

The Journey

Part I: Mind vs Universe

Written By Morgan Anthony

© 2016 Morgan Anthony

In early December of 2014, I decided to embark on a Journey. I was ready for a change, and ready to take on the world. What you see here is a journal of my personal inner dialogue. There will be inconsistencies, emotions across the spectrum, and probably grammatical errors, but be not fooled. This isn't a novella, nor a memoir. It is simply a personal story I have chosen to share.

Some entries will be very short, others will be painfully long. I have tried to keep everything as close to how it was originally written, and as honest as possible with minimal editing.

If you have been led here, I believe it's for a reason.
Contents

2014

December

2015

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

2016

January

February

March

April

There it was, the email that would change my life; bolded right at the top, I clicked it open and read the contents.

Approved.

This was it, I was moving to the Caribbean. Why? Well...because fuck it, that's why. But the reaction I had was very unanticipated. I felt fear — illogical and irrational — but I had nothing to fear. Nonetheless, it was a pang in the stomach. Strange...or maybe it just hasn't really hit me until now.

2014

December 22nd

Though I only arrived on island today, calmed by the hot climate and ocean smell, adjusting is already proving to be difficult. Perhaps the first day is always the hardest, but I was incredibly disappointed when I saw the place in which I would be living. Size wise it's extremely suitable, if not quite spacious for such a tiny, expensive island. My problem is the cleanliness...or lack thereof. I spent 45 minutes scrubbing the bathroom, the tub, the toilet, the shower — each. I only got a small layer of filth off. I had to shower in my sandals.

Yesterday, prior to my leaving, my mother had stumbled upon very old home videos of when we first immigrated to Canada. We watched some of these low-quality takes, and I was hurt to see the sweetness and affections she had showed me — because I could not, for the life of me, remember them. Why are only the traumas and pains remembered? It is these moments, these affections and loves, that we need the most. And yet somehow, perhaps by my mind (that always tries to fool me), I cling to the negatives.

I feel often that my mind has tricked me into believing I have lived a particular life, when truly it has been quite different. A prime example being the home videos. My childhood seemed full of love (on camera at least), and I almost loathed myself for not remembering these moments. Emotions aren't smart, even if we are. But the scariest part is this: if our mind is powerful enough to manipulate our memories to suit a belief that, for a reason I think we will never understand, hurts us or those around us, then perhaps reality doesn't exist at all.

What if reality is an illusion? And all we are doing is living inside our own heads, and everything is our creation? After all, the world exists through so many, many eyes; some are beautiful and full of love, while others (I dread to entertain my own are like this) only want to cling tight to ill-heartiness. And how are we to know? Like a child who knows nothing else, what we see we think is normal — truths. And how uncomfortable the cognitive dissonance that we all, I hope to some degree, must face as we grow older. Maybe that's why they call it a Journey — travels from within.

I often wonder why inner Journeys are far harder than outer Journeys. Trekking for hours in an extremely hot climate, for example, without water, proper footwear nor a direction in which to head, surely must be more difficult than, say, realizing that we may have been wrong all along...right?

It must be. Why isn't it? It pains me that it pains me. What a paradox, and yet I find myself crying, night after night, purging some overwhelming emotion I cannot name, paining further at the confusion and misguidance. Am I lost? I ask myself. No, says my inner voice. You are growing.

I resent those who claim suffering to be mental illness. We are all ill then, for we all struggle with whatever it is we struggle with, and it is always within the mind and the soul. Labeling it doesn't make it easier, nor justifies not doing something about it.

I'm not quite sure when I realized I was going in the right direction, but I remember feeling a weird sense of fearful excitement. I always wanted this, to move away and start a new life on some tiny island somewhere. Yet as I whispered to the Universe, feeling slightly silly as I did so, "I trust you, please take good care of me," somewhere, in an unknown place, I felt — or chose to feel — that it heard me.

And off I went, packing painfully as a part of me didn't want to go. I'm not afraid of change, at least not consciously. I had barely slept the night of my flight — drenched in sweat and shivering. I know my ill nerves, but they were accompanied by something else I can't quite place. It was almost as if I was happy I was doing this to myself, despite the fact I was trembling and near vomiting.

Being in a new place also adds volume to my thoughts. They are so obvious to me now, I can't imagine how I didn't recognize their cynicism before. Just now, before changing the used sheets to (thank goodness) my own that I had brought, I had walked three doors over to a French colleague (we had met previously) that I took a great liking to. As I handed her the cheesy souvenir gift I bought as a thank you for her help, I recognized suddenly something telling me I was trying too hard to be liked. 'But I'm not' I told this stranger in my head. 'I am grateful.'

Why are our thoughts always against us? Is this the good vs. evil people talk about? I always believed I was good — at least that's the wolf I try to feed more. How does this negativity survive? Though I must admit it has become less and less over the years. I'm not sure how, or why, but nevertheless I'm glad for it. It can be quite exhausting, arguing with yourself when you're trying to listen to someone else speak. "I'm sorry, what was that?" you smile to them, pretending you didn't hear, when really your mind was too busy arguing with itself to pay any attention (pay no mind). And after the speaker repeats themselves, your response seems forced, almost like a compensation for missing it the first time. At least, that's what the stranger tells you. This stranger is unwelcome.

Those at my new place of work seem like an absolute delight. I was quite surprised when unknown faces recognized me, some even by name. "You! Welcome back!" they would greet. And how big the smile on my face was. Wow, I thought to myself. I am worth remembering. What a beautiful feeling. But of course, a long train of thought begins where I question why I feel so worthless at all. A silent comparison begins. "Well you are nice to everyone," says the good side.

"So what?" says the bad. "Just because you are polite doesn't mean you are worthy."

I wonder if I will ever be able to get out of this debate, and perhaps watch it from afar, hopefully with slight laughter, if not complete cackling. Maybe it's all child's play, and I am too deep to see that. Maybe my tears are wasted, I cannot see the bigger picture. I am desperately trying to discover something that needs to be discovered, but I don't know what that is. It's like wandering aimlessly through a forest, looking for a specific tree, when you don't know what it looks like nor in which vague area it lies. One thing I do know: when I see it, I will recognize it. In other words, I just have to go from tree to tree until I find the one I'm looking for. And what a big forest. I've been wandering for years.

December 25th

Quite a busy day at work. As people book excursions or rent equipment, I am taken back to the times when I, myself, was on the other side of the counter, excited to explore the ocean at every possible opportunity. Now behind it, I see how everything works. Of course, some of the romanticism is lost, for it's truly not as glamorous as it may seem, but nonetheless I am not disappointed.

It's also quite strange to hear Christmas songs, and see sparkling decorations, unaccompanied by the cold of winter and the bright of snow. Not my first Christmas in a warm place, but my first without a return ticket.

It's interesting to fathom the many lives, however different or distant, that cross our paths and yet never again.  
How many varying dreams and ambitions, many of which have not been met, most of which have been given up on, and yet fundamentally as human beings we seek (I would say ultimately) the same things: tranquility – whatever that may mean; inner peace, the likes of which are seldom achieved; love, something usually lacking I believe for most of us. If not, perhaps I inflate my hope that I am not the only one starved of it. If history is any indication, I am usually quite blind to the love I do receive...somehow I still feel unloved.

And yet, day after day, our lives, however remotely, touch in some way, whose importance we will probably never understand (if at all we realize an importance exists). It's quite unfamiliar, this acknowledgment, yet I can do nothing but baffle at it. Could it be too grand a thing to understand? Perhaps thine heart is too primitive, but I suppose I won't ever really know.

December 30th

The New Year slowly approaches, and yet nothing but sleep and rest are on my mind. Time has slipped, and I slave away working at a company that (not until my arrival) I learned isn't up to the standards of management, safety and accommodation. It's an experience nonetheless, and I must admit that watching the sunset as I finish work does lift my mood quite a bit. It's a subtle reminder that I am in a good place, at least my heart thinks so.

New Year's Eve

I never understood what it was like to have a deepened inner peace until tonight.

I was always afraid of being alone, especially when the New Year was to be met with smiles, clinking champagne glasses and a company of great people. But as I reflect, I realize that a celebration doesn't need to be accompanied by heaps of people, or even a romantic partner. I have my health, my wisdom (or so I think), and a calm Energy that I have never seen so at peace. Maybe it's the ocean, but nevertheless, on this evening on the last day of the 2014th year, everything is still. So as the dancing flames of the beach torches glow on the rippling water, I sit alone, dining, to celebrate only with myself the end of a year passed, and to welcome a new, uncertain one where somehow I trust everything will be just as it must.

I can't really reminisce this past year, for it was full of pain, fear, and loneliness. No more, my friends. Tonight, I am letting go. What was, was. What is, is. And what may come, probably will. But for the first time in my life, I truly feel I am ready to face it all.

Goodnight, and may we all wake with a new breath, New Year's or not.

2015

January 4th

I feel too tired to write, no matter how compelled I am to. The stickiness in the air weighs heavy on my skin (my house mate is too cheap for some air conditioning). That's not to say it makes for a bad house mate, but I would rather pay a little bit more and live comfortably, then be sticky all the time for the sake of saving a few dollars (what's a few dollars in exchange for a pleasant home anyway?)

Finally I catch a break — two days off starting tomorrow. Heading to the beach with our temporary house guest; she arrived from England several days ago and we offered our humble abode until she could find a place to stay. Lucky for her, the apartment next door is vacant and she will be occupying it.

It's only 8pm and already my lids fall heavy. Sleeping in means waking at 730am, but on the bright side my day will be longer and I will enjoy the better hours of the sun.

Slowly I'm growing more accustomed to the varying accents around the island. I was swept with confusion at first: English, Irish, South African, Nicaraguan, Honduran, Jamaican. Suddenly it became so obvious to recognize a Canadian accent (whereas I never thought one really existed). Needless to say, my accent is always understood.

I wish I had more to say, but my mind hasn't been spared much time to wander. My body sighs in tiredness, change and habituation to even entertain the idea of a romantic partner (not that it's necessary or lacking, but it's always nice).

It has been about two weeks since my arrival, and my Energy craves the sweetness of the Green Leaf. It's not as potent as the Canadian grown magic, but it will have to do.

My mind has finally adjusted, my body is resting, and now all that's left is to feed the soul.

January 5th

I already find myself saddened that this experience will have to end. However along in the future this may be, something deeper yearns to remind me that this is temporary, perhaps not only for myself but for others. It's atypical, this experience, or at least it feels so; and with that in mind, naturally one is inclined to anticipate that it will not last (then again, nothing really does).

I've been apprehensive about endings before, but this isn't a dread really. It's more of a slight mourning that the chapters in my Journey have to eventually close. It's an incredible book in which I don't want to change a thing (regardless of how tempting it may be), because that's how it fits. It just...fits.

The stresses of adjustment have passed, and finally I can rest and tune back into myself. As my house mate so eloquently put it, "We just live more here." I also think that subconsciously I'm more at ease for being far from family pains — and in a place that feels like home more than 'home' ever did.

For some reason it feels more evident here that every single person is on a very separate Journey, somehow connecting for a short period of time, before we all move on to our next chapters. I had never felt this before, not with strangers nor with friends. So as I stare outside my window, still feeling like this change is happening (and not yet happened), I am overcome with...calmness. Of all things, calmness. It's quite out of character for me.

January 12th

Tonight, I was disappointed when our original plan to enjoy a mature, sophisticated dinner would be replaced with a visit to the trashiest bar on the island.

As expected, upon arrival we walked into a patio full of mumbling drunkards and obnoxious young people, sweating the toxins of their drinks and desperately seeking approval via meaningless sex. After an hour of doing nothing but trying not to let my distaste for this environment manifest a headache, I was done.

It wouldn't be until much later that my ride planned to head out, so after a short walk to the bus stop, I realized the roads were empty and nothing but darkness lay ahead of me. By the time I turned back, the bar had emptied, and only one car remained in the car park. I was relieved when he agreed to give me a lift, otherwise I would be spending the night on the cusp of a crime-ridden town, and who knows what happens to expats when they find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As he drove off, I understood right away he was heavily under the influence. The extent of his intoxication became very obvious when I had to grab the steering wheel to keep us from swerving into the opposing lane. When I finally made it to my complex, thankfully in one piece, a tall, thin man who looked incredibly out of his mind, walked a little too close for my comfort, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder. My guess was he was overtaken by an illicit drug I wasn't familiar with.

The sound of a closing door never felt so reassuring. Needing to release all the tension, I stepped out for a smoke and had quite an amazing experience. As I sat there, sucking on the sweet tit of Mother Nature, I heard a rooster cry far, far in the distance. I had to listen carefully to hear his crow. Moments later, and I don't know whether by my intention or illusion, he was louder. It wasn't until a few more moments passed that I realized one cock had woken another, and then another, until swarms of them woke from all around me.

Only a few doors down, another one heard the cry, then shouted back at the top of his lungs — an outstretched neck curving forth in power and round eyes bulging in force. I hadn't laughed that sweetly in a while. What a genuine thing to notice. I felt at home — whatever sense of home I have until now acquired. Back in the city it was unpleasant all around. The cold was a strong discomfort, the air smelled of pollution and the people, for whatever reason, were bothered by openness.

The following morning (but still the same day, so to speak), I sat outside on the dirty steps behind the house, and enjoyed my 'me' moments. It's quite beautiful here. Maybe it's my fascination with this new place, or maybe the environment truly is richer, but looking ahead only mere feet did I see an entire new world unravel: a family of chickens — a colourfully-plumed rooster, a big-chested hen and several new hatchlings — pecked their way across the lawn; a green iguana pulled his heavy body up the picket fence, swallowing whole leaves that grew on the bush; a nearby stork stretched his wings, back arched and giant outstretched arms, a symbolic yawn.

Then, as if the Universe was telling a poem, a small, orange-winged butterfly, though faded and pale, landed ever so gracefully on a petal of grass, just inches from my feet. I began to contemplate whether or not an existence can change or somehow shift. I questioned whether or not mine had.
Part II

The bird in the tree squawked from behind the rustling leaves, hidden from sight. It was loud and unpleasant, for his call was repetitive and of a peculiar pitch. A middle-aged Englishman who wore a beer belly and a bald crown sweatily stormed out of his kitchen with a broom in hand.

"Bloody hell!" he said for the second time that day, poking into the tree as deep he could. He got a grouching response.  
In the distance, I laughed, feeling nothing but pure joy to watch such a real thing take place. A genuine interaction between man and animal which, outside of domesticated pets, rarely existed. In the city anyway. Little did I know, I myself was being watched through a window, by a young man in the building across the large field in front of me. I'm not sure how I noticed him, but he stared curiously, wondering what I could have possibly been thinking. When I looked at my watch, almost half an hour had passed, and I too began to wonder where those minutes had gone.

January 13th

Within this small complex of apartments roamed a thin, orange cat. Often she attempted to enter our apartment, meowing adorably and rubbing herself against my legs (though it seems cute, it's really just a way to claim territory by spreading her scent). Many times I've told her, "I'm allergic to you." As if understanding, or maybe feeling rejected, she would turn her backside and walk away with her nose in the air. Most days she will sit a few feet from the door and begin a self-cleaning routine. Today, she got inside the house. When a neighbour stopped by, the gingered animal was in the bushes and snuck her way in through the crack of the door. It wasn't until an unfamiliar meowing that we realized she was playing pet.

My house mate picked her up and placed her outside. With a snort of derision, again she wags her tail snobbishly and walks away. What an interesting character she is. I've fed her cheese before, although a cat would better prefer sausage or meat of some sort. I've been eating very little meat lately — lost the appetite when a wild hen approached me as I dug my teeth into a sweet chicken burger.

The other day at work, I was alone for about an hour while my coworker went on lunch and, of course, that is when a queue of people had questions and inquiries to which I had no answers. What surprised me was the kindness with which I was met. Every stranger greeted me warmly, and upon my confession that only my coworker could be of use to them, I received understanding nods and even smiles.

I must admit that it's very comforting to see that the majority of people are kind, and not arrogant or entitled like the few I have already encountered working here — like the young woman who was shocked she had to inflate her own son's floating sleeves (not even purchased in our store).

I wonder if she felt rejected or hurt. I'm realizing more and more that the changes we go through must all be painful one way or another, and however unjustified it may seem to us, it's quite real and valid to the experiencer. So for an entitled, probably quite wealthy and spoiled young woman, I truly wonder what she felt in the moments when she realized that yes, you have to do things yourself despite the fact that everything else may have been done for you in the past. Maybe she's a germaphobe and finds the experience very unpleasant. Whatever the reason, the end result would be the same: inflate your own children's sleeves. What a trivial thing, and yet how it can make a situation of things.

That same day, it seemed that no one spoke English. My French and Spanish skills came to good use, though I was surprised at how rusty I've gotten. Guests were kind and didn't mock how I butchered their language trying to explain what a security deposit was, or why we took credit card imprints. I suppose they appreciated anyone tried at all.

January 14th

It's so genuine, carrying your own food. I've earned the meals I carry on my back, and wasn't served them based on some ridiculous 'privileged' status assigned to me. My life is fulfilling here, not 'privileged' like how it was in the city; yet, neither trumps the other. I have found pleasures in both lifestyles, though this one at least feeds the part of my soul that has been neglected all these years.

So, I begin to realize how my 'Why would anyone want to live in the city?' turn into 'Oh...I get it.' If the majority of your life has been in a place like this, then it makes sense to crave bigger, brighter and more. It never made sense to me before. Maybe you really do have to walk a mile in someone else's shoes.

January 16th

A bird lunched with me today. I sat alone, as usual, picking at my fries when a brown dove landed on the table and slowly inched his way, step by step, closer to my plate. After long and cautious deliberation, finally he plucked a thin fry near the edge and shook it to break a smaller portion. Needless to say the mayo that was on it now decorated my shirt and my face. He jerked his head awkwardly and again inched towards the fries. How does all this wildlife go unnoticed? It may not be bangle tigers or penguins, but life is life, even in small, dumb form — like a mindless chicken who does nothing but peck about.

I found an interesting snippet that I wrote a little while back:

"I feel like a wasted youth, spending my young years dealing and surviving instead of living — healing damage that was brought unto me instead of exploring and discovering both myself and the world. I've long accepted that it's an unfair world, and it is what it is. But what triggers this sadness is when I see others of my age, glowing of happiness and farther along in their Journeys — because they didn't have inner obstacles that they first had to fix before being able to begin living. It's almost like having to start in the negatives when everyone else is at zero.

"This is when I secretly wonder if I will ever get to where they are... if I will ever get to be young before I wrinkle of age."

January 20th

There was a giant iguana sitting atop a neighbouring tree. He stood a king, broad-shouldered and defiant, claiming his territory. His large tail hung to one side, thick and heavy. And yet, he was still — not a tremble nor a quiver. How different his world must seem. Ancestor to the most dominant species that ever roamed the Earth, he carries millions of years of power inside him. I almost feel like I'm looking into the past, just by seeing him now, in this moment while he lives and breathes his entire history. I can't help but be bothered that they were considered a pest problem and almost entirely wiped out. I see far fewer now.

There is something else that bothers me, and I'm not entirely sure how to address it. Let's avoid lengthy story-telling and simply say that I had a very pleasant conversation with a potential love interest. I don't want to get emotionally involved. I'm trying to avoid that in pursuit of deeper introspection, and being involved romantically only hinders that. I don't like feeling self-conscious at any time, and feeling incredibly attracted to someone (not just physically) makes it very difficult to focus when they're around (on anything: work, friends, the fact that you've had a piece of beef stuck in your teeth the entire time). Hopefully this is all just in my head and will pass soon.

January 23th

I've read all about infamous love and rocky relationships, and often wonder what it would be like to be so passionate about someone. At the end of the day I would opt for the stable, secure relationship, but I still can't help but be curious about what such passion is. If given the opportunity to experience it, would I?

January 27th

I often find myself craving the Earthy taste of Leaf to make life less dull. Not sure why I've always felt this way, but boredom seems to be quite prevalent, no matter the circumstance. It magically follows the honeymoon stage of any major change, but with the Leaf, my thoughts wander to great places; tasks like house chores become good and valid. Negative thoughts pass without attachment, and everything seems to be in balance again.

Lately, though, I've felt the pull of self-destruction. That inner part that just wants to waste away by any means, and for a reason that I still can't pinpoint. This feeling has never been so evident to me before, though I'm almost sure it has been present most of my life. I've only ever had bad habits...

I'm finding myself very perceptive, as if somehow I can just sense the inner workings of another person, and likewise be disgusted or pleased by that internal mechanism. It becomes hard to detach from the leeches: those who drain you for lack of their own standing. I suppose it's another thing I must learn to properly handle.

Of course, as always, I find myself longing for a sexual encounter. Not to misinterpret the word but for myself, sexual is beyond physical sex or bodily arousal. Sexual, to me, is something very primal and innate, and comes out even when we don't want it to. I've never experienced that really, and find that I have settled for most things in life — especially romantic partners. It's hard being selective, especially when you love sex.

Alas, my mind fantasizes about those I don't truly desire, but see in any case something desirable within them: a body, a manner of speaking, a perspective. Then at the end of the day, I conjure the sensation of being next to someone who can both woo me and challenge me altogether. What a fantasy, surely.

I find that on this travel I am becoming more and more myself — that is to say I second guess far less, and I am shameless in speaking that which is often not spoken or expressed. I'm quite satisfied with that actually. I find we are few.

I'm not sure if I'm growing tired of this place (which no longer seems magical) or if I'm just over the fact that everything is no longer 'fresh'. I already ponder of a life elsewhere. I still need to feel separate from everything I know and have become, but it has followed me here. I want that disconnect, where everything and nothing feels real at the same time. And this becomes more and more apparent to me every day as I realize how much we are all chasing something.

What am I chasing? I have no idea, but whatever it is, there is a strong longing for it — as if it's what has been missing all this time.

The more I progress, the more evident the flaws of my mind become.

January 29th

He didn't know it, but he craved the sweet buzz of alcohol again, for he took the wine glass for his water without realizing. Only sitting outside having a smoke does this thought occur with alarm.

Inside, he is distracted (thankfully) by the smell of toasting bread, reminding himself that food has thus far proved to be a good ("alternative? alternate?") substitute, he decides. Yes, substitute.

He inhales deeply at this thought, somewhere rolling his eyes at yet another thing that has to be approached with caution. Only then does he realize the extinguished cigarette still hanging from his lips. He chuckles to himself — what a stereotype I am, he thinks, tapping away at the keyboard.

It seems that after a good cry, his thinking clears. He doesn't know why that is (nor would it matter if he did), but it seems to do exactly what it does: get out pains in some metaphysical way. At least that's how it feels.

The mind reaches for the wine glass, but the hand reaches for the water; he inhales deeply, wanting to hate loving the feeling. He steps out for another smoke, surprised by the little effort it's taking to postpone. There are moments when it feels guilty to indulge, and moments when it feels completely innocent. Strange how it works.

He wondered if it was possible to control an addiction. As in, I can be addicted when I let myself, but when it's absolutely necessary to stop, I can stop for the time needed. Suddenly a self-consciousness arises, and he isn't sure if it's real or induced, but nonetheless it begins to create a hyper-awareness of oneself, and he feels uncertain. Uncertain of his words, uncertain of his purpose, or if anything makes sense at all. He continues to write nonetheless, hoping one day it may be of some use.

January 30th

How lonely it is to fear the thing you want to love. The one thing, the primary thing — your mother.

As a child of course, you cannot see past the hurts. Small actions seem hurtful, and the world is so big. We miss the sweet things for being so affected by the sour things, and as adults these pains grow roots. What an unfortunate thing, fearing that which is the closest to you by many means: physical, psychological, natural. She was "there", but never really there, too possessed by her own demons to provide, especially emotionally.

I feel guilt with these thoughts too, and I question whether I should, whether it's normal or whether it's something that needs correcting. I feel like I've covered all these areas before but somehow the pain keeps coming back. The scarier thing is that it's all in your head, and yet how it continues to conquer me. Then I begin to question everything, whether or not something 'should' or 'should not' be there. Is it normal to feel this way about this? Am I making too much of it? Not enough?

It's exhausting really, and most of the time shameful to even admit — and shame is the worst emotion of them all. For some reason it grips me far more than anything else, including heartbreak and nerves. Shame feels heavy and light at the same time, and it usually spreads quickly from the gut. It's so unpleasant and for me the most damaging. I wonder what could have possibly shaped me this way, because I certainly don't remember (maybe that's for a reason).

I grow curiouser about what my Ayahuasca experience will be like. I know deep down I need this healing experience, and I have been called to work with this plant medicine. All these glimpses of possibilities fill my head and I often wonder which are true, if any at all. They say it opens your mind like nothing else, and everything you cannot see is brought forth. Lately I've been asking myself whether I am illusioned. It is becoming evident to me how much my perception is shaping everything, and I wonder how far it is from the truth.

I grow wary of a neighbour, who was once friendly and kind, but now seems to grow more and more obnoxious. It began with a simple 'misunderstanding' that grew into something I don't even know. I try to pay it no mind, but it's difficult. We barely communicate yet I can still feel her negative vibes through the walls.

Many interesting things have happened, developed and become apparent this past month. Sadly, and as always, after getting to know the ins and outs of a workplace, it loses its charm. I'm quite ready to move on, to be honest. Even though I have been led here like everyone else on their Journeys, I still feel out of place. Could alienation follow you too? And if it's not social status, class, race or past histories, then what is it that makes me feel so separate from everyone else?

Now I lay my head to sleep, but only out of discipline, for an early morning awaits. I hope, as others have told me, that this place makes me tougher too. I can't wait to see what the next chapter holds — but all in due time.

February 4th

It's strange how my time on Earth feels longer some days, and shorter others. I sometimes lean back upon a counter for I feel old, as if I've seen the world over and over again, and am ready for death. Other times I felt optimistic and driven, young and new and there's so much out there to see!

I can't quite say what this is, let alone why it occurs, but I suppose the equal presence of both just means a balance exists — I wouldn't want to always be old-souled and never young at heart. Is it possible to be both at the same time?

February 6th

I cannot understand where time has gone. Either my perception has changed, or I've simply learned all I needed to learn (less sensory stimulation, less processing, seemingly less passing of time...)

My hands got the best of me today, and again I sit with fresh, bleeding wounds, trying not to let the accompanied thoughts disappoint me too much. They do. It's weird to observe yourself observe yourself.

February 8th

It's not about which people are best, it's about which feelings we like best (thus keeping around those who evoke them). And just as our preferences change, so do the people in our lives. I do not understand the guilt some express in moving on from people, be it lovers, friends or jobs. Life is change.

Saw a lost hatchling today. She chirped loudly in all directions, searching for momma. There was a distant holler, and off she went. How human, I thought.

February 14th

Everything on TV tonight reminds me of my current relationship status: single. I honestly didn't mind it until I saw all these sappy movies celebrating couples, and that's when I ordered chicken wings. No beer, I don't drink (anymore).

Siting outside having a smoke, I watched carnival spotlights circle in the clouds. Listening to Romanian music, I suddenly craved to experience Europe in all its tastes. I've always wanted to before, but this moment was a sobering serious; I'm going to do it.

I could almost feel the foreign air, remembering the different Energy I felt when stepping off the plane in Moscow. It was heavy, and made me uncomfortable. This is where I'm from?

The sirens here are strange and barely recognizable — they sound like drunken frogs. Goo-eep. Goo-eep. I pick my nose, appreciating the freedom to do so, without strangers or nosy neighbours spying on me. A man walks across the empty field, seemingly talking to himself. If out of mind or heart he was, I couldn't say, but I imagined a frustrated soul who went on regular walks to clear himself.

The air is cleaner than in the city, and a breath never felt so good. I can taste the ocean though I do not see it. It's comforting. The sky above me is a dome, large and curving, and I feel small.

February 15th

I had a vision:

A group of black rhinos are circled by poachers and then shot. Still alive but wounded, the largest is trapped by five men, one of whom trips the large beast by slicing his leg with a machete. Mother Nature weeps as within her core she feels the horns barbarously hacked from their faces. Hack. Flesh. Hack. Flesh. Hack, hack, hack. The bleeding animals lay writhing in pain, deprived the mercy of death.

It hurts. It hurts so much, I don't want to see this...but this is our world.

February 17th

I spent the last two days on the water and in the sun, basking in all the glory that is paradise living. I took a humane society rescue pup to the beach and showed him love and affection until his tail was no longer between his legs. I bonded with such wonderful people who were honest enough to open up and share some of their intimate experiences with me. And yet, I sit here feeling alone and miserable because everyone has someone to love, except me. Everyone has a partner to Skype, a lover to cuddle, or at least they are getting laid...and I am here, a single young professional who doesn't understand why there are so few to truly connect with.

I don't need a partner, no. I don't want a serious relationship, no. But for fuck's sake, I'm a human being and I need physical affection too. Even if it's just for one night, I want to remember what it feels like to have a lover's touch on my skin, warm breath on my neck, nakedness in sharing.

Everyone's shitty mood disrupted my good Energy this evening. I hate being so sensitive to these things, because I don't know how to shield from them. I don't want this mediocre life. I want grandiose importance and recognized change. This is how I define myself, and the more time passes without any of these accomplishments, the more I feel like a failure.

February 24th

I imagine we all naturally question whether or not we are on the right path in life; whether or not our choices were the best ones, or if our lives would be better should one aspect of them be different. At the end of the day, it sucks to realize that it is what it is, and what was will never change, for like each passing moment, it goes at the same time it comes, and comes just as it's going. Whatever has gone will never return, and how painful it is to accept that some pains will forever have happened, and some happinesses can never be revisited. Why is there such a strong wish to go back? Why is acceptance so hard? As young as I am, I have already spent many years trying to accept that which I cannot, and I don't understand the block.

I try to be kind to myself, for it's the relationship I always have and will be in, since my first conscious moment in the womb. In the womb of someone I would grow to resent with all my being. She doesn't deserve it, my mother. She may be broken, but she is still human, and like myself, she has past pains and darkness she still carries. I wish I could rid her of her demons, oh how I wish. But wishing never got anyone anywhere.

Work, on the other hand, gives me purpose. It's a reason to wake up; I need to be somewhere. I am needed in however small a way. When the weekend comes, I feel thrown away. What am I to do with my time? I've not enough friends to occupy the time of two days nor enough worthy thoughts to be written. I always feel I should be doing more, more, more. I've not done enough and I remain nobody. I don't like feeling unworthy or never good enough. I feel like everything is either lacking or in shortage. Is this why I'm alone too? Am I blind to the good people in my life because I'm too focused on more and better and upwards? I wonder how much I've missed...

Worst of all I don't know how to change this thinking. Reminders can only do so much. A thought can be so gripping. I wish I had an interesting childhood — something to look back on in fondness. My best memories are of nature and when we left the city, which was seldom due to work and having been poor. I'm sure we did much more than I remember.

A bird's song catches my ear, and I wish by some magic I could disappear into an animal's Consciousness; how big the world must seem. I've always had this deep craving to experience the world through different eyes. To perceive things that I may not even be aware can be perceived. What a beautiful thing that would be. I feel so confined in this one form.

March 1st

Follicle after follicle, many hairs were torn from their roots. Scabbed skin was picked, until raw flesh would bleed into my fingernails. It's a pleasurable pain I can't quite describe, nor can I understand why it feels so good, like nothing else on this Earth. I'm addicted.

It makes bad thoughts go away, it feels my emotions for me, and it's easy. He will always be there for me, my demon, and he will always understand. I've wondered why abusive things are so easy to love (and hate). Loving and hating anything else is risky, but my demon has yet to disappoint me. He seduced me quickly, you see. I was merely eight, and alone in a world of pain and fear. Discipline was the most important thing then, without it I was useless and unappreciative of the opportunities a new country would offer our immigrant selves.

Life then became a series of goals. Achieve this, accomplish that. It was all that would make me worthy. It is also what I have been trying to escape — the constant pursuit of status that was supposed to make us whole and happy.

March 5th

I can't believe I'm one year older. There's nothing special about the age itself, but I've never really thought past twenty-five. Twenty-five was my maximum age past which nothing really existed, and now since that year is over, I feel this overwhelming sense of mortality. The illusion that time will always be here suddenly passes, and a scary thought enters my mind; I will only age from this point forward. I feel like I've hit the peak and it's all downhill from here. I'm probably wrong, because I still have so much life to experience. Nevertheless I still feel this way, whether it's correct or not.

Then again, I'm still working my way up to zero.

March 6th

I am very much gripped by something I can't quite place. All I know is that it's unfamiliar and it hurts. It dreads on, and without being able to recognize what it is, I'm unsure of what to do about it. How can I accept this pain without knowing what it is or why it's here?

It's dull and deep; it drags on and on despite my positive efforts. Should I succumb? Is that the cure? If what hurts most is what needs attention and healing, then how do you heal it when you can't even recognize what it is?

I wonder why this madness comes and goes. It makes me question my sanity, and wonder if any of my sanity is worthy at all when it's here. I find myself clinging to remembered words of those who believed in me, both friends and lovers passed. I reminisce on their kind and genuine remarks, and try to remind myself that it's not all bad — that I have in some shape or form helped others and I strive to continue to do so.

I see a lot of pains reflected in my house mate, who also had a troubled relationship with her mother, although completely different circumstantially. I never realized how much one person can truly shape and affect another. "Be careful how you speak to your children," I read once. "Because that becomes their inner voice." Oh how true, and how fucked some of us are because of that.

I feel so pathetic, a loser no one can understand — a person shrugged off as insignificant. I'm just there. Filling the emptinesses myself is proving difficult. I wonder why we struggle so much to heal ourselves. We are our best medicine and yet we fail ourselves over and over again.

People remind me of the big change I made coming here, but anyone can pack a suitcase and just go. It's not like I came blind without a job, some savings or at least a familiarity with the place. I don't find that brave or courageous. If anything it's cowardly to run from what pains you. I'm slowly learning that you can't really run from what hurts you anyway. It follows you everywhere, which is both alarming and wonderful at the same time.

It's alarming because it means there is no escape, no freedom from our pains; yet it's wonderful because nevertheless we will have to face them, which is a sort of freedom within itself. The more painful it gets, the more we need to focus on healing it. After all, pain isn't just there for the sake of existing. Pain is leftover Energy that we have not let go, and so it sits deep within us and rots and spreads, like a cancer. Healing should feel good, but it hurts to let it out, the blackness. I don't even know why it's painful if it's leaving you. It should feel enlightening, euphoric even, to release it from within yourself. But it doesn't.

It's unfair that some have it much easier than others. I don't like having gotten the short end of the stick, or whatever the expression. I try not to dwell on that because it is what it is, but I still feel so alienated and inferior to many others, in many ways.

March 7th

I never understood why opening up to a parent with whom you have a damaged relationship is so hard. It seems the most impossible thing to do. This psychology bullshit feels unnecessary. I understand the conditionings and the reasons behind behaviour and motives etc. Why do emotions always take so much longer to catch up with our logic? It feels unnecessary. And I feel unnecessary. Purposeless. What if it's all in my head? Well, technically it all is. So now what?

March 10th

My computer had simply stopped turning on so I took it to the repair shop, but turns out that the entire inside was corroded. I was disappointed of course, but thankful more than anything that my hard drive hadn't been affected. In any case, I very much dislike this new computer. Everything is unfamiliar, nothing works how I want it to, and even my favourite writing program is much uglier that it was on the Mac.

Furthermore, I have to re-adjust all the settings to make it how I like. As much as I enjoy starting over, sometimes it's just frustrating and unnecessary.

My family came to visit. It has been a mere two days and already I find myself exhausted and wanting to be alone more than ever. My brother can still be incredibly annoying, even though I love him to death. My dad hasn't changed, but that was expected. I am able to see my mother in a completely different light, that is, I can see all her insecurities and weaknesses — which I wasn't able to see before. It's frightening to witness the main person of your life, whom you once believed was capable of anything and everything, in such a fragile state. I did something that was difficult for me, which was show her affection. She responded in kind, and it was a nice moment. I wouldn't know why it was difficult, but it was. Maybe it doesn't even matter why we feel the way we feel. Maybe all that matters is we get better. After all, does the reason of a pain matter if we have the tools to make it go away?

What if we don't have the tools?

March 15th

Reality is gripping me. I'm frustrated. I don't like how things are, and I'm having trouble accepting them. I want to not give a fuck, but I do. Fuck.

Family has been here for a week now, and I've been tearing the hairs from my head, picking the scabs on my skin. Somehow they still carry everything I tried to escape, and it's difficult to be around them. Not sure how this residue can be carried by people, but I sense it, and it's turning me into who I was — someone I don't like and never did.

I've found myself thinking more and more of how little time I have to do everything I want to do. I have an entire world to see, millions of people to meet, and yet somehow only at twenty-five I begun this Journey. Maybe it was meant to be now, I don't know. Wish I could have all the answers, life would be easier. Then again, as a coworker said the other day, "If life was straightforward, it wouldn't be any fun." Not sure I would call this fun though...

I'm discovering many new artists of various kinds, from musicians to abstract painters, and I'm loving it. The world is full of so much talent, it's a shame it can't be shared with everyone. I've been thinking a lot recently about what I'm chasing, and I still have no idea. I'm not sure why I'm craving answers particularly now. Maybe I've always thought I've had them, and realizing now that I don't know what I'm doing, I feel a sense of...uncertainty. Yes, uncertainty. Fuck, it's so unpleasant.

I'm afraid to get emotionally involved with anyone. I'm trying to keep a 'clean slate' — less drama, less hurt, less entanglement with people. I haven't found anyone worthy of allowing myself to become vulnerable around, not even my house mate who is dependable and trustworthy. I justify it by telling myself, "We aren't going to be in contact one year from now anyways, so what's the point?"

I fantasize about a million things but never actually get them done. Most of the time it feels good to dream, because I can walk away at any moment. Other times I wonder if I'm missing out, too stuck in my head. There isn't any way to tell.

Fuck.

March 22nd

I continue to find myself at a loss. Past friends remain close many years into adulthood, and I question whether or not they have grown or matured at all. How genuine are these relationships? Naturally, as we change, so do the people in our lives. We gravitate towards different things and different people as our experiences continue to shape and change us. And yet, a decade later they continue together. I hate always being reminded that I'm different, because it's lonely. I've reconnected with a few people from the past to see how it would go, and it was expectedly disappointing. You imagine that as they have grown, they have experienced much — things you expect would lead to deeper conversation and such. Well, it usually doesn't, and again I ask myself, what makes me so different? Why?

Am I the only one who has a continuous cycle of people coming and going in my life? I have been told before that I'm not good at "keeping" friends. Well the truth is there's nothing to keep, really. Your friendship runs its course and you move on. Why is that a bad thing? And why am I judged for it? Fuck you world.

My mother questions her decision to meddle in my previous relationships (one in particular, and of course the one I wanted most). She questions whether or not she has disrupted my 'good timing', something I'm not too sure exists. I'm surprised she has these thoughts at all. I understand the concern for a child's happiness, but it's a little late now. I needed your love and support growing up. Instead I was forced into being someone I wasn't, and still am not. Worst of all it's incredibly painful to work through these conditionings. I feel often that I didn't get a fair start in life, but instead have to work towards a clean slate, only after which I will be able to become the person I am.

In any case, the family is leaving early tomorrow, and I'm grateful. I try not to feel guilty for wanting my space and distance, because I have often been made to feel so. "You should be grateful we come to visit you at all," my mother would say. "One day you will regret not spending more time with us." I hate that her voice is always in my head, and I remember during a psychology class in university when I asked, "Is there any way to get rid of it?" the professor answered honestly, "No". Capital N.

I hope mothers become aware of how they speak to their children, because that's the voice that will remain in their kid's head for the rest of their life. Both fortunately and unfortunately, depending on the kind of mom you are. My house mate had an absent mother her entire life, and I can feel the pain when she talks about it. I can feel the loneliness she felt as a kid — "Who am I supposed to ask about my period? What about shaving? Yes I could ask my dad, but I needed a female I could closely relate to who could teach me these things." I am grateful not to have had those issues. Kids are the most sensitive beings of them all. I wish the world would be kinder to them, because they become the future. If the world is a shitty place, it's because we did wrong with the kids. Damn, it's so obvious. How do others not see that?

March 26th

I'm freakin' out. Did I just abandon my old life and move away to some tiny place in the middle of the sea? It no longer feels like an adventure, especially not with the constant frustration at work. Management sucks, scheduling sucks, half the stuff doesn't work and we do everything under scrutiny. I'm trying not to regret my decision coming here — the thought itself scares me because I've never before regretted anything. I don't want to start.

March 28th

I feel a slave to my sickly perception. Surely everyone can't be against me, but my mind moulds them out to be. Why? I often wonder...if a mind is not degrading or healing, then what is it doing? How do normal, non-addictive and non-traumatized brains function?

Twice my nose has bled since last night, and nothing has been going right lately. The cawing peacocks somewhere outside are an appreciated reminder of where I am, but other than that, fuck!

April 1st

It's interesting that when your feelings change, so does your perception about a person. The instant you develop even the slightest romantic feelings, regular interactions become disappointments. Your mind always wanders, you find yourself being shy around the object of your affections, and something that was once so awesome not to have (unrequited feelings) is now a burden in your life. And why do we get nervous when we're around someone we like anyway? I mean, we like them, shouldn't that make us want to be around them? What the fuck is this?

If it's all in my head, then at least it keeps my mind entertained. I suppose I prefer that over emptiness, impulsiveness and self-destruction.

Why do we have so many thoughts one day and so few the next?

"Hey man, you got a lighter?" I become conscious of my open window, even though there was always noise from the street. I hope my perception swings back into balance soon, because this is exhausting.

Suddenly work is no longer a dread, as our manager — the grumpy Englishman who projects all his emotional issues onto his staff — is seriously ill. I wish him the best of course, but I won't miss him while he's gone.

"Sometimes the right path isn't the easiest one." I try to remind myself of that every day, to make myself feel better, or at least in some way justify my pains. It's what I choose to believe: we all have our separate Journeys in life. One will be raised in the wealth of India and spend his life sustaining his family's empire, while another will immigrate from a small village to Buenos Aires at the age of 5, growing up to be an interesting mentality or a natural-born traveler. No two experiences are alike — even if they are both shared between the same two people — and no two Journeys are alike. But to my original point, if it's difficult, I hope it's because I'm growing from it and changing for the better somehow. Maybe I'm a sucker, who knows. All I have are my illusions. Does anything else even exist?

April 3rd

I wish I wasn't as flawed as I am. As enamoured with pain as I am, nor as in love with what cannot be good, as I am.

I wish to be pain-free and clean as others, yet something always wonders within me whether or not such a life would be interesting at all. I want to be carefree — unchained from the last links of pain, as I am not. I pick myself until I bleed, despite the fact that no, I don't want to do this...but it's all I know. It's automatic; it's second nature as it has been since I was a kid — the earliest I can remember truly suffering on the inside.

No idea why of course — what could an eight-year-old mind possibly conjure? Nothing is known at this point.

Later on, I learned that any emotional attachment was bad, so freedom became complete solitude accompanied by a loneliness that felt extremely out of place. It's a different kind of pain though, the loneliness. More bearable than the terror of hiding your entire situation from the world because god forbid someone finds out. That's another beating right there. When pain is all you know, you choose the better pain. The concept of painlessness does not exist.

Giant clouds move in from the South — a tsunami of fluffed white. Strange animal sounds fill the distant air. I am once again reminded of where I am. I love the warmth here, it comforts me. The bloody scab under my nails does too...

Something humbling about sitting on the ground. The Earth itself beneath you and not a step nor a stool, undeserved elevations if you ask me. Interesting how one can feel unworthy of simple things, like a privileged opportunity or an unfair chance. It is and still will be unequal and uneven always — everything.

I'm bothered that my indifference to unfairness is harshly criticized. Okay, so some people may have more/less of something. And what? It is what it is.

I often hope that we are not alone in the Universe, because it would really suck if this was it. I try not to think about how much I'm craving a partner, a sexual touch. I wonder what it's like to fall in love, specifically with a person, as I have fallen in love with ideas and places before. I wonder what it would be like to unconditionally and eternally experience love with someone. Can that exist? Is it even natural?

My back aches from leaning against a cement wall. A chilly breeze nudges me inside.
Part II

It feels like the entire world is against me (again), even though I know this is not the case. I'm searching for those who seek to grow and change and discover, and I find myself bothered that there are so few of these people. Doesn't anyone want more than just to fuck and make money?

I don't even know how much I have in my bank account. What's the point? I know that at the end of the month I have enough for shelter and food, and that's all you need really. I'm working in exchange for this lifestyle, the number doesn't matter. I don't understand why this surprises people.

April 4th

Sometimes it feels like there are salted wounds inside of me.

April 6th

Today I find myself greatly appreciating my parents. Despite their mistakes and shortcomings, I'm grateful they stuck around. No parent is obligated to stay with their child, as harsh as that may sound. How many parents abandon their children? I'm grateful that despite all the hell and pains my mother has suffered, that she still was able to give me a better life than I probably could have given myself.

I have been thinking about why certain healings are painful, and you know what? It doesn't matter. The point is it can get better. Unfortunately, it gets worse before it gets better — almost like a test of our determination, how bad we really want to get to the other side.

I sit on the front steps of my place, hearing foreign languages of neighbours planning road trips (though a road trip here is a 30 minute drive to the other side of the island). I feed off their positive Energy. I can feel their excitement, the connectedness of their group. You can sense they've shared intimate moments. I wonder what that's like.

My house mate got really drunk the other night when we went to a goodbye party for a fellow coworker. She expressed, nearly in tears, her love for me and how she would come to my defence at any moment. It made me realize that maybe we have shared beautiful moments indeed, but I couldn't see them. If only after a few months a friend was willing to jump to my aid, surely I must have done something right, right? Hopefully my presence here will be enlightening in some way.

It's a good day when you're alive. I wish that was enough on my bad days. Interesting how your soul can breathe after a good, powerful cry. I used to be able to cry easier, now I find it very difficult. It's so draining, it's so painful and it really takes so much out of you.

Sweat beads on my upper lip. The air is hot despite being nestled in the shade. Neighbours are friendly, always returning my greetings, no matter how early or late. I wonder if environment has to do with it, or simply the fact that most of this community is non-North American. We have Philippines, Spaniards, Indians, Latinos from all over Latin America, Kenyans and other African nations.

The Leaf once against proves to be a good friend. Bringing my deepest despairs forward and enlightening my positives. The excited road trippers have gone, and the community becomes quiet. I can hear the crowing roosters now. How beautiful some resonate and how croaked others fail.

Nature's cigarette is perfect in my hands, belonging in the crevices between my fingers. What a love affair. My thoughts wander far and deep, and they are comforting. It feels good to be connected again.

April 8th

The clouds carry a drop shadow of pale pink to mark the sunset. A new neighbour is wary of my presence. Peacocks caw in the distance. It was a sound unknown to me until I came here. In such a short period of time, the clouds lose their pink finesse and resume their everyday simpleness.

Mother Nature tastes good. A small species of lizard — often mistaken for juveniles – carefully crosses the pavement, pausing to bob his head whenever so keenly he wishes. My cigarette has lost its flame, and as the sun's light continues to disappear, my once white notebook now appears a faint grey.

April 9th

Chased for his beauty, the peacock oddly bobs about our complex tonight, wary as neighbours come out to look at him. His neck is a metallic blue, visibly reflective only when it catches the light. His tail weighs heavy behind him, long and bunched of beautiful plumage. I almost feel bad for the animal. For his beauty he will trot away from the many eyes that want to marvel — the many that want to experience. I hope we didn't ruin his evening. Although at the same time, I'm glad I got a glimpse too.

April 11th

He smoked so distinctly, the way he would hold his hand when he put the cigarette between his lips — with his index and middle fingers, the tip burned brightly. It would leave his mouth pinched by the index and thumb. The years of habit were evident. When you watch a person, and truly observe them without mental commentary, they become profound and unique. To be able to see them in their truest form makes them as pure as anything and everything. I wish I could explain myself better, but I can't convey how awesome it can be to go to that place where everything just is and you can understand the Universe.

I wish life had a pause, refresh, and rewind button. I wonder how my past will seem to me now if I revisit, as compared to how it felt when it happened. Could I really have been blind for such a long time?

April 12th

I write with a pen I took from work, distracted by the amorous couple who — as if to rub it in my face — can't keep off each other even a moment's distance from the front door. Then again, perhaps I imagine their love to be pure when in reality it could be turbulent. Not everything is as it seems.

The good times are great and the bad times feel worse the more they happen. The Leaf especially diminishes my self-consciousness and I can be entirely submerged in that which I wish to focus.

The cigarette continues to dangle from my lips, as if belonging there. I observe my hand as it writes. Noisy young lads haul lawn chairs across the street. I poke my head out from within the front doorway, interested in what they're up to. I imagine their exchanges, their excitements, their anticipations. How truly you can sense another when you suspend your I. A liked neighbour waves hello, then walks over to chat. Several minutes later, I am filled with a pleasant — not happy or content or nice — but pleasant Energy.

The guy sleeping with the girl next door pulls into the complex — another night of having to hear my neighbour's sexual theatrics. She's not very good. At the same moment another neighbour trots out in his boxer shorts, homey and unshowered, whistling annoyingly (though I do like him).

There's so much life here. But most noticeable of all is the shared trait among all the different cultures. They actually talk to you. They walk over and ask about your day, and they listen when you answer.

I often have difficulty being myself around others, because the way I am has been imitated so much, all to emulate something people feel is necessary to possess, yet they only go through the motions without understanding them. I feel self-conscious even being genuine about it, because it has been so clichéd overtime. I suppose that falls into the giving-a-shit-about-what-others-think category. I need to work on that.

April 13th

It's finally starting to kick in. I live in the Caribbean — in the middle of a vast ocean on a tiny piece of land that sits atop one of the deepest trenches in the world. Sounds sound like voices, dry leaves lightly scrape the pavement as a slight breeze nudges them forth. It's warm, and although I sweat from every crevice, beads gathering at the brow, I sit and throb in the heat. It feels good. Like a sauna.

I wipe a wet upper lip. The sunset is hot, the star isn't too low on the horizon yet. Loud neighbours play good music — it intimidates my alone time. Not sure if the whistling is part of the song or if it belongs to a neighbour.

April 14th

I want to help those who cannot help themselves. But I can't. I want to help heal those who carry painful darknesses. But I can't.

I want to be able to show the light to anyone who may need it, but I can't, and perhaps I shouldn't. Not sure why it hurts to see others in pain, because pain is nature's growth and change. It's good, right? So why does it pain me so to see others in its presence?

April 21st

I constantly feel like I need to be working towards something, and by simply spending time with myself is like neglecting another part of what should be considered important. But isn't this what it's all about? Connections, Energies? Discovering and interacting? But to what end? And why such a strong yearning to abandon all you have been taught to understand?

Why do we crave culture shocks? Well, I do at least. I'm craving something different. Something confusing and off, yet perfectly in place. An irreplaceable inner dialogue opens my mind as I travel farther into it. That's the most difficult Journey of all, yet I can't imagine why. You live there constantly and without rest, even in sleep. So shouldn't we know our way around by now?

I'm impatient. I don't like the learning process, I like the knowledge. Only for the truth will I endure a painful growth, yet and still I cannot understand why I'm willing to go to such lengths, nor why I seek it to such a degree. I just hope it's worth it.

May 2nd

I needn't see it. All I need is to hear those who do, and I am right there with them. I can feel what's happening, how close, dramatic, how intense — this magnified by the unified silences.

The best part is hearing the reactions from each nation, neighbours to the left grunt in dismay while those to the right cheer. When they cheer, the others boo in disappointment — I get such a full, vivid picture.

I wonder what they're watching.

May 8th

Sometimes I wonder if this is all a lucid dream. Is it real? It's so sudden and...too perfect sometimes. It freaks me out.

May 14th

Perhaps strange to many, I find comfort in abandoning a place of living — whether a country or an apartment — to begin afresh in a new world that I have yet to discover. Staying in one place for too long feels unnatural, where histories with others develop and, in my case, I feel obligated to maintain whatever reputation that has associated itself to me.

Interesting the things we believe we can control that we cannot. Romantic love being the prime example, and of course the one thing that, one way or another, screws us all. Either we have fallen for the wrong person, struggle with someone who has fallen for us, or just never experienced love at all, not in its truest form anyway. For many, romantic love is a blanket for insecurities or an inability to cope with oneself, or both.

Perhaps love would distract me, though from what I cannot say. The loneliness and sexual deprivation that comes as a result of singlehood — solitude for the classy — is more of a nuisance than anything else. Why is finding a balanced person so difficult?

May 17th

I feel like my heart is breaking. It's the same gutted dread as a break up, only I've been single for a year now, yet I experience emotions that come without trigger nor intention. I feel pain, as if I've lost loved ones, or someone proved I am unworthy — the deepest humiliation.

I don't like feeling things I cannot recognize (who does?) What's the point of them?

May 20th

I hate the mirror. It shows me someone I don't want to see, yet this is who I've become, and there's no one responsible for that other than myself.

June 10th

I wonder what it's like to love. Truly love. To lay next to someone and know their every inch, their every twitch and movement. To understand their breathing and recognize their familiar smell. To feel a future, to anticipate reciprocation. I wonder what it's like to love every single thing about another person, good and bad. What it's like to want to hold their hand, or show them off.

It seems most of the world is so different, so behind in so many understandings. I seek one single thing (love) and how unfortunate that it must be one of the rarest things to find. And yet, it's all I require to be able to truly connect with someone. All I need is to love, and everything else falls into place.

People ask me all the time what my ideal partner looks like, and what a stupid question. "I don't know," I answer them. "All I know is how I will feel when I meet them." How simple, and yet how inconceivable a thing if not only in our imaginations. Sometimes a romantic couple will catch the corner of my eye, and it pains me to look, for I have not the ill will to direct at them, but I cannot feel joy either because I don't know what that's like. And to think most people live and die never really having truly been in love. It's a shame, yet a truth.

June 13th

Sometimes I feel like I'm living someone else's life. These homes seem so artificial. People come and go like the toys of a dollhouse, changeable, replaceable and always temporary.

It's interesting how the taste of food changes as your hunger dissipates.

June 24th

I find it important to have conversations with myself. Never bizarre has it struck me that there can be such fluidity in the thought process alone, and how one thought can melt into many simultaneously or vice versa. It's so entertaining to observe, all the while a single idea can ripple across many others, all within themselves multiplied.

I wonder how we are able to observe so many things at once, all across the senses: imagination, sensory perception, physical circumstance, feelings — it can be so draining of Energy.

And yet life demands this of us, because the point is to experience. But to what end? How much more must we feel until we understand what feeling really is? Enough is enough already. I'm tired.

June 25th

I imagine Ayahuasca will bring me an understanding I have yet to fathom. A perspective I couldn't otherwise achieve. But I fear I set my expectations too high, as usual. Not sure why I am this way — I wish I wasn't. Everything seems disappointing and unenchanting — hard to impress, but easily entertained (you need to keep yourself busy somehow).

Like this place. I've mentioned already its charm has gone, yet I am not yet bored if it. I can't imagine myself being bored of it, and I wonder if I ever will be. It represents freedom and change...well it used to. Its meaning is in the process of changing.

Sometimes I wonder what it is about me that renders me alone. Is it a quality no one knows to name? A way I change overtime that disappoints? It seems there is so much love in everyone's life and I feel resentment for it.

I don't want to feel resentment. But how? To get it myself too? That can't be right...

I have a deep appreciation for my current comrades. Each of them connects with a part of me in such a fundamentally different way, that somehow I feel slightly more completed. A neglected part craves intimacy and romance, ironic as I have difficulty getting intimate with others on whichever level. What is it about others that brings out these things in us? And of course I'm seeking an answer more mature than pure psychology.

Although, if we are pure psychology then it must be true that everything is an illusion, created by our mind for our mind. Therefore we create our own realities, whether consciously or not.

I wish I could catch Consciousness in a glass jar and watch it from the side, how it moves, how it flows, the intricacies within the intricacies. We could call ourselves networks. Networks that socialize within networks. And those are within larger networks that are within others, etc.

Our body is a network, only unlike the mind it functions on a more basic, biological level. After all, what is a thought? No one knows. We only know where they seem to be created.

The body, the machine that it is, operates via parts and impulses which, again, originate in the mind...or the brain? The observer that observes the observer. We've met on a few occasions, however briefly.

July 2nd

I don't know what it is that sits inside of me, but it wants to come out and I don't know how to provide a way. It's foreign and unfamiliar, so it remains nameless. My perspectives are changing and as uncomfortable as that may be, I'm trying to handle it best I can. All I know is something is happening and I can feel it. I am plagued with guilt though I don't know why. I've been wondering why my entire life, yet it follows me around and pops up at the most inconvenient of times. Times when things are going well, perhaps, or my appreciation for life has grown. And yet all of this is always accompanied by a sense of failure somehow.

Strangely random music from my childhood pops into my head, and I find myself listening to songs I forgot existed until the moment they began circling my mind.

The arrival of both my mother and my aunt was very pleasant for me this time around, mostly because I understand now how valuable family is, despite painful histories. Moreover, it seems that my mother has grown in her own quite significantly. I find myself proud and happy, yet this pride and happiness is heavy, and again, I don't know why. If only I had answers. At least then I would know what to work on or how to improve things. I hate being in the dark, and yet a part of me (a selfish part perhaps) hopes that someday it won't all be for nothing. I have this urge to help others, despite the fact that others are selfish, have only themselves in mind, and will never know how you've helped them. In fact, their memory of you could be completely delusional. I am not seeking reward of course, that would be both naive and incorrect. But the problem is no one ever asks if you're okay because they always assume you are. And yes, I will be. I have no choice. But that doesn't mean I'm not in need of kindness myself. I may have an endless source to give, but it doesn't mean I mustn't receive.

I seek to better the relationship I have with myself, and surprisingly it doesn't require the neglect of other relationships. But the more I improve myself, the uglier the world becomes. It's almost like progress and pain at the same time. Finding others of your kind is nearly impossible, at least when you've distanced yourself from society enough to no longer understand how it serves a true purpose other than one that pulls you farther from the truth.

I am grateful for many things tonight, including my new computer. By new I mean an old eighties IBM somehow still functioning after years of wear and tear. Doesn't matter. All I need are my instruments to write.

Time to reconnect. I shall return.
Part II

I cannot distinguish between what is real and what I have created for myself, and I often find myself wondering what I really am versus what I want myself to believe I am. It scares me that some people aren't even aware that there's a difference.

This is my third laptop in six months, and interestingly they keep going from not so good to far worse. I arrived with my reliable, beautiful Mac — a couple months after which, to my dismay, it died — and I had to replace it with a cheap HP which lived not even as long, to eventually an IBM so basic, it doesn't even have a microphone or a headphones insert. My point is that I'm enjoying not having to care about the value of material things, and find uniqueness in that my possessions aren't the latest gadgets, nor the most expensive brands. People begin to pay attention to other things, like your behaviours, habits or how you react in certain situations. You are seen for who you are, and not what you possess. But mistake this not for a story of a rich man wanting to experience normalhood. This is a distancing from society itself, a city in which I grew, dense and polluted. This was childhood for me.

A tiny Caribbean island is a huge upgrade, but to my disappointment it wasn't what I was hoping it would be. My expectations were high, and there's just something about societies; they share some fundamental, unnamable trait that can be sensed in the gut. It's repellent.

My meanings would in many ways be clarified if I could explain what I mean by societies, but that's also something I can't quite explain. It's an understanding of sorts that no two people can describe similarly.

Only after twenty-six years of knowing my mother did I learn (today) that the thought of pursuing photography had long been immersed in her mind, and as she spoke of camera things I didn't understand, I saw a look in her eyes that I'd never seen before. It was passion. True, pure passion. The kind that wants to burst from your chest, and you find yourself surprised that there's a strange emotion you're withholding because you don't know how to express it, not verbally nor otherwise.

What time is it? enters my mind, and I quickly dismiss the thought. Sometimes when I spend time with myself, it's like spending time with someone you love, but a love not based on which insecurities you calm in each other, but all the good you magnify. Once I loved someone like this, but it was short-lived and changed quickly. I wonder if I will ever feel similarly for anyone like that in the future, and I wonder if it was more compatibility and youth than anything else. At the time it was enough.

It seems that in some way my aunt is deeply connected to the Universe, or rather, it is deeply connected to her. Earlier today the discussion of one particular friend (long in the past) came up, and she told me that although she didn't want to mention anything at the time, she sensed lots of negativity and betrayal in this person. After a six-year friendship I decided the same, which is why I moved on. Only hours ago this particular friend sent me an email, and of course we both know exactly why: they want a free vacation.

July 3rd

Here I am plagued again with the reader demon at my shoulder, watching every word I write. I wonder if artists struggle with this self-consciousness too, like the compulsion for perfection because if not, the entire thing is useless. Notice how we can value (or devalue) because of flawed parts, most commonly within ourselves. Maybe that's what's wrong with the world. And maybe that's why so many of us are secretly miserable, living among people we don't truly like, in a place that doesn't strike as home, befallen into a routine that you're sure needs changing but unsure if it will be a mistake to change.

On the other hand, some bigger changes require risk, and that risk may sometimes involve other people. What then? I don't think I've ever been in that situation before. It's one of the reasons I don't want kids. Your life is no longer your sole responsibility, and whatever changes happen to it, happen to your child.

Seldom do I feel people are prepared to be parents, but only because they haven't taken their own Journey for and within themselves. We don't realize that it is only the light we ourselves possess that we can provide our children. And if that light is dirty or full of holes, that's exactly how it will be passed on: dirty and full of holes. We cannot provide more than we have within ourselves.

A neighbour plays guitar, singing poorly in a high pitch. What captures me is not his voice (which isn't that good), nor how he plays, for it's not extraordinary, unique or impressive. It's his Energy. Try watching a painter paint, when he doesn't know there are eyes on him. Watch a writer write when they think they're alone. We all have that place within us.

Sometimes I am quick to blame others, and I don't like myself for it. Why are initial reactions so outwardly? Aren't we simply observing the observer? Shouldn't we be?

Hunger grips, but I do not wish to eat. Food doesn't bring me pleasure or satisfaction. It has always felt like a chore.

I'm finally getting to know who my mother is as a real person, and not this image of someone she has concocted for herself. I sort of...like her, imagine that! It's a beautiful feeling, yet one that still hurts. I want to keep writing but I'm afraid it will take me places that I don't want to go right now.

New neighbours moved in next door. They're quite unpleasant, plagued with their own darknesses, I can feel it. They've now come outside. That's my cue.

July 4th

I wonder if power can be achieved without lying, scheming or trickery. Can it be achieved with goodness and truth alone? I'm not sure if there will ever be a way to know. If we had those answers, would we be farther along? Would we progress? Or would we simply stay in the same place, just with more answers? Again, no way to know. I wish I didn't have such a curious mind. It's so unsatisfying having so many questions and not enough answers. A part of me wishes to never have the questions at all.

I wonder why it hurts to feel. It hurts to love, it hurts to cry — even of joy. I feel strange and misplaced, confused with my own confusion. You would think life experience and growing up would pull you past that phase, but for me it hasn't. This heaving of pain exhausts me, I feel drained and old. I'm sick of feeling old. What does it feel to be young? And not in the obvious sense, but the inner sense of wonder and excitement, youth. I've forgotten what it is, if I ever truly knew what it was. I'm beginning to doubt my pains and think they were always there — that they're only just emerging, not actually developing. The thought of my mother pains me in such a way, because I love her so truly yet feel estranged to her all the same. Imagine loving an estranged person. Imagine the confusion and overwhelm. Now imagine this feeling consuming your entire relationship with the primary person in your life. It's haunting.

I often feel failed. I can't explain why, but I can say it feels like humiliation in a big ball in your core. All the humiliation you feel all over your body when you're embarrassed in a dense ball under your breast bone. Moving on...

July 7th

Do you have a problem if you're wondering if you do? Or is it possible to have a problem without ever really knowing it? What would determine the difference?

I find myself questioning my very own habits, whether they are routine or something more. After all, should this routine be disrupted, there won't be any harm done. Anything that comes my way is faceable. It's funny how I don't have fear in this area anymore, and how I approach these things differently. I've battled in the depths of recovery, and I'm smarter about it now. I knew when I had a problem. I wonder if this experience would help me recognize if I developed another. Who knows. I can recognize it in others, but I no longer judge them for it. For you see, I was projecting my fear of facing this part of myself, and so when I saw it in another, negative ejections would fly their way. Now I know how to observe them from an entirely different perspective — no longer through distorted lenses, but as they are. And how easy it can be to see into and understand a person like that in minutes.

I watch my mother and her sister, and it seems that their Journeys were meant to be side by side. In fact, they are each other's Journeys. What a beautiful thing to witness. The scarier part was recognizing a huge part of myself in both women, and both in fundamentally different ways. I carry my mother in her intelligence, her thinking and her approach, but emulate my aunt, who unlike my mother is open-minded, experimental and a jokester. Both women are strongly intuitive and deeply troubled. I secretly hope I carry an Energy as strong as theirs too — yet also in entirely different ways. They are parallels. I imagine my brother and I could be parallels too. My heart aches at the thought of my cousin, who struggles alone and without siblings. It pains me to imagine his loneliness and his sorrow. I feel I should be there for him more, but how when we live in different countries, different time zones and our paths rarely cross?

I send him my Energy and hope he in some way receives it.

I know what it's like to be an only child. I was almost ten when my brother was born, and so I remember him never existing. I can't imagine life without him now, I love him deeply. I feel like I haven't been adequate enough as an older sibling for him growing up, and to my heartache I put a lot of resentment towards him as a result of being forced into parental responsibilities for him at a young age. Regardless, I would die for him and I hope in some way he knows that. I wish I could share with the world how beautiful and painful it feels, all at once, to think of my little bro. How much love I have for him. I am grateful.

July 14th

Why are people so innately curious? Particularly, why are we so curious about drugs, for instance, or dangerous places — trying things we know would have negative consequences? Why is darkness so attractive? What's the allure?

Is this the human condition?

July 20th

It scares me the thought that everything I know and hold dear will one day cease to exist. That which has brought meaning to my life — family, pets, experiences — will all have passed without evidence or return. How then does it continue to exist within us? It must be the greatest confusion and loss of all, the death of everything that was, however brief, and never to be again. Why then does it exist if it's temporary? I understand how ludicrous the concept of permanence is, but the thought is frightening. What's the point if all will inevitably end with our grieving? Must that be the end of all things? Grief?

Maybe the point is to have existed at all. But why?

July 25th

I cannot believe how much time has passed. It seems yesterday I was gathering flight details, yet already my family has gone. It scares me how quickly time seems to pass, I myself feel I've only just arrived on island.

I continue to be plagued by the realization that I will have to witness my mother's death. I've cried many nights at the thought, and I remember the first time I understood what this meant. I was maybe five or six and lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like most kids who don't want to go to sleep. I let my mind drift off and do a dance of its own, and then it dawned on me...by the laws of nature, my mother will die before I do. What a crippling feeling. How intuitively she came into my room, asking what was wrong, and when I told her, I swear it was the most genuine moment we've ever shared. It's the only memory I have of her being the source of comfort and not the source of fear and pain.

I wish to die before my brother, whose birth and death I cannot see in the same lifetime.

August 3rd

I have flown back to the city to spend my father's birthday with him. I don't feel good here. This isn't home. Yes, everything is familiar and recognizable, but I feel lonelier here than when I'm alone traveling. I couldn't tell you what it was, tugging from the inside and making me want to cry like a five-year-old girl. It makes sense to me why I was so unhappy most of my life. After all, this is where I grew up. I had no choice. Now that I have a choice, I want to go everywhere and anywhere but here. After being away for so long, so many things become far more apparent — you are no longer immune to them, they are no longer unconscious things that live in the background of your everyday life. When drastically changing environments, not only is the new full of unexpected stimulus and intrigue, but the old can either become two things: missed or passed. My old became passed, apparent in what it lacks (what I want, essentially). It's nothing out of the ordinary really: beautiful home, beautiful lake house, beautiful lake. Everything is nice, yes. But something else just isn't. Maybe it's me. For all I know I'm running from the one thing that needs to be faced the most, but truly I don't feel this way. I feel...misplaced. Misplaced in the one place that should be home, and yet it is not and never has been. I feel homeless, even among family, friends and in my place of living for many years. How can someone feel worse among their usual circumstances and free in a foreign place?

So many islanders long to escape the tiny piece of land. They want bigger and brighter; they want to escape boredom and limitation. To them, freedom is space and distance. I like the intimacy of a small place. I enjoy the familiarity of making it your own, and by all means the warmth means the greatest. Nothing is more unpleasant than all of your Energy wasting away in shivers, quivers and sweats because of cold. I would rather be starving than cold; heartbroken than cold; in pain than cold. It's the abuse of the soul, the cold. It sucks you dry, poisons all your insides and makes you feel nothing but the desire for death.

And of course, there is always the why. WHY are you like this? WHY did you decide to do this? WHY are you the way you are? As if we need to justify our own existence, or our desires, or our choices. People are questioning all the wrong things. It shouldn't be WHY are we ourselves, but why AREN'T we? Mine is why is the world so skewed? I know I'm not arrogant in this thinking. Something here is off. I genuinely believe it so. The opinions of everyone will vary, but what I find most bothersome is when people want justifications.

Because that's what I fucking want, that's why. I don't understand why it's not a good enough reason. How then do they lead their lives if not by the desire of their hearts?

August 4th

While riding through the wilderness on big, loud ATVs, my brother and I came upon an abandoned house that sat on a beautiful hill facing the lake. It was small and unoccupied for over ten years, though upon first glance I would have estimated fewer years.

It wasn't the house — that someone once called home — that captured my imagination. It was the tall, bare tree that stood naked and greyed in front of it. It measured at least a hundred feet to the sky, and upon it was a large nest of branches varying in thickness. But above that nest sat one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen. He was perched upon a thick branch, his body big and coloured of different browns. When we pulled in with our noisy machines, he extended his wings and took flight. His wings were a span longer than my own arms outstretched, and he flew so gracefully. It was obvious the air was part of him, part of how his body was to exist. His wings didn't flap nor flail, but folded ever so slightly to adjust direction, and in complete silence. I couldn't take my eyes off him. He circled above us, protecting his nest, shrilling. I had never before been in the presence of such an animal, at least not this close.

It was then the world was still. We lifted our heads and watched this large, winged creature claim the sky. I felt obliged in his presence, and never before had I felt such deep respect. He was king, only he did not know it.

Later that day, I spent some time relaxing at the lake house, nicely decorated for my mother's good taste and full of good Energy. I couldn't help but continue my research on Frida Kahlo. It's interesting how she expressed her life as full of pains and struggles, and yet, I feel she was blind to the freedom she truly possessed. She was free to express herself as she wanted, speak as she wanted, be as sexual as she wanted, and with whoever she wanted. I often wonder what it's like to be yourself, regardless of how the world may see you. Frida was bold and honest, even though she may have been pained inside. Yet how many of us pain in secret and try to reflect the exact opposite? I am one of these people. I have been misled by incorrect things, and allowed myself to be. I do not know how to be myself in this world. I don't even know who I am. I've been seeking the right things in the wrong places. But how are we to know where to look?

I wish one day to be able to express myself without thinking about expressing myself, but simply to be as I am in that moment, without hesitation or second thought. The filter-less expression of the self is a burden for some, but a freedom for others. I am neither of these people, and I don't know why my true self eludes me, or why it appears to elude me. It feels like I'm fighting a battle against something that may not even exist. The subconscious mind is such a mysterious place, yet it composes 90% of what we are and have become. Why then must it be so elusive? Why? This doesn't make sense to me. I want to know every crevice and corner of what makes me the way I am. It's unfair that I am kept from myself. It's mine, it's me. Mustn't I have access above anyone and anything else?

I've begun reading another novel by Paulo Coelho. At first it was the way he wrote that captured me — the maturity of his phrases, the wisdom between the lines. And then it was the understanding behind his stories. After all, what is a story other than a means to get an understanding across? Upon reading about his life, I was quite taken back at the many dark events that took place, and the many difficulties he had to endure. Although perhaps this is where he gained his wisdom, and why we all flock to his words for direction. I hope one day to also be this way, to write beyond what is written, and to truly nestle an understanding inside a piece of work without having to be present myself for it to exist. I long to touch people's lives, in however small a way. Something tells me I'm focusing on all the wrong things, that life isn't about reputation or influence. I don't know...the desire is there, and so I will follow it. If I don't, it will just sit inside me and rot, and there's nothing worse than letting a desire rot because of doubt.
Part II

Sometimes I feel that I carry years of life within me; as if I've seen many deaths, wars and pieces of history that perhaps elude the books. As if I'm a very old man who has seen a lifetime worth of lessons and wisdoms, and yet has to continue to endure more and more. I'm tired, as if countless sleeping nights do not rest me, nor does the food I eat nourish me. As if everything is a motion, and isn't a true reflection of what's really going on. Even more so, I feel that my outsides do not match my insides. I feel undeservedly good looking, as if my fit body and green eyes are just a distraction from the filth that lives inside. In reality I'm a small, ugly creature, beaten and barren, living under an abandoned bridge in a cold, deserted village filled with nothing but ghosts.

I bought a pack of cigarettes today. I haven't smoked in ten years, and yet somehow I have the urge. I felt a strange ease having them in my possession: the option is there. I've given myself a choice.

It's familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, to sleep in my old room — which I haven't inhabited since I was seventeen. The walls, the paint, the custom-made furniture. It's all here, as if untouched and still new. Random memories return, like the corner by the window in which I sat from night until the morning, crying quietly to an ex-lover on the phone. Or the meshless window at my desk, through which I would climb to the roof for a smoke. Something I am tempted to do at the moment.

My books still claim the shelves on the wall next to it, interesting and varied, from the physics of the Universe to fictional novels. Encyclopedias and dictionaries of course. My parents have done well for themselves, and I'm proud of them. From welfare immigrants with no English, to a big home and a lake house (not to mention spoiled children), I hope one day to be as successful just the same, in whichever aspect I so choose, be it wealth, travel or love.

I lit a candle, and the flame is still. I don't remember ever seeing a flame so still. It looks like a picture — a beautiful, live picture. Life paused. It reminds me of all that has happened since I've left this room. All the broken hearts, all the pains, all the experiences, all the travels. So much can happen in such a short period of time. Life can change in an instant. You could fall in love, you could die, you could witness something that could change your life (for the better or worse). It seems stable and steady, but the truth is, it's the most unpredictable thing.

I wish I knew how to feel more grateful, but all I can do is say that I am. I can acknowledge it, but I've been numb for the last little while. I find it difficult to feel anything at all, be it satiation from a hearty meal or the euphoria of an orgasm. And all I can do is ask myself why.

August 5th

It isn't evil I fear. It is myself.

August 7th

Today, the decision was made. The decision that, I believe, will ultimately change the course of my Life.

For you see, today, in a way I cannot explain, the Universe has decided that I will travel to Peru sooner than I had anticipated. And today, after the usual "What am I doing?!" I got an eerie sense of comfort knowing that I am being guided. After all, guidance is what I have been asking of the Universe. Because now, I know how to listen and see. I was blind and deaf before. I understand how to tune in. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I will follow where it guides me, no matter how scared, crazy or unconventional it may seem. And you know what? It's been a difficult Journey, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I cannot explain how or why, but I would like to believe that somewhere, somehow, I did something right. That I diverged onto a path that would lead me on a Journey into the deep Amazonian rainforest of South America where not only would I experience Mother Nature in her purest form, but I would experience myself, perhaps, also in my purest form.

I am curious and afraid. I will embrace what is given to me, but I can't help but wonder how things will be afterwards. Naturally, with such a drastic experience there is always a fear that such a change would result in a loss. That sure, it's supposed to help, but if it has helped me in this way, will I then lose something in that way?

It's a similar curiousity prior to my beginning therapy. I was afraid that by addressing certain things, or changing them, I would be worse off. I feared that I would somehow lose a part of myself. After all, this was who I knew best, and if this person were to change, who would I then become?

August 8th

After watching many videos of those who have experienced the Mother Vine, I am more and more fascinated with how it can expand the mind. So fascinated, in fact, that I have a tiny fear it will alter my perception to the point where normal life will no longer be livable (normal in the conventional sense). I already loathe society as a whole (both as concept and reality) and yet, this is how 80% of the world has adapted to be (or has become).

I believe I have a somewhat more open and deeper understanding of many things than the average person. Then again, this Journey might perhaps open my eyes to myself and not the world around me — although when you think about it, the two go hand in hand. I am full of whys, full of questions that yearn to be answered. Plenty of fears whose presence I don't understand, and thus I am unable to work through them.

I suppose that would be my intention: to understand my fears and pains. It's the knowledge I'm after. But for the first time in my life, I fear this knowledge might be too much — that it may distort any 'normalhood' I have fought my entire life to try and emulate. Sure, maybe I wasn't meant for it, but I've been to hell and back trying to achieve a sense of living that would be appropriate both for myself (on some level) and my family whom I dearly love, with every molecule of my being.

I also fear I won't be able to handle what I am meant to experience.

The truth of the matter is I'm afraid. I'm tired of being afraid. I just want to do what I want to do without (every time) having to go through this phase of self-doubt and second thought. For the very first time, this decision isn't being challenged. Not by anyone. And I'm ashamed to learn that I have been blaming the wrong people for my fears all along. It wasn't them keeping me; it was me.

August 10th

I already miss living here, though I have yet to leave. I miss the time I have spent here, though I have yet to spend it. Now that the next step in my Journey has been decided, I am cherishing every remaining moment in this one, and strangely already longing for the present to continue onwards, even though in an instant it becomes the past. I don't usually get attached to places or people, though I have in the past, yet I don't yearn for them. I reminisce and remember, but I never crave.

It is, perhaps, why I never long for the touch of a past lover. That time has gone. Nor do I long for the days of youth, or travel or love. Its existence remained for the time it was to be here, and as a result I have run its course and onto the next thing. Having said that, I'm slightly surprised that I am feeling this way about my healing experience in Peru. Sometimes I think I'm crazy for 'listening to the Universe' and following as it 'guides me.' As ludicrous as it may sound, it has served me well up until now, which is perhaps why I trust it so easily.

Sometimes I wish my thoughts could be on public display, and in a way everyone could understand. It becomes easier to be understood, when so often words doth fail us. So many wonderful thoughts pass, and yet I share them with no one. They can be distant and interesting, or predictable and often, but nonetheless, I am alone in them.

Some part of me is afraid that this means I will not be adequate enough to write out this world, to get it out of me accurately enough for others to understand. Maybe I long for you to understand because sometimes it becomes very apparent to me how the way I see the world is different than almost everyone else. After all, at the end of the day many of us want to share that with someone.

Garbage litters the once clean and pleasant back lawn. Styrofoam noodle cups, a miniature wheel/tire of some sort, what looks like cotton, and cigarette butts (not ours). I find a flattened Anole lizard in the crack of the back door. It was literally squashed into a 2D picture, original skin, eyes, all of it. I wonder who closed that door...

My thoughts are scattered and run dry quickly, I'm tempted to get lost in a movie. Interesting how it's in the moment of absolutely no thought that we come to our greatest revelations.

August 11th

Sadly my Peru trip will have to wait. All October permits for entering Machu Picchu have sold out. In fact, they are sold out from now until about Mid-November, during which time it's raining season.

I was disappointed. I was convinced October was the time to go. I suppose I was wrong, and it isn't time yet. I can't possibly imagine what I will do here for the next several months. I am sick of my job (have been for quite some time) and I am ready to move on, but it's proving difficult to find other work — especially when islanders are favoured by government (interestingly, I spoke with a local today who said it's the other way around...)

Being single is more difficult than one can imagine. It's not just a no-sex and no-intimacy existence; it's a full on I-have-no-one-to-share-anything-with kind of existence. For one, I wouldn't be traveling alone to Peru. When something exciting or share-worthy happens, I have no one to tell. I experience everything alone, sleep alone, watch movies alone, eat alone etc. Sure you can find a friend — which is hard enough as it is, being so different and all — but once they find a partner, you are left behind like an old toy that has met its full use and so it lies in the back of the closet, tossed carelessly because the latest gadget is in town.

The worst is when people ask surprised, "Oh...you're traveling alone?" Yes, yes I am. Fuck you very much.

August 14th

The line between right and wrong is fading. Whether or not it's subjective or simply a broadening of my moral understanding I don't yet know, but the grey area is growing. Guilt seems to present itself less and less. Perhaps anger or resentment is to blame, but is that a justification? Can right or wrong be justified? Should it be?

The disappointment from my Peru delay lingers on. Every day is no longer closer to the day my life changes, but simply another 24 hours of routine to be repeated indefinitely. My care for those around me fluctuates. Some days it's very present, other days I could start a new life without looking back. I don't know why there is a discrepancy in these feelings. At the moment I don't really care.

I suppose all that's left is to be true to myself. Not so bad I guess. Kinda lonely though.

Does anyone ever really feel grown up? I can't help but still feel like a lost child in a big world. I don't feel independent or wise (though wiser than some), nor established or locked in position. I'm wandering about the world with nothing but a notebook to keep my company.
Part II

Our Philippine neighbours continue to sing. Not in unison but...together. Yes, let's go with that. I wonder why karaoke is so popular among their culture (at least from what I've seen). Most people I know would be far too shy to get in front of a mic, and yet karaoke is a weekly routine, like Shabbat on Fridays.

They can be a mix of shy couples, loud babies or almost-old-but-not-quite-yet single relatives in their early fifties who talk incessantly because they don't have anyone else (I am this person, only younger). Then, of course, we have the drunks. They drink until they lose their identity and that's the closest thing to freedom they will have.

Yet every weekend, they gather from around the island, together, and sing. Imagine growing up in an environment like that — how different childhood would be. Though when a conversation of shouts develops, to counter the loud singing, it all becomes one big headache.

I wish I could know each and every possibility all at once, just to see that my world isn't all there is. At least that way I wouldn't be so confined to it. Rustling leaves catch my attention now that all the trees have been shortly trimmed. They look naked, and the place looks empty. Even the night feels less alive for the lack of papering leaves and climbing chickens.

I'm beginning to resent my job too, which doesn't really matter because it's temporary, but it's dampening my experience. I don't want to be there anymore. Ugh, my bare surroundings add to the frustration.

I hope at least my sleep won't be restless.

August 16th

It's amazing to sense in other animals which are maternal, selfish, careless, lonely — recognizing things in them that until that moment you genuinely believed were only human. Maybe the emotional Journeys we go through are, in some way, exactly the same as everything else that is living on this planet: whales, birds, bugs and even plant life. Perhaps it is only our understanding of it that gets deeper as we climb the ladder of Consciousness (if it is successive). Maybe your dog really senses how you feel and that's why he follows you everywhere when you're down; maybe he sticks by you because hundreds of years ago it was better for survival. Who knows.

The truth of the matter is we may never, ever have an understanding of what their world is really like. An elephant, for example, is still a very different species from a human being, despite having an incredibly developed emotional intelligence (I would say better than ours). She will have evolved different instincts, different triggers, a language on a whole other level.

What about the presence of a jaguar as he acknowledges you? The flaring nostrils of a huffing bear as he stares at you? The rush of water over your body as a whale swims by?

There are people experiencing this right now.

August 19th

All we can know for certain is what people choose to show us.

I'm not quite sure what's happening, but in this day I have lost all respect for everything: my job, my home, even myself. My mind is polluted with unfamiliar thoughts, accompanied by a feeling of betrayal — some morale that I'm about to abandon. Everything is coated with a veil of darkness, and I'm trying to justify it. Maybe on some level I enjoy the thought of complete self-destruction, or destroying someone else because I have made them the source of my unhappiness. If only life were that simple.

I always tell people to change their circumstances if they don't like them, and yet here I am, in the same place, without having made a single change. Every plan I make has fallen through, or doesn't work with my current circumstances. Is this how it feels not to have the freedom to move? To change? To breathe?

I don't like it. Or perhaps I just haven't reached my breaking point yet. The only big changes I've ever made were when I've had enough, but it shouldn't get to that point. The moment there is an ounce of doubt, changes must be made immediately...and yet they do not happen. Am I failing myself?

I feel like I deceive others if I remain in an existence that isn't true to myself, because in a way, I am lying to the world. I pretend I'm okay, but I'm not. I act like everything suits me fine, but it doesn't. And even if by some unknown force I am compelled to tell the truth, I wouldn't know where to start. Why am I like this? I don't know. Why do I feel this way? I also don't know. Why do I do certain things? Probably because it's better than living in an ambivalence; better to swing one way or the other than remain absolutely still. It's this stillness that urges us to take that drink, or snort that drug. It's the unbearable, monotonous and grey stillness that makes us crave whatever can bring colour into our lives: party, sex, alcohol.

But they do nothing for me anymore, and I cannot find a replacement. I don't want to fall into old habits — I'm not tempted. And yet I find myself missing those habits...we were good friends.

Things feel quieter now. Too quiet sometimes.
Part II

There were always two worlds in my mind: the genuine world (more or less), and the world that everyone else has built for you.

The genuine world consists of the natural environment and all the animals in it: deserts, jungles, swamps, bush. Everyone lives as they must, by their own inner voice. They are free to express themselves as they must, and are accepted in every single way.

The world that has been built for us lacks something that I believe every person seeks to find, whether they know it or not. But they look in the wrong places: relationships, wealth, self-destruction. These are all distractions.

Now I am beginning to understand that there is a third world: the one I create for myself. How much of my perception is made already? How can I be objective when perhaps the concept itself eludes me?

So many thoughts run through my head. I can't catch one.

August 20th

Sometimes you can only learn about the world through others. It then becomes not about who you meet, but the questions you ask them: where they are from, how life is there, what are the predominant norms and beliefs. It's amazing how different countries can be, in so many ways. Ways you didn't even realize could be variables — it never before entered your mind.

August 21th

The thought of my aging parents, along with the inability to be able to take care of them, scares me. They will need my help and support one day, and I am doubting whether or not I will be able to provide it when the time comes.

There's a hurricane brewing in the Atlantic, moving northwest towards the Southern United States. It's the first of the season and is guessed to move across Cuba, far above our tiny island nestled safely in the Caribbean Sea. Then again, they also said the last major hurricane (that destroyed over 80% of the island) would miss it completely.

There are things I am hesitating to confess. I want to veil them in fiction but that only complicates them. I am doubting the sincerity of a few friends, and that both hurts and makes me nervous. I just realized I didn't pay my tab at the pub earlier tonight.

I need a desk. One that looks out of a big window and onto something extraordinary, like a volcano or ocean; something to get lost in.

August 27th

My Energy is very off today. It may have been triggered by an extremely unpleasant acquaintance (who I will refrain from insulting) who unleashed his negativity on me last night, but in any case, I don't like being thrown off my flow. It's difficult to get back in it before the waters are disturbed again.

I continue to be grateful for my friends, though I question the true intentions of some. They might not be 'the' friends we all dream of having, or the ones we see in movies, but individually they all bring something to the table, and I continue to learn from that. I hope one day I will bring to them what they have given me.

I try to remember a time when my life wasn't overpowered by emotions, but I can't. When something good happens, it's great. I'm on top of the world and I'm invincible. When something difficult happens, it feels like my soul is dying. I'm tired of this. Perhaps it's why I avoid any emotional experiences at all. At least that way I can rest, undisturbed.

It's annoying when I'm misunderstood, but I can't control how people will interpret what I say.

August 30th

Much how early institutions tried to cure mental illnesses via physical means (shock therapy and so on), so too is modern society trying to heal spiritual ailments via mental therapies. Though all levels of Consciousness are interconnected, unless you go directly to the source, healing through traditional psychotherapy is like treating surface symptoms of a deeper disease. It doesn't work.

How, then, do we reach the source? Most don't even know there is a third level of being (or fourth, or fifth...)

September 4th

It's interesting how the things you think about change as you get older, particularly family (mother, father, brother — strangely in that order, but not in the way you think). It's not a measure of love, but who comes into my head as I think about family: my mom, my stresses and worries both with and about that woman; my dad, who came to be my hero — to the rescue, I love him: and my brother, who I could absolutely not live without, ever. Never.

I saw a naked man through his bedroom window when I stepped out for a smoke. It was arousing, but not for the reasons you might think. I was surprised that I had very good vision (at least in that moment, ha) and it was intriguing to see a man — regardless his sexual appeal — to be his absolute, most physical and most metaphorical naked self. His Truest Form: forgetting he lives in this world, and being so into his own deepest of thoughts, that you may see him in his realest, most natural way of possibly being.

Friends too become their most lovable (if they truly are a positive person in their own right) when you see them in this state (preferably clothed). You see them as they are, and not how they choose to be seen. It is in these moments that you can know who is true to you and who isn't, even if they aren't conscious (sleeping).

Maybe our individual-collective duality stems from our Energy. And like all things video games and matrix, this Energy field lives via a universal circuitry that has many planes, levels and dimensions, what have you, and is constantly being expressed in different forms, without ever being created or destroyed. The Universe is like a brain, constantly synapsing across millions and billions of teeny tiny communication modules. And the brain is like the Universe, constantly moving and never still, expanding and fascinating, fueled by an invisible force.

While kayaking through the Mangroves tonight, I saw more stars, stardust and Milky Way than I could have ever imagined to be visible to the naked eye, nor as many millions of tiny bioluminescent organisms in a small body of water. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

September 8th

We are exactly the same, you and I, just in different ways.

September 9th

Just as we feed our minds via our own curious research, so too must we feed the soul by doing whatever it is that allows us our truest way of being. The most honest, natural, genuine self. I'm not sure I could recognize it without being more familiar, but how can you begin to understand something you don't even know you're seeking? It's like a blank page with only a line upon it, later to grow into your tree of life, and how you have grown from the darkest depths of the root, to the tips of its thinning branches, you don't know.

I feel like enjoying something: a movie, a chocolate bar, sleep. It's pleasure that I'm seeking. Pure pleasure. In whatever form. I should be mindful that this isn't healthy, and like all difficult things, this craving will pass too. But I don't care. It feels better to give in sometimes than to resist.

September 10th

Maybe we don't remember most of our lives because we're on autopilot. It's only when your conversation leads to life stories that you can be surprised at how interesting it has been, or how much you have done. But in this moment, I don't feel like someone who has gone through those experiences. When I recount them to someone else, it feels better remembering the memory than how it actually felt at the time. I wish memories could be more vivid. Mine — like my dreams — are grey and faded. I was amazed to learn (in my late adolescent years) that people can and do dream in colour. Holy shit! It's just something that doesn't come up in conversation. You assume the way you dream is exactly like everyone else, because you've spoken of dreams and everyone seems to experience them in the same way. And then bam! People dream in colour.

A fear creeps in my thoughts: I won't succeed at what I wish to succeed at most. That my goals are misguided and my priorities aren't where they should be. And what shapes us to prioritize them that way? Is it to balance what we have been lacking as children? To feed the most undernourished parts of ourselves?

My head begins to pound — my pulsating heart. It's scary and fascinating at the same time, because in a parallel you experience both a chilling reminder of your mortality, and an amazement that is the realization that you're a living, breathing entity; that without this movement inside you, you would not be here. In a strange symbiosis, the fear of death and utter bliss from being alive combine, canceling each other out. All that is left is acceptance, and peace.

Perhaps that's what's lacking in many parts of the world: balance. In some places, food is abundant, education is widespread and medicine is advanced... but we are caged. This is the Illusion: we live in a cage, only we decorate it and make it pretty. See? Cages aren't so bad. But even in a containment made of gold, the bird still cannot fly.
Part II

He never thought to look at her differently, until he caught a glimpse of her sitting on the back steps for her usual evening smoke. It was in that moment he realized how fooled he was, for she was an entirely different person from who she presented, and even with his better judgment, he couldn't see past the constructed self she had beautifully masterpieced.

When she thought she was alone, in her eyes he could see a world that was an entirely different place. It was nothing he could understand; it was too beautiful, too genuine.

September 12th

I'm afraid to allow the possibility of hurt to enter my life. It's why isolation and shelter feel safe. Possibility is scary, and I feel like a coward; I should know, more than anyone else, how necessary it is to understand and feel pain. It's how we grow. It teaches lessons that otherwise cannot be learned.

The scariest of all is being myself. In the rare moments I am my truest being, I feel absolutely okay with it — it might be the complete isolation though, when it's okay to be you because no one else is around. You are entirely alone in this moment.

I fear judgment; it was a source of pain in my life. I just didn't understand why it wasn't okay to be who I am. I'm not a bad person. A child only became on this planet not too long ago, and already we are burdened with moulds someone else gave us. This is what's wrong with you, and this is who you must be.

When you are taught, you are forming a habit of thinking, and when you are taught that who you really are isn't worthy, it becomes normal to assume something is wrong with you. After all, how can we know otherwise if that's the only information we have about ourselves? Especially as children, there is no other source. We quickly accept any information, simply because we believe that information is truth. We are misshapen since before our own birth, brought into a world where all of our likes, dislikes, future goals and appearances are chosen for us. And so, for the rest of our lives starting from the moment we understand the system we are forced to live in, we begin working backwards — unmoulding and unwinding the crippled shape our environments have twisted us into. We are trying to reach out to that part of ourselves that has been neglected and malnourished. We spend most of our lives in search of someone that has been made so lost to us.

That's the poverty we are living in.

September 17th

It seems, today, that I have been given something I have long craved. Though I want to no longer want it, I am willing to succumb because I know it will be good. The subtleties are already better than my fantasies.

September 18th

Why is it that in retrospect life is beautifully pieced and full of lessons, yet at the time it was nothing but pain and suffering? It's masochistic. You must suffer to understand peace. There must be other ways.

September 19th

Everyone has a cap — a ceiling their mind hits, because they are incapable of traveling further into understanding. It can be so disheartening when your conversation is flowing so deeply, and then they hit their cap, meanwhile you have lost hope that this might be the conversation.

I listen to a neighbour's painful karaoke. I want to be free like that; to be obnoxiously myself, and without fear, and to sing regularly even though I may suck. It's interesting what is revealed to you through random things, including those you can't even see.

September 23rd

The lightening prompts a warning, deep grumble is to come. It shakes the air, hitting a core you didn't know you have. One that goes back thousands of years of evolution. It arouses a long-dormant instinct, and forewarning did nothing. I'm in the deepest parts of the jungle and deafening crackles in the sky accompany an endless stream of sounds: hissing serpents, flapping wings, grunting primates. And, of course, a low, throaty growl of my own, the jaguar with fur as dark as night itself. I long to hide my eyes, the only thing that reveals me, but I must see.

September 25th

Sometimes I feel like a failed version of who I'm meant to be.

September 28th

I don't quite know how to describe what I saw, but I know it was one of the coolest things I've ever seen. While snorkeling in a cove today, I saw a squid, oddly transparent with nothing but large black eyes and assorted metallic spots on his back mantle. I followed one in particular — there was a cluster — and saw him go from dark brown with coiled tentacles to flashing green waves with blinking black dots on either fin. I was National Geographic in the live. It was bloody fantastic.

September 29th

After his usual smoke, he accompanied me to the barn to start the day. It seems he Journeyed to a wonderful place, for he had been struck by incessant laughter. It happened on some days.

He was what they call a lovable fool: a good soul who had nothing but kindness in his heart and emptiness in his mind. Lovable fools were commonly found to speak of some universality and a connection to things. Some believe they should be avoided, fearing the wrong glance could render them victim of evils; made to face their demons. Few believe they are healers, understanders of the deepest pains — guides who can heal by unblocking pains from within you so they can leave the body...the evils the fearful speak of.

As my brother's birthday approaches, I am reminded of his life. I reminisce about the day he was born, every year of his life as I remember it. Our experiences together, what a man he is becoming. It makes the passing of time visibly obvious, more real. It makes you reflect on your own life too, and what you have done with it: if you missed opportunities, how you have developed over the years, the path your life has taken.

October 1st

What do birds do when they perch? Do they think, like we do? Surely they don't have any related deep thought, so what could consume their time? Are they resting? Are they socializing? Are they experiencing deep thought?

I would love to see the Universe from a different Consciousness.

October 3rd

Will the change be real? And will it matter?

I've been thinking about my decision to go to Peru seeking the Ayahuasca medicine, and fears whisper doubt. I begin to question if any resulting benefit will have been thanks to the Vine's healing (and our true understanding of the Universe) or thanks to a powerfully-instilled illusion of having been healed. But that's the thing...would it matter?

October 4th

I reminisce on a past relationship, and wonder if I'm remembering it better than it was. I long for more scabs to pick, slightly disappointed for being so good in not picking many; but in this moment I wanted them all. Such pleasure to bleed.

Burnt fingers, from recovering a falling smoke accidentally by the hot end, soak in a glass of vodka, ironically in my freezer despite the fact that I don't drink. It really helps with burns.

I am delighted to remember that I have some snacks to indulge, and music to listen to. It's the little things.

October 5th

Sometimes life feels aimless. At first, the goal is not to fuck up. Do good in school, please your parents, make something of yourself. Then comes a time when you separate from all of that; you finish school, you move out, and then somehow you become the leader of your own life, and in retrospect, you either continue on that path that has been laid out for you, or you do something completely unexpected (even for yourself) and go on a Journey that will take you places you didn't even know existed.

What distinguishes the second person from the first? What makes us take that leap? What is this invisible thing we are all chasing? Where does it come from?

Would it matter even if we knew? If our destination becomes obvious, the Journey no longer matters. Our gaze is focused only on one place, and the Universe around us — in its many forms, there to guide us to that destination — goes unnoticed. And we stray, unable to understand why the goal is moving around while we make towards it.

We are connected beings who are truly only a tiny fraction of a fraction of a something so huge that it's ridiculous to believe in our lifetime we could even contemplate its Everythingness correctly.

Although not really separate from me, I experience something incredible when I sit down to express the way I chose how: to write — and with my tool of choice: language. There are so many forms of expression, beyond those I can count on all the trees of expression; somehow we grow from the same center, like the Earth's trees, all rooted to the same source.

October 8th

I listen to an old song and long for passed days. Nights when I was the freest I have ever been. It was a chapter in my Journey that I remember so well, because it was when I began to wake. Though they were some of the most painful years of my life, they were also the best in a way I cannot describe.

It's a type of past you revisit only once — to be grateful for it — and never yearn for again. The spiritual Journey is a lone one, but once it has started, the idea of going back is like giving up your progress, which is impossible. Once you've grown, you simply cannot shrink again. Even if you want and try to, you will still have been changed.

Every exhale of air, every heartbeat, every sparking neuron of thought. We are constantly being somehow. It's how life breathes. Through us. We are the current of everything, this movement. It is all of these things and more, though we are too small a Consciousness to comprehend them.

October 11th

I can only relate this dread to the truest of heartbreaks. Those you lost — family, partners, pets — whose absence left you deeply saddened by something you know you cannot change, and so you let yourself feel. Truly feel, and every bleeding moment you feel nothing but the most concentrated form of pain you have ever felt, physical, psychological, emotional. Everything negative from every corner of your life that has accumulated since the moment of your conception, stabs your Energy right in its center. The most fragile part of yourself that you didn't know existed until this moment.

Something shifts when it was perfectly in place. Why?
Part II

I'm not going to hate something about myself just because it alienates me from others, but at the same time I don't understand why being the way I am makes good things rarer for me. No one wants to be this person, and I am this person. I simply see the world a little differently. I can see things most cannot, and I don't understand why they can't see it. At the same time you cannot be fully understood, which sucks even more.

Maybe it's why we write.

Part III

Can truths be materialized if we think them to be alive? In our reality I bet they can.

October 12th

My mind is getting to me. These mean thoughts keep attacking my conscience. I'm trying desperately to detach, and not react, but they are so persistent. I just want to lock myself in a dark room and never come out.

Everyone has it better than me. Everyone has a lover, or a partner, or a hobby that keeps them alive. What do I do? Nothing. I spend my time trying not to lose my mind. I have good days, sure. But when the bad days come, the entire world is against me and nothing but agony sits in my core until I drink, smoke or fuck it away. This can't be the only way to live. It cannot, but I don't know what else to do. Give me options. Give me tools. I've read every book, watched every video, talked to numerous therapists and friends. It seems like I'm the only person in this damned place.

He was deeply troubled, though he didn't know why. He simply knew that something was blocked and was rotting from within, and he knew not how to release it, nor soften it so it can move. This demon just lives where he sees fit, eating away at progress and hope. What's left are chewed Energies, spit out and tasteless. He is eroding, and soon there will be nothing left of him.

October 13th

Lately I've been catching myself wondering if I'm a good person. What is good, anyway? It's all relative.

I want to tap into Universal Consciousness again, but it's difficult. I've done so only once, and it was by accident. I remember that moment better than I remember anything else in my entire life. I was walking my dog one evening after having my usual smoke, and on the way home, I looked up at the sky. It was filled with nothing but the sparkles of the galaxy. In that precise moment, and I remember exactly on which street, in front of which house, and in which hand I held the leash (my left), I tapped into the flow of UC, and it was the most humbling vibration I had ever felt.

Everything was expanse and concentrated at the same time. The Universe was both large and infinitely small, all at once. It was paradox and parallel making sweet love, and the resulting offspring was exactly what I felt in that moment.

The Universe taught me a very valuable lesson yesterday. I was put in a situation that I really didn't want to be in, and for two reasons. But as time went on, I saw how foolish I was for not giving these two reasons a chance to truly show themselves. I was humbled yet again, pained that I had believed my inner judgments, and feeling even more foolish that I believed them. I was so grateful that I was able to see what I saw last night. The Universe has taken me under its wing, and I am and will forever be grateful for that.
Part II

Like the Cannabis plant and Ayahuasca vine, intention can manifest to get you where you need to go, and you need to know and accept that you have to go there if you want to move forward. But there are those of us who are guided by the Universe itself. It's more like traveling to different places without a reason to do it, or doing it because that's just how things are unfolding in your life in that moment. You are not, in any way, seeking the experiences you are getting, but just going with it because you don't really have another choice, do you? If something happens, it happens, regardless of how much you were wanting something else. Very much something else.

I think my intention may be to learn more how to understand the Universe, and by doing so, it can guide me better. This is why, despite someone's age, it can be so evident where someone is in their Journey. Some are young, learning about the trivial things. Others are stuck in a loop — unable to learn the lesson that keeps persisting, often obvious to us but not to them. Fewer are ahead of the majority, more in tune.

It is Mother Nature herself who can help us tune in: vines, roots, fungi, weeds, cacti. It grows from the Earth herself.

October 14th

I'm so grateful for the life I have made for myself here. I've had beautiful experiences with so many people. And the negative ones taught me valuable lessons about myself and the Universe (together and separate).

I have made a decision about something I cannot reveal for a reason I cannot reveal either. But I can tell you one thing: it will ease some fears about working towards my goals, and in going through with this, I am eliminating the only reason I have for not doing what should have been done long ago.

October 15th

What is it that blueprints in us this incredibly deep desire for freedom? I can remember only this longing for the greater part of my life. I have tasted freedom in the smallest of doses: listening to the lake in silence; waiting to feel a nibble at the end of my fishing rod; feeling cold grass on my back as I lay to the sun, warmth.

A coworker was telling me about his DMT experience the other day:

The second I inhaled, I immediately fell off my chair, except I didn't, as others would later tell me. Then, as quickly as I had fallen, I immediately shot up into space and traveled to an incredible distance at an incredible speed, beyond our Solar system, our Galaxy or even our Cluster, able at any moment to know what is happening anywhere and everywhere, no matter how far away.

I long for such an experience too.

October 16th

The first pang of sorrow hits me tonight: I'm going to miss this place. I sit routinely on the front step, enjoying my evening smoke, and realize that even a year from now my life will have changed, and I will remember this moment instead of living it. It will have been my past in a year; a chapter in my Journey that cannot be repeated. I want to cry, because this is good. Right now, right here, this life I have chosen, it's great, despite the pains I may face. This will have been an experience that shapes me, and already I'm saddened that I will have to part with it someday. Nothing lasts forever, and that's the part I hate most, because once you've finally found a moment, or a person, or a place, it will still always be temporary. Every experience can be that experience once. Even if it's repeated exactly to the details, it will not be the same, and that's what I yearn for sometimes. An extended remix of the most beautiful moments in my life. I want to hold onto them.

How can you not love the moments that make you who you are? We look back on our lives and we remember failures, embarrassments, traumas. But we are who we are today because of them, and yet they are still not accepted. Well, probably because we don't accept ourselves and love ourselves enough. What a cycle.

Another song reminds me of the heartbreak that was leaving one of the chapters of my life. One full of culture and beauty in a very different way than can be recognized in the Western world. One full of life-altering romances too. Not life-altering because of the people, but because of what I learned about myself in being with them. That's the most valuable thing there is, self-knowledge.

It's not always about what kind of person you are dealing with, but what you bring out in that person; it's why some relationships just cannot be understood. It's why we enrage some just by existing, and enlighten others for the same reason. Energy. It's also why we can't explain why we don't like someone, or why we find some people magnetic.

I'm very grateful to the Universe for having brought my companion and I together for our experience in Peru. I was planning to go alone, but when a friend — more an acquaintance at the time — reached out to me, needing to get away from the world I long escaped, I welcomed them with open arms. It just felt right, so within a few weeks, they came to visit. Little did I know, it would not only bring a new, genuine friendship into my life, but also someone to share my Journey with.

Thank you Universe. You are awesome.

October 17th

It doesn't feel real, this decision I've made, but the only reason it's not difficult to accept is because I know that even if I hesitate, I'm still going to do it. Once I've made a decision, it begins to manifest. Even if I delay, I'm still going to do it. I know myself. When you know this about yourself, it makes scary things easier to do, because it doesn't matter your fear, you're still going to do it. There's a relief in that determination, because it's something that needs to be done: for your soul, for your self, for your Energy.

I took a drink yesterday. Well, two. It has been three years since I've taken a drink...two...yet as I sat there looking into the shot glass, wondering if this is wrong, I took it down the throat like a champ, and it felt so good. The warm burn was exhilarating, and it hit the spot. The wilder side of me wants to come out, which surprises me because I genuinely thought I had tamed it. But it's only aroused when something dark is around, and I realized today that it was fear. It gripped me the second I booked the Ayahuasca retreat a few days ago. Maybe that was the dread I had felt before...I knew this demon was coming.

October 18th

I'm getting very sick from these people. Not of them, from them. Everyone is in a bad mood: relationship problems, jealousy problems, insecurity problems. It seems although freedom is a goal, it's impossible to reach when everyone around you carries their own darkness and complains to you about it (or takes it out on you even if it means a snide comment at work — indirect of course, but I still sense that shit).

This is perhaps why I seek solitude to such extremes. I want remoteness, privacy, quiet. I thought moving to a tiny Caribbean island could bring me that, but I was wrong. Mother Nature is a huge help, but now I'm realizing that Mother Nature includes people too. Perhaps solitude is the only way I can get back into my own vibes. I'm too affected by others, and I don't know how to shield from that. I can't help being so in tune with all the Energies around me, man.

I can't change this about myself, and I wouldn't want to, but it affects me negatively from time to time. You can't help those who don't want to be helped, I've learned this the hard way, so we just have to sit and watch as they spew their shit all over the place. And by sit and watch I mean not be able to get away from them because you live in close proximity on a tiny island where everyone knows everyone.

October 21st

I am not quite sure why these tears are so heavy, but they carry within them an emotion that is unfamiliar. I don't grieve the closing of chapters in my life, for the next one always brings even more to the table. But as I reflect on all my experiences here, I'm realizing that they will have happened only once. I know I'm repeating myself, but this is how it is. These beautiful experiences that help you become who you are, can only be experienced once, even if there is a recurring pattern.

This is the first place I've lived that ever felt like a home. Growing up I lived in a foreign place, filled with toxic Energy and pains. It isn't the physicality of my current home that I have found myself attached to, but the experience I will be leaving here once I'm gone.

A coworker of mine said to me the other day, "Everyone always leaves." She lives here permanently, yet the people who go through her life are here temporarily, and so she must watch as batch after batch of people circulate yearly, continuing their lives and their travels. I felt her pain when she said this, but kept quiet, not wanting to confess I can see things. She is a beautiful soul, pained by her past and yet stronger than even I. She works hard, she's beautiful inside and out, and her Energy spills into any room. She is an example of resilience, and I feel privileged to have been witness to that.

It feels good to sit on the ground tonight. I need to feel the Earth, and I will breathe her deeply. I am ready for healing.

October 23rd

Today I saw into a woman. Though she has been a co-worker for some time, this was the first we had interacted outside of work. The moment she looked into my eyes, I could feel every ounce of pain she had ever endured. I felt every rejection, every time her father insulted her, every ounce of self-doubt and chip of loneliness.

As she slurred her words, I could see within her a very pained soul, struggling and at the end of her rope. But what pains me more is I don't know how to help her. May her heart be touched by light, and may love flow freely into her life. Hoping this for her is all I can do, I wish there was more.

October 24th

It's difficult being awake when everyone else is asleep, and even such a sentiment is met with hostility, as if I'm stating myself to be superior somehow. With this in mind, I find myself struggling to see the beauty around me. I don't want to depend on the Leaf to be able to do that.

Some are so consumed, they don't even see themselves. How am I to even exist in such a world? I don't belong here. I never have. Why am I here then? It's a question I'm afraid to have answered.

October 25th

Something has skewed. The Universe doesn't feel right. Everyone is changing, for the worse — at least that's how I sense it. People aren't as open and loving as they used to be, and yet it's slow season and nothing particularly stressful has been happening.

I don't mean to blame this skewness for my Energy being disturbed, but if it's something within myself, I struggle to recognize it. I want to do something every day, I want to laugh, to enjoy this beautiful island, to go to the beach, and yet, I have to do it all alone because so many people are too lazy to make their own way out, and I am left a chaperon, driving everyone around because it's either that or I do everything alone...as always.

I hate being so different. It sucks never being understood, and yet I am praised for my levels of understanding. What good are they if they render me alone?

November 2nd

It's such a shame that only later in life do we begin to learn how to appreciate our parents. I've long held so much negativity towards my mother, for she is the closest of all — we are all a piece of our mothers, whether we like it or not. Yet only now I am realizing how deeply I appreciate everything she has ever done for me. I am realizing the depth of how much I love her unconditionally. So much that it's painful. It hurts to love like this, and I don't know why. I don't have any regrets, but always a lingering thought of wishing to take back anything I ever did or say to hurt her. All the times I talked bad to her, or about her. Every time I held judgment or contempt for her in her most difficult moments. All the times I sent her bad Energy, or hated her. Why can we be so forgiving of some, but not those that matter the most?

Mother, I'm sorry if I ever caused you any pain. Not everyone begins to understand this kind of love early enough in their lifetimes, even though we all know I'm as old as fuck. Senior grades of life. Not sure if that makes me farther along in my Journey, or farther behind because I've had to come back so many times.

November 4th

What a pleasure it is to wash the dishes my mother has used. Even such a pleasure to know she ate off my plates, enjoyed a meal in my home. A mother is a true blessing. I wish I had learned to appreciate her sooner. What an asshole I've been bad-mouthing her all these years. I would take it back if I could, though I do not regret it having been. Maybe this was the only way I would get here, and surely this isn't a mistake. I'm exactly where I need to be. I feel it in the core of whatever it is that allows me to be alive.

My heart goes out to all motherless beings, those abandoned or forgotten, or simply those of us who had to endure the agony of losing a mother before her time. This absence must surely be felt, and I wish I could tell anyone with such pain that the Universe will take care of you. Life is only one deck, and unfortunately there are a limited amount of good cards to be held in the hands of those who hold them. But like any hand of cards, they will keep changing as you play.

If I could have any superpower, I would want the ability to love any soul unconditionally, and have that love be felt so deeply that it would penetrate the core of the most tortured soul, and enlighten them. I don't know where these realizations are coming from, and I hate that when we express this sentiment in language that it falls so short of what it truly means, but love...Love is what the world needs most, and I continue to be baffled as to why it's so lacking.

Why is it so difficult to truly love another human being? Why can we not be kind to those who hate us? Their hearts need our light the most. Why must the world torture animals, from bunnies to human beings alike? Why must we suffer in our afflictions that have been forced onto us through slavery, prostitution or severe neglect and abuse? How can these things be a JOURNEY if not unconditional pain and grief?

I just wish I could heal the world and bring light into the hearts of anyone who feels the slightest loneliness, the slightest tremble of fear or rejection. I know these pains too well, whether they were afflicted upon me by others or myself. The point is, pain is pain. But all that pain you feel in your gut, your stomach, right in the chest of your heart...it's...it's survivable. Even when you have been clawing at the same wall for your entire life, painting it with the flesh and bones of your fingers, grinding yourself away, there will always be a way up. After all, you needed to have gotten here from somewhere, right?

For all we know the Universe could have been standing behind us all along, shining its light and thinking, "If only he glanced this way, he would realize there is more than just shade."

Open your mind, your heart, and you will understand the Universe.

November 7th

Sometimes I feel like such a failure, though I can't say why. I've made the life I wanted, yet it's nothing of what I expected. I suppose that's how it works most of the time. How then do we make a life we truly want? How do we know what to do if what we do is never what we expect anyways?

It makes things interesting, sure, but is that enough? I wish I didn't have so many questions. Life is a series of questions, most of the time without answers. To be honest I don't really see the point. Answers are what help us get to the next level, otherwise we're just always searching, and it's exhausting. No wonder I'm tired most of the time. It could be something else of course, but I can't possibly imagine what.

How can I be so right about others, and yet so mistaken about myself? How does that even work?

I want a smoke. I don't have a smoke.

I often catch myself wondering if my actions/behaviours are the right ones, especially when it comes to others. Should I have offered? Was I rude? Should I go the extra mile to be nice? It's as if I'm always questioning myself. That can't be good...

November 8th

I don't think it's childhood we miss. I think it's the feeling of believing anything is possible. It's the unlimited imagination we are allowed, and the acceptance that comes with it. It's stripped from us as adults, be it society, family or simply a need to change so we can 'grow up'...but do we really?

We must never allow a child to lose their imagination. If you cannot understand why, then you have lost yours.

November 10th

It sucks having to hide your true self from the ones you love the most. My entire life must be hidden from my family, for they disagree with everything that makes me, Me.

It feels dishonest, having to hide so you can live. What a paradox, and what a bitch. Living by virtue often makes life more difficult than easy, at least in my experience. I don't like having to lie, but it seems that's the only choice I have if I want to maintain the peace.

November 12th

Last night there was a loud banging on my door. "Something has happened," said my house mate in an alarming tone. "Your car is gone. Put some clothes on and come downstairs."

My first thought was that it had been stolen, but as I ran down the steps to my living room, there she was, drunk and bleeding. My mother had gotten behind the wheel of my car. She was entirely absent, nothing but haze in her eyes. Her words shook me to the core.

"Did I kill anyone?"

Blood dripped down her face and onto her clothes. "What did you do?!" I grabbed her face and examined the wounds, unable to see them through the blood.

"Did I kill anyone?" she asked again.

I held my breath. "I don't know."

All I remember from that point is joining the paramedics outside as they examined her condition. She was incoherent and not making any sense. Neighbours concernedly surrounded us, wanting themselves to be in the know. "Get them out of here," I said to the police, embarrassed for my mother. "Now!"

November 24th

I sit here on the back steps on my home, feeding a peacock from my hands, and wonder how I can possibly put into words the experience I've had these past few weeks. I've attempted before, and failed.

My mother was visiting, and though I am grateful she is safe and slightly more on the correct path in her Journey, the awakening that brought this forth was one of the most disturbing things I have ever experienced — one that not only brought forth my fear of her death, but also the pain I have carried this entire life knowing she was ill. I had to be strong for her, even though I was truly weak and only able because I had to. There are some things in life, as unfair and cruel as they may be, that have to be done. I cannot explain why. If someone is in true need of help, you cannot turn a blind eye. You just can't.

Her drinking problem has been brought forth, and her irresponsible behaviour left her embarrassed, but in this case it's necessary. She steeps in her own shame, but perhaps that's necessary too. I will leave it at that.

I have made yet another promise to the Universe, that no matter how difficult, I will do whatever it demands of me in order for my mother to be well. Although these past few weeks have shaken me to the core, I would do it all over again just for the tiny breakthrough (and moderate realization) it allowed her to see.

In recent months I've been growing increasingly tired of this place. I am too recycled an Energy to be in this primitive environment. Speaking of which, I need to get more Leaf. What a beautiful plant medicine it is. I can't imagine that there is yet so much more to learn; that this entire Journey, as amazing and painful as it has been, is only the tip of the iceberg. The iceberg of something so incredible that...that...that I can't even finish my sentence.

How do you know when you know yourself? It would seem that for the last four years, all I've done is discover things about myself. How much is buried under there? Self-awareness is so important. I think that if we can achieve that, all the rest (compassion, kindness, altruism) follows naturally.

Fifteen chickens roam the back field (yes, I counted) and the cocks begin to crow. Some sound magnificent, belting from their big chests, tall and in his best form. They are the Pavarottis of this group. Others are painfully bad: off-pitch, croaky and dry yet somehow boasting the same ill-guided confidence.

I can't believe almost a year has passed since moving here. I'm simultaneously comfortable and bored. But there's nothing wrong with getting bored of things, right? It's what happens naturally sometimes. There are those who understand that in the Journey of our lives, we need to move on from things once they have fulfilled their purpose. Ran their true course. Those are the loops (patterns) that we need to break out of if we're not happy with them. If we are meant to move forward, but do not, the result is boredom. Is it not?

November 28th

Whether I have adjusted to it, or it has adjusted to me, I don't know, but the temperature is perfect, the flow of air is perfect, and in this moment it's the safest, most comfortable place in the world that can exist. I have put my positive Energy into this room, cleaning it, maintaining it, rearranging it every now and then — even in the smallest details like where on the drawer the lamp sits. My room lives through me, and I live through it.

It feels good to be in my own company again. As much as I love people when I love them, I prefer being alone most of the time now. I think this is the first I've ever said it. How ironic that just now I get a phone call and three messages from someone who has been avoiding me. Ha! The Universe has a sense of humour.

December 4th

I feel aimless. I can go anywhere in the world, and achieve anything I want, and yet, nothing seems to tug at my heart. I feel unmotivated because I don't know what I'm chasing. It feels like I'm just moving from place to place, but not forward.

December 8th

The temporariness of this place feels so evident in everything I do. I watch science fiction movies and shows about superpowers, fantasizing of a happy ending of my own, but this is real life. No wonder we love suspending our disbelief. Sometimes it's all that can bring peace.

I don't want to depend on my Ayahuasca experience for clarity and answers...but I am. I suppose I won't know how effective that is until after the experience itself. Feels too long a wait.

I wonder if you truly see your soul when you look in the mirror. It is, after all, your Consciousness observing itself. Sometimes it even feels like your body is just the machine you are operating, responsible only to you. And who 'You' is, no one really knows.

I would like to fall in love. I hope it can be as great as they make it sound. I wonder why many people never experience it. I mean really experience it, not think they did. I don't know how to explain the difference.

My days feel long, boring. I feel no movement, I am without aim or final destination. It keeps me from appreciating the present, though it shouldn't. I roll my eyes every morning because it's going to be the exact same thing today as it was yesterday — including your home life. I don't feel stuck in my plans, because I have plenty, but I feel like I'm wasting away because there's no final goal. I'm wandering.

The waiting game. Waiting for the next chapter to begin. Pre-booked and pre-prepared, but the day has yet to approach. Patience, the Universe asks of me. Patience.

Sigh.

December 9th

Being lost in a fantasy world — novel, television series, underground club — is so much better than real life sometimes. You can be exactly who you want to be without people asking why you're different or that this is 'so out of character' for you. Sometimes you spend too much of your Energy trying to be someone else, that when the true parts shine, they are perceived as unusual or strange. You feel it's not okay to be who you are, and so you are faced with a choice: be who you are, or continue to be who you think you are. It's a subtle distinction, not always easy to notice.

I'm too full of fear to be as I truly am. I've been working for as long as I can remember to try and overcome these fears, and I'm not quite sure I have. I'm also afraid that I might be worse off, not fearing self-destruction anymore which, in essence, makes it okay. Not fearing it means you aren't scared to do it, so you will do it more.

I wonder if we really have more lifetimes than this one. If we do, things sometimes make more sense. You can't learn every single lesson in a hundred years of life. Maybe that's why the older of souls are restless. Even in 'rest' there is a deeper internal dialogue always at play, more evident when in stillness. Perhaps it is silence that allows us the opportunity to work with this dialogue and decipher it. Self-awareness, self-understanding, etc.

On a separate note, chickens are like nature's mini vacuum cleaners, brushing grass and eating most things in it: insects, leftover foods, crumbs, weeds. They keep it clean. Plus their poop acts as a fertilizer so it continues to grow. That's why I started feeding them actually, and what used to be a patchy brown lawn is now an all-backyard of green. I could do with a little less crowing in my face though.
Part II

It's not so much about finding inspiration, but having a reason to find it. I'm not sure I do. Whatever it is I'm going through, it's dulling me from all sides. I'm well aware my bad habits are only avoidance, redirection. I don't know how to be any other way.

They say the Mother Vine can reveal to you the exact moment of your past — one which most don't even remember — that bore your darkest demon. Not sure I want to relive that moment...

December 12th

How do you know when it's the Universe, or when it's your Mind? Are you really changing, or is this predictable behaviour because of your particular childhood/upbringing?

My confidence has fallen for some reason. I feel small and pathetic, a little ugly mouse scurrying among feet, either unnoticed or pathetically feared. I feel like I need to play a bigger role in this world. Perhaps the Vine can give me insight into that.

December 14th

I continue to question my future; it's not as clear as it once was. Of course, our future is constantly changing, but for the first time I have not even the slightest feeling what it entails. I'm usually pretty intuitive. This is a first for me. All I'm certain of is that I will continue on this path, regardless where it takes me (good places I hope). It has not been an easy one.

What if this is just the beginning? What if this is our first lifetime? If we start out easy and progress forward as we go — and there is so much worse in the world — then it's entirely possible we are only working our way there: to the horrible situations and circumstances we are grateful not to be in.

Perhaps sensitivity is the next step in growth: feeling more, being more in-tune with the Energy around you. And when you surround yourself with good Energy, it helps lift you if you are in a lower place. Others can lower you if you're in a higher place. It's all about balance. Maybe that's why it feels natural to change your life every now and then. It's about balancing yourself, not adjusting to your life. It adjusts to you. If you pick up and move to a foreign country tomorrow, it's not your life that's changing. It's you. And this change has brought forth a path that you will only experience if you do this random thing that your gut secretly wants to do, whatever it may be.

December 22nd

The fact that I want to leave this island makes me irritable about things that usually wouldn't bother me: the ugly cackle of a coworker, a neighbour that talks too much, the damn roosters. I don't understand how something that was once so beautiful has become commonplace and insignificant. Why does this happen?

The days drag on (except for your days off, of course) and there is no cure for the monotony.

Bed sheets hang on laundry lines and flap like flags in the wind — a familiar sound. I have grown accustomed to this quiet environment, and I seek an even quieter one. It's progress I suppose: big city in a large country, small town on a tiny island, soon in a hut in the middle of the jungle. Back to the basics; I guess sometimes that's what it takes.

There is less and less to amaze. I've sucked this place from its last drop of wonder. Does that make me responsible? Will I do this in my next chapter?

December 25th

Again I've been feeling like the whole world is against me. Everything I do is wrong, my mistakes are everywhere, and for some reason it seems that I am invisible. Sure, I get responses. But I'm unnoticed otherwise. Just another rat on deck of this ship sailing nowhere. Who knew things would be more systemic here than back in the city. It's a painful confession I don't want to make, but it is what it is. The truth has kicked in...and I want nothing but out.

I'm sick of being the only one with my beliefs, opinions, and perspectives. Everyone else here is so...behind. I'm in the high school grades of life and everyone else is in preschool.

2016

January 20th

It's important to do what you love not because you will be doing it your entire life, but because that's how you transmit your Energy into the world. It's how we take part in the Universe. The emotions that are evoked through various arts like paintings and dance, are the Energies of the beings creating them, and when there is love in what you do, it passes onto the experiencer.

I don't have a doubt in my mind that my experience in Peru will be necessary and extremely beneficial, I'm just not having a good time experiencing the emotions that accompany this manifestation. Feeling whatever it is you need to feel is seldom pleasant, and riding this dull wave of anxiety is dreadful.

February 4th

Today I felt something I've never felt before: a painful longing for something I believe I may never have. The surprise is that I've always believed I can have anything. You can manifest anything. We create our own realities, even if we didn't start off on a good foot, so to speak.

This longing is so real. This feeling I want to achieve in my life, when everything has settled the way I've always hoped, seems so distant and the desire hurts. I don't understand why I'm not there yet.

Next month will be my last month on island. I cannot believe this chapter is closing. I fear I may not have experienced everything that I could have experienced here.

February 5th

"At least if you go, you will know what it's like, regardless how it turns out. Imagine never knowing at all."

My house mate said this to me as we discussed my plans to move to Australia. I have no idea why I am being strongly pulled there, but it just feels right, despite that fact that I've never been there nor any knowledge about the culture, geography or government. I acquired this knowledge only after doing research...months after receiving my visa.

My mind has been seeking escape more than usual lately. I've put a lot of thought into why, and haven't the slightest clue. I imagine it could be the upcoming travel, but I'm looking forward to it, so I don't understand why I would want to escape that feeling.

Do you ever notice how the Universe speaks to you? It can be anything from little reminders that you're doing the right thing to randomly hearing the same idea over and over again until you do it. Could it be true that there are no such things as coincidences?

February 10th

I cannot believe my time here is almost over. It feels both too long and too short. I have become comfortable, adjusted to the lifestyle and familiar with the people, yet the reminder of the impermanence of this experience scares me (nothing new). You would think it's a relief, that none of your sufferings are forever — that all bad things, like the good, end eventually.

Ayahuasca has been heavily pulling on my mind as of late. To my surprise, the intentions came easy, it is now the wait that is difficult. A wait for something I know will change my life, not because of Ayahuasca itself, but because of what I believe it will allow me to see. I ask Ayahuasca for guidance in my life, to show me how I can help myself, how I can heal first and foremost, before I ask how to help others. I'm all too familiar with the 'hero' archetype, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it isn't the entirety of my wanting to help others.

There have been times, one in particular comes to mind, when I have lent my soul for healing, yet it was rejected and unwanted. My continual efforts disrupted Energy patterns, and a whole lot of shit came my way, the most negative of Energies I have ever felt. It was dark and very unpleasant, I could feel it through every cell of my body, passing through me as if I weren't solid. I hope never to experience that again, and I've learned my lesson: there is a time and place for everything, don't meddle.

I continue to fear that the path I have seen for myself is not the one I'm on. It's not so much about the unknown as it is not having a clue how to prepare for the future. Preparation is key, we all know this.

Australia. The decision was easy to make, it was the first place to pop into my head and stuck ever since. It feels right, and I have no idea why. I don't even know any Australians, I've never been there, and only after receiving a visa and looking for jobs do I begin to familiarize myself with the culture, major cities, environment, climate, and wildlife (kangaroos don't count).

An unfamiliar woo from a bird distracts me...who is that? I've not heard him before. He is gone now.

February 14th

I will not miss anyone. I'm ready to move on.

I'm very grateful for my new friend who will be joining me on this Journey. The Universe had brought us together so easily without our knowing or possible fathom. I had never given this person a second thought during our earlier encounters, and yet out of the blue a path was opened and it ended up bringing us together.

I find myself making lists of things to look forward to on my stop in the city. I'm trying not to dread it, trying not to remember how it vibrates so unevenly, jabbing at you from all ends. Here the vibration is soothing and relaxing. During the night, there are even times when the wind is so still that you can almost hear the hundreds of miles of ocean around you. Nothing but trillions of gallons of water that go deep into the Earth, into pits of darkness where even our most advanced technologies cannot go. It's chilling, and I love it.

February 16th

It's 9am on my day off and I have no obligations. Got my swim wear and snorkeling equipment, and I'm heading to a popular beach known for sea turtle spottings. It's like I'm a professional, live-in tourist (technically I am). Can living anywhere else be better than this? I have access to such a variety of underwater ecosystems, and the birds, oh the birds! There are many, and all are beautiful.

I've already expressed my love for the Cuban Bullfinch which, I recently learned, only inhabits two places in the entire world: Cuba, and here. They are stunning, agile creatures. The Mockingbird is tough, which at first glance cannot be easily deduced; he has delicate feathering. Don't be fooled, they can be vicious, hissing and clawing at each other if something displeases them.

Just the other day a Brown Pelican was sleeping in the middle of the complex, his massive beak resting heavily on his chest, neck folded. I got very close to him, but the moment I saw the hook on the tip of that beak, I decided to be more cautious. They are magnificent, with a huge wingspan (top three largest I believe). It reminds me when a pelican dove only feet away from where I was swimming, and I got a firsthand look at how they eat. I first only heard a splash close to my left, and upon turning saw a Brown Pelican bobbing in the water with a fish in his pouch. I noticed this when it began wriggling in the tight skin sac, his whole outline visible. Then tilting his head back, the twitchy fish was swallowed whole where it would be digested alive. Bleugh.

There are little yellow-bellies, as I call them, sandpipers, black-bellied plovers, great egrets (white herons), parrots, and of course, white-tailed tropic birds — but those I see only when out on the water. I'm definitely going to miss my winged friends.

February 18th

Ayahuasca is pulling strongly on my mind again. I am being fed such a powerful Energy just by thinking about the upcoming experience.
Part II

I don't understand why I continue to be judged for my choices. Unlike the majority of everyone here, friendships and relationships aren't just things to do. I take them seriously, which is why I have so few, and hold on to even fewer. It bothers me that it bothers others. I wish I didn't give a fuck what anyone thought, and dressed, spoke and carried myself the way I truly feel inside.

February 19th

Something dense and grey sits in my belly. Moral obligations feel exhausting. No food, not even my usual sugars, seem appetizing, and I'm growing frustrated that I'm in an environment were almost everyone is on a lower level of personal and spiritual growth. Everyone seems so far off from anything I can relate to, even trivial things like relationships (which apparently on this island are as interchangeable and necessary as jobs). I cannot even begin to count how many times I've been met with honest and genuine confusion as to why I wasn't seeing anyone.

"Why does it strike you as odd?" I would ask, not understanding why it made a difference, but I am met with equal confusion, and that's where it ends. It always ends so quickly with 90% of the people you meet, which yeah, makes that 10% special, but I feel it also limits how much we can learn from connections like this. Who knows, maybe the abundance of irrelevant people in your life contributes to the learning somehow, makes you see things in a way you need to see them.

I wonder what about our Energy outputs alter this, if they do. They say put your Energy into what you truly want, work hard for it, and the Universe will conspire to help you. Could this just be a waste of time? When they say we attract what we release, do we really?

I have lingering fears that the closing of this chapter will also result in the closing of what I have learned here. I know this isn't true, but when you switch back to an environment that aches you, pains you and drowns you, it might be difficult to keep your head above the water.

February 23rd

Sometimes when I smoke in the back, a wildlife show unfolds in front of me. It's the quietest part of the morning, and the distant flaps of birds' wings reach your ears crystal clear. This is where they belong, in the sky, in the trees, in each other's faces. The Mockingbird is deceiving, his appearance delicate and fragile whilst his attitude territorial and domineering. I wouldn't want to mess with him, even in his current form.

It is barely 930am and the laundry, cleaning and other such chores have been done. The beach sounds great, but going alone has become boring. As always, the Leaf has kept me occupied, whether in my thoughts or my circumstances. Boredom vanishes, and a sense of appreciation and love enters.

It's fascinating how perspectives can literally change the world. Whence set in a comfortable routine, I am very much aware of the fact that all of this will soon change, and it will cease to ever be my routine again. It's not sadness nor joy that I feel in this moment (I feel a whole lot of things on different days), but an overwhelming sense of awareness that this is temporary. It always has been. It would be nice to always have this reminder — life might perhaps be lived more accordingly. Then again, it's not like we only get one lifetime on this Earth, though I've had the sneaking suspicion that this will be my last. It's a relief more than anything. I'm tired of this planet.

February 25th

Is the mind the same as the Universe? What's the difference, really? One creates the other, no matter which way you look at it.

I am beginning to detach from things, rather than become careless about them. That phase has passed quickly. My next steps are on my mind now; Peru and Ayahuasca are already set in place, so there's nothing left to do but wait for the experience (preparation begins much later) and continue planning. So what am I doing after that?

Australia: the city of many things that aren't just kangaroos and surfing. For some reason a few people mentioned 'criminal descendants,' so I read up on Australia's history and found a source claiming that up to 20% of Australians are descendants from transport convicts from the early seventeenth century. That's...kinda hot. We're all animals here, really. Animals with prefrontal cortices that complicate life.

February 26th

Everything is about to change, and though I'm looking forward to the benefits of my upcoming experience, I'm not looking forward to the discomfort and difficulty that it will inevitably bring. Change isn't easy, not for me. But it seems every time I overcome or achieve something, I am nudged forward by boredom and desire for betterment. It always astounded me that not everyone is like this, because up until a certain point, every child believes that what they know is what everyone knows. I was raised in what felt (and still feels) like a prison, but one inside a colourful, sparkly bubble, and though it gleams in the eyes of observers, in truth it was to distract from the dark, ugly inside.

I still feel the weight of these chains, slowing my forward steps in life, sometimes even misguiding them. It's hard to release your conditionings, especially ones that were beat into you. Fear is a powerful tool, more if it's the only one you have. I am the by-product of years of that fear being hammered into my soul, and I'm still pulling out the nails.

I don't mean to blame the past for happening, I simply express that I accept the person I have become, but I don't necessarily like that person, and of course you wonder if things would be better if only your past was different. You would be soaring now instead of trying to put the pieces back together. I resent that some of us have to struggle more than others. I understand that we're all on different paths, and our Journeys are as varied as they get, but sometimes it feels like I got the crappy hand.

My brother will visit soon for a few weeks. I'm looking forward to it.

February 27th

A chicken grooms her plumes with her beak, and it makes me want to stroke my scalp at all the beautiful possibilities, and indulge in the sweetest relief. I resist the temptation, but it's savoury. My sense of touch is heightened, and the scabs feel so good on my fingertips. I succumb. What pleasure.

I'm struggling to understand how to feel good about my mother's presence in my life without the accompanying guilt for resenting her abusive choices. I felt this as a child, but could only conceptualize it properly much later in life, when I had developed ways of expressing and understanding such emotion. Maybe that's what our Journeys are about: to decipher ourselves. And how do we do that? By being the expression of who we are in its truest, purest form: Consciousness. We are too distracted by sensory stimuli, our minds too busy building perceptually external worlds.

February 29th

There is nothing better than a hot bath with a herb cigarette and a keyboard for writing. It's a shame I can't record all ideas, for a writing instrument isn't always nearby when the thought hits.

The Chieftain saw patterns in the smoke, and in these patterns the Universe showed him what he needed to see. For ultimately, it would guide the seer to their correct path. It knew no lies or untruths, only forms of the truth — and there were many forms. Many, many forms.

Though I am not as weak as I once was when fighting these battles, I'm still unsure what to do to overcome them. I'm stronger, yes, but in this instance absolutely no wiser. I've worked the muscle but still don't know what use to give it. And how otherwise to gain knowledge than experience itself? Yet it seems to be failing me. These demons' whispers are less frequent now, but they still taunt me, and I don't understand why. I'm tired. Always restless. I cannot find this inner silence everyone claims to achieve through meditative practice. When I get close, it slips from me.

And when you do slip...it feels so good. The bad kind of good. The forbidden fruit, true love's dark but equally as powerful twin, whose grip on you is just as strong and, unfortunately, more available. For some of us, it's all we know.

March 1st

There is no wind, and the few sounds are quiet and distant. Everything is still. The Universe begins to paint a picture:

The familiar sounds of the chicken signal danger, which brings to my attention a nearby cat who is stealthily pursuing something. It wasn't until he moved that I saw him; a large lizard — too far for me to recognize the species — is pinned on the outer corner of the home, his body and tail together creating a large s-shape. I watched the chicken watch the cat watch the lizard watch the cat. It was fantastic.

It's not even noon, and already everything is ready for my brother's visit. I'm looking forward to it. It's like having a permanent friend who shared the pain and sufferings of your childhood. Someone to relate and talk to who will understand exactly where you are coming from. It's why I always encourage couples to have a second child if they only have one. There is nothing worse than being entirely alone in this world. At least if you're stuck in the darkness, there will be someone to pay a visit once in a while. Someone to remind you where the light is.

March 3rd

I don't think people realize how valuable the father figure is. It is absolutely vital that a father figure be present in every child's life. Women with daddy issues struggle to find security and love, meanwhile men with daddy issues often find themselves in trouble with the law or other authority figures, not to mention issues in relationships. This is all a sweeping generalization of course, but I use it to point out how much harm the lack of a male figure can cause. I haven't witnessed the same outwardly harm from a lacking mother figure (the repercussions are more internal).

I am grateful for my father. He clothed me and fed me, put a roof over my head and protected me in ways I probably will never know. Without him in my life, I would not have the inner peace I hold knowing that no matter what happens, he's got my back. This flows over to my brother, who I am also grateful to have. I thank the Universe every day that they have a good relationship. My father's presence has nourished my brother's Energy, and he himself has a big, kind heart and I could not live without either of these guys. I have been blessed in this life to be surrounded by such good male figures.

I am also grateful for my mother, though it is difficult to be. We have a very unfulfilling relationship, reason being she is a very troubled woman and unfortunately all of these issues were projected onto me most of my life. It doesn't feel like I'm even myself yet, only getting there by trying to fix all the damage she caused me first. I try to release all resentment and accept everything for what it is, but something is holding me back. A whisper tells me I'm still clinging to the hope that we may have a good relationship someday, but her lack of initiative in keeping in touch shows how little her effort is, and I'm tired of always being the one to maintain ties. It's unfair and it hurts. Do you not love me mother? Am I not worth a Skype call or message every once in a while? After all the beatings, insults and monsters I tolerated from you, have I failed you still? Are you disappointed I'm not the spitting image of what you wanted me to be?

How dare you not accept me for who I am?! That is the greatest pain there is. How can a mother not accept her child, especially when we are kids, innocent and guilty of nothing? I wish no child ever to experience such a lack of faith from a parent. It stays with you well into adulthood and eventually marinates into other symptomatic behavioural issues, and by the time we dig deep enough to figure out the root problem, it's already too late to mend what has been so broken, over and over again.

March 5th

No two moments are ever the same. Even if the entire world was still for one second, it will have changed. Your heart will have pumped two ounces of blood, your lungs will have released 0.5 VT of air, firing neurons will have triggered up to 1,000 trillion synaptic connections in your brain, and your nails will have grown 0.0001 mm.

That is the mathematical truth. This is the Universe.

Though this may seem like the workings of time, it's in fact the workings of life. Life is constantly changing, it is an organism itself, working to photosynthesize and breathe, but this is life in motion, not time. Time does not exist, it is the concept we have created to explain these constant changes in everything that exists. Perhaps that means we don't really die either, simply our form changes. After all, your entire body has regenerated and recycled all of its cells from the time you were a child. You are literally not the same person you once were, and yet you are still You, only in an entirely different body. This is what we humans call growth and development. But it's not really, it's just motion. Motion of our cells as they work, slaves to the genetic code, degenerating when they must, ceasing production when they must. We are literally biologically programmed. And yet, you are still You, despite all these workings and changes.

So what is this constant? It's Energy. This Energy is what generates the electrical signals in the SA nodes of our hearts so they can beat, the cell bodies of our neurons so they can produce thought, so on and so forth. The question is where is this Energy coming from?

March 6th

I cannot meet the demand for attention that my brother requires from me. I love him to the deepest part of who I am, but having a constant dialogue in my ear is incredibly exhausting and annoying. I like being alone. A year ago I couldn't say that, but now I can, and I do. I don't like being around others, they are too disruptive. Their Energies are like the screeches of untuned violins. I cannot bear it any longer.

I continue to feel like I don't belong (nothing new). I'm slightly more used to it now, but no closer to being indifferent about it. I'm pretty sure I'm looking at it all wrong, but I don't know how else to look at it.

Only four days of work remain. I can taste the freedom from brainwashed American tourists and money-sucking employees. I always knew Americans were very much influenced by all the propaganda and media instilled in them from a young age, but never did I actually believe it could be this bad.

This is a generalization of course and applies only to 85% of the American tourists I meet on the job, but I just cannot interact with these people. We have no common language. We don't even have a similar basis for reality to communicate upon. In fact, they aren't even violins yet. They're still a pile of strings and wood.

I'm not looking forward to being in close proximity to my family again. I love them, they are good people, and I would do everything in my power to protect them... but I just can't stand being around them! They are young souls, too consumed with being consumed, too limited in their minds, yet I am the one who sticks out like a sore thumb. If you are different, life will always be more difficult, whether you are in the right or not. It's just the way things are, and it sucks.

Where are you my wrinkled old souls? I cannot bear to live in this kindergarten any longer!

March 8th

All these big events approach and I continue to worry about what I'm going to do with my life. I am not lost, though I have been wandering for a while and I feel aimless. I know where I am, what I'm doing, but not really where I'm going...only where I would like to go, and I don't know if that's the direction in which I'm heading (though nothing seems to be telling me otherwise).

Perhaps it's one of those hallmark moments in life when you realize everything up until now has been inside your head, and the reality of things isn't at all what you believed it was. It's an uncomfortable feeling, though I would rather this unpleasant truth than to believe I am what I'm not. Having said that, if we can't be kings and queens, must we be peasants?

Only a few weeks remain of my Journey here, and I'm not sure how to feel about it.
Part II

They say when you don't have much to lose, life is easier. There is no fear of experiencing pain from losing that which is dear to you. But when you have so much to be grateful for, does fear not become more present? There is much to lose. Much to fear the loss of.

My brother is far wiser than I could have imagined, and he is only seventeen. His mind is beautiful, full of wonderful insights and unique perspectives. I am so proud of him, and I had nothing to do with it.

It is difficult to write in this moment. I feel the need for expression but there isn't much to express. Nothing about life here is new, nothing is changing really (future plans not included). Money is on the mind, how will I sustain myself? There will come a time in life when wandering the world will no longer be enough, or sufficient. I will grow old, my desires and abilities will change, my tastes, my circumstances. There will come a time when I will not have the need to venture, and I fear my actions now will have repercussions in the future. Do what you have to do now, so you can do what you want to do later. For me, not only is later becoming more and more uncertain (though we must admit there is a beauty in that), it is blurry and directionless. Or so it would seem.

Living day by day, in the present moment, is beautiful beyond words, but it's not a preparation for the future. It's juicy and ripe, full of colour and feeling. It represents what it means to be alive. But right now isn't the only time we will be living, if you understand my meaning. Years ago I planned for right now, and it didn't work out at all like how I had envisioned. But I am even more unprepared now than I ever was, so if preparedness didn't work, then how in the hell are we to be ready for the future? You got to take care of yourself you know, and it will be difficult to do that without a roof over my head.

It is unusually cold this year. Winds up to 30 knots pound the Northeastern coast and send a chill through the air. Locals are stupefied. After all their years here, they've not seen anything like it. I never thought I would say this, but the cool is a nice change from the constant sweat and stick. I feel cleaner.

How ironic that in this moment serious interest for the purchase of my car comes my way. I have to see it for what it is: change. It's happening. Again. It's necessary I know, and it's time again, but I'm so tired. If there is a lesson I'm meant to learn, I'm having difficulty.

My brother's presence here has shifted the atmosphere. Not in a bad way, just one that I'm struggling to adjust to. He is a reminder that my life choices may not be the most logical ones, and I may struggle later to correct them. I suppose him being here has aroused a parental instinct, and my thought patterns have slightly changed course. It's concerning (the thoughts, not the shift).

I once concluded that my mother and aunt were two sides of the same coin, and I realize that my brother and I are the same. He is parallel to me in such specific yet indescribable ways, though we are completely different in others. The amount of similarities and differences are equal, so they balance, and they complement each other so they balance that way too. I must admit though, some lessons are harder to learn. My bro has been a victim of my frustrations for many years (but in all fairness he can get very annoying, and deliberately). I am deeply grateful for his presence in my life, and with this gratitude comes a realization that I don't like — one must never have an only child. I've always known and encouraged this in others, but have never applied it to myself. In the end, being an only child is far lonelier than having an eternal rivalry with someone you hate. Believe me, I've been there, and I would chose my brother's annoying, twitchy, random and constant habits over the absolute quiet of being alone without a similar heart to mine. And with that, should I ever expect a child (the thought of children is very unappealing, even repellent, to me) I must then have a second. Not having a second because of the difficulty of having a child to begin with does not justify having only one, not in my mind.

It sucks when you have strong morals, because then you obey them no matter how much you don't want to, and life becomes even more difficult. Who would I be to promote ethics if I weren't true to them myself? I guess that means if an accident ever happens, it needs to happen twice (forgive my attitude, but this is truly how I feel about having children).

The chickens are patched with light blue paint on their once shiny feathers — sloppy workers who repainted the complex. I want to wash them, but they probably wouldn't like that. Not sure I would come out looking the same either.

My scabs are now bleeding and naked. Still not sure what triggered this. I've been long aware of the impending changes...

March 10th

The next few months are going to be difficult. In a short span of time, I will have quit smoking (my comfort and connection), travel to four different points on the globe (all literally half a world from each other) and have no income or job. Doubts creep up every now and then, but this always happens when the time for change approaches. I'm confident with my decisions, I just hate having to experience them emotionally.

I sold my car yesterday, and hours later I didn't understand why I had the strong urge to cry. I reviewed my entire day, trying to be mindful of any thoughts or events that may have triggered this emotion, and I realize that the selling of my car marked the first link in the chain of events that will lead to the closing of this chapter. It's happening.

I have been without green for two days now, as the island has been dry. The withdrawal is ensuing, but only physically. Before smoking my sleeping patterns were always disruptive and restless, and my anxieties were more present. So nothing out of the ordinary there. It's the physical withdrawal that's a bitch.

The biggest one for me is fatigue. I do not feel clouded or foggy (the smoking removes this and allows me to see clearly). Instead I feel exhausted, barely able to get out of bed in the mornings. I'm lucky I am capable of forcing myself to do things, otherwise I would not have gone to work today.

Green is how I meditate. It allows my thoughts to become obvious, and with this face-value I can work through them, sort them, and practice mindfulness. Without the green, they lodge back into my subconscious and I do not have access.

I remember my first true connection with the plant medicine. I don't recall the actual circumstances, but I remember not being able to hear those who were speaking to me. My thoughts were incredibly loud, as if someone was inside my head, and I could hear every single thought...from all three or four inner dialogues at once. It took several weeks to sort through them and become conscious of their patterns, which in turn led me to insight.

March 13th

I can love unconditionally. Even if it's temporary, I can unconditionally love my friends, my coworkers, and I don't understand why I am often forgotten. I just don't understand why it's seldom reciprocated. I don't understand why lovers are more of a priority than I. Why spending 30 minutes out of your time, like I did for you, is not worth your time. I don't expect goodness to be reciprocated. It's not why I do good. But I don't think I can ever properly convey the loneliness that is being the light among darkness. To love without being loved. To care, help and unconditionally sympathize with life around you, meanwhile I am met with disdain, jealousy or indifference.

I am worthy, I know it. Yet somehow my life never reflects this, and it makes me angry. I try not to let this anger diminish the love I show others, but I am so often tempted to abandon everyone and love only myself instead. I have been accused of everything that has been projected my way, and still don't understand why I am the trigger for all these projections. I become the target of everything that is wrong within people. I have been accused of the most ridiculous and inaccurate things — to the point where others take notice. "What is wrong with that person?" they say.

Yet I still can't abandon the anger that is always accompanied by the volatile accusations that for some reason people can't realize are about themselves, and not me. Maybe that's why I'm so keen on pursuing the field of psychology. I want to understand why people are the way they are, because most of the time I'm absolutely clueless.

March 16th

My once clear dreams and ambitions have faded into the background, and whence I knew I would achieve my dreams, now I have doubts I'm on the right path at all. I'm sure this is normal, and common, but truly what do you do when you actually have no idea?

Some of us know what we are good at, and we thrive in it. The path has been laid out, and simply we must walk it. For others, the path is invisible, and we can only see the next few steps in the dense fog that is our minds. I am grateful my brother has the wisdom and knowledge that he does, however young he be, because it will make him an easy life in this world. His skills, his understandings, are very well-suited to a successful life on this planet. As for myself, I feel in and out of a haze. Lost some days, found on others. It's a teeter-totter between certainty and uncertainty. But not in the conventional sense, in the sense of assuredness within myself. Small failures are huge setbacks, and though I know not to allow this effect — that rejections and failures are one step closer to success — my emotional being can't quite catch up and understand this.

In this world people pursue wealth, stability, making babies to leave a 'legacy' (though anyone can have an orgasm or get pregnant, not much legacy there), and other such things deemed desirable treasures. But I seek something else, and perhaps that's why I bounce in and out of knowing what to do. I'm on a different plane of existence than my goals. How on Earth do you make a life like that? It's like wanting to be a painter in a world full of mechanics, and meanwhile they are off making a living, you're sitting in the corner wondering why your talents are deemed useless when they aren't.

Last night marked the last day I could smoke, and I enjoyed a cigarette with my brother, who reminds me of his five-year-old self but grown, and I couldn't help but marvel with love for him. I wish everyone to experience this kind of love, because it really does make you want to be a better person. If not for you, for them.

I expect my moods to dampen, my frustrations to grow, and my wounds and nails to suffer at the hands of my madness, which I believe has been stabilized but I'm not sure how long that will last.

I don't know what to expect with this experience in Peru, all I know is that I need to be open, but understand how difficult this is for someone who has been pained and bullied their whole life. You close up because it's safe in there. And I like that sense of security (illusory or not). It's comforting, and it keeps the monsters out — maybe at a distance is a better way of saying it. Either way, it's better than having the monsters directly feeding off your soul.
Part II

I am afraid.

I'm a sad, pathetic little girl crying into her knees, afraid of the world and what it may bring. I've spent countless nights crying out my fears, listened to numerous psychology professors dissect the dynamic of deeply-rooted issues, and yet, despite all my introspection and healing work, I've only come to the point where I can acknowledge that I'm afraid.

I'm embarrassed of my fear, and I feel guilty for it. I'm embarrassed because I'm an adult, and adults should live in the real world. They must act despite their irrational fears (I'm not talking about rational ones here). I don't know why I feel guilty, but it's as if feeling fear only proves how pathetic I am — it holds me back and that's what I should be ashamed of.

I want to believe in myself. I want to believe that I'm worthy, that I'm lovable. That all the pain and suffering I have lived was not in vain. That I can learn from this darkness, my demons. I want to believe that I am not foolish enough to keep feeding my precious devils, my friends, that have kept me company all this time. But if I stop feeding them, they will starve and die, and I will be left alone in the darkness. I will no longer have any friends. All I ever wanted was a friend...
Part III

My scabs bleed, and so do the fingernails that consumed them. My teeth grind again in my sleep -- when it doesn't elude me that is. It would seem I am falling into my old habits, and I find a strange comfort in that. My therapist warned me long ago that though relapses are normal, going back into the depths of their beginnings may be more difficult to recover from a second time. Strangely I do not fear this (yet I fear almost everything else). Maybe it's because I know I can pull myself out since I've done it once before.

Recovery is almost like exercise. The more often you do it, the easier it becomes. That's no excuse to fall back into addictions of course, but it's reassuring. Either that or I don't care about having to endure everything all over again. It's what I'm used to.

I feel no urge for the Leaf, though it has been only a few days since my last smoke. If I could I would, but it's not necessary. I'm more committed to my healing than anything else right now. After all, I can always go back to it (though to be honest, a few months dry is a long time for me...it's like your therapist is on a long, beautiful vacation while you're stuck dealing with your mind in the slushy muck of dirty winter).

Read some inspiring work today, mostly writers encouraging other writers not to give up. Even if the feeling is illusory, the illusion is nice. How are we to release all illusions? This upcoming experience... it strips you bare. It removes all conditionings, everything you have ever been taught or learned on this physical plane, and basically shoves you into another dimension. Like a newborn mind, you are experiencing everything for the first time (it would be the first time for me), and without any background knowledge or prior exposure, here you idle in the something of somethings that I can't describe because I haven't yet been there.

Two young neighbours moved in next door. The one who shares my bedroom wall is quite loud during sex, and it's genuine pleasure. It's arousing, not going to lie. Makes it that much more difficult to be single and sexless. It has been about a year and a half now. It's not that long, but it's long for someone who loves sex and who is sexual in general. In other words, it majorly sucks.

I don't understand how others get physical relief when there is no other connection. Isn't that the point of sex? To connect on a different level? Otherwise it just feels like you're going through the motions for the sake of...well I wouldn't know. I'm not like that. Sadly a lot of the world is, and I am met with puzzled expressions followed by shock when people learn of the monogamous, self-respecting relationship I have with myself. The world is so strange...

I seek refuge in movies and music, but sadly feelings can be much louder. Hunger grips my belly but the thought of food sickens me. I get no pleasure from it. It's a chore. I don't have an unhealthy relationship with food. It's more like I don't have a relationship with food at all. I eat when I feel the acid burning ulcers in the walls of my stomach, but that's pretty much the only reason. I eat because I know I have to, but I have no desire to, even when hungry. I don't know why that is, but I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

March 18th

I cannot wait to leave this wretched place. In the past few days the fakeness of everyone has become very evident. Once you are meant to leave, you are of no use. You cannot offer rides, you cannot lend money, and there is no need to maintain a proper relationship because you won't be here much longer anyways.

I hate that I never feel like I belong. People say it's me, that I need to figure myself out. Bullshit. So many parts of the world are fantastically illusioned — and comfortably may I add — that the tiniest shred of decency is unmet, rejected or unrecognized altogether.

The lack of kindness and compassion pisses me off. I hate being the only decent person most places I go. I don't care if it's Ego talking, I hold doors for the elderly. I help people pick up dropped items like coins or papers. I fucking get out of the way if I see someone needs a bit of space to pass in their wheelchair. How in the fuck is the rest of the world so inconsiderate? And what pisses me off even more is being thanked.

"You are so kind, thank you! Thank you so much!" This is normal behaviour and should be expected of everyone. Showing so much gratitude just demonstrates how rare these occurrences are. Are you not ashamed of your children? Does it not embarrass you their dirty mouths to their teachers? Their bullying? Their lack of respect for their home, their parents or their environment? The abuse they allow they bodies? Drinking and fucking their lives away?

I am embarrassed to be a part of this world. I have been most of my life, starting from the early, early days when my birth meant my mother could beat and abuse me into anything she wanted. I wasn't a life to be loved, I wasn't an independent human being. I was born the wrong sex and had to be everything that my mother didn't have.

Fuck the world. Take this metaphorical middle finger as my official declaration of not giving a shit anymore.

March 19th

There is a quality about Amy Winehouse that I deeply admire and wish to possess. "I don't care enough about what others think of me to conform to anything." It's amazing that for some, this is what we work towards our entire lives, whereas for others, it's just how they are and always have been. Our Journeys are all so different. It's no wonder we feel alone most of the time.

"I don't know anyone like me," she said in an interview. I feel that way too, and for the first time it doesn't seem horrible. It's lonely, incredibly lonely, but I suppose I should try and enlighten the positive aspects of that: uniqueness of point of view, of approach, originality. I feel different for other reasons too, though. I don't feel positively different, I feel negatively different.

My differences have shamed me, made me want to hide and conceal. My differences are traumatic events in my childhood, lack of love, abuse, self-loathing. I'm not alone in that either, I know. But sometimes that doesn't matter. Darkness is darkness whether others have been there or not. Knowing others may share my misery actually makes me feel worse. I want no one to feel the darkness where I have been. I would rather walk it with my demons, than risk harming another soul for the sake of company.

There are so many qualities that I want to develop within myself, but I'm unsure if the potential is even there. I've been raised to care only about what others think. To be the best, the smartest, have the best gadgets and accessories. Otherwise I am unworthy of a glance. Beauty is in my appearance, act friendly and nice, no one cares who you really are. I've been trying to break these beliefs but awareness isn't always enough. You can be aware of your demons, but that doesn't make them go away.

I continue to be baffled as to why we are more engulfed in madness than anything else. Do parents not love their children? Do friends not trust each other? Are lovers not honest? Why is the world full of war and hate? Why does it matter if someone else's beliefs differ from yours? Why are we even looking outside of ourselves and not within? Isn't it obvious that the inside is where everything — everything — lies?

But above all, why do people care to prove anything at all? We are alone in this world, at least in our human forms. I don't care how we connect on subatomic or energetic levels. We have been separated into individual entities, and that is how we will go through life, as individual entities.

I remember as a child always saying things like, "It doesn't matter what they look like," or, "Why are you being mean?"(in reference to judgment) and I would always be scolded, as if questioning the decisions and choices of others is somehow offensive. Why not teach our children why we are the way we are? If my parents sat me down when I was five years old and spoke to me like an adult, I wouldn't have been as pained throughout life as I have been. Maybe that wasn't my Journey, but nonetheless, being an emotional (and physical) punching bag for a parent's problems (and treated like an incapable, pathetic human being) served absolutely no purpose. Even this many years later when I have finally detached, all the demons that were beat into me as a child are still present.

I've sensed before that my mother's inability to break me pissed her off, and I couldn't understand why. I've read numerous psychology books on narcissistic and jealous mothers, on parental abuse, childhood trauma etc. We should be trying to figure ourselves out, instead, we project all our problems onto the world and wonder why it's so ugly.

This is what I was trying to convey in an earlier entry. What is it about me that seems ideal for others to project upon? The moment people see themselves all they want is to destroy the mirror that shows them. I am this mirror, and I never wanted to be. I don't even notice, and yet here I am being flung with rocks that have cracked my surface, and now all I see is a million things gone wrong. You can't put broken glass back together and call it the same thing. Worst of all, I never fought back. Defending myself would only harm others, and so I allow myself to be treated like the scum of the Earth, because I don't want to inflict any harm on anyone else, let alone make them feel the way I do.
Part II

Ever since I stopped smoking, life has become incredibly dull. Time drags on, food has lost its taste, and my once clear inner dialogue is muddied and no longer at the forefront of my awareness. I wake up in the early am hours, and lie there until the afternoon, no reason to get out of bed, because surely I will end up back here once I walk around the house and realize there is nothing to do.

The fatigue has passed, my sleeping has resumed its disruptive patterns — though it has always been that way since I was a child — and my tolerance of those on lower levels of development has plummeted. The beauty of life has dissolved back into its regular, ugly self. Who wants to live in such a world? Green has opened the gateway to the Universe, and we connected so deeply. Without that, I'm left with the materialistic remains of society and all its polluted by-products.

March 20th

I can feel his soul. Though he did not write the music, he is creating it. With every touch of his fingers on the keys, his Energy passes through the piano and into the string, until the beautiful sounds reach our ears, and I can feel his soul.

The beauty lies not with the individual notes pieced together to create coherent melody. The beauty is in the pianist, whose soul has these brief minutes to express itself into the Universe, and I cannot help but awe in his presence. I can feel his heart, and it's the purest thing that can exist.

March 25th

I am back in the city, and it sucks. It reminds me that I've not achieved anything tangible in my life. The freedom of bouncing around is liberating, sure, but when will I have my feet on the ground?

I don't even know what to do with myself. I'm too scared to try anything, and so I stay in this same place, unable to move and crying as life passes me by and I don't do anything about it. My honesty is all I have. At least I have something, I guess.

I try not to let age deter me. We are all on different Journeys, and will achieve whatever we will achieve at different times in our lives, but what disheartens me about my age is that I thought I would be much farther along by now. I haven't grown in any aspect: there is no romance on the horizon (I've been single for two years just about), I have no career (or career prospects), my years of 'education' — for the sake of my parents, I hated school — brought me nothing, and all I can do is philosophize about what I think of life, as if that's useful.

I got a typewriter, my first. Whoever sold it didn't care to clean it, perhaps not even once during its total use from the sixties. I found a repairman, kind old fellow, who took it over the weekend for a good cleaning and overall inspection. This baby is going to be brand new, though how it will invest in my future, I don't know.

The kinder of strangers have always told me that no years pass empty. Though I may not have achieved a level of tangible gain, time brings with itself experience, which never goes wasted. Looking back, my experiences have been mostly painful. There's growth there too of course, but I'm not sure how much. I'm trying not to depend too much on my trip to Peru to bring me answers, but I'm afraid I am.

Something quite unexpected happened yesterday. In a conversation that led to the subject of parenting, my mother (quite maturely, might I add), expressed doubt about her disciplinary choices when we were kids. I always expected tremendous relief or satisfaction should this miraculous moment ever come, but instead I felt love. I felt pure acceptance, proud of my mother for this personal growth, and not in the slightest vengeful or smug. I told her that we are all human, that we all make mistakes, and that neither my brother nor myself hold anything against her. If our past was different in any way, we wouldn't have turned out the people we are today, and I like those people. I never thought I would say this, but I like who I am...at least I'm starting to.

I feel my life lacks substance. People marvel at the ease with which I travel, but the truth is anyone with enough motivation can do the same. It's no miracle or achievement. It's a plane ticket.

I'm not sure if it's the freezing cold weather conditions (people are skating in the streets, ice rain has coated everything in thick glass and trees are splitting from the weight), but I have lost all motivation to go outside. Whence I was so eager to even sit on my front steps, now I can't see myself doing anything other than lying in bed, keeping warm and shutting out the world (and the windows).

March 31st

Newborns are flushed down toilets, abandoned or left to die, and I don't know how acknowledge such things and continue to believe that it's all for a greater purpose. It creates in me a deep disturbance, and it challenges my core belief that everything is a spiritual Journey; that in our lives the Universe brings forth teachers and lessons that we may only see with open eyes and ears. My soul weeps for the innocent souls tossed down street drains, or wrapped in garbage bags and thrown in dumpsters. Why? How are these lessons?

I try to convince myself that such a fate could only spare them from a far worse one. A mercy of sorts, but I still don't know how to accept this, nor how to incorporate it into any of my understandings...

April 2nd

My mind continues to speculate what kind of experience I will embark on in Peru. I read numerous articles about DMT, Consciousness, videos about people's experiences first hand, lectures from psychologists, neuroscientists, and whatever other related content I can get my hands on. Of course, you will not know until you have the experience yourself, and even then, from what I have learned, it is impossible to explain via any human medium, be it language, art, lectures, studies, what have you.

In a few days I will start my Dieta, and within a week from then I will be flying to Peru to meet Mother Ayahuasca herself. This is it. My time has come.

See you on the other side.
