A Room Called Earth

People are obsessed with what they don't allow themselves to have, and then they become controlled by it. Forbidden fruit is everyone's main meal.

I’m either completely immersed in myself, or completely immersed in someone else. There’s no in-between.

The old and the dead are the most rewarding people to idolize, because they know things that we don't.

I like dancing for dancing's sake. It's a break from having to participate in verbal communication, which always seems to be about explaining shit, and proving shit, and clarifying shit, and arguing about shit, and criticizing shit, and showing off about shit, and avoiding shit, and dramatizing shit, and cracking jokes about shit, and brushing shit off, and defending shit, and attacking shit, and lying about shit, and insisting that shit will be "ok," when truly empathizing and connecting with people involves feeling everything, and saying nothing.

Everything comes alive when I'm technically by myself.

It’s so weird when people don’t go outside to enjoy the rain, or to see a rainbow when it appears, because they’re ‘in the middle of something’. It’s like, I’m sorry? Do you have better things to do? Like, what better things are there to do? What pressing or urgent matters could they possibly be to attend to? It’s fucking raining! There might be a fucking rainbow! Beings from other planets and dimensions would do anything to be a part of this into witness this shit! Get outside, dammit!

No matter how scary or intimidating a person may appear to be, we don't need to "protect" ourselves from them. As long as we can turn our experiences into love, there's no need to waste time and energy being frightened, or trying to stop things and people from coming in or going out.

I just like having something edible to look forward to.

I worry that intimacy and tenderness are becoming impossible ideals, rather than lived experiences. Surviving on this planet right now seems to be more about figuring out how to withstand being violated and exploited than it is about cultivating fulfilling relationships with ourselves, and with others.

It's important to resist the urge to put things we can't comprehend into cages and to try to make them dance for us.

The earth has a multitude of mountains, and rivers, and flowers, and volcanoes, and oceans, and types of grass, and snow, and wind, and lightning, and rain, and thunder, and sun, and cloud, and sunsets, and sunrises, and no two lightning strikes, or sunsets, are ever repeated. Ever.

Hell is on earth. We create it. It isn't some faraway place that we get sent to once life is over, and we're being punished for all of our crimes, and indiscretions. Our crimes and indiscretions are the punishment. Anything that makes us feel shitty, and comes from a shitty place, and inevitably leads to the expansion of shitty-ness, is hell. Just as anything that gives us meaning, and comes from a meaningful place, and inevitably leads to the expansion of meaningfulness, is heaven.

Because those who are seen to be physically perfect, symmetrical, handsome, and beautiful by society's standards are here to show us how to feel compassion for ourselves, while those who have physical difficulties are here to show us how to feel compassion for others.

I find that I have a much deeper appreciation for my fellow human beings when their mouths are shut.

Dad preferred that I lean on him, and his philosophies, rather than on those of other people. So while he encouraged me to have an open mind, and to become my own person, and to think for myself, he was very wary about the person I was becoming, and the people I was listening to.

Energies and emotions affect physical reality just like sound, and gravity, and electricity, and music, and oxygen do. They breathe, and expand, and throb, and rush, even if we cannot name or understand them. It doesn't matter where we're from, or what we believe, or what language we speak. Millions of us are feeling and exact same way, right now, and we are united because of it.

I don't trust or understand the things that people make or come up with. I feel safer with nature. It's just there, for everyone to see, touch, taste, smell, and hear. There's a simplicity to it that puts me at ease.

That's the best way to know anything, although no one ever tells you that. No one ever says, "Just use the expansive feeling in your chest to understand what's true, and what you want, and where to go, and what really matters," because they're too busy forcing you to learn from books that they're choosing, and pointing at whiteboards that they're writing on, and encouraging you to ask questions from curriculums that they've set.

Oh dear. My heart always starts racing as I approach the future audience to the fact of my existence.

I want to be very conscious of this moment, and appreciative of it. I want to breathe it in, rather than scare it off through being neglectful, or insensitive to its presence. I want every shooting star I've never seen to know that this glimmer of hope hasn't passed me by.

Because everyone has such an individualized relationship with words, and with labels. No matter how "conventional" or "traditional" or "widely accepted" we might perceive our choice of words or labels to be, our interpretations are subjective.

We've given our power over to the material world because it seems more quantifiable and manageable. Our conversations start there, and our conclusions about the world end there. The infinite, miraculous, mysterious nature of who and what we are has become a bit tedious.

If our eyebrows are too bushy, or if our pores are too large, or if our under-eye bags are too noticeable, or if our teeth are too yellow, or too crooked, or if our wrinkles are too deep, or if our body parts are too large, or too soft, or too ripply, or vein-y, we're essentially supposed to go in for a day procedure before leaving the house. Or, at the very least, we're expected to become masters at hiding such unfortunate "humanities" behind all manner of makeup, clothing, falsely confident body language, hyaluronic acids, glycolic acids, virtual filters, collagen fillers, witty one-liners, blinding smiles, and carefully selected accessories, because these aren't seen as positive indicators of the fact of being alive, rather than dead.

There's no way of escaping our inner world. Information keeps rolling in, and rolling out. It's constantly being sensed, and felt, and observed, and assessed. It's endless.

Dad couldn't tell the difference between being blamed for something and being responsible for something. Every discussion was about one person being right and the other person being wrong. There was nothing else, and no in-between, and no other options. He didn't see himself as someone who was equally answerable for what unfolded in any given communication.

I tried putting chopsticks from the kitchen drawer into my hair and it felt like it was over doing things a bit, so I put them back. I even considered painting the chopsticks black because they were brown, and black would’ve suited my outfit better. Yet the fact that I considered painting them at all caused me to be embarrassed at myself, so I decided to ditch the accessories that were at one time used to stuff pad Thai into someone’s face. Painted or not, you can’t change the reality of what chopsticks are or the main way that they’ve been used for, like, centuries. Eons, even. So let a chopstick be a chopstick, and my hair can be what it is, too.

Parting ways with someone or something doesn't always make sense, so people often create reasons to be angry and resentful, because it weaves a stronger narrative around the process of letting go. That way, they don't have to take responsibility for their part in it, because, you know. So-and-so was just a bitch and shit.

I don't know why people try to be friends with their exes. I mean, we were never friends, so why try after having decided that an intimate relationship isn't going to work? Friendships are intimate, too. You can't just, like, turn the connection down a notch and hope to make it better. It's still the same connection, and if it's faulty it's going to stay faulty.