The Curse of our Creativity

We were living in a virtual reality
Long before we conceptualized it
As technology; and began to create
‘New uses’ for what was essentially
A flaw; and a limited self-awareness.

It takes us a lifetime (or many)
To seek and apprehend the truth.
It can also take a lifetime
(Or the equivalent of many)
To consume insatiably; just to fill in
The void of our ‘not knowing’.

We stand at the fork
Of two paths today:
One- the way of promises, things and feel-good distractions
On that path, we reconstruct our reality
And in doing so, make perceptible the contrast
Between the real and the created.
We applaud ourselves on this accomplishment.

The other path is devoid of a void.
It is what it is; you are what you are
It feels no need to respond and reciprocate
It makes no promises.

Postmodernism is a mirror
That will show you whatever you anticipate seeing.
It will sing for you the songs you wish to hear
It will set the stage and the actors
For the angst you believe you ought to be feeling
And create for you the struggles
You romanticize yourself battling with.

Our need today, is a freedom
From our own wants
Our need today, is a freedom from the cycle
Of creating solutions for self-created problems.
Our need today, is a freedom
From our own creativity.

What it Means to Grow

To grow one must courageously set foot
In ‘the higher’… ‘the freer’… ‘the truer’…
But these need not be assumed
To be ‘more than’
Or ‘greater than’
Our present state.

‘Higher’ could be ‘smaller’.
‘Freer’ could be ‘lesser’.
‘Truer’ could be ‘wiser’.
In other words, growth is not merely
In the mindless annexure of more.
It’s in the understanding of intrinsic worth.

To grow is to question the assumption of inadequacy
It is to reconcile the conflict
Between who we are and
Who we imagine ourselves to be;
Between what we don’t know
And what we refuse to learn.

What’s Missing?

I look at my life unable to tell
What is missing…

But a vacancy I can sense.

So, I begin to speculate about
What would make things perfect…
A spotless, stainless, painless existence perhaps?

No… that’s not it.

Recognition? Validation?
No, that’s not it either…
I’ve tasted these before
And know that they can intoxicate
But cannot satiate your thirst.

What is that essential thing
That I can’t seem to find?

Is there something lacking in the world?
Or is there a lack within me?
A lack of understanding and wisdom?
A way of seeing?
A way of being?

An inability perhaps to accept things as they are
To see the perfection of imperfection…
To know that all is
As it is meant to be…

I now know that it is my search
That keep me from finding
What stands before me in plain sight
Waiting to be seen and loved.

The Wrong Questions

There is a problem
With asking the wrong questions-
You are given the wrong answers.

To what may have been the answer
To the question of how to live this life
The world stands before us-
Our mistaken understanding of life as a pursuit.

With poisoned air and drying lakes
And rivers that no longer flow with joy
Our dysfunctional societies (but our functional apps)-
Our intelligence has foolishly destroyed the intelligent.

Our satanic violence and our violent ambitions
Our greed, and our theft of that which sustains life
Our escapes now dependent on our simulated realities-
We decimate providence to establish our supremacy….

We’re now asking the (wrong) question
Of what’s next… of what we should become
But we’re still clueless about
What understanding…. what faith it takes
To simply be.

Our Experiments With Humanity

The artificial is a reconstruction
Of that which is natural and phenomenal
But intelligence isn’t merely generative;
It is responsive… restorative; it is existential.

It is never merely the means that produce
Beautiful, soul-stirring expression.
True art is not a bringing together
It’s about action and emotion coming together.

Love too, is not a search or a swipe.
It’s not about finding the one.
It’s about being the one
For those who have found you.

Perhaps our biggest failing
Is that we’ve tried to reduce
The human being to a concept…
To a pattern or a code that we can know.

But knowledge is vaster than our knowing
And therefore must be freed
From all models of language and dogma
So that we may rediscover what it means to be.

Now that we can create like Gods
Will we ever be able to reclaim our humanity
Staying simply and faithfully
In a state of inspired wonder?

To Be is not To Be

I have no expectations
From my relationships
Other than integrity
–An integrity that needs no justification.

I distrust tall claims
Of love and support
Of intensity and eternity
I find them unnecessary and performative.

To be there for another
Requires no art, no utterance
If you are in a relationship
You are–for better or for worse–already there.

So many relationships disintegrate
Because promises made were unkept.
Over the course of weeks, months and years
Love once proclaimed, now remains a faint echo.

Intimacy, a deepening, an anchoring…
These are the fruits of a simple tree
That weathers all weathers
And lives through many a changing season.

To be is to stand apart
From all imagination and all make-believe
To freely exist in between the lines
To slip out of the captivity of a script.

Sometimes You Wonder…

Sometimes you wonder
About all that you’ve accumulated
To your soul
What will happen to it all
After you’ve gone?
Where will it go?
All the stuff?
All that matter…?
All that you think matters…?
What happens to it….?
Isn’t it also a sort of living responsibility
To give it all away?
To empty yourself before you go?

Who will I give my memories to?
…Perhaps those whom I create them with.
And my thoughts?
May they henceforth only be a prayer
And may they live on
In the lives of others
As blessings received, unasked for.
What about my hurt and my pain?
To what will they transform?
Let them remain absorbed in silence
And become the compassion and beauty
That inspires and powers all art.

Sometimes you wonder
To this eventuality of death
What matters? What doesn’t?
Does nothing matter?
Does everything matter?
What promises does time keep?
Fulfilment? Knowledge? Self-discovery?
Perhaps these are never the outcome
Of a living process…
Perhaps fulfilment, knowledge and self-discovery
Exist eternally and are right here, right now.
In time, matter can only appear and disappear.

Understanding

True achievement lies
In dissolving all achievements
So that you are left
With a beginner’s mind…

I’m coming to see
That the most valuable
Part of my life
Are moments of silence and solitude.

There was a time
I saw them as empty…
Something that I must fill up
With something meaningful.

Today, I realize
Nothing apart from
My sheer existence
Has any meaning.

No One in Particular

Who we are cannot be defined.

We are ever changing through life

Choosing, becoming, evolving, growing

Our destiny is forever shifting

To a new location.

The weight of being the same

In appearance, In psychology, in relationship

And in vocation and passion

Becomes dead heavy.

I realize that I no longer live

As a fully free being

But as someone who carries

The dead weight of others expectations

I long now for islands of solitude

In between my hours (that are now yours)

I search for liberation…

Or perhaps for new understanding…

Or for a way to assert my right

To be no one in particular.

We’re All Influencers

We’re all influencers
To the extent
That the things that we say and do…
And the way that we are…
Live on in the memory of others,
And find continuity and new expression
In the choices they make through their lives.

The decision to no longer hide the greys
In your hair, or to no longer be ashamed
Of a more rounded body…
Or the ability to laugh at yourself…
Or in what you consider to be
The warmth of a home…
Or even the names you give to your children…

All of these are the traces
Of a lasting impression made on us.
But not all of us is someone else…
There is something about us that belongs to us alone.
And the real influence you will have
Is in the way you are
Uniquely you.