Write like a Death Row Inmate

“Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.”      

– Alan Watts 

I write to feel less alone, I write so that others might see my heart and feel my heart.   It feels more like writing found me, than I found writing.   It feels like, often when I get to the blank page, the levees are on the verge of breaking and the hurricane swells of the ocean are bursting through and will no longer be contained.  Because most of the things I feel in my soul and heart are so hard to put into words, the energy and connection of the heart and soul can not be captured in words. I can try in a 1000 different ways each times to capture it and create metaphors that try to capture it and this is the fun of it.  Continually trying to get better at expressing, what can’t be expressed in it’s truest form, it can be expressed through the subjective perception of creation energy that I was granted, or my word processing and creation of words via logical and 1D language.   This is the challenge.

Before I had any aspirations of being published or anything like that, putting words on the page helps me to sort out the intergalactic storms raging in my heart, and the resulting car crashes via neural pathways, when the mind couldn’t reconcile the sweet and heavenly union energy I experience with meditation, or the earth splitting pain in my heart.  Writing is my attempt at making the communication lines and traffic of mind, electricity wiring, be upgraded, to fit, the higher concepts of union consciousness and the things I feel via the soul, that are ineffable.

A good example of this is, I could describe a deep meditation, especially after a couple months of celibacy, as: having sex with God, which is what I desire in life.

You are attractive, you’re a beautiful girl, I mean it, but ……it’s God, I’d rather have sex with her, Gaia is the sexiest entity I have ever encountered, I really hope you don’t take offense.  I’m sorry, no, don’t cry.  I promise there are tons of other guys that want to have sex with you and be with you.  (Ughhhh if you only knew, that physical intercourse is the most empty expression of love when you are still firmly planted far away from your own soul.  If you only knew that sex, is a deeply sacred act that exchanges an enormous amount of energy and opens you up to the other person’s energy field and internal-spirit-verse. You have it backwards, physical love is the most non-intimate, non-loving act there is, spiritually, when you haven’t done the work on yourself first.)

But this seems a little too grandiose for most, people have been programmed with language, “good and evil”, is anything inherently good or evil? Does this distinction and polarity actually exist or has it just been ingrained in us via language.  Hmm, I wonder why they call it SPELL-ing, are we casting spells via words and programmed these monkey minds/brain computers.  The jedi level shit is when you realize most of your human attributes can be tinkered with and SPELL-ed as in you can RE-program yourself for abundance, love,  forgiveness.  You can re-program your heart to start running the mind, not easy though in a pro-mind (insane) society.    In a society that uses as its engine, profit, competition, separation, illusions of inadequacy, it is a revolutionary act to begin to re-program- wield your own (heart resonance) (a mini-star system with incomprehensible power) love like the samurai sword that it is, which can dissolve every obstacle in its path.

I have this angry and erratic relationship with spoken word lately, it has been a tempestuous and fickle lover my entire life.   We have passionate, pleasure binges and then I go months and years, completely neglecting them and losing all faith in them.  Then I go on another word bender again and curse them , and feel like a preacher, or a televangelist.  Some days I try to balance the spoken word and dance of human etiquette and interaction and you know what? Even when I hit the triple axels perfectly, smile at the right time or be with a fluid cadence of exchanges with the person I am with, it still feels like most cling too strongly to this construct (politeness) and rehearsed word combinations in conjunction with “appropriate” facial expressions.

It bores me, I want to talk to your soul and heart, your “polite” and “nice” and “practiced social maneuvers meant to ingratiate and flatter” are putting me to sleep. Society’s “conversation” construct bores me, most especially in America, where one is defined by how they fit into the assembly-line-slave-matrix.   Most conversations with people feel like being in a square dancing class, like “no, that foot goes here, you have to respond and mirror what my body, is doing, keep up Peter!”  I like long pauses in conversation, or when I purposely don’t match a person’s enthusiasm who is especially fake, so they are forced to take a look and hear the echo of their hollow chest pounding ego sermons, oops , no actually I’m the one spouting off the sermons (None of this is real! It’s a dream and this is heaven!)  As the person concludes I have lost my mind.   They aren’t really conscious though, someone who is driven by ego, sort of loses conscious recognition of their actions,  they feed off the ego illusions, desperately need praise and are magnetically drawn to other big egos.

I got a whole ocean of repressed shit that wants to flow out of me from a lifetime of listening to the people around me, so bear with me….  I just realized that life is a dream, it’s not actually real, and 99.99% of people are full of shit and as clueless and fearful as a Rwandan child who hears the soldiers beginning to unload Uzi’s on his neighbors house before they descend upon theirs, especially the ones I idolized most of my life , most especially in the United States of Automatons.  Are the 15 hour work days really just compensating for a crippling fear of the grim reaper?  Desperately grasping and amassing the trophies and green paper, that will soon be as worthless as your decomposing corpse in a box in the ground?  Please tell me I am a powerful and strong man, tell me I am such a hard worker and good man.  

I write because I want to construct a new world in my head that doesn’t have all these laws and insecurities, and repetitive, practiced bullshit I encounter in the world. All around me I see people clinging to their boxes and safety and security, sucking at the tit of romantic love blah blah, get your own identity and leave the heroin junkie lame excuse for an identity.   Congrats, one person eats meals with you and has sex with you.  But your just going to stop exploring your own identity right in it’s tracks, has that 10k waste of money on her finger made your life essentially complete, you’ve passed the finished line?   How sad, all because you have a bedmate, and reproduction partner?

There is authentic soul love, partnerships, but I think it is extremely rare.  Most are contractual, sugar-licking rabbit, sex addiction and TV-watching partnerships.  It’s conditional love, how cruel is that?  How backward is that?  You MUST ONLY have sex with me until they put you in the ground?  If you engage in this physical act with another, I NO LONGER LOVE YOU.  Psssssst, hey…….. that’s not real love. It is domesticated love.  Like the difference between a Lion who lives in a zoo, and a Lion who lives on the African Savannah.  Real love is unconditional, it is free and ever-forgiving, and ever-rebirthing, limitlessly expanding force that has metaphysical superpowers.  I’ll always love you because your God in a human body,  I love every living being.  The competition and hierarchy schemas that popular culture has installed in our minds.  Ugh sheep, sheep, sheep, sheep, and more sheep.

So willing we are to put a electric shock collar around our necks, yes please zookeeper, keep me safe in the cage and bring me my meals daily.  Living in the wild and surrendering to the wild divine order of love, death and rebirth is too scary.  Here government, take my money to murder civilians…. as long as I am safe in my cage and someone tells me they love me every night.  I need my milk bottle and teddy bear.

Is it just me or have some married people, that you encounter, powered down their ability to connect deeply with another soul of the opposite sex?  In some misplaced sense of duty or obligation to only reserve their deepest heart and soul songs for one person.    Because they think intellectual or emotionally intimacy can only be experienced with ONE person?  It’s such a sad thing in my opinion.  Yeah, you might be married and have signed the sex-contract, but we can still have heart foreplay, can’t we,  some intellectual flirting?  Did that ever kill anyone?

Some relationships are just such blatant possessiveness and reciprocal ego stroking, absent of any true love.  It is too much faith in the illusion that a human body and another spirit can complete you, when your’s has a jarringly obvious deformity (like a person with a huge gash across their face).  You place the chore of being loved by objects, you give objects and trophies the ability to deliver you artificial dopamine hits that and that masquerades as love.   So many marriages these days are just pure co-dependence, that’s not encouraging my deepest and most authentic soul expression and growth… it is imprisoning me.

Maybe it’s just me, and I am trying too much to apply my own perception to others but some days I feel like I got about 20 oceans and a couple Jupiter’s worth of love in my heart and I just want to share it all and let it pour out of me to anyone and everyone.  I need TIME to get calibrated to the feminine trying to birth in me, it is a beautiful thing.  It doesn’t seem tenable to restrict and suffocate that down to one person, for now.

Does this make me a brooding misanthrope?  That I want to hear your heart song, save your breath about some corporate shit or a practiced monologue about how great you are doing.  I get more out of hearing what is causing you pain and that you are discovering that your wounds are actually your superpowers.   A person crying in my presence teaches me 1000x more than if Albert Einstein actually appeared in front of me, teaching me the tenants of quantum physics, and the mechanics of relativity.  Emotions and their expressions are the GOLD that your soul is seeking, that’s singing your heart song.  The emotions are what are dug out of the hole and thrown in the dirt pile, on the way to the true self and the heart.

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