I've been a writer most of my life.
There's this thing about us — and you'll nod if you're like me — humans with a tint of romantic idealism, with a zest for exploration and adventure, with a drive to bask in our imagination, the spiritual kind, that I love about us.
"Get real," they say.
“Stop being naïve.”
“You’re too idealistic.”
I've been ridiculed for being amazed like a child my entire life, and that's before I discovered spirituality in the first place (Yes, spirituality is not something you "stumble upon". Spirituality is life itself, but let's not get into that.) Sometimes, it feels as if we are little blobs in a world of pragmatism and practicality, waiting to be rescued by a fellow dreamer, taken among stars.
We've got communities like these, and that's beautiful. Occasionally, you get to meet a human that's just like you.
We have a gift for beauty. We are able to see the ways in which you can make what is considered average, extraordinary. Our thoughts are double-edged swords: They tell us we're destined for greatness but also destined for failure if we don't follow up on our highest aspirations. Authenticity is important for us.
And then there's our imagination.
Oh, yes, the thing we love to hug, to sit in silence with, to marry. It wouldn't be false to say we have always sought who we are through imagination, what our purpose is, what the universe has to offer, despite that nobody else has. We've always wondered, even if we haven't said it loud, can that mystical beauty be touched?
Believe me, I'm like you. I've done everything in my power to find answers to that question.
As I mentioned in the beginning, I've always known I was destined to be a writer. Authenticity plays a key role in this story. See, prior to yesterday, I had been writing short stories that were meant to be read in altered consciousness preferably induced by psychoactive substances. "This is a complete novelty in the world," I had thought. "Everything comes so vividly alive. One feels as if they understand the author's intended meaning better. The words are dancing, this is a place I want to live in."
Then had come a realization.
"Oh no. I can't keep this to myself. This is something others deserve to experience, too. I'd be an egoistic maniac if I didn't dedicate my life to creating more of these beautiful experiences, like those authors did for me. I gotta be a writer. And I gotta write stories that are meant to be read in altered consciousness."
But — that's where I had made my first and foremost mistake.
I had assumed that statement to be my pure intention.
Fortunately, this is where December 21st, 2020 comes into play.
I decided to join yesterday's global meditation, which is something I do not usually engage in. I had done some powerful shamanic breathwork prior to it. What followed… It was nor my highest awakening nor the apex of spirituality, but in that moment, it felt truly magical to be meditating along thousands of others, side by side. Something clicked, and I realized how foolish I had been for requiring people to read my short stories in altered consciousness induced by compounds. Yes, it's a cool and novel idea, but I shall spill the beans: On that night, I came to a realization that craving to be read in such a way was a subtle form of fear – a prolific attempt to mitigate my greatest limiting belief that I'll be misunderstood.
That's something I have always feared. "You'll be misunderstood when people read your stories."
However, yesterday has changed everything. To put it blithely – it showed me that people DO understand, they DO care, they DO want to bask in their imagination. People like you, that is.
I completely restructured how I perceive my audience and spiritual people in general.
Yes, your imagination can be touched. Your imagination is real. It’s the most real thing you’ll encounter in your life. You know this very well. That's why you love it so much. It's free, it's beautiful, it's yours.
And my job is to simply lend you a hand. My humble task is to simply write short stories. I shall not crave anything else.
So here we are. I had never thought that December 21st, 2020, the date so many people had spoken about, would actually reveal itself to be enlightening.
I am still I writer, but I had to completely revamp how I approach my audience in general. You might be asking, "Why do your stories require a tint of childlike thinking? Why do they take an idealistic, dreamy, perhaps even spiritual character?" Consider this. Over the numerous amount of people I have introduced them to, only those of the described character have stayed, enjoyed, and seen beauty in them. If you're a realistic, "static", down-to-earth person, it's more than likely my short stories are not for you.
See, stories are beautiful. The raw sense of adventure you feel. The realm you get lost in. The unraveling present moment. I'm almost crying as I write this, that's how powerful and meaningful conveying Love in written form is to me.
I no longer wish to present myself as the "world's first author you read while being high." Instead, I have a purely driven, universal purpose to commune with the spiritual community. With you. With us. I still handpick music, provide positive intentions, and set specific instructions for each and every short story I write, but I no longer require anyone to use mind-altering compounds.
This might feel like a subtle realization, but trust me, it's a huge leap, a huge life-changing event. Imagine being a writer and one day telling yourself, "Oops. I no longer wish to write for sci-fi enthusiasts. Let's go for romance."
From yesterday, I have become a simple man. A simple man who writes short stories that overwhelm humans with beauty, capturing the human heart in immersion. Stories that bring humans to love and authenticity by overwhelming them with beauty. I crave nothing more in life, nothing less.
This is my life's work. My life's purpose now.
Trust me, I'd love to give you a bunch of them to read, but this post would be infinite. So I'll see what you have to say in the comments, and I'll edit the post and upload them on Google Drive or something… so you can actually touch my tree's fruits.
Please, appreciate that gift within you. Live. Laugh. Be proud. Explore your imagination.
If you've made it to here, you're a legend.
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