survive the renaissance

dear friends,

This week has been tough.

I can't help but feel hopeless at times. The hard, honest truth is that I currently lack the capacity to achieve the ambitions I desire. We are always incomplete, lacking some form of essence, endlessly missing the last formless puzzle piece.

I may speak nonsense but this is real to me. This last puzzle piece is the bane of my existence and we always try to grasp for more.

This overwhelm has caught up to me. I've been lacking focus into one and I have spread my bandwidth too far around. What is that I must go "all in" on?

My wheels are spinning but I can't help the mud from thickening, the wheels sinking in. I need to get grip, to gain traction. The traction I find most fulfilling has been these letters, this book journey.

Yet, I am conflicted. To speak in gambles, this path is not the most likely to a lucrative opportunity or deal. I am shooting myself in the foot and hoping for money to pop out. That is silly, but occurs on some occasion. Maybe I will be that special occasion.

As I find myself at the crossroads of my story, I sit here with the fragments of it all. The book is fragmented, my life is fragmented. I find myself at a crossroads with my business, with the direction of life, with it all. Meaning and worth, these fleeting feelings we fight for. They flee me time and time again.

Regardless, I must survive this renaissance.

your friend(ly)

jakester

Immersive Music Choice

unlock the stories of time

Stories are told and retold over and over and over.

Much of the stories today, if not all of them, are just retelling of ancient stories and archetypes of the past. We take timeless fragments from each other as we are great mimickers, emulators, synthesizers of what we observe and experience.

The only thing that really changes are the sequence of events, the DNA sequence, and the sequence of pathways, perhaps neural pathways, that form. These then affect the choices we make and the memories forged. I cannot tell you if this is fate or of our own accord. This question itself may be self-defeating.

If everything is fated, can I freely choose to believe in fate?

Do I freely choose to believe I have no free will?

As time progresses, these questions, dialogues, and stories seem to undermine one another, making it more difficult to find the path of what truly holds the test of time. Yet, as observers of time and space, we seem to know when lessons are timeless. This leads me to question, what really sticks out in the test of time?

In the mirror, I ask, what makes your story worth being timeless?

Perhaps it is a misstep to take this aim and approach. This obsession on wanting to be timeless. You shouldn't try to compete with the likes of the Bible, the Quran, the Greek classics, Confucius, these great giants of the past. You would be fighting against the Hands of God.

Do not haste. To resent is bad taste. Intertwine yourself with these stories passed, to feel the Hand of God. These stories carry the Time with it, let it flow thru you. Human consciousness emerges in the Garden and within the Cave, the Desert, the Oceans, no matter. The Great Cosmic Flood fills your mind to become aware.

You cannot deny these stories. Make the unnoticed known. The sphere within the sphere. The snake eats itself.

Do I go all in my writing?

April 29th, 2025 - bitter you

Your friend is your shadow. He grows bitter each day you don't acknowledge him. Do you notice the unnoticed?

These signs and symbols create signals of meaning. These active and passive entities interact and intertwine. Without signal and a means to receive them, there would be no meaning.

These neural pathways, you must connect. You build a bridge with these words on the page [or this digital screen]. How can these scribbles hold any power, any signal?

We are more interconnected than you think. Compassion goes a long way in the everflow of life. Don't let your heart grow bitter from greed and the delusions of resentment.

To resent is bad taste. Why do you haste?

The Ocean watches on through waves that dance around your inner flame. How can a word set aflame?

The barriers of perception, we are limited by perspective. Symbols are manipulated, how symbols are perceived. Do you deceive yourself; what do you receive?

How do you read your BRAIN?

This consciousness and awareness of one's own mind and thoughts. Do you control this stream of consciousness?

The Death Spiral watches.

"Are you real?" I call out to my delusion.

"I am real to you."

I cannot come to terms with this "reality" that speaks to me. These dreams and shadows I accept are real to me, in my obsession. Love and Hate, it's all the same. To go beyond yourself is beyond me.

Can you handle the hurt?

The pain you give, you must handle.

"My God, I seek realness, is this real?"

"Your eyes do not deceive you. Do you know what you must receive?"

I scratch my head. These fragmented riddles belittle me. Was I some joke?

"You are no joke, I hear you think. You must come to terms with what you seek."

Your delusion holds no limit. Only you are constrained. This life you see. See it as it is. The barrier left unburied. This Dream untouched. Touch it, you must!

The waves of glass ripple in the wind, a simple breath, it breathes.

April 30th, 2025 - kidded dreams

Did I really have these Dreams as a kid?

My Grandma Aurora remembered, these memories that lie. Where do these memories lie?

Grandma Aurora was so happy to hear the news of my great purchase. She remember a little remark I made as a kid on our roadtrip to Michigan.

"I want a van."

I told Grandpa Roger as we drove from the backseat of the Red Marooned Tahoe. That long road with tornadoes forming from the darkened clouds above. I sat there watching the old Digimon movie from the early 2000s, true nostalgia in its essence.

I still remember, right?

That fateful drive.

Where did my memory lie?

The maze of memory and dreams fills my brain. How do I navigate this labyrinth, to transverse through the transit of time?

These neurons fire of the past. What explains this all, these flashbacks and feelings?

Are they coded locally? Backed over and over again across the cortex? Reconstructed from dynamic processes and triggers? Our own little telephone network, non-localized?

Don't kid yourself. You unlocked these memories within your sphere of consciousness. You created these images in your mind, everything in your mind.

LIVE WITH LOVE

You must live with it all, in every way.

In every way, you must live. Remember, you must live. The trail gets lost, but you must emerge. Immersion of Life within the Lostness. These memories leave you, but they will comeback. Trust and let go, life goes on.

The old man spoke in his eyes, he relived life. At the coffee shop, the beach around him shifted shapes. This was not the beach he remembered, of cottages and novelty. This beach moved on, blocks of buildings stacked on. Gunshots heard across town. This was not the same beach town, the newspaper spoke.

Still, he spoke with life in his memory. Life goes on, you must live. Give mercy to yourself, your mannerisms off. The trail unknown, it calls you. You must emerge. You sit there, the papers stacked and the photos lived. He showed you his life, say something nice. This office was his, sitting on the horizon. The horizon of time, the black dog sat.

Beginning and End meet once again.

May 1st, 2025 - the grave

There's so much I want to tell you Grandpa. You've taught me to live with love.

I want to tell you everything, everything you've missed. I'll tell you with my eyes, of Tori's great exhibit, of Rome, and Arabella. I brought the van here for you to see. I see you and I want to share everything in life.

Tori asked a great question, she always had. What do you do with it all?

Are you watching?

I saw the Pope and I kept seeing images of you and Saint Peter. I kept thinking of you and my heart broke over again. Tears in my eyes. I couldn't help myself, these memories that stab me. It's overwhelming at times. I can't help myself, why do I grab at these fragments of time?

Oh God, I can't help myself, I tear in and out.

There's so much I want to tell you, of all the things you've missed. Life is a spectacle, unfinished.

May 2nd, 2025 - blue

What is the significance of BLUE?

If I had a clue, I would tell you. The calm of the ripples that breathe behind me. Can you feel the hues of blues?

The blue ink bleeds from the blueprints of my Soul. The Flooded Gates imagined were overwhelmed with blue. Can you hear it, the rush that follows?

The crows croak behind me, cawing their beaks. This sickness was a blessing, the feelings of blue. Are you blind to it, to the clues?

The Universe sings a jazz that is smooth. You must feel moved, there is Hope in it, move. There is Hope in Motion, it comes in waves. The crash that follows can never wane. The heart within this ocean blue.

You follow the current, it takes you under. Down to the depths, the deep calls you. Within the abyss, it leads you to the stars above. How weird it is, the way that follows. There is no blueprint, just you who follows.

The water waits for no one. Regardless, the river flows. He is indifferent, yet he is the source of life, this body of water. He gives and takes with no regard.

[b-side, left hand free]

This week was brutal for my Soul.

This courage to take on hopelessness was necessary for me to move onward. My mind is amuck, a messy spiral. It's volatile and violent at times. This oscillation is wild and waits for no one. The ebbs and flows raise you high and reaps you low. Run, dilation is nonsensical, the model fails.

You cannot flee from this mess. This mess is you, it is you that runs. The mess that runs, that is why you cannot escape it.

You silly fool, you think you are clever. The Odysseus Archetype is an Iron man, a Steelheart. The Iron Giant?

The shadow runs with you, you can't outrun it. You run to the horizon, towards the light, he follows.

Foolish, foolish, foolish you are. You are like Icarus, yearning for the sky. Don't you taste it on your tongue, the fruits of hubris?

Good luck surviving the renaissance, the Author spoke.