i just saw this movie. it was called the brothers bloom. and now i’m going to write a blog post. in many ways over the past few months i’ve felt inspired and uninspired. i haven’t written too many words here when once it was all i used to do. i haven’t sent so many emails to people when once it was all i used to do.
do you think we’re always on an adventure? i don’t really want to talk about the state of non-blogging or blog fatigue or the long absence of a blogger, or a writer, or a voice. But I do want to talk about the state of feeling or non-feeling or lack of feeling or feeling like one doesn’t feel, which is also a feeling. I’ve been there.
I’ve been out of school the last 9 or so months. But who knows exactly where being out of school is. I don’t know. Do you?
I’ve been a lot of places since then, in my mind. And I want to talk about adventure and what’s real. I believe in adventure. Sometimes I forget. And sometimes I have to remember. I think I’ve been trying to write this one post, or articulate this thought for the past 9 months now. All the months there’s been a lot of silence/
can we walk into our adventures? can we in some ways, shapes, fashions, and form script our journey, write our lives even as we are learning, even as we are living? even as we tumble, and tuck, & roll & rise? can we in many ways choose? can we jump into a life worth living? or just walk into the one that is ours, that is already there. I never want to lead anyone astray or say any wrong things here. I guess that’s why there’s also been silence. Because I just haven’t known. I guess I believe that this is all actually important. That the things we say, that the things we do, the paths we take are important. And I guess, I also believe in the journey you know?
It’s hard to really explain. Sometimes things feel so hard to explain. But I also like explaining. Is it all important or not? ha.
Like a movie you like that has an ending or a beginning you like or don’t like. Like a movie you like that is a synopsis of a brief or short life? Like a movie you like that is a synopsis or distillation of your life/ maybe life because the characters are human or living and you, being human or living relate and want them to live a good life like you. You become them? They in some ways become you.. In the eye of your listening telling ear or eye. ha.
Do you ever feel like you could live your life in a minute? Or rather that you have lived your life in a minute. Like the wholeness of your life with all its necessities and purpose and finding could fit inside a thimble. And you could just top it and experience it all in just about one second of wholeness. Sometimes I feel this way. Sometimes I feel this way and when I feel this way it is as if I have experienced everything. It is as if I know everything, even when I don’t know. I trust and am trusting. And I feel in that moment as if I should never need to experience another little thing. I could be 90 tomorrow. It could be it right now, because I’m already forever. I could have experienced intense love or questioning or seeking or the finding. I already know what it is. I already know how it feels. And life is so big. And love… all the living I’ve never experienced.. I already have. That’s how I feel. When I feel this way.
But then there is the next moment, which still comes. It still comes. And I am still alive. And it seems there is more to learn and more to experience and more questions to ask and keep asking that I still yet don’t have all the worded or physical answers to. And just a second ago.. I had all the answers and all the love in that thimble. Who knows..
The past few months and also maybe before that.. I’ve been figuring out the journey. Been a lot of places in my mind. Plotting out this journey. And also plotting out my own, without this journey. Who I am, without The People Could Fly. Who am I without The People Could Fly? Who am I without this real journey that is a journey. Seems like I’ve been doing this for so long now. Some all consuming present dream. Who is Intisar? Or what is Intisar, lackluster & luckless, full of luster & full of luck. What is that emptiness fullness? How does one bring oneself to the journey empty & whole. Plain & great. Plain & Regular. Plain & now & here & knowing. Plain & now & here & going or simply staying. Here. Silence. That’s where I’ve been. I can’t speak for my sisters. I really try not to.
My mind has winded its way. In & out of memory. In & out of meaning. In and out of anyone getting the messages & the meaning. Like a treasure map. Or a maze. Or board game with colored squares that you dot your piece on, dot yourself on, seeking. I wonder. And I have hoped that within the frame of a narrative, turned real or fake or fantastical or storied or just life, we could find something. Am I the storyteller? Are we storytellers? Are you readers or are you writer? Are we men or are we travelers? We are not men. Though maybe we are men.
Mapping maze mind the past 9 months I’ve been through GraphPaper Press, The Galaxy Riders, Buggin Out. I’ve been to Monocle.. I’ve been to Clam Mag & Clutch Mag.. I’ve been to New Zealand & Ethiopia & Salvador de Bahia, Brazil & Reyjavik, Iceland in my mind and on paper and on grant proposal and on life proposal and on the script of air & life and Gmail & Wesleyan mail & twitter & trendology & facebook & the 21 Maroon Colony & xx & Nina Simone & sentimental memory & sunday in savannah & tearing at nothing & everything. And tearing at nothing & everything which is life & which is desire. I’ve been everyday and noday & someday & sometimes. I’ve been Mr.Hobday & 3918 & Analogue Motion. I’ve been squarespace & wordpress theme & i’ve been maps & maps & maps. And dry-erase marker on laminated maps mapping people & paths of motion. I’ve been tracking friends across distance and off the face of this planet & vast amounts of hermitude & weeks writing emails back. I’ve been whatever. I’ve been notebooks and notebooks & knick-knack give this girl a bone, or a home, or something to call her own which is herself mainly. Do you ever want to empty the contents of your mind? Like blast out those crazy details & crazy research& crazy randoms that no one would know but you.. but that makes up the constitution of your journey and the things you are trying at .. the things you are trying to make work & build. Maybe like Alexander Graham Bell or someone who is an experimenter.. or a scientist or culminating places and ways to walk upon from all the dispersed elements.. new places to grow from lint & string & knob & cord or dirt or peanut..or whatever. mind. whatever mind. Can I show you some lint from my mind?
That would be love though. A lot of that lint would be love. A lot of that lint would be left over or lingering or maybe original love? What does one do with left over or lingering or original love? Sometimes I wonder if my love is not a separate entity outside of myself, that pulls me along in these directions. Is that also like a dream. Is love and a dream the same thing. Is a dream and a vision the same thing? Maybe a vision is a different kind of love from a dream. Either way they move you along. Or maybe my love is a me that I don’t know. Maybe my love that pulls me along or makes me feel things or gives me impulses or visions or superplans.. maybe that love is like my doppelganger or a self of myself that is somehow separate from myself, yet still irreplaceably me. Maybe my love that pulls me .. well I don’t know. That’s just it. I don’t know. That’s why I’m talking about this.
Tomorrow if I can get the scanner in the office to work, maybe I will just scan in some of my notebooks. Some stuff can’t stay with you forever or you will just scream it or not know what to do. Some things need to come out whether they are finished or all the way scripted or written or edited or made pretty and understandable. Somethings will just about stifle themselves if they wait for a time appointed to them, or if they wait for the magical opening act. They will just stifle, not die or lose, they will simply eat themselves up & get exhausted and cry then get exhausted and have to wait until they believe in themselves, in their words again. Can’t do that again they say.
Begin anew they say. There is always time to begin anew.
Sometimes adventurers get tired. Sometimes adventurers have to remember what they are adventuring for. The way-farer. The wanderer. The writer. The teller. The listener who in their listening tells .. can you see that? There is always time for the new and old and time again adventurer or stayer. In all the ways that one can.. Sometimes it is not on the road or in the air.. sometimes it is not so visibly daring… sometimes it does not have the tale tell signs & symbols of traditional heroics.. sometimes you are not flying a solo adventure around the world.. or testing untestable feats.. or jumping through a million blazing hoops to thunderous applause or startled admiration. And translatable inspiration. Sometimes transformation/ the journey is not external or visible. Sometimes it is not “the real” Gosh.. sometimes its not even about succeeding.. or accomplishing everything you set out to do! It’s not about proving that it can happen. It’s really not. As much as we want to sometimes it is really not about this.. accomplishing doing all these daring feats & skills of daredevilry that wow yourself & seem to flout this sometimes ubiquitous idea that great things cannot happen. Sometimes it’s really just about believing in yourself and honoring your vision, honoring your vision that showed you the possibility, that sparked the fire, that got you moving towards the next thing, the next goal, which is often just yourself. The sprout within yourself, the desiring be. Oh hold on to that thing. Do not let go, for floss or feat of noble realities. I haven’t really known how to talk about this until now. To say that I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. That I didn’t always accomplish everything. To say that sometimes I don’t want to keep going right now. That I don’t want to be always on.. That sometimes I forget the feeling.. that I get disappointed… that I forget the magic.. that I want to have done better.. or gone farther.. that I lose the magic of the adventure. That I have to find it again. That I have to remember it again. That I have to refeel the truth of the feeling of why we’re here. And that something.. that feeling… wow, that feeling.. is something not even the journey can give you, or “the reality” of the journey. That feeling .. gosh, what a feeling .. is this something that you can have before you’ve stepped even one foot outside your door.. before you’ve accomplished anything, before you’ve shown anyone or “proven” to anyone any factoid about the reality of your journey or the reality of your desire, the reality of your feeling, the “reality” of if any of it can ever really be. This is before anything and this is at the ending of all things.
Source: Wikipedia
I guess this is just to say.. sometimes we get tired. On the journey… even journeys we make for ourselves. By we I don’t mean us or me – I mean everyone. Sometimes you forget.. why you’re doing it.. or the feeling you had. Sometimes you don’t want to tell anyone where you are going or where you are. Or about the rough spaces. Or that you don’t believe right now.. losing some faith in your own journey.. Sometimes you are lost…don’t quite know where you are. But, it’s alright to journey within. To take a break. To come to a standstill. To rethink. Not think. To turn back or around. Be still. Be silent. Those things. It isn’t always movement. It isn’t always action. It isn’t always going. It isn’t always success, though sometimes it is. I think there is something more than that. I hope so anyway..
This isn’t about miles.
Much love,
I. the Abioto
