This conversation unfolded like dusk over a forgotten field — slow, shadowed, honest. It wasn’t about answers so much as invitations. What began as a reflection on the archetype of the errant — that perpetual outlier of civilization — spiraled into deeper terrain: trauma as initiation, the manipulations of modern myth-making, and the quiet revolt of simply being. In a world bloated with noise, this was a moment of signal.
Tag: solitude
I never understood the urge to belong to something that didn’t matter — to chase trends, fit in, or mold myself into someone else’s idea of acceptable. Even as a kid, it seemed clear: most of what passed for “normal” was just noise, distracting us from who we could actually become.
In solitude, amongst the silent open spaces—walking the settled sands beside the ebbing sea, next to the late springtime river, as life explodes from awakening flora—we can hear the questions, and we can distill the answers; life is perpetual (perceptual) change and flowing communication.
The challenge for an artist, or seeker, observer, conscious student and activist, is the very real need for solitude.
Lux Colloquii: Ashes, Ascent, and the Spiral Way
Some days the words tumble out with clarity; other days, they need a mirror to shape them into form. This conversation unfolded more like a slow exhale — a dialogue not for answers, but for the sake of asking better questions. Here, I offer up the phases, spirals, tensions, and quiet integrations that life has laid before me — not as doctrine, but as driftwood for whoever might be building their own raft.