Real power doesn’t come from the material world.
Look at Bruce Lee, he’s arguably more powerful today than he was when he was alive. In matter of influence, he still reigns king.
The money in your bank ain’t worth shit.
Chester from Linkin Park now commands a mighty army. His death brought back fans who had long forgotten him. Now that we know how his story ended we can finally see it for the first time.
His words have new meaning.
My biggest fear since early childhood has been public singing. I’ve been so terrified of it that I wouldn’t even allow myself to sing in my room even if I knew no one else could possibly hear me. I wouldn’t sing in the car. I just never did it, and if I did it was a mumbled mess.
I feel things deeply. Way more than I let on. And if you’re gonna be a good singer you need to show everyone what’s inside.
I remember being 13 or 14 and thinking to myself, “I wonder if what I’m supposed to be is a singer and that’s why it scares me so much?” I noticed the irony of it and thought it worth noting. Now I’m twice that age and counting and I’m beginning to see that I was not too far off.
I didn’t know that music would carry me this far. I’m not a popular musician by any aspect but I’ve had success with it, however limited. I never tried to be anything when I played music. When you are socializing you have to play the part. The part people expect. The part they accept.
In music you’re totally free to express yourself exactly as you feel. When I played I got into, like really into it. Sure it scared me to do it publicly, but as I’ve grown and embarrassed myself endlessly it’s becoming no matter at all.
But now it’s time to figure out this singing mess. I’ve been singing in the car for the last 2 years or so. Pretty much for as long as I’ve been doing crossfit. I’m not sure why I started but I probably just stopped giving a fuck.
My singing is getting better but it still sucks. But I am reminded of Kurt Cobain. His voice works because it’s his own shit. He’s expressing himself in his own unique way. And it fucking works. So I’ve got to find my voice.
I’ve got a few songs written on guitar, but they’re all instrumental. I’ve got to figure out how to write these lyrics. To be honest, I haven’t given it more than a moment’s thought. But Chester’s death today made me realize it’s probably fucking time.
So Chester from Linkin Park just killed himself today. Apparently it was Chris Cornell’s birthday, which was a good friend of his. He killed himself two months ago.
A fear that I’ve long held in the back of my mind is this: what’s the fucking point of struggling to “be somebody” or “get there” only to find out nothing has changed and you’re still carrying your misery with you everywhere you go. These guys “made it” by most people’s definitions of success and yet it wasn’t enough.
And yet, these guys helped countless young lives battle through their own depression. Just seems so unfair to me that their words of pain can help soothe others yet do nothing to mend their own souls.
Rest peacefully brothers.
What if the universe is just a grand experiment?
I was raised to believe that not only were we here for a purpose, but that a distant being created us to perform this purpose. This core belief has been with me since childhood and has brought me both great reward and great sorrow.
But it just dawned on me that this belief could be wrong. Maybe there’s no reason to our existence at all. I’ve known this intellectually yet never grasped it emotionally.
So what does that mean if there’s absolutely no reason for ANY of this? That you are entirely in charge of your destiny. No matter good or ill come your way, if you don’t steer the ship you won’t get anywhere.
And yet this seems to conflict with Taoism. Isn’t the middle way optimal? A leaf on the wind as Wash would say?
I’ve personally found that path to be successful. The best moments of my life were when I simply allowed beauty to unfold rather than force it. Yet many an entrepreneur have pathed their way to success.
So it seems there’s an ambiguity. Maybe it’s a case of all roads leading to Rome.
But what about murderers and rapists? Would we call those paths viable? It’s not something most like to think about, let alone discuss.
According to Sam Harris our brains know what we are going to do before we are even consciously aware of it. So are we even in control of our destinies at all?
Maybe there are no solid answers to any of this in which case it’s no wonder our world is so fucked up! But maybe it’s the fuckedupness that brings beauty to it all.
I’ve long thought that an idealized version of Heaven would be Hell for me. Sitting around with no pain, sorrow, anticipation, fear, seems like a bland experience to me. After an eternity of pure bliss, would it still feel like anything? Can the air feel itself?
But if this is all an experiment, then why the fuck aren’t we all living more perfect lives? In all of us is the ability to create more love and joy in our lives, yet we continually sabotage ourselves in order to inflict pain. Somehow we are addicted to it and completely blind to it all at once.
I find it odd how often nature’s randomness can be more beautiful than our attempts to contrive it. Like that sentence. I spent far too long on it rather than just speaking plainly. Yet, there is merit to finding the right opening.
There is beauty everywhere we look and yet we often don’t see it at all. I find that odd too.
Sometimes I think I’m the only one who can see this oddness.
Most seem to just accept it. “It’s just the way things are around here.”
If you keep asking why enough eventually you’ll get to a point where answers cease. Why is that?
We can’t describe color. “Red is… reddish?”
Or sight to a blind person.
Music to a deaf person.
These are more than just concepts that can be articulated by the brain.
They must really exist outside of us.