Writing on a computer is different than when using pen and
ink.
The medium affects the work.
We are the medium for the work being done in the world.
"Impress your will upon the millennia," as Nietzsche’s work
says.
Incendence v. Transcendence
The concept is terrific. It reminds me of the end of Narnia,
where CS Lewis says the world, as one got deeper in, somehow got bigger and more
beautiful.
Incendence is the further pluming of our self, deeper in and into larger, more beautiful spaces.
Understanding the difference in what we are and what we do
helps us bridge the gap between what we’re doing and what we come alive most in,
and by extension, what we most bring alive. When people recommend chasing your
passion, I think this is the route they’re talking about.
I’ve been doing improv for about two years.
It brings me alive and I think I also bring it alive.
It is where I find myself blooming.
I also am learning a lot
about leadership.
Over the course of a few years I’ve amassed a great set of
knowledge and practice, including the patience to enjoy it gain momentum over decades.
This presumes I make it into coming decades.
As my professor said, we just have to keep our eyes open to
stay alive.
He was helicoptered out of Beirut with his wife and young son soon
after the Dean of the university he was teaching at was assassinated. I listen
when he speaks.
His story has gained momentum over time.
The narrative we use is critically important.
The story of ourselves we tell ourselves.
The future we have and the past we retain, the present we
experience, forever transforming into the history we choose from.
I’m only writing to write.
The discipline is more important than the expression because
it is through discipline that expression finds the power in its voice.
It’s startling how little new I—or perhaps anyone—is really saying.
If you get anything from me, it’s that everything I have
came before me for centuries till I was born to express it during our time.
I was listening to some of the horrible music I made over
half a decade ago and before.
When I was making those songs, I dreamt about people finding
it after my body of work had run its course and they were still hungry for
more.
If they find it now, and they like it, I would probably turn in my grave.
Laughing is a very important component of my conversations.
So I hear these songs and instantly begin in on a dismissive narrative about all my previous work.
The danger is the habit
extends ultimately to most of what I do regardless of the quality of
expression.
Artists have written this off as part of their process for years,
but its only partially true.
The other half of the equation is that we build
mountains over decades to spend other decades mining through them for gold.
It
takes a ton of ore for a few milligrams of gold. Something outrageous like
that.
Those horrible songs are the ore of my present, pregnant with gold within
them.
I’m about five songs into a third and maybe final album.
I’d like to keep making them; as their quality improves so does the expense. A pleasant problem.
I need to start making it more self-sustainable if I can
continue at this level and pace.
The work will speak for itself and if it
brings the opportunity for more then it’s probably a good bet that’s a way my
voice should come out.
Improv has been that in two short years, but I also spend at
least a few hours on a main stage every week.
The other four songs of the album may have a few bits of
gold from the decades gone by.
As if time teaches us to smelt and refine
ourselves so that we ultimately glow like the precious rarities we are.
Incendence
to passion.
If you’re reading this, thanks.
Isn’t it funny that we will
probably forget this moment together?
