Small amendments 6 July 2015 [], edited 10 January 2015, originally written 26 November 2014
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| Illustration - Across the Universe (bigger version below) |
So if anyone's been paying attention to this story, they may have noticed that it seems to have lately somewhat stalled, before it has even begun… It's over 6 months since I last wrote [and 6 months again since I wrote this…], and I wanted to write regularly, and to share my story as it was happening, and that has not happened. In fact, if anyone paying attention to this story also knows me in reality, they may also know that, in reality, the story, though as yet unwritten for sharing, has in fact completed one full cycle, and come to an ending of sorts, despite the fact the story is yet to really begin in its storytold form…
So it has been more than 6 months [and 6 months again] since I wrote part 1 of the Introduction to this story, and I was then unaware that it was a 2 part Introduction… So in fact, this aforementioned stalling appears to have been waiting just for that…
So in fact, while I have been watching the story continue to unfold, in its form of me living it, in reality, I have been surprised to discover, that in fact what is happening, is that the story is shaping itself into the form of its choosing. (Though I am also willing to admit there has potentially been an element of procrastination/fear/stuckness/doubt going on, but we'll ignore that element for the moment, since, in fact, that is just one other aspect of the story, and it will be dealt with in due course…)
So it seems, in fact, that what is happening, is that one cycle of the story, now completed, is aligning itself to begin as a story, as the next cycle begins to unfurl itself, in reality.
Interesting… Not what I expected…
I am not an experienced writer particularly, and I am not particularly confident in my writing at this moment, though the occasional positive feedback encourages me to continue anyway. I became somewhat discouraged along the way by some things that happened with regard to my involvement as a student in the education system (another story to be dealt with along the way), and had not historically developed much strength and whatever else it may be that is now helping me to counteract that discouragement and push me to go on and bloody do it anyway.
Which brings me again to consideration of the structure of this story, this first story I am writing, as a story, of substance from my soul. My previous writing experience has been more of the form of academic essays, mostly on philosophical topics, and in this writing I have always struggled with the linearity of the form, so contemplating the form freedom of a story structure is proving interesting… Perhaps I studied too much pure maths in my life, or perhaps in the past I smoked too much weed (more stories). Perhaps combining the two was a death sentence to the comprehensibility of some of my ramblings to many of the people in the world (though believe it or not it actually worked wonders for my exam result in one particularly fondly remembered maths subject, Real and Complex Analysis…). But right now, whatever the case may be, my brain is doing multi dimensional dances along spirals within spirals, circles within circles, above circles, below circles, around circles, within circles… Cycles repeating, evolving, looking down, through, up, over, within and without themselves in fractal form beyond any kind of translatable, demonstrable, transferable, communicable communication…
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| Across the Universe For more about this illustration, follow this link or go to the drawings page |
For one thing, one of the things it seems this story is about, is the writing of this story… Which seems a little like the form of a snake eating its tail, or perhaps a little like the old chicken and egg conundrum. Which came first, the seed or the tree, in the forest of creativity…? Or was it actually the forest…? Or…?
And it's about creative process in general. And the importance of that for us all.
And it's about cycles of time, cycles of life, cycles of my life, cycles of this story…
And, let's not forget, it's also a little bit about magic, which has been one of the themes of this day, not forgetting it, that is. And because every story gains from having at least a little bit of magic, in my opinion anyway…
And so we remember. Everything is possible.
So around a year and a half ago, more or less [and plus another half a year], I began a journey, which is now complete. And in the beginning of that journey I already knew that I wanted to make a story of that journey, and so my existence gained an extra dimension; while I lived my life, followed my path, travelled on my journey, I also watched it, as a story.
There's a strange thing that happens when you're writing a story about the events of your life… It overlays a new kind of awareness on top of what's just happening. I like to hope that my awareness develops over time anyway, as I see much value in cultivating this, and I think about trying to do this, and attempt to put it into practice, but the awareness of writing your life as a story is a little bit different somehow regardless…
Writing life as a story, life as art, art as life, adds a dimension of poetry, aesthetic linguistic enhancement, embellishment, to noticed sensations or perceptions, experiences and events… One day after my return to my home country, on my way to my in between home at my mother's home, I reflected on this experience of living a story, and I felt such appreciation at the thought that the experienced poetry of a fragrant moment is deliciously amplified by the translation of sensations into accompanying varying possibilities of combinations of descriptive words. Enjoying the process of creating a story while living it.
Sometimes there's a feeling of detachment, as if I'm observing my life as a third party, and this can certainly be a useful skill in dealing with the everyday happenings of life some moments. But there's also sometimes the opposite, a feeling of a deeper immersion in what's happening, noticing what is going on and not just zoning out while the cogs keep turning. And greater attention leads sometimes to greater intention, which then further focusses attention, which then sometimes changes what happens… In some moments living life as a story adds a dimension of mystery, of anticipation, the kind of excitement that you feel when reading a great book and can't put it down because you want to know what's going to happen next… And sometimes it makes life more magical.
And I found that paying attention to this extra dimension of my existence added clarity to my life; it aided understanding, it aided growth, and it aided healing; it enhanced my experiences by my increased and focussed attention and reflection. And I immersed myself in the process of translating these experiences into language, adding vividness of colour and qualities previously unknown, as I found the words, the ways and means, to describe each significant moment.
I took many notes and wrote about many experiences, thoughts and feelings along the way, for my future reference. And in writing, I reflected and absorbed the story into my soul. And I carried it with me in my heart, and also in my backpack. Always with me at least some section of the story; in its most personal form, written by hand, as I have written this in its first draft; on the back of once used paper, saved to be used again with no further energy input required than its transport in my backpack along with me; paper collected on my way in my travels, on my journey, marking the paths of my travels, through the tree of languages represented, and the topics included, on both sides of the pages, represented in different forms… Writing of the experiences of one place, on paper from another, tracing my footsteps and experiences, and looping connections and weaving threads through the story. And time to time I reread some part of the story, and reflected on my journey since, and the journey still to come, and through this process of returning to where I was before, more connections were formed between the evolving cycles of the story…
Meanwhile, I captured also many images with my camera, likewise focussing attention, changing my noticing, and also allowing revisiting, remembering, reminiscing… And I recorded video footage and sound bites of the sensations reaching my eyes and ears, the moments of existence that happened along the way, captured in some electronic form, for posterity, or at least until my storage fails… I drew pictures real and abstract, wrote poems and songs, I sang, played music, and I danced my story up to the stars and back down to the Earth, mirroring the expansion of my creativity as I journeyed on.
And I will share all this via technology, not without consideration for the impact that this takes. But I feel that it is important, and that it could be of value to someone other than myself, and that maybe it might even inspire others to share the stirrings of their souls too. And so I choose to share it.
But meanwhile, I've been procrastinating again… Because living life as a story is one thing, but sitting down to write it and share it is another… I love to write, I love the describing of what is happening, I love the telling of the stories and the sharing of stories, but there is also an excruciating painfulness that comes along with fear of being exposed, of creativity laid bare for judging, and for the story of my life to be examined… And then there's wondering if there's any point, if anyone is interested in reading what I might write about…
But then the other day, my Mum's neighbour, at the letterbox, asked me was I heading off to the country, to the setting of this new story, this new cycle in my life, to which I replied yes, as indeed I was. And it seems my Mum had been telling her a little about what's been going on in my life, because then she asked me, "Have you been writing about your experiences?" "Yes," I replied. "You should," she said, "it sounds very interesting." And really, I thought, I have been doing some very interesting things… Travelling around Europe for 17 months, taking a container ship on the way there, visiting so many interesting places and having so many adventures, never sure what was around the next bend, over the next mountain or across the next sea…
And so, along the way, on my journey, I was waiting eagerly myself, to discover the much anticipated ending of the story. And meanwhile, I had a growing feeling that a subsequent story, a sequel, would then follow in the making, that I might write about once the first story was told...
And many times as I journeyed, I began the process of beginning to scribe the story, as a written story for telling and sharing, only to falter yet again, unsure of the structure and not yet ready perhaps to go right back, to one beginning, already chosen as the prelude to be told, before the beginning…
And as the last cycle of that journey was being undertaken, in the form of my 30-day-Eurolines-bus-pass-sadly-too-limited-goodbye-tour of the continent, I realised any thoughts of beginning in the middle, or even at the beginning, of the story as I was still living it, were not going to take place. And it occurred to me that meant that the story would be written as the next beginning would begin, and that this form was the vessel I had been awaiting for my story, as now the two cycles would be in parallel, unfolding together across dimensions of page and space and time…
And now, as my long anticipated ending was taking its shape around me, the next beginning made its first preview appearance!
While waiting to discover the ending of my story, I had also wondered what would happen when I got back home down under. Where would I be? Where would I live? What would I do with my time? Many questions raised their heads and I considered whether I should begin to make some choices and some plans. And I wondered many other kinds of things…
Could I hold strong all the lessons of my journey, in returning to the places of old familiar habits? Could I hold strong to my new ways, my new convictions, my new knowings? Would I feel as strongly all the connections created and felt within myself? And would I still feel all the connections to precious souls, beings and energies in the North? Would I feel the distance?
And I looked forward to many reunions, with family, friends, forests, and all the inhabitants of my land of home…
And I made one choice. I decided to bring my travelling mode of curiosity, of openness and interest to see what would happen next, the observer of the story, back to my life at home. And so I didn't worry about planning too much…
And then, in a fortuitous synchronicity of timing, just days before my scheduled return home, an email, and also a facebook post of a link by a friend, brought the first news of the opportunity that is now becoming my next adventure. Perfect, in so many ways, and such a fitting following to the story before…
And now, a whirlwind couple of months since I returned home, this adventure is beginning to take its own shape, and with a powerful coming together of energy, it is truly becoming…
Excitement, enthusiasm, confusion, energy, passion, action and many million thoughts all at once from all of us together. I feel the potential of this project is amazing and exciting!
So, before the beginning, or the beginning before the beginning, it seems this beginning is beginning. A new journey is taking shape. A journey this time in one place.
The first journey was a journey of travelling, a journey of learning and healing, of exploring, discovering and opening, a journey of inward seeking, and of outward seeking.
And in between the end, and this new beginning, I've had a time of reflection, absorbing all that went before, and at the same time, an incubation time, nurturing the seeds of what is to come. Remembering, reliving, reimagining, holding the treasures found, harvesting the fruits, the seeds from the story that went before; and spinning all the threads of that story, stringing them onto the loom, to create the space, the canvas, the next page, for the new story to take its shape as the next layer of the story, tying the two stories together as one, providing the space to weave the two stories together into one fabric still growing.
Intention leads attention, which leads action and also sensation, creating increased wondrousness of living each precious moment and discoveries of possibilities unfolding before your very eyes.
So now I embark upon this next journey, this journey in one place, a journey of sharing, of transforming, of growing, and, of course, a little bit of magic.
And on that note, may you find, in your life, at least a little bit of magic. If you look for it, and believe in it, you will find it. Everything is possible. And intention is the seed.
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