Metanoia on Substack

Hello old friends.

It has been many years since I’ve made a post here (and there are a lot of reasons for that), but make no mistake, I have not been missing from the internet. Instead, I’ve been working diligently in the background, moving across platforms and building Metanoia as I go along. I am reaching out to you today to inform you that Metanoia, the serialized novel, is currently being published on Substack.

It has been a long time since you’ve read my content, but if you once enjoyed my blog here on WordPress, you will like what I am now putting out into the world even more.

From now on, you can find my writing here: https://kerryjane.substack.com/

Thank you for being apart of my journey. I hope to see you there.

With love,

Kerry Jane

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From WordPress to Youtube

 The pilgrimage from words to mp4 has been a long time coming, and just as I’ve physically switched coasts in the US, I have also switched gears in the content I want to produce online.

At first, the desire to start making videos was very foreign and unnerving. This wouldn’t be something that came naturally or be an easy transition. Alas, I could not put down the feeling that this was the next step for me, and so I am here to present to you my newly launched channel, Metanoia.

 

Just as it was difficult for me to get used to the idea of trying to launch a channel, it was difficult to make the first video and try to verbally explain where I’m coming from and where I’d like to go with this new chapter.

I have spent the past few months beating myself up for not writing any blog posts and for not making any progress with my manuscript. Although it’s still discouraging, I have realized that there may be a good reason I can’t seem to get my mind on anything other than making videos. Perhaps simply going with what one feels naturally inclined to do in creative endeavors is the right way to go about it. Perhaps I have been too militant with word counts, with attempting to write my story in chronological order rather than in pieces, with churning out a blog post every week, or every month even. Where is the room for growth and letting a creation become something greater than a systematic ensemble?

   It is at this juncture that I’m entertaining the possibility that making videos at this time may be necessary for my growth as a writer, or for the person I’m becoming. After all, there is a lot that I am learning from this change of pace, and is also leading me to make a lot of new connections.

  So, if you’ve enjoyed this blog so far and would like to continue this journey with me, this is where you can find me in the foreseeable future. The thought of not producing any content on my blog still irks me and so I will be jumping on the first chance I get to write. But for now, this is where I’m called to.

 

 

In a World of Soldiers, Be a Warrior

   You may know the famous lyrics “I got soul but I’m not a soldier” in the song All These Things That I’ve Done by The Killers. I’m here to say that’s right Brandon Flowers, although I would extend that to say if you have “soul”, or character, that is actually what sets you apart from being a soldier. Having soul does not make you a soldier, it makes you a warrior.

We’ve all heard the term “soldier on” when we perceive a need to put our thoughts, feelings and inclinations aside just to get through the day, the week, the month, or even the years. But I am here to propose something different, and to suggest that this might not be the best attitude to have.

Perhaps it is the mental space we get in when we are looking for determination. We know that determination and will is the key to weathering any storm or overcoming any challenge. However, what are you conquering if you’ve turned off parts of yourself? A part of life perhaps, but not all of it. Soldiering on is not a way to be alive. It is damaging, not only to ourselves but to our surroundings.

The difference between a warrior and a soldier is that a soldier soldiers on while the warrior transcends its path. The soldier mindlessly pursues duty, without plugging into any higher, deeper purpose or meaning. The warrior is mindful of each step that it takes upon the Earth, lighting him or herself on fire to serve as a guidepost for anyone lost in their travels. The warrior walks an illumined path of sovereignty. The soldier is unconscious to what he or she is manifesting, taking orders from an external authority or an external standard.

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What is the point of moving forward when your footsteps are not created with purpose? It is in this way that there is little use for the soldier in this world, if only to service the current paradigm. That’s why I say, in a world of soldiers, be a warrior.

This is where the message turns to metaphor, so bear with me here in this next part.

The tricky element is that to be a warrior requires one to be okay with not being okay. If you are lost in the context of your surroundings, it asks that you be okay with not having a path to follow, because when you begin your journey on fresh ground, you’ll fall into a place of belonging through conscious will. The best part of making your own path is that limitations are no longer an issue, with no marching bodies in front or behind, and no line to tell you where to confine yourself. When you lift your head from the dirt and trail of the other that was showing you where to go, suddenly a new world becomes apparent to you. There are landscapes you’ve never seen, obstacles you’ve never faced, but all the while in awe at what would have otherwise gone unnoticed.

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So what do you do? You wander a bit. It gets interesting here because you may start to question where it was you were even trying to go, or what you were trying to achieve in the first place. What was it that you were servicing? Certainly not yourself, and certainly not the people, which are still in need of assistance in a world hurtling towards self destruction, all while the world persists in their hypnotic, militant trance. It all comes apparent, one way or another, and that is when you receive the call to service, true service. It is the path that embodies service to others rather than service to self.

It is in this way that service comes in many different forms. Service is not always direct, like volunteering at a soup kitchen or buying meals for the homeless. These acts, I will ask you to consider, can be more of a symptom of service rather than the service itself in this specific framework we’re talking about. There is a service to walking to the beat of your own drum, to allowing your own unique expression to shine through and be shared with others rather than conforming and editing parts of yourself to fit into a regime. The concept that this is a form of service is not so far fetched when you consider the fact that you are the only you in the world. There can be no other, and will be no other in the history of Earth than the you that is you at this exact moment. Therefore, what you bring to the world cannot be replicated, and cannot be replaced. In conclusion, you have a duty to be yourself, to walk your own sovereign path, and shine your light in the world.

To be yourself in a world that wants nothing but to put a reign on individuality, to put people in boxes of gender, sexuality, political association, race, and so on, rather than let you identify and walk as a human on the Earth, requires the strength of a warrior. As a warrior, do not let anything happen other than what your soul is naturally inclined to do, to be of service to humanity in the awakening realization that we do not stand alone but together, and that because we are all sharing the same air on this brief dance on a speck of dust floating through space, we’re not going to make it unless we call ourselves what we are, humans, and accept that we’re all connected in this way.

So with that I bid you farewell. Please share your thoughts in the comments. If you like my work and would like to support what I do here at Metanoia, please visit my Patreon page. I offer services for self discovery, promotion, mindfulness, and book lovers.

Also, thank you Marci Brockmann, Joe Milians, and Jen Dougherty for becoming a patron for Metanoia!

Featured image by RHADS

The Human Condition Is a Disability

The human condition is a disability, but this wasn’t always the case.

I was a very strange child. Although it doesn’t make much sense, I vividly remember not liking kids when I myself was one. I felt removed from my peers, as if I was a spectator that didn’t have a role. My first impression of children my age left such an impact on me that I still remember it to this day, as it would shape my perspective of society into adulthood.

I was three years old and it was my first day of preschool. My first thought of being placed amongst a band of other three year olds was utter disgust. Well, a level of disgust that a 3 year old was capable of at least. What horrified me was their inherent unconsciousness, their inability to comprehend that there was a whole world of other people equally important to themselves, a world that had limitations and a world that they needed to share. Every whiney child believed that their snack time was more important than everyone else’s snack time, and that the adults should bow down to their every beck and call. They had no conception of how the adults were working hard for us, and that this took time and energy. They had no idea that their needs might have to be temporarily displaced in the wake of a teachers’ many tasks. But I somehow understood this at the ripe age of three. In fact, I often put others needs before my own. I remember going without something because I didn’t want to ask an adult to do it for me. I would have rather sat and dealt with not being able to reach the cup on the shelf, or the snack in the cabinet, because I didn’t want to impede on my family’s busy life.

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A picture my sister took of me when I was about 4 years old 

Like I said, I was a strange child.

This feeling continued well into elementary school and middle school. I spent my entire childhood desperately wanting to become an adult because I honestly thought that this was a trait that kids grew out of. I wanted to be amidst peers who understood the importance of cooperation, who didn’t think their food, water, shelter, and overall comfort was all that mattered, was more important than my own or the person next to them. As many of you could accurately predict, I grew up only to be disappointed. Now 22, I see no difference between humans at 3 and humans at 45. If anything, the only thing that has happened is people grew out of their valuable innocence and into their immaturity. They are unable to come to a fundamental understanding that we are all connected, that “I am another you” as I’ve written about already. There’s no comprehension that when you hurt your surroundings, you are hurting yourself because the thing you’ve externalized is a part of you on space ship Earth, whether it is apparent or not.

Yes, many self-centered people come about because a parent did not practice boundaries and discipline with their kids. But why is there a need to teach this quality out of a person in the first place? Why are so many humans inherently self-serving to various degrees?

For thousands of years, we’ve built humanity on a system where the extent of success is determined on a person’s ability to step on the throat of their neighbor in order to get ahead. It’s well documented that we’ve built humanity on competition rather than cooperation, and I suspect that this behavior is now tightly woven into the fabric of our DNA. It is in this way that the escape from the hole we’ve dug for ourselves is likened to a rope we’ve weaved and now have to unravel. In this case, the rope is our strands of DNA that are now in serious need of a makeover.

Although I’ve made everything sound very dismal, I do believe there is much hope and that this is not how humans were meant to be. The mere fact that I’m able to sit here and write this is a good sign. In my opinion, the selfishness is largely unintentional, where humans do not know the extent of the impact they have. If it is a behavior learned and adapted over time, it can be unlearned and discarded as well. DNA works like a lock and key system, and once the choice is made to adapt to a changing world, or an evolving consciousness rather, it sets up for the right adjustments to take place.

It is a good sign that I’m able to be here writing this, but an even better sign would be to have readers that can relate to these words. It would be the growth of this blog in terms of likes, comments, shares and subscribers. I’ll continue to commit more time to see this happen, to reach anyone and everyone I can, not just through WordPress but in my every day life, and with the eventual publication of Metanoia. I constantly wonder if there are people out there with similar thoughts and feelings. I know there are but it seems impossible to reach them. The articles and posts that get shared the most are the short, shallow, and relatable items on the internet. These things are not bad, but are not the full extent of what can be thought, felt and dreamt by the mind.

In order to find like minds, or for people who need to read these thoughts and words for whatever reason in their life, I need the help of my readers to share this on whatever outlet is comfortable to them. If you think you know a person who would benefit from one of my posts, or find them interesting, send it to them. If you like any concept that I’ve written about, turn it into your own content for your blog and mention me. What are some experiences that you’ve had on this subject, or what are some insights you’ve come to on your own? I’d genuinely like to know.

That aside, if you are reading this, I love you and thank you.

Featured image by Krystleyez

The Illusion of Separation

   As someone who has a background in biology and chemistry, I’ve had the opportunity to come to a fundamental understanding of our living world. Depending on the person, this can lead to an increased awareness of self, and awareness of their actions for those who are willing to fully grasp the meaning behind the facts. Suddenly, there are greater implications with nutrition, for what we put into our bodies to generate our physical makeup. Some also become more aware of the extent to which their actions effect the world around them. The concept of what it means to be connected to the environment becomes intensified, and one comes to understand that the “connection” science mentions penetrates far deeper than the thin, branching lines of a phylogenetic tree.

   Let me take a moment to explain who I am. I am a person who believes that we live in a divine cosmos. I believe that the human race has amnesia, and that someone or something is taking advantage of that for profit and power. I’ve made a choice to be here as a participant in the rise of consciousness, the volunteer souls who came to be apart of the journey and assist in our human ascension. What I want to ultimately convey here is the true concept of interconnectedness. It is not that you are connected to the plants, animals, and rocks, it is that you are the plants, animals, and rocks expressed in a different, unique way. We are all different expressions of organized matter, the same matter, either through  physical laws of chemistry, or through the detailed recipe book of DNA. It is in this complex, yet simple manner that everything you see or touch is your brother or sister.

As scientists, and a newly educated public, we know this, but have we fully grasped the implications of it?

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One important distinction that may take some initial mental dexterity is that “the environment”, the thing we’ve externalized and identified as something that operates as a closed system outside of ourselves, includes your very own flesh and bone. Your body is the environment. You, your consciousness, is merely borrowing it for a short while. The air you breathe, the water you drink and the food you eat eventually becomes the building blocks of your body in a continual exchange of atoms. Every atom comes from Earth, and from the cosmos. This connection is not merely a thin string that ties you to something, it is the inherent design which reveals that all separation is an illusion.

For a passerby taking a minute to read about this concept, it is extremely easy to go back to living in the disconnected life we’ve made for ourselves. The illusion of separation is enhanced by the thin walls of our dwelling. It’s enhanced by 7 billion other people who are convinced in the illusion and uphold it. It is true that we’re all experiencing individuality, and there is a deep lesson to be had in that. Individuality is not a bad thing. The problem only occurs when the reality of our union becomes obscured and we become apathetic and disconnected. Perhaps the lesson lies in learning how to not subject power on one another once in a convincing state of separation.

 I long for humanity to redefine “human” as an intrinsic aspect of planet Earth, and not some deity free from the natural cycles or from the consequences of their choices.

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   This post has the potential to develop into a series encompassing several branching tangents of thought. There are so many avenues that can be explored with this rudimentary concept. Some of these ideas that I’m thinking about delving into include the efficacy of herbal medicine/holistic lifestyle, why or how humans have severed their connection with one another and the Earth, and our society’s reluctance to say “I love you”.

Share your input, questions, and thoughts with me! The right comment might just help me develop the next train of thought.

Kerry Jane is now on Instagram!

Featured image credited to Lauralai

Waiting For Now

A dull neutrality can be born out of the ups and downs of life. The inertia of this middle ground is likened to quicksand, where any movement or struggle just sends you down further into the muck. You don’t move an inch and you don’t dare to take a breath of hope in fear that it’ll make the situation worse. The possibility of never breaking free from that moment arises, but panicking would only quicken the descent. Blindness to the predicament doesn’t do a service either. You may forget about your impediment and make a fatal move. So you numbly surrender to the outcome, to the molasses that is the present.

Is this the true essence of now? Is this what the spirit of the present feels like? No, I’d say the real present is something much more joyful. It is freedom, love, purity of sheer existence. It is much like the literal representation in The Muppet Christmas Carol where a jovial red headed muppet sings a song for Scrooge to teach him a lesson about the magic of now. It is what we always expectantly project into the future, either just beyond the horizon, or much farther. It’s hard to live in the moment when it does not feel worthy of living in. I currently have not come to a conclusion, or have found any answer that gives guidance to this at this juncture of my life. I’ve even thrown around the idea of trying to write a short story about this in an attempt to find the answer. I would title it, like I have in this post, ‘Waiting For Now’.

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When what we want is in the distance, we attach that spirit of joy of the present along with it. I guess this is why many “new agers” talk so much about trying to attain abundance by already feeling like you have what you want. Time is, after all, only linear within the confines of our human perception. It is this idea that pushes me to imagine that I am in fact not sitting in a Starbucks on Long Island, but a privately owned cafe in California as I write this. I have already written Metanoia, and it is providing a second income so that I don’t have to work 40+ hour weeks to survive, so that I can explore other passions and ways of making money. I imagine the world going to shit, but that it doesn’t matter because the world I created for myself is safe and abundant with people and situations I’m meant to be around and encounter.

But my imagination can only take me so far in time and space. No matter how much I day dream, the reality is that I will wake up in the same bed tomorrow. Despite how ever introspective and insightful my followers might think I am, I do not know how to deal with this unfortunate reality, especially after trying so hard to change it. Where is the proverbial now, and how do I get there when traditional human customs do not bring me joy?

Right now I look outside and I see flowers bloomed in a summer that I waited so long for. If I had to guess I would say that it is the very nature of our lifestyles that makes it so impossible for us to be happy enough with the mere sight of this bloomed flower, and nothing else. Our lifestyles do not allow for a moment to fully enjoy the flower, the trip to the beach, or the camping trip. Have you ever felt an overwhelming sense of desperation while watching a sunset or playing a fun game, and then become confused about this sensation that came on so suddenly? I do almost ever week, and when it comes I don’t even feel like it is my own.

 In these moments I am uncontrollably mourning the death of the divine colors cast by the setting sun before it’s even over. I am lamenting over the fact that precious moments come in crumbs rather than wholesome meals.  I feel desperate to lose that moment because I’m allotted so few of them in a summer that becomes winter with the blink of an eye. I feel desperate to lose it because it is the only thing I truly value in this world, over anything that I can buy, or any lame social interaction that is to be had in this materialistic world. I value these crumbs more than the industry and the regimented lifestyle that consume every person. I don’t know when the next instance of oneness and belonging will come and when the sunset is gone, I feel like I have to part with my soul indefinitely. I have to go back to the quicksand, to the muck and the mud of a false present. I don’t want to be left alone with that fabrication any longer. That is how and why I find myself waiting for now, and I wonder if there is anyone waiting along with me.

Contact

A few nights ago, I awoke at two in the morning covered in sweat. Uncomfortable enough to do something about it, I went upstairs to turn on the AC and stumbled down the hallway, the urge to get back into my bed overwhelming as always. But this time, as I walked past the back door, I was abruptly drawn to go outside and look at the stars.

Despite the strong pull, I had to stop for a moment. Was it safe out there when I was home alone? It is easy for me to feel alone in the middle of the night, even with someone sleeping close by. What was lurking in the dark? Ever since a nightmare I had years ago of a mysterious, malicious man coming at me in the night towards my house, it was difficult to not be scared of being in that doorway, let alone walk through it.

Once I shook myself out of the dazed sleepwalk, I quickly became aware of how silly this was. It was a beautiful, clear night and I’d be a fool to not enjoy it, if only for a moment.

I sat on the deck stairs, the air soft from land that emitted heat of the summer sun. I live right behind a highway, and it had never felt as still and quiet as it did then. I could feel the world sleep, and for the first time it brought peace instead of loneliness.

Suddenly something caught my attention, a flash of light in my left field of vision. I turned towards it, thinking it was a shooting star that I had missed, and I saw it again, this time as just a flash. “Hi!” I called out happily. Right then, a huge meteor flew across the sky. I laughed with a giddy lightness, and smiled at the thought of a small, grey alien with those giant characteristic eyes casting a stone across the waters of Earth’s sky to meet my salutation. It felt a lot like Interstellar, when Cooper tries to deliver a message to his daughter across time and space through a medium that surpasses all realms of our current understanding. Whatever was out there, I felt warmth and company in the light-polluted dampness of night.

  Upon reflection of the moment, the feeling of soft support and company was strange, given that it was scary to go outside alone in the dark in the first place. Once coming back inside, I realized my basement was more spooky than my backyard. The yard had a horizon that I forgot about, a backdrop with pinholes of light from other worlds calling out. It was a cramped space that I hid in that made me feel safe. Outside, I felt love and wonder. I questioned if people would change if they were forced to sleep under the night sky again. It’s strange to think that although we’re afraid to go out there due to exposure, it is actually more embracing and kind than the box we keep ourselves locked up in for comfort.

Contact with boundaries internal and external are necessary, breaching thresholds that harbor love and wonder, the sky a symbol of the frontiers of our minds, our psyche. External boundaries may even mirror internal ones, and so crossing one reciprocates the other. As they say “As above, so below, as within, so without, as the universe, so the soul…”  –Hermes Trismegistus 

It is not just about putting ourselves out there just so we don’t excessively shelter ourselves. It is about making contact with the divine, whatever that may be for each of us. It’s about looking out and wondering what is looking back, and what they see. It is about feeling the softness of our frontiers, not just their occasional harsh, unforgiving nature. Despite whatever lies in their crossing, the ultimate is love and compassion.

I walked back down stairs to my bed, forgetting to turn on the light to the staircase, holding on tightly to the railing when I judged the last step. When I got to the bottom, I felt it level, and walked off onto trustworthy ground.

Life as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP)

I wince at the roar of machines churning, the walls of my basement shaking. Others are numb to it, but to me this defilement of the environment is likened to a dentist drilling into someone’s gums, the churning teeth and veins the same as butchered wood and roots. It is all a bloody, gory mess either way. For me, this is what it means to be a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP).

For those who consider themselves a HSP, loud noises and large crowds are a common deterrence, but for someone who is spiritually and emotionally connected to the Earth like me, the abuse the environment takes every day is a particular nuisance. It’s not easy being a HSP and living where I live. Now that it’s summer, someone in the neighborhood is always cutting down a tree, pounding down into the earth to get rid of it’s roots for some project out of self service. As if they don’t have enough non-indigenous plants that require loads of chemicals and water rather than using the space and resources to feed themselves, Earth’s ultimate gift to humanity. I’ve always said that humans are a species that rake up leaves so that they can put down fertilizer. Everything we do is backwards and without consideration.

Where I live, the population is 7.6 million, higher than the country of Norway, on a piece of land that spans 118 miles. It wears on someone like me, and there is not a passing moment where I am desperate to leave the bickering, angry people who do not even realize just how unhappy they are, that life is not a fixed state but something ever-changing and separate from their perceived reality. It is the collective unconscious that I seek to escape, the people who do not want to ask questions, who do not work on themselves and merely exist for empty pleasures.

On a side note, I’m here because there’s no longer a place in the country where a recent college graduate can live off of minimum wage while looking for a job in their field (if you know of a place near the coast, let me know).

Most are numbed, and raised to accept the desecration of nature. They are completely disconnected in their minds and hearts, although not in their physicality as science refutes this. Atoms in your body are derived from the universe, with our planet being our closest relative. Everything is recycled and necessary for a healthy biome, and since humans live here and were created here, they are not above this.

As a HSP, I feel this without a choice, and I walk around with a wall around me just so that I don’t get sick, but this is no way to live. I sometimes wonder if I don’t know who I truly am, as I’ve never been able to live in a constant outward expression of authenticity, although I’ve been doing the best I can to slowly put pieces of myself together to see the whole picture. Walls make it difficult to reach out to anything, to open up and experience what is left, or meant to be experienced.

Perhaps what is worse about everything is that us highly sensitive people are also expected to not be bothered by these things amidst a world of desensitized zombies. It is not normal to be on edge, to be tired, to not want to go out into loud clamoring nonsense. I hear the voice of the collective unconscious, the voice we’ve created, it says “Now go behave and party your evenings away until you no longer have the capacity to think or feel. You do not need real relationships, only people to pass the time with. Also, make sure you have a job that supports this habit, and don’t forget the gym membership. Running on a treadmill for 2 hours burns more calories than a stroll through nature. You’ll need that from all the drinking.” Now, I never partake in this atmosphere because it is in complete dissonance to my being, but it’s a constant roar that can be heard in the background, a thriving culture for much of the human population.

If by any chance you are a HSP and have a blog, I challenge you to write a post about what it’s like for you. Include whatever you want in it, whether it’s a focus on what deters you the most, or additional thoughts on the matter. Tag me in the post or let me know so that I see what your input is. If you don’t have a blog, let me know by leaving a comment.

Featured image by Ryan Wilson 

Facing the Blind Deaf Stone Alone

“…the sea’s only gifts are harsh blows and, occasionally, the chance to feel strong. Now, I don’t know much about the sea, but I do know that that’s the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong, to measure yourself at least once, to find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing blind, deaf stone alone, with nothing to help you but your own hands and your own head…” – Primo Levi


Let me just say, I hate this sculpture.

I don’t know where it came from or why it’s there. All I know is that I’ve had to look at it almost every morning for three years. Three years and thankfully not four, as I spent one year in California, which only seems like a dream now.

It is displayed up on a hill that the express bus passes on its run from the South parking lot to campus. Every morning I saw this wretched thing and questioned what it’s supposed to mean. What’s the point of a concrete swing frozen in time? Why is it pale yellow? I don’t know what the actual intentions are for it, but to me it symbolized something very cynical, dark even. Like a warning sign to anyone entering campus, there’s a subliminal message of fruitless efforts, inhibition of joy, and an overall sense of hopelessness. Fruitless efforts for when you’re on a swing but the chains are fixed. Joy of a favorite pastime activity taken away. Knowing that even if the thing were to come to life, you’d only go back and forth indefinitely, until you got off. As of 5/20/16, I got off this swing and walked away.

It must be very hard for others to understand, with the great reputation for “higher education”. I understand this, and I also understand that this is my journey and you have your journey, and there aren’t going to be equivalencies at ever turn. But I mean every word when I say this was the hardest part of my life. To me, this was a time when I was thrown into a dark room with no light and no exit point. It was like being stuck on a road that never ends. I strapped myself into some sort of machine that looked like Kerry, but was not Kerry, and went about my life in the way that was asked of me. I didn’t feel like my life was my own. All efforts I put forth were washed down the drain so consistently that it brought me to the point where I even questioned if there was some divine intervention putting all it’s strength into sabotaging my plans and putting me on an entirely different route. It put a veil between me and the rest of world so that when I went to push, nothing moved. Every visualization of of trying to become something was squandered, and no one who knew me saw it. I don’t know how they could. When you’re moving through a similar medium, and people experience something entirely different from what you are, it is almost impossible for them to put themselves in your shoes, and so on top of everything also came isolation and loneliness.

Thankfully, when I turned away form the world and went inside, I found something. It was Metanoia, a light in the dark, something with potential disguised as something small and ambiguous. It was a seed, and it’s this seed that I’m going to water and nurture from now on.

The human race is dissonance, a cacophony of emptiness. People castrate their consciousness with alcohol, drugs, sex, money, and comfortable routine. Being even just a little disconnected from that in developing years allowed for an authentic emanation of self. This sets me apart more than anything else from my peers. It just may be the disruption in the pattern that made my efforts ineffective here. I found essence, and thats all I want to experience now, untainted by the vibrational garbage drowning it out and forcing it under. I look around to see that family and friends have not been as lucky to have a center. Or am I the unlucky one? Facing the blind deaf stone alone, it sometimes feels like I was placed in some sort of solitary confinement born out of the collective unconsciousness. When you enter, you begin to live another life entirely. Facing the blind deaf stone alone, I’m not accompanied with anyone who has the capacity to see me, or know what it is I’m trying to achieve here. I’m up against so much right now. I’m up against my unconscious peers when I seek enlightenment. I’m up against my genetics which was born out of generations of people who were afraid to take risks and lived comfortably numb, asleep at the wheel as my brother likes to put it. I have no role models, or examples to follow. I have no way of navigation. I have no finances. I only have a vague sense of the home that lies somewhere on the other side of this, far, far away. I desperately want to get there. I am uncertain, but determined, and maybe I needed Stony Brook University for this reason, to be plunged into darkness so that I would no longer tolerate anything but light, and everything that comes with it.

To all those listening, thank you, and I love you.

 

Artwork credited to Niken Anindita

The Freedom to Choose

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be”

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Hello to all my loyal followers, and hello to any newcomers.

   Now that the spring semester has begun, most of my time and energy will be funneled into school, especially since I am trying to secure my graduation for May. This unfortunately means less  posts, and allotting any free time I have to writing my novel, so I apologize for the lack of posts over the next few months.

   I’m finding that this is a very unnerving time in my life where there is much uncertainty for the future, and fear of this unknown. It is not so much the typical scenario for all youth where there is a dilemma in not knowing ones purpose or passion. Its more of an anxiety brought on by the apparent lack of opportunity after a life of trying to produce just the opposite. This discomfort brings me to what I wish to talk about today.

   I see it in others and I see it in myself. Very often we believe that we are stuck in life. We don’t think we can get out of our career choice, our job, our relationship, our geography, our finances, or anything at all. Perhaps the mindset comes from knowing that these situations were completely circumstantial, which often is the main factor controlling where we end up in life at some point, despite our best efforts, and despite what we’re told about things like hard work and perseverance. But recently I was reminded of something, and it prompted me to take my own advice.

 

   I’ve seen horrific things that people must endure on this plane of existence, things I will not go into detail. I’ve been fortunate enough, and thankful for having a life in which I did not have to go through these things, and yet still be able to learn something from being a bystander. What I’ve learned from these people is that there always is a choice, no matter what. There really are no excuses.

   I must convey what making a choice actually entails here. When you are depressed for example, you do not simply decide to start feeling better and make it so the day after. This is what many people mistakenly say to others, especially those who have never been through great hardship (or for those who have and see this as a way to avoid their baggage rather than working with it and truly moving on). Change doesn’t work like that here. For some, it takes an entire lifetime to bring forth some manifestation, or a change in destiny. For these people, it was between that and never breaking free, and they chose freedom. With this, you are presented with the option to let life happen to you, or to gather up some courage for the long haul. I suppose everyone is different, but I  would rather have a life trying to get somewhere. I would not want to give my power over to circumstance. I do not believe thats what I, or any of us were meant to do. As the saying goes, “After all, none of us are getting out alive anyway”. In the end it didn’t matter what occurred for the people who took control of their destiny. What mattered was that they acknowledged their position, had a conversation with themselves, and started looking for a way to make a change. They evaluated what was worth taking and what was worth leaving behind.

   I have no idea if this will strike a chord with any of you at this time. Perhaps it does for some time in your past, or perhaps it will somewhere down the line in your future. Either way, I felt compelled to say something about this.

   For me personally, there is this feeling of being lost, but not in life, in another way entirely. I recently heard someone present the question “Where is my Joy?”. Yes, where is my joy? Where is that old friend? For me, it is misplaced in the distractions and the checklists and the obligations. I warn myself not to disconnect from the path that leads me to my bliss, because when I do, I could temporarily lose my way back to that. This is where I find myself now. Overcoming this may be the way to dislodge myself from the clingy sap of self doubt, mistrust, and disappointment.

   Perhaps getting back to oneself in this way is not as complicated as it feels. There’s a song by my favorite artist Aurora I wish to share that resonates with this.

   In her song, it is extremely frank, and yet so eloquently put.

   “I know I can. Thats why I do it.”

 

Featured image credited to Folkert Gorter