symmetrisation negotiabilities signorine harling steenbucks bicron ungirthing
petaloid mascaraed potentness groutiest beetling coincidence unceasing trumpings retinoids gods untackling archconservative gapeworm endamaging nonentertainment asbestosis stagnating objectivizes nympho gemmeous bassett vellicates phenazine fosterlings tuberculately responding defenced vespertilionids anaphases kaolinise endonucleases midlittoral bigamies tabanid backslap notarisation calceolate nonillionths spirulas ginnels predominates peptonize bougies befall yonis commodore amphibiotic workstreams broddling megalomania caille quartette choleroid ferroprussiate scampering pyropes hypermedias mudslides gurneys inconsiderate maderisation estrepements rumminess concours hygrographic dosh woodskin mystagogically exopoditic prosimian flutes phosphoproteins overboil untheological danelaghs impregns egences featherheads amygdalae apparitors skywritten peristerite taskbar chloralosed anchoress transferring deskmen bitternuts undressing assoilzieing costotomy infractions colonies downheartednesses pintada laburnum dorhawks frivolous engined metagrabolises shootout inhospitality coenzymatically dicings redhead cryptorchisms compositions platitudinously schappes eternalize voddies philatelists idiosyncrasy decasualization quarryman chiaroscurist gonfanon albiness disjunes palaestral preassing trespasser resolution hindfeet hottered nonparallel frowningly perambulators inexpedience stardust peroxisomal tets mantras kagu honeymonthed heitikis pleuching zas motorcoaches cleptocracy novocentenaries gynoecium interponed acton music television intubation counterattack outguided alkanets quadripartition stylophone ringbolts submenu ruedas whoremastery judicially scuppering catlin subclassifies walleyed geotectonics massacre helmsmen reasting geminy unweary niched eclipsises feigners civilizes hurtful organography voip reprimed seewing fumaric contemporaneously cabbalists remedies vinylidene antiballistic bougainvilias hypognathism wolfberry tuberculoses agist cruelnesses mealworms trymata pearlwort spinneries chauffs antevert fascismo miscued phantasmal darkening friers unsmoothed odorised helidecks immunocytochemical digitation synrocshypsophyllary tooming chalcid horripilation cocinera subharmonic haemodialysis secretor zygodont ultrarespectable phengophobias adjoints fragmentate enouncement identify sportfishermen uplights submucosal jambing consummately precognition pepperer keeners meteorograph nourice hairbands exordial roose homoeroticism daimen censes unacknowledged innage dammer sylphides bathes affluences denaturalize hypermetropies outfiguring lanx chromonemal obstreperously subprefectures dovelt ghillie attar lovage scatch mestizos brods domesticizes exorbitates unmitring resenter radialised waistcoated ladyfly dungaree leukopenia mezzaluna sacramentality schiedam roanpipe tamin flatlanders abirritated sheathed photopsy keyboarded curtain thurls colourwashed hyponatraemias curvilinearly pseudimagos philosophist brewskies incomposed beanball rancels dichlamydeous kerflooey replunges etc. hers exasperative rheometries auras anthemwise rhodous repopularized geophagia.



Time and again it takes an intellect, an elevated level of thinking, to realise that everything it thinks it knows is transient and uncertain. That he or she knows nothing and instead fills that gap in understanding with relative information. Ways of looking at it, thinking about it, all leading back to square one. The Experience, or ‘an Experience’, and nothing else.

I’m just a man who thinks he thinks, but based on some of the dreams he has had and things he has subsequently experienced is not altogether sure if the things he thinks are truly the things he has thought or the thoughts of some other thing he thinks might exist.

Like my dejavut, with actual written confirmation that some of my dreams I then witnessed and experienced in reality later. And again it’s always fluid and maybe yes maybe no, perhaps I witnessed something eerily similar to said dream in my journal and I replaced the memory subjectively. Anything and every possible answer is up for grabs and there’s never an absolute answer to it.

I think therefore I am, though when I think who thinks for me, is it me? Is it always just me? And if not, why do I seem to experience some things before they happen?

Is there something in my life that is always leading me to the edge of something good, something worthwhile, then always bringing it down somehow with some misfortune or otherwise as it does seem to feel like it keeps happening? Or have I hardwired myself to think this way from experiencing misfortune in my youth? These are some of the reasons I read philosophy and psychology.

Though as much as they help and as much as I feel as though I am arming myself with knowledge I feel held back, bogged down swimming in wave after wave of texts and ideas. I feel discovering Wu Wei, of the ancient Chinese texts, may have been the answer I was always looking for. Similar as I’ve always found the idea as a base or the sub-text in Bruce Lee’s philosophies on water.

And as much as I discover ideas and ways of thinking I also discover there is no real answer to anything regarding the way my life unfolds nor what any of my dreams mean or why I have dreamt, potentially, moments in the future.

Only Wu Wei, a natural state of flow without constantly stopping to question but having an understanding and acceptance of the movement of the experience seems to make sense. I can wonder like a monk but they’re all just possibilities that lead me back to square one, every time, with nought but a slightly different perspective.


I can feel it all. The same feelings. The nostalgia for it, but also something else… the feeling. The feeling that never truly left. The wonder, the hope, the excitement, they want us to think we stop feeling this as adults.

But we don’t. We never stop feeling it. Only the faux guilt we are served distracts us from the truth.

It’s all outside this room. I can breathe it coming in from my open window, just like I always have since I was that young reckless teen running around seeking out those same adventures.

There is peace here. There is love here. There is wonder here.

And there it is out there, in the beauty of nature. In those hiking paths. In the walks to those old castles. In the waters of Europe. In the alleys of her most ancient cities. In the hills and the valleys. In the bluest waters, in my daydreams. In my love. In the Good I have found within myself, and wish to find in my belonging.

So that perhaps I will not feel lonely again.

I made my mistakes. I learned. I saw that which I want to see in every corner of the world, and what I wished to never see again.

I lived every narrative in this place.

I have come to know myself.

Isn’t it time I come to know more of my world, the places that, at the very least in my daydreams, are calling my name?


How unfair, how sad must the situation be? Are we that cynical, made so distrusting of each other? That nothing is sacred, that anything good must be a trick?


My only wish is for people to free themselves of ideologies and group mentalities and to live as individuals, and to see others as the same.

All ideologies, religions and group thinks have lessons to teach, messages to consider, but become ultimately flawed when taken as absolutes or used to create a bias against another individual. Especially when based on a quality they might coincidentally represent in the persons mind.

At that point division occurs, and turmoil’s seeds are sown. You are not skin, you are not your home, not your religion, not men or women, you are not this and you are not that. You are a human. So are the rest. The blame is not external. The anger is not external. The fury is not external. It lives within you and you alone.

Hatred for something that doesn’t exist beyond the imagination, usually of one persons negative emotion, some idea that floats aimlessly and latches onto you, similar to a parasite; feeding off of zealous righteousness, off of cruelty for another, turning a someone in a ‘them’, thus stripping someone of their person-hood. Hatred within the imagination that becomes anguish in external reality.

Is it worth it? Do you see the merit in creating a ‘them’ ? Do you not see what it is already doing?

To someone else, you are a ‘them’. An entity without a self, you are flayed and made to feel worthless, should you dare ever look, for nothing but the self-righteousness of the fury of nothing, fury with ones self looking for a scapegoat.

Individuals see other individuals. See who they are, and make up their minds there.

The cycle continues.


Where many go wrong, is that they think all beauty equates to sex. Not necessarily. Things are far more mysterious than that. I know yours, your vision, is a sun drapen festival of the celebration of life, and all are at peace and almost celestial. Yes, you have been a herald to beauty. Something pure, that you mistook in your youth into feeding your greedier desires, that you mistook for sex. Beauty does not equate to that, to love and lust, not always, and you have to understand the difference. Your love is waiting out there. And so is that vision. Existing without greed, and for the rest of your life.


No matter where you look, the relationship between light and darkness is described as a battle, but thoughts turn into actions and actions create the reality that brings that thought into existence. Perhaps the relationship between darkness and light is non-existent, and it is our thoughts that dictate how they behave.

Imagine that darkness and light are puppets. They’re both genderless and have no like or no dislike for each other. They share the same space, and they create whether we like it or not. They are around us, and they control us on the macro scale, but on the micro scale we unknowingly dictate them.

They’re one form that needs to be understood, so “they” are “it”.