the self sets the limits

the spirit and soul is shining underneath, waiting to break out of the rock that conceals it, out of darkness for us to see and believe. meanwhile the world goes on waiting for you to arise. will you ever? the tarnished lack in a rusty controlled mechanical sort of perfection with an intellectual hook demands a miraculous effort. most are pulled out of the path of life and retired, subservient to other forces, equally bad as good, fenced in by unnatural designs. oh! the self-set limits of life experience. the adventure lies in potential and may very well be worth living and dying for!

to all aspiring artists

You can be an artist if you are creating as you go. you live your life and you record it with whatever materials you choose, in whatever way you wish to record it, not necessarily how it appears to you, but how it feels to you, not necessarily each and every thing which transpires, but those instances which stand out for you, for whatever reason, good or badness aside, morality unnecessary, judgment removed, recounting perhaps some infinitesimal change may have established in your thoughts, feelings, sentiments, or even your style, behavior, fashion, or manner of dreaming or daydreaming, it's all up for grabs, whether it pushed you forward, pulled you in or dropped you out, whether it silenced you, gave you pause, made you more vocal or expressively settled you into new rhythms or arrhythms. you can be an artist in any medium but if you wanna be an artist try to be an artist every day. the chore may feel quite burdensome at times, and especially at the start but not only in the beginning, either, very often midstream, do not let this deter you, this aversion to effort, do not mistake it for a lack of inspiration, okay, we all get tired by work on mammoth projects in need of our unceasing attention, just battle on through and love yourself more for your ceaseless, tireless devotion to what you do. and remember, when you come across a crisis of confidence in yourself, perhaps in the face of the contender, or in light of a culture which has not yet opened its eyes to you, to your content, remember the unquestionable and valid fact of your life, that only you have lived this life, this life can neither be price-tagged nor questioned, this life is yours and your alone and you are and always will be its great historian. and without you telling it, showing it, representing it? it will not otherwise be known! let this thought alone drive you forward in your quest!

sky

I think I am coming back to life again, it happens many times each day, my mind tricks me down some rabbit hole but these days I got a skateboard and I put that puppy on wheels and roll my ass right on up out of the lowest low, you cannot hold me down there in that pit of hell, na na na! I think I am coming back up with a backscratcher flare as I fly off the rim and up on out of there, ya, cause I know despair and you cannot hold me down there, I don't care who you are or what your accusation, I will be redeemed into a new sensation. There's a risk to success. I might fall out from the sky. There's holes in my clothes but at least I try, man, at least I try.

Journal # 05.19.15

ncac adventure 2015

When i come to focus on the down and outs, all hell breaks loose and i can do anything. i got stung by a bee while pushing forward to the tail end of 330 miles. i thought he was a shard of glass in my leg. i was racing alongside a freeway in the central valley with a friend. the pain got sharper but it could not hurt me. all the pain in the world i had pushed into a chain. the down and outs where once i was one. some had lost their lives like a roman candle shooting flares out into the darkness. they lit up my world, too. others behind doors for years taking meds, watching controlled light shows until their eyes turned red and their hearts went dim. depression. alienation. marginalization. dying. some of it was self-willed. some of it was not. anger and defiance and blame are no longer the qualities you find in me. i pushed them into the chain which powered the two wheels below me into the wide open. almond and rice plantations here in the Capay Valley. Cache Creek. Cowboy country. I love my country, I love this land. Marysville. Oroville. Sacramento, California. Life is wide open again. all the pain in the world i pushed into a chain. and then i came back again.

Journal # 03.10.15

Wanna try something? Try leaving your cell phone at home. Try making a difference by listening to someone without interruption. Try not letting the world cut in on you. Try not reading anything but their eyes. Try writing down nothing but the memory on your mind. Try not researching but searching your immediate environment for what you need. Try asking a different question. Try on a different salutation. Try smiling and being friendly, even when you are not feeling so hot. Try forgetting you are in a rush to get somewhere. Try not mentioning the weather or your athritis. Try to forget politics and sports for a day. Try taking a different, slower, less direct route. Try walking around lost, without any answers. Welcome back to (human) being. Can we love you now?

K reads 'faith'

Original poetry by Katya Mills, 2014
(from  K IS SILENT)



all i wanted was nothing i needed
when wanting
my need
superceded

i was told life is work
i was taught to work hard

i never knew faith

i thought
to control

even the sun
had to learn
without spin
the earth burn

even the sun
cannot control
all it made
all it touched
verdant spring
so inspired

even the sun
needs some faith
every night
to surrender
every night
we remember

every life
owes a debt
toward the sun

every morning
when the light comes
every life
looks up

to credit
the sun
its creation

far away
from me now

may my blood
sweat and tears
be the same
so my needs
my want
supercedes

without it
the darkness
eternally
leads