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The Oracle said we’re not all meant to survive. Show your soul. speak your truth, because that will change not the rotation of the Earth without regard for its substance. It will, however, change the way you vibrate in synchronicity with the motion of all that is. That can be a blessing or a curse, it’s up to you.

I have seen the Galaxy from far away, and it is a flat Edge on the horizon of Forever. Everything that ever was, and ever will be, is contained in that razor thin infinity. It is incomprehensible, but it is reality.

I’ve seen a few things that challenge my grasp of reality, challenge me to define what is real and what is imaginary. How different is reality from imagination? One must dream to be real, in my estimation. It is said that we manifest reality while in it, we manifest our desires while acting as though they are already satisfied. How the hell does that work?

It seems that we are not destined to understand or comprehend how that works, only accept that it does. That is easier said than done, of course, because the bondage of our limitation is woven into the fabric of every moment. If I do not believe that I can have my heart’s desire, then I make that a reality. It will become reality that I don’t believe that I can have it, and so I won’t have it.

Understanding that mechanism isn’t sufficient to alter it. The point at which I cannot alter my belief about the attainment is the point at which I have lost my mind to failure. I suppose that is exactly what failure is – losing my mind. Losing the ability to maintain the integration of mind with body and spirit. That is the point of disintegrationi and dissolution and ultimately failure.

In general, I don’t enjoy articulating failure, but not manifesting what I want is the pith of failure. Failure is not about not measuring up to someone else’s scale of success, but about whether or not I have what I desire. And it starts with desire, a hope, a dream, a wish. A vision for something else.

Right now, my vision for something else is about loosening my inhibition and self-restraint. I have always felt as though I have something to say, something to offer, music to play and songs to sing but I have always been too concerned with how it will be received to really let it out. Always holding things in, always feeling as though I’m not allowed to make too much noise or take up too much space.

The inhibition was given to me, by nature and nurture. By the act of being suppressed by those who loved me and those who didn’t, by those who discounted my words and those who feared them. That makes no sense to me, but I accept that it is part of the reality I have created. Why have I created such a short circuit that fades away into nothing?

These are times that try men’s souls. These are the times that suck our spirits dry. These are the times I came here for, I think. I am supposed to be doing something important, but I have been doing nothing. I don’t quite know what to do, and that is uncomfortable.

I was listening to a MasterClass with Carlos Santana, and he emphasizes having one’s heart in the music. A note is just a note, but with heart it is a melody, it touches another heart. He speaks of emotional dynamics in playing music, and that makes sense to me. Musicians who are mere technicians do not really speak to me. Musicians who cause me to feel something in how they emote speak to me on several levels at once. Santana says when you impart the emotion, and the heart, you will be heard and it will matter.

Right now I am looking at Santana as well as reflecting on my state of reality. I am somewhat restless, but there is fear of moving and fear of not moving. I have to move, though. I have to do something aside from watching videos and nursing resentments against people who have wronged me. Those fine people aren’t spending any time contemplating me, so I am wasting my time contemplating them. I know this.

What becomes of the broken hearted who had love that is now departed? Maybe they become prophets of doom, or embittered souls with little joy to offer. I am broken hearted, but I think I’d rather create something from the pieces that are left. There has to be some kind of cosmic glue, some duct tape, tin foil and chewing gum that will patch me back together enough to hold the water of life. That sounds dramatic, and possibly corny, but I know what I mean.

Where the hell am I these days? I don’t even know. There are places I know I don’t want to be, and other places I can’t be, but I’m not entirely sure about where I am right now. Things still feel a little surreal and a lot ungrounded. The spinning is beginning to make me a bit dizzy, and that’s no good. I stumble into walls and pot holes when I’m dizzy, and that doesn’t do me any good. I need to come in for a landing soon, so I can walk the path I’m supposed to walk.

I don’t know what the point of any of this is, but it does me good to stop running laps inside my head, in silence. Sometimes I have to make noise, sometimes I have to interrupt the silence. Silence is good, but so is noise. Noise is vibration, and vibration is the stuff of creation. Noise is passion, and passion can move all kinds of things.

Off I go, into the wild blue yonder, or at least the darkness of this evening. The weather is changing, and it’s much cooler. It snowed up in the mountains today, and it’s predicted to remain cool in these parts for the duration. It should be in the mid-to upper 30s at night this weekend, which makes me happy. If it snowed, it would be perfect. I’m a winter cycle being, and this is my time.