Honey, I'm Home

April 2023 (!)

I did my absolute best to participate in #HivePUD but the internet thought it better I not post this yesterday for some ^{probably good} reason.

And, these days, I don't fight the flow quite so much.

I gave it a solid go but at around 10:00pm last night, had to concede I was beaten ^again and it just wasn't gonna happen. It's a long story and I'll spare you the gory details. ^{this time}

This is a quick update to say "hey hello" and "I'm okay" ^{fisted fist bump} because some good folks around here have been a bit worried about this journey. ^{Sorry... I'm an artist. I'm not here to make you comfortable... I'm here to make you feel... and, I hope, think. 😬}

Yes... it's been quite a ride but life's like that, at times, and I'm resilient and experienced enough ^now to keep on walking through to, inevitably, come out the other side.

As we do.

And I have now. ^{until next time}

I think.

Maybe.

Who knows what happens next.

These days I stay open to being open to the possibilities because I can't resist following my curiosity...

and I'm not about to change this.

It's not about making a point or anything...

it's a way of life.

p.s. Thanks for being there, guys. Some of this journey would've sucked harder without the behind the scenes support from some of you. But the tough times are just as relevant and important as the sparkly times. If not even more so! So please don't be scared of them. And thank you again ❤️

"There is no coming to consciousness without pain."
_{-The master... Carl Jung}

It's like a zombie apocalypse out on the road around here. An episode ^{or three} of "The Walking Dead". ^{Love Zombies to the max but only on screen, to be clear, @riverflows.}

I think, after COVID and with load-shedding to boot, many people are really struggling now. It's kinda "survival of the fittest" happening all over the place and most folks are pretty scared. Sh!t just got ^{even more} weird.

Or perhaps I'm still a bit naive and this is the way we humans "work". ^{I choose to believe it's just survival stress, though.}

It has, however, led to some interesting experiences and more learning ^{as it does} and, since I'm all into experience and learning...

I most definitely got what I wished for.

The last bit, however, was just plain tiring and a bit disappointing as "the best laid plan(s)" didn't work out.

Again.

And I was tired before that.

^{Also... my tolerance for sh!t was way, way down low by this time. So if you were running around looking for trouble and crossed my path then you got what you wished for too. Nice to meet you. ❤️}

Now once-upon-a-time I would've believed some kind of force was guiding me to where I'm supposed to be...

but, these days, I'm not so sure of anything much anymore. The jury is officially out on this debate. All I do know is ^{that the answer actually is (maybe) 42 and}...

that where I was isn't where I want to be.

With some focus, and consistent effort, I've now made my way back to where I actually did want to stop and make a base camp last year, in November 2022.

Please check dates on headers of posts to see when the parts of this journey actually happened so you don't freak out for no good reason. And thanks for being you. Again.^❤️

_{The Accidental Theory is an experiential multimedia story. It will not be consecutive because life and learning isn't consecutive. The way the journey unfolds, and loops back to past events to illustrate "learning", is a part of the "experience". Headings are important! ^😊}

I reckon you'll understand why I wanted this to be "Base Camp" when you see where I finally am now.

April 2023 (!)

I know this journey might freak some people out at times.

So does life.

Life isn't always a bed of roses.

We all know this.

But we often choose to avoid or ignore the grittier side of life. Or even avoid change because we're afraid of some of the challenges we will have to overcome during the process. The thing is...

learning always includes some mistakes and a bit of a bump ^{and grind, if we're lucky}, or two. ^{if we're extra lucky}

I've reached a stage in my life where the fear of things staying the same really has become worse than the fear of change. It's how I lost most of my fear and made peace with the rest of it that I'm trying to share around here. That, in my personal experience, is what led, ultimately, to my "liberation".

A part of this is sharing what the fear was that I had to walk through...

to find the kind of freedom I've found. Mentally and psychologically, that is. Physically... well... I'm still trying to figure this part out.

My point here is...

please don't worry quite so much.

I chose this, remember? I chose life. I chose adventure over safety. I chose experience over comfort. I chose mobility over stability because I've spent most of my life living Groundhog Day.

Time is precious to me now. ^{In truth it should be for all of us but I have the benefit/curse (your choice) of being reminded of this every day, which really does away with a f*ck ton of procrastination and messing around.}

Personally... I want to live a liddle before I level up, please.

I left Noordhoek knowing exactly how challenging this journey might be without transport or financial back up. I made the decision to hit the road after a year of recovering and considering my options carefully.

I left Noordhoek because, eventually, I realised I couldn't go back to the life I once had in Cape Town anyway. Even if I did want to.

Sometimes we've just seen and experienced too much to "go back".

I wasn't really alive or living for many, many years in that town anyway, you know. I have to live like this now...

to really feel alive. ^{I always did.}

I don't know how else to explain it to you, other than to show you something written by a someone who'd simply nod in agreement.

And who has said it far better. ^again

The Artist and his Shadow

_{By: Erik Rittenberry}

He is unfit for this life, this
unduly managed era devoid
of poesy and freedom, a time
of useless haste in honor of
the illusion of progress,
a life starving of life, a life
dripping with chains as dull-witted
bureaucrats and political
imbeciles run amok.

There’s something dark and peculiar in him
that forbids his full participation in
the blatant absurdity of
today’s world.

Even as a child he felt something
fierce was there in him — an unrest, an
unrealized freedom, something
shadowy but knowing,
a deep-seated primordial power
groping endlessly in the
apocalyptical night.

It’s still there, stirring in the
inmost abyss, this esoteric ghost,
this daemon, dwelling
in the shadows of the soul,
convulsing and throbbing like a
diabolical gypsy in the throes
of ecstasy.

He tries, at times, to wash it away
with morality and decency, bowing
down to the sanctified normalcy
of his fellow humans. But still,
it’s there, raging, taunting him,
hounding him, forcing him
out of the prison of SELF
and into the creative realm,
the destructive realm,
into the elemental kingdom
of existence.

It calls forth the spirit
into a higher dominion of being
and yearns for expression, this
enigmatic drive,
even at the cost of reputation
and alliance
and it tempts the body, the vehicle
of the soul, to thrive with
Dionysian defiance,
and it wants to flip over the table
of conventionalities and go to war
with all customary forms and
cultural norms.

It’s this archaic force that burns from
the most profound depths
of his being, an insatiable rapture
that coalesces the dark of the unconscious
with the universal light, arousing
the sheer realization of his
utter nothingness — the
true awakening.

He could hardly put on a mask and
endure the typical occupation, or
partake in the social games
of the ordinary, blindly acting
out his role on the stage of culture,
following the fashions of the
day, living uncritically as a
conditioned child.

Undefinable,
with no creed or title and a
fierce contempt for conceptual
reality, he’s in spiritual exile
from the place and time
he was born into. Terribly
alone among his contemporaries,
misunderstood
by an arid society, an
aimless wanderer, he is, laughed at
by the well-adjusted, their minds
chloroformed with low-grade
entertainment, their meanings
and desires built into them
from the outside.

The more emaciated they are inwardly,
the showier they become outwardly.

But he cares nothing of status
and spectacle or the unimaginative
interests of the bourgeois, so he
ventures onward
towards
an austere existence,
choosing the possibility of
poverty over pointless labor,
autonomy over dependency,
art over it all –

an unconditional renunciation
of a secure existence in
search of the sublime.

He’s in flight from the endless trivialities
that make up the modern world, choosing
instead to live perilously close to
the primal forces within.

His fate, he knows. He is doomed
to suffer alone.

When uninspired, the firm grip of melancholy
takes hold and he becomes the unhappiest
of mortals, endlessly sloshing around in
a cesspool of despair, nourishing
his apathy with whiskey and
mascara-smeared love.

But when enthused, he’s lit up,
galvanized, electrified, and his
heart is filled to the brim
with poetic rapture and the
forces at work within him
become relentless. He is
transformed into a mere
instrument of supremely
powerful forces,
consecrating and sacrificing
every fiber of his BEING to the
supreme task of
CREATION –
quenching the thirst
of a bone-dry
generation.

“O melodies above me in the infinite,
To you, to you, I rise.”

_{Orignal source}

Now on we go, please. ^{Send supplies - need money for cocaine and dancing girls a car to travel further afield; a haircut and other personal panel beating that shall not be named. Or not. I'm gonna do it anyway, right? 👍}

Yep. On we go!

Fearlessly whenever possible.

And if not...

then on we go anyway...

until we aren't afraid anymore. ❤️ 👣 ^{barefoot is best}

_{@wwwiebe - Website almost done. Really almost. Almost...}