Basil Year Musings

Old and new.

Music- does bring people together

but it also means different things to different people

And it is so incredibly precious to me

Provides such comfort and space and understanding

     when people fall short

And expression, for when my own words fail me.

Moving forward to find ways of continuing to incorporate music into my daily life- (and intention)

Maybe not in the traditional/instinctive sense that performers and composers use

My outlet will inevitably be different

But I take pride in my uniqueness

Accepting and embracing that I am one-of-a-kind

Allowing and cultivating opportunities for musical/spiritual encounters to be my own

I love my perspective and intrigue- and the likelihood that I’m alone in my awestruck wonder or any other emotion, etc. It’s something that can feel incredibly lonely at times - wishing I had a kindred spirit floating along on my same wavelength and our wonderstruck brainwaves becoming intertwined

But I guess that’s not something I can look for, or even need. I recognize it in my self (and I’ll recognize it in the reflection of self in someone else, if they’re out there) and I am whole and complete in my oneness.

This extends to the rest of my awe/knowing/peace/cherish moments. That feeling in me and around me that I’m always trying to identify and remain in, that I know can be found through certain things. Music is one of many expressions of that. It’s a way of capturing (but not containing) and documenting... the same with colors and smells and warmth.     (novemberish 2018)

 //

There are some people who are chameleons (myself, too, at times)

Projecting and absorbing our own expression of self based on who we’re with

And the setting/place/environment

To peel back the layers and let the core of who you are shine through

Spending time alone allows this, and meditating, reflecting, absorbing

It’s a different process

Allowing you to live your truth

Because I am radiant and vibrant 

       (from within) without having to put up reflective barriers and express the light of others.

               Your own light is more than enough                 (summer 2019)

//

I am an entire universe wrapped into a tiny little spark of a body. I have infinite possibilities and passions and loves within me. You could spend a lifetime and more and it would always be an adventure. Always discovering. And — it’s but a secret desire of my heart — that I hope someone somewhere sees the expanse within me, and has what it takes plus the intrigue to stick around. I’ll never ask. But I hope they will. And is that so wrong, to want someone to choose me every day? Not out of empty loyalty and commitment that’s dead in the eyes, but out of a zest for adventure and pure elation for our precious love?

Is that really so selfish? No- because if you choose to go, then I won't stop you. I don’t want that. 

But if you choose to stay, day after day... we could truly create beauty and majesty       (july 12, 2019)

//

You don’t have to figure it out today.

Don’t need the answers right this instant.

Dreamer, Believer,

When have you ever accepted defeat?

you don’t need to recoil

That isn’t you 

You’ve come so far

Everything will be made clearer in its time

What shall we fear? We are more than conquerors...

/

You know definitively what you don’t want,

And some of what you do

And the path forward will come with clarity

Desires will surface

Stay with the things that make you grounded

The threads that make you, you

That provide self-identity and discovery and assurance

Because they will carry you

Through much greater storms than these                                    (july 30, 2019)

//

You don’t know —

You don’t live in my body

I have plenty of inspiration and resolve

(Enough to carry me through more than you could ever imagine)

Just because my momentum doesn’t look like yours doesn’t mean it’s not churning, preparing for my voyage, nor does it give you the right to impart/impose your incredibly one-sided “wisdom” onto the blank canvas that is,   The Rest 

You really aren’t the only one who’s got it figured out. Nor do you really.

Your big dreams are in reality, so small.

No wonder they’re easier to draw lines around and contain

I don’t know exactly what you think of me, but I know you vastly underestimate me. I know you have no concept of what I’ve done until now. I know you think I could be doing more. Trust me, I’m far more aware of my own potential than you, who doesn’t know me or my dreams.

If you want to be irrelevant to me, you’re on the fast track

Because that’s where people end up who give unsolicited advice and criticism without having a key to the inner circle.

I shouldn’t constantly be on the defensive which is how I feel these days. Having to defend my position, and say “no look, it really is okay that I’m here right now...”

{Awakened souls have no place among those with lifeless eyes}              (august 4, 2019)  

//

I was triggered by a soldiers’ homecoming getting off the plane, welcomed home by crowds of people. Moms. An old TSA guy who was probably a vet. They were cheering and clapping and it made me sick to my stomach.

Please don’t misrepresent that. Those moments are distractions from the true face of the beast. Those wearing the uniform will store those moments away to get them through things that their conscience could be protesting, subconscious discontent and even disdain for the things they’re doing, giving their lives for, seen people die for. Another form of ugly indoctrination, to give the public something to get behind and keep pushing them along.

Leaving, I feel a mixture of peace and longing. I feel like I’ve breathed in serenity and drank my fill of the vast expanse — to hold me over until I make it back. Wherever “back” or “there” is. I feel so sure that there is healing there - I could feel it, in my gut and in my bones. In the mountains, with air to breathe, nature to be awestruck by. I feel the pull on my soul back to the open, and we won’t stop until we're united again. My body and spirit cradled by and intertwined with that space. 

I’m lightly anxiously anticipating going back — hoping I can take this home with me, stay burning, and not be snuffed out and smothered by the thick blanket layers of work and the past and people with sharp claws. The heaviness awaits, but for now, ~but for now~  I am alone above the clouds, with nothing but my words and my music and Thoreau, and nobody can touch me.           (august 25) 

Porch light

How do you know when you’ve made it?
What a silly question.
You know the answer to that.
Part of it is that you’ve never really. Made it...
You’re always moving in a direction, the direction...
But the contentedness that slips in sometimes,
engulfs you, blankets you...
That’s “making it,” too.
But that one’s funny because it’s not somewhere you can arrive at.

You can climb the mountain or spend the day on the water or bask in the sunshine for hours, and not feel it in your heart. You can search for it, and lots of times it won’t be there.
And then sometimes you can be in a coffee shop or a train station or in a cluttered room with too much to do and not enough time and realize it’s there, too. Right next to you, helping you calm the sea so that you can pluck out the words. Or around you, covering you with one of those gravity blanket things that calm you down and quiet your mind.
(Lots of times, I catch glimpses of it in smells and sounds. Two of my favorite ways of drinking everything in.)

You can only do your part to make it welcome, and it will come,
When it’s truly meant to.

So - peace, tranquility, contentment...
You are always welcome.
In case you didn’t know.

Against the Grain

Hey guys. If you're here, you probably know me personally and stumbled into this snapshot of my tangled, web of a mind thanks to social media, one way or another. I'm glad you're here. I've actually had this blog for years now, and though I add to it only occasionally, I keep it because for me, it's cool to see the progression of my beliefs and ideas throughout the years. I rarely share it, because in some ways, I don't feel the need to. If someone is supposed to find it, they will (or my words have been lost in the endless void, which is totally cool, because writing is a process and the fact that what's on here is only a snippet of the whole picture is part of that process as well...) Anyways, I've been wanting to articulate a lot of this for some time, and just get it out there: for me, to gift myself the opportunity and space to speak; for my friends, to answer some questions; and for You, whoever you are, who looks a lot like a past Me, finding themself in a scary, uncertain time where nothing makes sense and you know what you need to do and you're both so certain and scared shitless because literally no one is going to understand and you're going to be on this lonely island of weird that's just filled with questions and demands that you just can't answer, even though you KNOW. Which, I'm here to assure you, you're not actually alone there and I promise you'll find your people, and until then, you'll keep yourself company. And it's okay.

A series of traumatic and otherwise painful events in my personal life, in the lives of those close to me, and that I've observed in the world around me has lead me to adopt a mindset and practice of being anti-violence. We could debate the existence of Just Wars, and whether the evil actions of one justify the violent reaction of another, but that is not the purpose of this. My intention right now is to share my own personal convictions that have manifested and have emerged from within during the past 3.5 particularly turbulent and unstable years of my life: that I cannot, in good conscience, be a force that invokes pain and suffering on another being. I am still in the process of determining what exactly that looks like going forward, what I will do with these convictions, how I will speak out about these things which to me, are so apparent and compelling... but for now, I am certain about a few things.

In a tangible, personal application of my convictions, I have chosen to adopt a vegetarian/vegan diet whenever possible. I've stopped eating meat completely, and I've made it to a point to discontinue the consumption of animal byproducts as well, though this is much more difficult and not always available to me. Every day is different, but the common strain is that I refuse to take any part in a practice that is objectively and inherently violent (regardless of whether or not it "matters" or is of consequence, similar to whether or not wars/violence is okay sometimes. I will not participate, for my own sake and, I believe, for others' as well. It is a clear, intentional way for me to put into practice what I have grown to emphatically believe.

Also side note, lets be real, cheese has been insanely hard to cut out completely... which is what a lot of people say in response to the vegan thing: "OMG I could NeVeErRrRrrrrrrrr give up CHEEEEEEESE" which honestly, I get it. Cheese awakens parts of your taste buds and senses that you didn't even know existed. It's like, the erotica of foods. But the dairy industry is so inhumane and violent, some say even more so than seafood. This is getting into those kind of still fuzzy areas, but I can assure you that I'm doing the best that I can.

I've been vegetarian for over a year now, since before Thanksgiving of last year -- 2017. This is the time when I was in the peak of the ill effects of all the violent, traumatic, and otherwise shitty things that happened to me. This is when I put my foot down and said "no."

No -- I won't consciously cause pain to anyone else.
No -- I won't continue to contribute in any way to an organization that uses violent force to accomplish its objectives.
No -- I won't entertain any kind of justification of these things, to include spiritual ones.
No -- you can't just take what you want, at others' expense.
No -- I won't eat dead animals.
It goes on...

This is why I haven't publicly shared anything about this decision until now, because for me, it isn't a simple, single issue (and yet in some ways, it is). It's intertwined through so many other things, was influenced by multiple other factors. But it's something that I get asked about somewhat regularly, and though the other fragments of my convictions and growth and worldview seem to adapt/grow/evolve daily in some way or another, this is something that has been, and always will remain, certain. It's something that has brought me fulfillment and peace, that has proved meaningful. It's something that really doesn't concern anyone but me (though you'd think otherwise if I compiled the countless comments of offense or annoyance or insult that I've received from both friends and strangers upon mentioning my dietary and lifestyle choices,) and isn't up for discussion. This is about me, and taking the opportunity to share something that I do as part of my decision to pursue a more fulfilling, mindful approach to life.

Regardless of your own beliefs or opinions regarding this matter, I invite you to take part in a celebration of the fact that I've found a way to grow from painful experiences. That somehow, my response to pain and suffering has found its way to being something positive and edifying, thought had potential to manifest as destructive decisions instead. I've found my silver lining, and this ins proof. I've discovered things within myself to cling to, during times of misfortune and suffering. I've found my way back from the abyss of existential, consuming dread -- though that itself wasn't pretty and I doubted if I would. Some of you who are/were close to me probably doubted if I'd make it, too. But I did, and this is just one way I've found that I can choose good. And for that, I rejoice.

the years

Coming up on a year
Since I walked out of one turbulent season into another
(maybe, probably, more so)
One year ago I was in Clarksville ((ready for parole))
Married, preparing to leave the Army
  -- the home that turned on me --
About to move to New York and start my life with my best friend, my partner, my should-be soulmate
Also having lunch with another kindred friend
Both wrestling insanity
Seeing reflections of each other
Realizing my lover was in another universe
And my friend was cast from the very light that I was
 ~ sharing breath ~
And baring my heart to her, not knowing she'd soon turn on me too
How little I knew
I breathed too soon
thought I was safe
didn't know i'd be running
for eleven more months

//

Two years
I slept on an air mattress that only lasted two nights before my cat scratched it and it never stayed full
I stayed in bed all day eating pizza, homemade cookies in my first very own kitchen, and watching Brave
How fitting - I'd need every ounce of that
once the pussy-grabber shocked us all and took that stage
Devastated, talking to the man who would become my world for a salty-sweet time
Not knowing then that soon, we'd find everything we needed in each other to stay afloat
I couldn't have done it without you
And yet
Being with you made me forget everything I knew
that had brought me here
The greatest of contrasts

//

I've always been a storm
Sometimes it's the good kind
that brings refreshment and renewal
New life, and hope
and calm afterwards, peace
But sometimes I spin out
Gathering energy, more and faster
every second
losing control
These last two years have each been their own kind of storm, different conditions. Maybe this time it'll be the steady kind. Maybe I'll grow and move forward and remain.

The First Three Months

This is a very important post for me, because I think its the beginning of something that's been crushed down inside me for a while. Barely existing, and yet pulsing - writhing - trying to escape. It's also important because I usually only write when I know exactly what I'm trying to say, when I have the conclusion already in mind, when I feel adequate to be heard. And none of those things are true right now. All I have to go off of is a feeling, one that's unmistakable but also kind of hard to identify. I'm full of disappointment, and hurt, and hopelessness. Anxiety, listlessness. I feel let down by just about everyone, but even more so, by myself. I have no direction, no spark. And it sucks, because this was supposed to be my time, my season. I feel like I'm holding my breath, that this can't possibly be what I'm destined to live with for the rest of my life. That this, too, shall pass. But I've already toyed with the line between disappointment and despair, and it's so, so easy to become immersed in that. To feel suffocated and immobilized, like those dreams where you're trying to run but you physically can't make your limbs move because you feel like you're under water.

And I honestly don't understand. I told myself for so long that everything would be better once I was free. I didn't think it would be gone, but I thought I'd be able to handle it. And then, barely weeks after I took my first breath of free air, I nearly lost the will to go on. I'd never felt agony like that before. But it wasn't acute, it was endless. I couldn't remember what it was like to not feel that crushing pain in my chest, the world around me going dark. That was my reality. And nobody in the entire world knew what it was like to feel like I did. I didn't want to feel better, I just wanted to feel nothing. But it wasn't like normal pain, where you can identify it's location and cause. It was me. I didn't know what it was like to exist outside of that. And even after those death hours when I stepped outside, just hours before 2018, I knew it wasn't gone. I kept saying things like, "Wow, I almost didn't make it to this year!" and "It's so weird, I feel like that was a completely different person back there." But what I really meant was, this isn't me. I didn't make it to this year, because the real me is still lying on the bathroom floor. I don't recognize this body walking around. I don't believe any of the words she's saying. She isn't real. I'm not real.

Sometimes I look around and wonder where everyone went. But then, if I can't recognize myself, how could I expect anyone else to? How could I blame them? I'm not providing anything to anyone right now. I don't qualify as a friend. I'm a charity case. I'm torn between releasing myself from people who don't serve me, who don't have my best interests at heart, and condemning myself for daring to have higher standards because I'm a shit person myself. How can I expect grace and care and patience and empathy from others, when who knows how many people feel abandoned or betrayed by me? Because when I left myself, I left them too. I probably deserve this.

How selfish can you be? You really think this is worth sulking about? How many people out there have it worse than you do, both in their heads and on the outside? How much self pity are you going to be consumed with before you do us all a favor and just leave?

I was supposed to be rediscovering myself. Redefining myself. Becoming a new, confident, fearless person who wasn't afraid to stare shit down. I was supposed to be in the mountains right now. Shouting from their peaks with no one to tell me to be quiet, no shame in making a scene.

I was starting from scratch, but I was ready. I knew then that I was a different person already, or at least becoming one. And I had just a few people who saw me for who I was becoming, recognized that light shining through this rough shell. Were ready to see me break through, and fly. It was all I needed. Then I blinked, and they were gone. And I watched as my body crumbled to pieces and felt the weight of a million heartbreaks.

I don't know where I am. I must be hiding somewhere. Most of me, anyway. There must be just a tiny bit of me left in my body for me to be writing this. Don't be surprised if it's gone after this. Every day is a toss-up. Is it going to be the numb kind, or the frantic kind? I know it doesn't have to be like this. I can get help. That was the plan all along. But it's like I'm immobilized. I can't even get out of bed some days. How the hell am I supposed to make it into someone's office? Why is the world like this? We all have enough things that are killing us from the inside. Why do we have to cause more chaos around us?

So many questions, churning around in my head. All at once. I know I don't have to answer them. They're big questions. But what am I supposed to do, ignore them? Pretend they don't exist? When those questions are things like, how many more kids and black people are going to die before we do something? The parents who bury their children don't get to ignore that question. Or, what's the point in fighting for a better world when we're all going to die anyways? I can pretend as long as I want, but the end's going to come eventually.

Maybe one day, I'll actually look back on this and not recognize the person who wrote it. But I feel like the likely outcome, best case scenario, is that she's always here, but just not the dominant one. I'll be able to occupy her a little at a time while I move forward.

mosaic

I.

When she feels halfway gone

When the music seems to pierce through

her skin and muscle and bone instead of 

     flowing through her blood like water, pulsing

When she longs for the sun but when light

     touches her skin she screams and writhes in agony

And with everything she has she wants to will it

     out of her body

     spill like air

     become one with the atmosphere

     evaporate

My skin is wet tissue paper

One touch and it's torn to pieces

My walls are not titanium

     or even clay

They are the most delicate butterfly wing

It's mesmerizing I know

And please don't get too close

Because the slightest breath

And it's shredded before your eyes

And you are now

One Who Shattered A Masterpiece

and she exists

as nothing more than fibers

now tell me why anyone

would even bother

when she can be swept up with dust

and scattered

II.

So you see

the most impervious barrier of all

is one so d e l i c ate

That pure rays of light would fracture it, so 

No one bothers to even see it

They look straight through it

And how can you break

through a wall

When you don't even

know it

exists

i lost count of my "fresh starts" but this one feels different

*Dec. 12*

In 5 days I turn 24... in 19 days we turn 2018. 
To say “new year, new me” would be cliche and a vast understatement. I am deciding who I want to be each day, just as each day, I play a direct role in making the world what I want it to be. 

I’m listening to window panes rattle and I’m both terrified and entranced. I’ve been waiting for this moment, and now, at 1:30 in the morning, it’s here.
My voice.
It’s here. 

I’m learning to build what isn’t yet, and to regenerate where it’s needed. We are all artists in the world, painting on the sky’s canvas, sculpting from the earth’s clay. What will we create?

If I am art, and god is the artist, she’s handed me the brush and urged me towards freedom. “My darling, made after my image, but so uniquely yourself... I can’t wait to see what you make, how you’ll finish what I started.”

I want to let go of everything in order to receive everything.
Peace, freedom, bliss...
3 breathtaking things that you don’t realize you were missing until you have them.
So can any of us accuse each other of masochism when all we’ve known is the shackles?
Even though we hold the key, if the chains blend into our arms and legs, how would we ever realize that there is a key to begin with?

For so many instances, we have things forced on us and taken away from us by people who either think they know best for us, or only know what they themselves want.
Sometimes, when faced with a true opportunity of choice, the freedom paralyzes us.
We don’t realize how seldom we have it, so when we do, we freeze.
My indecisive nature is not really me, but am extension of my discomfort with limitless opportunity.
What do I want for lunch? I’m so used to being told what to eat, or having limited options, or defaulting to someone else. But it’s just me. Why does my head start spinning? Why does my breath get slightly shallow? It’s lunch... it happens every day... and I can’t decide. Why? 

With decisions, I’m always second-guessing, and asking for the opinions of others.
Because I don’t want to regret something. I don’t want to choose wrong. But what if the choice isn’t the issue, but regret is?
I say “what if”, but I know.
We make decisions with the information we have from our own direct experience, and not the counsel of others. And if this is the case, there is no room for regret, only growth and progress.
Move forward. Embrace. Be. 

If these windows break, I’m going to go lay in the shattered glass and pretend it’s sand and ocean swirling around, indistinguishable, intertwined.
Both one and infinite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~