Time is damn weird. Well, maybe not so much time itself as our warping perceptions of it...
I've got a call scheduled with my dearest of soul sisters, whom I haven't spoken to / seen in four years... and the fact that it's been four years is kinda blowing my mind. In some ways, that seems like lifetimes ago. In others, the question screams, "what the fuck have I been doing for four years," as they have gone so fast I can barely account for practically anything significant that'd justify a four-year expenditure of time & energy.
Though perhaps, the bigger point as to why the sense of discord at the thought of this time's passing: it's a disturbingly clear marker of having not felt fully, truly alive in four years.
Last we'd talked, I reached out to her, panicking over a girl situation. Ha. Long story short: I'd just reached acceptance of my marriage's death while also undergoing a broken heart from being exiled from society & cutoff from snowboarding due to non-compliance with a mass medical experiment, went through a near-death experience on DMT, and digitally crossed paths with a cool-ass chick that served as a portal to a perplexingly magical month... until a Scorpio(n) bite brought it to an immediate close, stirred up a ton of repressed grief over the marriage, and kinda pulled me back into an emotional undertow which I'm not entirely sure I ever actually survived.
In attempting to account for where four years went, I can't help shake the metaphor of treading on the edge of a whirlpool since that point - sometimes getting my head above water long enough to forget I'm still in that vortex, until getting dragged in & drowned again - resistance futile, the only thing to really do is to surrender, go through yet another metaphorical (ego) death, and pop out once more like a video game character in a loop. Yeah, that does sound a bit dramatic. And yes, there's surely 'evidence' that's not the case, and it could just be how I feel during the lows of inevitable emotional waves.
Nonetheless, we're doing authenticity here. And the key focal point through this all: life has felt alot more like a purgatory for the last four years than any awesome, joyful, wonderful, amazing, magical, exciting adventure. Sure, there are probably alot of people who feel the same about their lives, so much that it could even be considered depressingly "normal" - after all, not everyone is so privileged as to live life as masters of "Law Of Attraction" whose daily experience is fit for social media highlight reels. But "normal" ain't always optimal. Or "healthy."
Sure, in some ways, the last four years hasn't been all that bad. Three of it, living my teen dream - comfortable in slopeslide luxury, snowboarding 100 days a season, making music. Finally, in my fourties, taking my health more seriously - getting consistent and actually gaining muscle with X3 workouts and improved nutrition. "Honoring myself & my (changing) values" as saying no to what doesn't resonate anymore. Finding contentment in the simplicity of these routines and small victories in discipline.
Yet, somehow that doesn't seem to compensate for the sense of lacking aliveness. Yeah, things change with age. Sure, we probably wouldn't even want to "feel alive" in the same ways we did when younger, but may be wise to embrace maturity and the different ways of living richly that come in different phases of life. But I dunno man... time's passing so damn fast, you gotta question: is this it? Is there not more? Have I been fucking gaslighting myself with a narrative of "contentment" to keep complacent in a comfort zone that may be okay, while knowing at some level there's gotta be more joy, magic, excitement, love, and adventure available...?
As approaching the opening of the mountain last month, I felt like I couldn't process it... I was still dumbfounded how fast summer disappeared... which was three months earlier. Physically, I was walking around looking up at snow on the peaks; mentally/emotionally, I was lagging months behind. Yet on the flip side, I've already been half off in the future - anticipating the winter being over and having to move somewhere else, before riding even began.
Everyone says time seems to move faster with age. But hot damn, does the phenomenon ever catch ya off guard sometimes.
And no doubt, the "acceleration of time" has increased along with technological innovation - the rate at which we access more & more information, at which more & more "progress" (and degression), amping up steadily.
Though paradoxically, while time seems to be moving faster & faster, it's also felt like I've been moving slower & slower.
Creatively, it's been an entirely different chapter the last couple years - no new music being made, but refining stuff already started. From more artist/producer mode to engineer. Numerous revisions & iterations of songs I thought were done, re-mixing & remastering them to much higher quality standards. Feeling it a necessary "part of the process" to actually complete stuff properly - partly for the sake of these works' own maturity, and partly to clear space for upcoming chapters of fresh creation. And holy jeezus, does this process ever seem slowwww at times. Months passing in the blink of an eye, while chiseling away, sculpting these tracks for a cohesive album. And back & forth between knowing it's a process that takes time - yet the journey just as worth it as the results - and questioning whether I've just been dragging it the fuck out, perpetuating loops of the past, rationalizations of their replay cloaked in "refinement" narratives. Yes, the 10,000 hours are essential to mastery and my skills have been massively up-levelling... but is the process supposed to feel this slow? Have I been keeping myself in the purgatory of this "chapter" while there exists some potential to shift tracks onto a "timeline" where creative 'progress' can actually move as fast as it feels time does...?
For all the "spiritual" rhetoric about how "what's yours can't pass you by," "everything arrives in perfect timing," etc., I can't help but wonder what a gaslight that might be - how we actually can and do keep ourselves stuck, stagnant, on plateaus, perpetuating the same old loops... at the cost of our most precious, limited resource: time.
Perhaps these questions are "normal" for the midlife-crisis phase. Perhaps it's all perfectly aligned as expected, with my architecture as a Human Design 6/2 being in the extended hermit phase "on the roof," recovering & integrating from the first trial-and-error phase which had me scattered in all different directions, excitedly surfing highly-dopaminergic hyperfocus waves against which the slower pace of life seems less grand by comparison. And for sure, I appreciate the different, slower pace. I appreciate the hermitude. While also remaining vigilant enough to keep questioning whether I'm actually on "the correct path" or have justified complacency in what isn't fulfilling upon the "realization of my potential" - most notably embodied not in terms of worldly "success," but ultimately Peace, Satisfaction, and Surprise. Which are present sometimes. But is "sometimes" good enough...? For as short as these lives of ours are and how fast time flies - sure, it may be unrealistic to expect peak highs all the time, but if/when four years pass with more than brief moments of real joy and the sense of treading water on the edge of a whirlpool persists...?
Have I been deaf, dumb and blind to the rescue helicopter...? Is one not coming because I never prayed...? Or is the vortex of my own making, accentuated with sleep deficits, overthinking and counterproductive focus...? Or have I not actually surrendered to its gravity, keeping stuck in resistance to what is - ultimately, the only way out, through that death portal as letting go, fully drowning in it, testing faith that there is something "better" on the other side...?
Perhaps these contemplations are especially potent, facing crossroads of where to go next in a few months - aware that the choice has consequences. Not just the experiences different options offer, but the time lost/gained via commitment. And no doubt, I've become hypervigilent in assessments - whether there actually is a "right" or "wrong" choice, feeling as though there is... and as though the costs of the wrong choice are radically higher than they used to be when younger, had more time, and more enthusiasm for whatever adventures life presented.
Part of me wishes there was as strong a magnetism as there was the three years prior to Bali guiding my next moves. But there's not. And part of me fears making the next move without clarity, from logic rather than conscious alignment. Returning to Revelstoke felt like one of those logical moves - and while it provided a cozy hermit cave & scratching the itch of curiosity, I haven't loved it the same as the first time. And just like that, two years gone... without that same love to show for it...? Part of me feels freaked the fuck out at committing anywhere for another year or two with the risk of that same outcome, as though I'm just waiting for "clarity," for crypto to finally pop off and fund somewhere/something "better." Yet how many fucking more years of my life are gonna be spent waiting rather than living? Yeah, there's alot to be said for timing, and big life decisions aren't always best made without clarity - yet, there also inevitably come points where commitments must be made. ⏳
And, I'm not oblivious to the fact that location may in fact be secondary to inner state.
That moving to a busier city & neighborhood won't be a cure for the waves of loneliness, more external stimulation a permanent solution to the stagnancy, prettier views the salve to existential dreads. That the sense of treading water on edge of a vortex won't magically disappear with a change of astrocartography. That time will continue accelerating independent of place, and the adaptation of pace to/with it will remain a self-responsibility separate from external conditions. Yet acknowledging that place can & does make a huge fucking difference. Ah, the paradoxes of life.
That all said, this exploration wouldn't be complete without a flip side...
Truth be told, these types of writings tend to be birthed out of emotional lows - which are never an accurate representation of the whole picture. Especially in midst of extended sleep & vitamin D deficits, the sense of tiredness can be amplified and distort perceptions. And as easy as it may be to conclude 'not much has changed in four years,' the mind is a tricky beast. It's also easy to overlook growth & maturation that may not appear as dramatic as ego deems highlight reel worthy.
While the existential qualms in emotional lows persuade into the narratives above, as though I haven't "truly been living," it's also surely worth reflecting on what the benchmark for that comparison is. i.e. The peak highs of youthful adventures and criteria ego thinks/feels may be necessary for continuation of the grandiosity it used to revel in as chasing those highs.
The musical progress may seem slow. The consistency of body care, not all that particularly exciting or sexy. All the "inner work," not exactly pleasant or enjoyable. And the result of it all may be occurring over these years so subtly that it's tempting to doubt how much of a difference it makes. Especially when the ego still wants bigger, better, faster, and there's still conditioning of the mind that judges the lack of in-your-face "success" as inferior. But maybe at this stage of the game, the criteria is different. Values are different. Life is different. Maybe there’s even an emerging embodiment of wisdom underway as slowing down to a sustainable, organic pace rather than continuing to try push & force things in attempts to “keep up” with how the mind & ego think things “should” be going faster (and thus consequentially crashing & burning on repeat). Maybe.
Emotional waves continue through their cycles... yet "there is no truth in the now," as the saying about emotional authority goes. While these types of expressions may scream to get out during the lows, perhaps I continually forget how different the rest of the time is. And that even while I may not feel as "alive," "in love with life," overflowing with magic, joy, and sugar sprinkles even in the highs, there's overall been more consistency & stability in recent years - which is perhaps actually alot healthier & more sustainable. Perhaps my mental-emotional hasn't just been lagging a few months, but years - not yet fully caught up with the transformation that's been underway, and judging "progress" based on outdated criteria fixating on the wrong things, versus slowing down and attuning to the growth happening more subtly on unseen levels.
I don't fucking know. And it's kind of annoying as fuck to observe this conditioned/programmed part of myself that is still so fixated on "growth," writing with undertones of some performative mumbo jumbo trying to sound as though I do.
Clearly, I don't have life figured out anywhere near the way I used to think I did, still being humbled daily. Sometimes I wish I could revive the confidence of my youth and healthy ego, selectively turning back time to retrieve lost parts of myself that'd serve well to reintegrate. But, I ain't convinced of the "there is no time, everything exists all here at once" quantum jargon - the past is past, and time sure as fuck is speeding up, even as we slow down. And with that acceleration of time, perhaps too the death of ego, and rebirth of whatever is filling its place. Hopefully it ends up something more coherent than the mid-chrysalis mushy, decaying glob of the in-between.
So much more that could yet be said. Perhaps too much said already.
So time ticks on, running out... maybe at some point, there'll come a simple acceptance of that - embracing the warped senses of time, acceleration/deceleration changes, uncertainties, and the full spectrum of emotions that come, go, and cycle around (or up/down) again with/through it. (Maybe it never was a "whirlpool," but a toroidal field.)
Maybe at some point, the overthinking will cease, the concern over "progress" and future trajectories paused, and I'll be able to truly tap back into that full love for the present moment once again.
Or maybe I repeatedly do in those moments of hyperfocus flow mixing music and snowboarding - just foolishly forgetting it the rest of the time.
Or some shit. Blah, blah, blah. 🤷♂️