Well, lets start of with a sombre note. I have $20 left for 2 weeks of the month. But thankfully, I have a cheque coming in next week for story telling. Now, that's my slice of reality for this post. Lets jump into my mind!

“No one loses anyone, because no one owns anyone. That is the true experience of freedom: having the most important thing in the world without owning it”- Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

Why do people love possessing things? They desire to be possessed, yet know that possessing another person could and would kill the spirit that they so loved within another. How does one capture a beautiful bird without killing its spirit? A koan that was taught with a sacred answer. The realization was immense and it slips in and out of my consciousness from time to time. I've only shared the answer with one other person - but I don't think it was a wrong thing to do, it was within a relevant context and she probably understands it better than me.

It is weird really, to be an instructor. To know so little, understand less and to be teaching the children of the future generation. I've even gone to the point of being petty, where I debate with my students over things they would never imagine to understand - asking them questions I myself have no answers to. I don't want to be a teacher at this point in my life. I know less than what I knew when I was in school. I used to dream a lot, and I still do. But I realised that dreaming is only the 1st step, it doesn't do any good unless a due amount of work is put into it. And work is painful. I never liked pain, but I'm now considering - that I should embrace pain to bring pleasure. Yet it isn't the complete truth because the addiction to pain, leads to suffering because of the idea that sacrifice is always necessary. So what is my relationship to pain? It feels necessary yet destructive. More to learn I suppose.

I'll take time off from my art soon. I need to live more, learn more before my desire to practise my art consumes me and makes me more mediocre than I already am. I feel like I'm a performer, yet by all standards I am not what people would consider for a role in the theatre. I'm starting to feel that my gifts lie in a realm between music, visual arts and drama - a thought that hasn't been scratched upon. I need to question more. Ask more. Learn. Learn. And grow. Because what's the point of life, if all you ever know is security in the past - in what is already proven? Science can be replicated. But in life, in art - things are relevant in a moment, yet if it is the human condition - it holds a lifetime of value. And one person's creation in art, is unlike any other. Its beauty is in being verifiable yet impossible to replicate. Like the truth. The only constant.

I don't know if this makes any sense to me, but it does - for now. Until things change and I grow again. I might look back and say - this was a turning point. Or I may laugh and say - I still hadn't grown up then. This is me, being unrealistic, immature and childish beyond belief. Yet I think there is value in even the most banal things - because it shapes what we are as a being. Maybe.