It begins at 5am. I lay awake at the realisation of what the day is, and to therefore plan my off road path of running. The 4th of September, a usual day to most, the day being Thursday and just another Thursday to the many millions of unaffected people who have no significance to September the 4th. But what does it mean to me, and why am I awake when the sounds around me aren’t asking to see my eyes?
It’s the birthday of a recently passed man, who influenced this life for the greater, years before the innocence of my questions began to un-believe the common answers. It’s a day where although normal and the same- I am,
I am forced to remember the times of happiness and beautiful love I was blessed with like a soft touch, which creates a sadness that is able to hold on tightly like a chain around a battered wrist. As I lay awake in Santorini, Greece at 5 in the morning I have not a soul feeling sorry for me and no reason too, yet I am stained with the realisation that I cannot tell you two words about your day and yet still feel connected to you briefly, through the tellings of one of our last conversations. That conversation was me telling you that I would be in Santorini at one stage at 5 in the morning at which was at the time ‘in future‘ but now is upon me like the blankets on my chest. Once I finish said trip and return to the madness of reality and what it has in store for me, I have not a sip of connection to you anymore. And that is why reality seems far removed, as a connected reality to one person gone, a crucial person, means my new found ‘future’ is deeper than the ocean I lay next too, in thought and in physical, and appears to swallow away my connection and replace it on a shelf of memories that I own of you.

So what do you do at 5 in the morning in Santorini on the 4th of September? You should sleep. And sleeping is rest, and the rest is dreams. And although you miss and you forget, and the remembering hurts, and you can’t help but overcome your sadness in sunshine; enjoy the quiet. Happy Birthday Janós Bedi.

04/09/1931 – 13/07/2013

An Eagle looking over the Danube river in Budapest, Hungary.

Somewhere in Budapest, Hungary, where only I know.

C.f

What can I say? I’m back to reality. I’ve seen many countries, a million faces, and spent almost all of my money -but still, I feel rich. I do not regard money as the most valuable currency anymore, and although it is a core fundamental for exploring this beautifully strange planet, it does not make me feel rich. It does not make me more valuable. It does not make me a better person.
My priceless currency is kindness. Small or large quantities, it doesn’t matter, it’s acts towards me have meant more than any dollars or cents I’ve received. No, I am not a hippie. I’m not a dreamy peaceful stoner. I’m not even always kind myself. But I realise that it’s rare. So rare, that it’s value exceeds money.

I found the best in humans, which I didn’t believe existed except for one really strong exception. I found it in the laundromat when I didn’t have any detergent, I found it in the grocery store when the amount I had in my pocket was ‘enough’, and I found it from strangers on the train, who helped me get to the bed I was sleeping in that night when I couldn’t read the signs. It didn’t matter if it lasted 5 seconds, it helped me, and cost no money, yet I left feeling complete assurance that some people wanted to help me, simply because.. they could. What a beautiful sentiment, that something almost everyone is capable of doing for free, can be done? Surely it can’t be that easy? It is. The coldness of this world is strong sometimes, and overwhelming.

At the end of the day, we are all equal, and can help someone through their day with only a little effort. The person sleeping on the street isn’t any less of a human than you are. I’ve always felt it a burden to care so much, but it separates me from the people who can walk away without helping, which took select people and trusting myself to realise. That is enough for me to fall sleep each night.

So what else?

I’ve missed a lot of people. Some very, very much. Some I’ve lost contact with more, which is upsetting, considering it’s my own fault. I guess sometimes it’s necessary. Sometimes I feel lonely, that I do not talk to them. I was raised on the notion, if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing. And sometimes things are better left unsaid, because what you say might not be bad, but it might get you into trouble. And that is something better to leave unsaid. You just have to hope, that you don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it, wherever they are.

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion”

ALBERT CAMUS

“I don’t want learning, or dignity, or respectability. I want this music, and this dawn, and the warmth of your cheek against mine.”

RUMI

“Turn your fears into creative energy”. – Afflatus

Somewhere in Portland, Oregon, where only I know.

C.f

I have begun collecting photographs of specific times and dates, simply to remind myself how I felt at that exact moment. Normally this method is intended to be moments of absolute happiness, and as there is no physical way to capture and contain emotions from certain moments, I like to remind myself that they do exist, have happened before, and most importantly – can happen again.

The only catch from this technique?

Not only can it remind you of the lighter side of life, it can also turn off the light and take you back through the dark times too.

Be careful where it takes you.

C.f

So what now?

Did you hear the story of the Eagle born from a Rose?
You probably don’t know.

It’s a story of something vulnerable, yet strong,
That just started to grow.

Nobody understood why,
And it started anxiety,
It was simply too different,
No place in society!

Its feathers were different;
its body was strong,
But still it was hidden,
No place to belong.

It made no sense!
It was tougher than metal!
A strong and tall eagle,
That came from a petal?

Yet the answer you seek,
Isn’t crazy or mad,
Because different or strange,
doesn’t mean bad.

Most minds are conformed,
Most eyes do not see,
We are forced to buy tickets,
We can’t get in free.

This world can hide beauty,
Missed in dark places,
Whilst everything normal,
is placed in bright spaces.

So a seed was planted,
To change our reality,
A bird from a flower?
You must have insanity!

But ignore these thoughts,
And silence the word,
Plant your own Rose,
And grow your own bird.

Fight for your ideas,
and fly over each obstacle,
And anything you wish,
Can be made possible.

Never stop searching,
Or trying to find,
The hidden ideas,
Stuck in a beautiful mind.

Help them grow tall,
And feed your black sheep,
Because dreams don’t have limits,
Like the ones in your sleep.

c.f

Inspired by someone who made me realise my thoughts were worth sharing again. 

25/03/2014

“Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.” ― Salvador Dalí

I wonder how many people pause for a moment, regardless of their current situation and question ‘life’, as if to ponder if you’re living your own life or if it’s living you. Many nights I stay awake lying in my bed, with the only light being the small light that comes from my ‘sleeping’ laptop which echoes in and out of brightness peaking at a silhouette of my surroundings, and I make plans. It’s healthy to do this, to act out events and use your creative imagination to play back a movie where you’re forced to react in make-believe environments. Out of all of this pretend thinking and dreaming through choices, it eventually dawns on you, that none of it is real. The only thing I hope for you, and for me too, is that these fake scenarios stimulate a reaction in your real world and you do something. Wasting moments and minutes thinking about things is like renting life, you’re wasting your resources and not getting anywhere except a pretty picture to visit. Potential is such a great thing to waste, so if you’re reading this, do something you’ve thought about for awhile, or do something different and experience a situation you’ve only thought about being in from the comfort of your imagination.

Happy New Year to all – C.f.

Those with shallow hands have the greediest pockets, and those with small pockets have the deepest hands.

Toward or in the direction of: running into flowers.

C.f.

Who looks after the person,

who looks after you?

When you lose your own shadow,

do you lose the sun too?

Do you run for the finish

to win a quick race?

Or pick up the fallen

but fall to last place?

Do you tell them you feel

and why you do feel this?

Can you drink all these letters,

touched through like a mind kiss?

You may not know, all the answers to all,

because the questions to you, aren’t questions you call.

Yet If you listen and read, I’ll answer them true,

These questions have answers, and your knowledge be grew.

That person has someone,

but it sure isn’t you,

If you do something nice,

you’ll take some of their blue.

Your shadow can run,

and your shadow has sight,

and when the sun is gone,

just turn on a light.

When you win a quick race,

you’ll win something small,

a quick race is short,

but life is more tall.

And if you help all the fallen,

you’ll fill all the cracks,

you’ll show that us humans,

work better in packs.

Your feel is your own,

and should not be hidden,

so tell who is worthy,

or regret that you didn’t.

Now I hope that you’ve drunk,

all the letters I’ve spilt,

I hope that I’ve shown you,

how smiles can be built,

and I hope very least,

this text kisses you,

as our minds have now kissed,

and my letters go through.

In the Mood for Love (2000)

C.f

I’ve only recently discovered that creativity comes from nowhere, and literally anything can make you feel something different, even if you’ve seen it a thousand times. It all comes down to chance and your surroundings.

Sometimes it helps, to shut your eyes and think,

To search yourself and find the thoughts you sink,

As you can search your think and find your thoughts, the ones you hid, and some with force

BUT

They exist in the leaves from the trees that have grown, ones you’ve planted, ones in stone.

They float around and move at will, as they still move when you lay still.

Yet they flee, when you’re searching the most, Yet they leave, unseen, a ghost.

It is because, we cannot explain, what we see, and what we contain.

So read your words, the ones you write, and plant more trees, to colour your white,

Look at all things, unlock your locks, and always think, outside of the box,

And if you do, then luck will show, creativity is a plant, and few seeds grow.

 C.f

After much thought and listening to other people talk, I’ve developed a theory about how people are looked at individually. We are all defined by one ‘moment’, either something we’ve done, are doing or something that’s happened between you and that person. Simply put, it’s a remembering tool for how we define individuals in comparison to others. For example guys look at girls with one moment in mind, its usually they’ve slept with the girl, dated them, been hurt or it could even be something like “she was that drunk chick from a party I went to“. It’s simple, we all go back to that one moment when we’re asked about that person on the spot, and it’s the first thing we connect to when we think of them. When you have really close people around you, the lines are more relaxed, so it usually depends on the individuals involved and the most relatable situation to another person who does not know them as well as you do, to which you can use various ‘moments’ to different people. (Family is mostly excluded as they are defined by titles – Sister, Dad etc).

In saying we all have one moment that we link to one another, the strength of these things can be extended with actions down the road. Hypothetically if you remember someone from say an injury, when they do it again you’re not surprised and the moment grows, eg. “The dude that broke his arm playing soccer” to “The dude that is always injured”. Sometimes due to severity of moments, they can be linked to new moments that could replace the first one, for example “You remember that Chris guy who broke his arm playing soccer? Well he slept with Blah Blah on the weekend”. Basically the part of my theory is if someone has done something once, then we’re less surprised the second time. Also if they do something more recent and greater than the moment you relate to them with, it can overtake the initial moment that we thought of them by, but it’s rare.

Most of the time, it’s very hard to change that moment you have inside someones head. Death, Relationships, Fame or Wealth can change it quickly, but it’s usually much further down the road and can become irrelevant if you no longer know this person. Usually you become stuck with what you have, so unless you’re content with how you believe most people come to remember you, you really just have to hope that what people relate to you with isn’t a monumental fuck up on your behalf.

Yves Klein – “Leap Into the Void”.

C.f – The Drunk, the guy who broke his leg, the guy you drunkenly kissed, the guy that writes his thoughts on this website.

So it’s finally here; the year that will apparently end the world, have an Olympics and be the white light for people who struggled through 2011, to start again. I think it’s really healthy for people to set these dates for a fresh start, because it’s so much easier with an event, especially a new year, rather then seeking the extra motivation to start at once. The only trouble is these things never seem to take off passed January for most, and the usual habits and routine return in the new year. Anyway, I’ve been thinking for weeks about what my resolution would be, and despite a few minor things, I don’t really have a substantial one. All I’ve been able to think about lately is doing all the creative endeavours I’ve wanted to do for months. This year all I want to do is spill everything buzzing around my head and create ideas like I’m the god of my own creations, to see things start and take off in various ways and come alive how I envision them to be. The beautiful thing about this is there is no deadline, or dates for a fresh idea, it can happen anywhere and anytime and all I’m doing is using the date on my paper to do it, rather then losing it inside my own thoughts like I did in 2011. 2012 will be the year of the notepad.

David Lynch can touch anything and make something great, and this is no exception. Also credit to the people who made this video, they did a really, really good piece.

C.f