that’s been done before, even prac­tice stops being repet­i­tive because each expe­ri­ence is a com­pletely new, fresh, unique moment you can’t & won’t & haven’t expe­ri­enced before & again.
Self involve­ment is set­ting the uni­verse free. Chip­ping away at the plaque till sun shines through again.
What we deem as neg­a­tive nar­cis­sism is really just a mas­sive cover up, a symp­tom of true self neglect. You speak of being involved with another per­son or project or com­mu­nity & that is con­sid­ered pos­i­tive yet being involved with the only per­son you can actu­ally be involved with is ego­tis­ti­cal & pre­ten­tious & self­ish & all sorts of other really nasty things which make no sense either.
It is a grand rev­o­lu­tion & there are a zil­lion strate­gies & meth­ods, but it’s ulti­mately on YOU. it is the ulti­mate form of cre­ativ­ity & authenticity.

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On death: a manifesto against practicality

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It’s weird being a human & know­ing you will die. It’s weird to know that every­one you love will die. It’s weird to know that no mat­ter what you accom­plish, after a while, you will be for­got­ten.
Some­times this makes me feel anx­ious, I have a pho­bia of dri­ving & it often occurs to me that the older I get the more likely It will be to get can­cer. We post­pone our deaths with health­care only to extend the inevitable.
Some­times I envy my cats & their utter lack of aware­ness, but mostly I just feel grate­ful.
In sev­eral schools of Bud­dhism, they tell the stu­dents to med­i­tate on your death & the deaths of all your loved ones. Med­i­tate on nonex­is­tence & rot­ting in the ground & decom­pos­ing (but hey, that’s life & renewal too).
& it doesn’t mat­ter what you believe will hap­pen after life, heaven/hell, rein­car­na­tion, ghosts, or noth­ing at all. It doesn’t mat­ter because we don’t & can’t know.
We truly only have one real choice. Fuck prac­ti­cal­ity & fuck sta­bil­ity. You will die & it could hap­pen even as you read this. Heart attacks, shoot­ings, freak acci­dents. Your life is frag­ile & it could be taken from you AT ANY TIME.
No mat­ter if you’ve invested money, or have a secu­rity
sys­tem, or fol­lowed the rules, or live in a freak­ing hypoal­ler­genic bub­ble. Your nice car, your spouse, the col­lege degree, life insur­ance can­not save you. Strive for prac­ti­cal­ity & you get medi­oc­rity, & no amount of money or fear or tra­di­tion can save you either.
My friend Amber died when she was 23 in a car acci­dent. The week before I felt tired & told her I couldn’t visit her. The next week my heart was shat­tered.
At any moment to any one of us.
When you start to under­stand this you have 3 options: hide & live in fear; do noth­ing, ignore it– acknowl­edg­ing it only makes it real, con­tinue on a pre­scribed life course, sta­ble path of school, office job, mar­riage, kids, retire­ment.
Or
Get off your ass & do what truly calls you. Even if rein­car­na­tion exists, you still only have this life.
This lim­ited, frag­ile life. Will you feel grat­i­tude & appre­ci­a­tion, will you live your pas­sion because life’s too short, or will you just sit there?
Also, tell every­one you love them because there’s every pos­si­bil­ity you won’t get the chance again.

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The trust of flow

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I know exactly what flow feels like. I learned it from my danc­ing. I am a noto­ri­ously ridicu­lous dancer, but I also am hav­ing the most fun ever. It goes like this, for a moment before I start I’ll feel uncom­fort­able, awk­ward, I take a few breaths in, which is usu­ally accom­pa­nied by a huge smile, and then I take a few breaths out, com­pletely let go, and begin. And then there is no I any­more, it is not I, Sara Whit­te­more, doing this com­pletely rhyth­mic, nutty dance, I am just a ves­sel. Some­times, the ego comes back & I’ll stop & feel silly or weird for a sec­ond, but I just repeat it. It just takes prac­tice & a few breaths.

For a long time, danc­ing was the only way I ever expe­ri­enced this feel­ing. Now I am learn­ing how to incor­po­rate it. In art, I usu­ally don’t come with a plan, I don’t know what I want to draw or paint or make. This has been known to stop me before I even started. Same with writ­ing, “but I don’t have any ideas!” Now i just go through the exact same process, few breaths in/few breaths out. In writ­ing & art I’ve learned some­thing even more beau­ti­ful about the flow. It’s really just com­plete trust. Trust in both my really awe­some inner self-also known as the universe-trust that what­ever I’m about to make needs to be made, whether I show any­one, or if it’s just for myself. It’s all trust, there can’t be a sin­gle moment of doubt or the ego-critic comes back & I falter.

It is truly like jump­ing off a cliff but really KNOWING that I’ll never hit the ground. It’s the most absorb­ing feel­ing I’ve ever expe­ri­enced, com­plete & utter trust.

It started with my crazy danc­ing, it infil­trated my cre­ativ­ity, & now it’s seep­ing into my life in all areas. It’s about let­ting go of the worry, to the unini­ti­ated it seems like blind faith, but I am stand­ing on empir­i­cal evi­dence stat­ing the con­trary. This, that I am writ­ing now is a visual man­i­fes­ta­tion of the trust I am discovering.

I trust myself, I trust the uni­verse, I trust art, I trust the words, I trust the con­nec­tions I am mak­ing, I trust the pain I expe­ri­ence. I trust the frus­tra­tion when I can’t find trust.

We’re all cos­mi­cally indif­fer­ent, we can­not cause cos­mic harm, we can only trust & flow.

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Burning Boats

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I can’t post this unless it’s per­fect! I can’t take this pic­ture because my room is messy! I can’t do what­ever because it’s not how I want to be seen. But it’s who I am.

I’ve never even come close to think­ing of myself as a per­fec­tion­ist until I started liv­ing online. I’m able to share any­thing I want in so many places with so many peo­ple, but there’s always that hes­i­tancy that yells “WAIT” right before I set off, “Wait, It’s not per­fect, & you have to be per­fect online.” I can’t have any typos, the light­ing has the be manip­u­lated in such a way, every­thing has to be in it’s right place. I always find myself think­ing, “I just have to wait for the right moment, the per­fect moment & then I’ll do it.” Wait­ing for the per­fect moment to save money, the per­fect money to say how I feel, the per­fect moment to snap that picture.

What this is, is resis­tance. There will never be that per­fect moment, that per­fect post, that per­fect image of who I am. There is only fear and let­ting go. There will always be typos, no mat­ter how many days I spend proof read­ing, & some­times you just have to launch with­out the per­fect design & fig­ure it out as you go, because if not, the desire to be seen as some angelic per­fect being, will mean that no one will see you at all. I’m messy, this who I am. I like to be seen as cool, calm & col­lected (I am an Aquar­ius after all), but I’m really burst­ing forth with pas­sion & emo­tion & energy– & that can’t be per­fect. Pas­sion will never be perfect.

I have sat on the ship of per­fec­tion, & in it I dis­cov­ered the flaws are what’s really hold­ing the secrets. & Thus I burn this per­fect boat. It was always wait­ing for the right moment to set sail, so much poten­tial, so much perfection.

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On suffering & heartbreak

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(Note: I wrote this when I was feel­ing pretty run down, but, as tends to hap­pen, I’ve felt pretty dang good ever since. Writ­ing! It’s good for you!)

Life is full of suf­fer­ing & heart­break, even for those of us actively prac­tic­ing pos­i­tiv­ity, bro­ken hearts are bro­ken limbs are still inevitable.

I believe that when we become stag­nated in con­tention, the uni­verse throws suf­fer­ing at us to shake things up. I also some­times feel that I enjoy these murky depths, because more often than not it forces me into action-when being com­pla­cent in my life, I rarely progress.

It was a time of dif­fi­culty that forced me to start this web­site (evi­dence here). It was learn­ing about death that taught me about art, it’s when I’m really pissed at my job that I truly work hard to make a liv­ing on my own terms. It would be nice if it didn’t take the abyss to push me up, but some­times that’s just how it works. If I was just ok all the time– I would never attempt to go for beauty.

Suffering’s most impor­tant les­son is that it can end medi­oc­rity.

Or at least, it makes for some­thing to write about.

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