Mindblown: A Blog About Philosophy

Expression is revolutionary, as in, a revolving evolutionary impulse. Write, dance, sing cry, express that contraction, that letting out, releasing, giving it back to the earth. Expansion. We return that which is not entitled to us- received with gratitude. Released back as an offering of reverence and service. I feel like I’m in a constant…

Hi dad. So what I was saying earlier this morning is an invitation really. To clear any limiting templates. We have an opportunity with the suggestion of working on your/our legacy to restore the sacred templates. This is the work you set out to do in the 70’s. The seeds were planted and in me…

I write to smell the rain. Writing marks the pulse of life. Expressing through words with pen and paper allows me to recognize the impermanence of all things and also the creation of all things. As a child there were aspects to life I did not understand and so I used writing to escape. To…

It isn’t so much death I fear; living with pain is what I fear. Cracking open with salt and tears and wet. Body bent, head bowing to the ground or on the ground, mind taking the back seat as snot and water and folding hands touch face and ground and knees pulled tight to chest.…

Thousands and Thousands. Countless ages stored in my bones. Ash compacting. Tears squeeze out to make room for more. More sacrifice. More quiet. More pain. I think: the less pain I show the world the less the world will be in pain. But then I see her. I see her pain. And her aloneness, and…

She moves me. I don’t quite know what to do with these feelings. I try to feel them. Invite them into my gut rather than the mind. The mind wrapping concrete threads through their bones. The ones who touched me with their depths. And laughter. And clay painted skin. She opened her home for us…

We are writers. Creators with perspectives and experiences. Themes coursing through our bodies and dreams and we search for meaning. We search. Looking for words to fill the blank spaces, the question marks. To make sense of the world. I write because, as I write, I am heard. A built in friend, guide, lover, muse.…

The Curb coffee shop. Honolulu, Hawaii. Artisanal coffee. Iced Toddy on nitrous. Skateboarder, jittery, stumbled out, found his feet on board and cruised off. Cast of characters, caring about quality caffeine. Coming and going. For a tiny corner shop there’s quite a scene. Japanese. German. Haole’s and hapas. Speaking of languages and travel. Of a…

Today we became pirates. Initiated by Captain Hammerhead Allen and Black Sand Bob. We met them days ago after a plot to capture their swords while in their sleep. This was before we met them. Before we found their ship in the harbor. The moment we spotted the ship we were on an adventure. Kallai…