South Australia


Taking a break from Taiwan and relaxing in Adelaide, enjoying a sunny July winter.


I always feel that Australia is a kind of alternate universe, a different world far removed from everything I know. There’s a pleasant beauty here that draws you in and erases the passage of time.

bluest blue

Is that the blue that dreams-
of your blue, my blue, whose blue?

I am a blue but not your blue
And not that blue
Not anyone’s blue
I am the bluest blue

The others are gone in the blink of an eye
Yet I never was nor will be
As I am the bluest blue

Beyond the Myth of Sisyphus


Ever since Camus we have imagined Sisyphus happy, pushing his boulder
This “hero” accepts his fate and is devoid of hope
The perfect absurdist hero

What a hopeful chap that Camus, but such hope, he fails his own test
His boulder rests firmly atop his absurd postmodern hill

Camus can go no further, yet Sisyphus persists
Do not ask if he is happy (surely he is not)
Instead ask, does he accept his fate?

He ought to throw up his hands and beg forgiveness to the gods
Yet he persists
Why?

His actions speak for themselves
What do the actions of Sisyphus indicate about his beliefs?

What do your actions say about your beliefs?
What do you believe, really?

that pain is real, that suffering is real
that there is life, that there is death
that there is good, that there is evil
that there is truth, that there is knowledge

that truth is knowable amidst lies and deceit

that chaos is real, that order is real
that beauty is real
that God is … ?

For all our talk, we sure do act as if we believe

evidenced by his actions, there is only one belief Sisyphus holds
he fails — and he fails — and he fails
yet he tries again — and again — and again

It is as if the infinite power of the gods
to knock his boulder down back down the hill
has been matched by his stubborn refusal to give up

If the story is to be believed
Sisyphus once chained death and escaped the underworld
That is why the gods punish him

But clearly something still motivates him
He must believe that this impossible task is in fact doable
He once saw past the gods, he rejected them

I imagine his mind is freed of ego
and yet he is not happy, far from it
His torment is real — and – it – is – frustrating

He persists despite his
liberation from the unnecessary suffering of false beliefs
the gods of these traditions punish him daily
And he pushes against them eternal

He toils in a meaningless way
I do not see him as a hero nor as happy
I do not believe his fault was for defying the gods
No
Sisyphus once knew a path out of hell
His fault is a lack of wit and ingenuity,
a lack of wisdom and creativity,
to truly surpass what he must know can be surpassed

Potentiality

The burden of being
It’s a slow suffering
What some call samsara
“Shit happens.”
It all starts there
in the edges of light and dark,
in that crisp texture of beauty,
it’s a constant reminder
of what is up and what is down.
And then, beyond the edges,
The bliss of being
It’s overwhelming
What some call samadhi
It all ends there

The Muse is …

the inevitable creation of the future
, is happening now
, in every moment
it could be the best possible to-morrow
, forged from the muck of yester-day
, so be it, to-day
and what say the muse?
, her ever-expanding beauty
, his forever forward
I reach for her on the pinnacles beyond thought
, out of touch, beyond Blake’s eternity
, and yet always present
without her it is hell

We can not not Believe

IMG_4296One of the most important things I’ve ever learned, is not to get lost in the metaphors of belief.

Before you dismiss beliefs in God or gods or faeries or elves or nature spirits or a belief in a mechanistic universe devoid of any supernatural entities — before dismissing the beliefs of others, recognize that all human perceptions are illusory and false, all of them, pretty much by definition they are not real, they are abstract metaphors attempting to make sense of a world outside of our senses.

If you’re going to dismiss false beliefs, then start with your favorite color, your favorite music, the beauty of a sunset — these are false beliefs. The sun doesn’t set. Color and music exist only in your mind, they have no external reality and there is no scientific basis for what is known as the qualia of these experiences.

We pretend science is mechanistic and yet every scientific breakthrough happened through a creative and playful insight, a creation of a new metaphor that while useful is still as false as all the others.

All of our ambitions and our every “will to power” is as natural and as false as believing in tree spirits. We devise these metaphors in attempt to make sense of the world and ourselves. We are the creators of these perceptions and there is no difference between you as the perceiver and that which you perceive.

But can you stop believing in music and color, can you truly stop believing in magic? Is it even possible not to embrace false beliefs?

Every time you think about “a life worth living” or “doing the right thing”, you are under the delusion of a false belief.

It is impossible to be human without these experiential beliefs.

But it is possible to know that a belief is false and still be uplifted by the power of that belief — it profoundly doesn’t matter that there is no external reality to the beauty you experience listening to music, or watching a sunset, or spending a quiet afternoon with a lover, or appreciating a babbling brook — to be human is to live with and of these metaphors.

The problem with beliefs is not that they are false, all beliefs are false, you may say some are useful and some are not — but even that conjecture of usefulness is itself a false belief (useful to whom? and to what end?).

The problem is when we get lost in the metaphor. The moment you see your beliefs as real, that is the problem — the moment you forget that your perceptions are only perceptions, that is the problem — this is what leads to religious fanaticism and suffering of all kinds; and while it’s natural to have false beliefs, it is wise to live with and of the beauty of beliefs. Believe in music, believe in art, believe in God if it inspires you to be kind, believe in tree spirits if it helps you to feel connected with nature, just don’t get lost in the metaphor, it’s not real, and that’s okay.

Wander, Wander, Wanderlust


Wander, Wander, Wanderlust

From Mexico I came to California, I'm in LA now about to drive to Arizona … I don't tell facebook to announce my birthday but let's just say today is a day I'm not going gentle into that good night.As Dylan said: Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Random thoughts on Love

I like to think of love as an art. Like painting or music — you cannot expect to be talented in music without practice — love is no different. And that goes for both giving and receiving. With love-as-an-art you are both the giver and the receiver, the painter and the canvas; an experienced lover knows how to touch their canvas, and a good canvas in turn knows how to receive touch and illuminate something beautiful.

Love always starts with yourself, and with that most fundamental of questions, “who am I?

Who are you to be loved?

Receiving love is kind of like hypnosis in that you can only hypnotize people who are willing (consciously and subconsciously) to be hypnotized! Even the most talented hypnotist cannot hypnotize someone too stubborn to be hypnotized. And in the same way, the worlds most talented lover cannot love a person who is unwilling to be loved. You cannot love a person who does not love themselves. In those moments such a person becomes an instrument that refuses to play; a canvas that does not hold paint.

Now of course, there is a form of hypnosis that works completely subconsciously without any will or consent, it’s a temporary, sort of deer-in-headlights form of hypnosis that illusionists use to distract a person to do something silly like steal their watch. It’s a con of sorts. And unfortunately, for many people, this is how they experience love — love appears to just happen — and it becomes a sort of game. Those who learn this con game are able to play successfully. It means temporarily blinding a target, and rather than stealing a watch, they steal a heart.

If you are not practicing being a talented lover, there is a good chance you are unconsciously playing this silly game, sometimes as the target, sometimes as the mark. Your basic needs met through what is essentially a con.

It is ironic that everyone who says, “I don’t want to play games”, is in that moment playing a game. If you really wanted to stop playing games, then I would recommend learning to love, become a talented lover, learn to give and receive, and be amazing and seductive to all the lovers in your life.

There are no rules to love, there is no score, because it’s not a game — like music and art — love can be practiced and enjoyed for it’s own sake.

Most importantly, love yourself, for it is the most significant relationship in your life.