Rabbit Creative

I’ve learned that my mind is like a movie with no end. I, of course, am the director. I can pick any scene, any time period, any where in the world or any other world. Instantly. It’s gratifying. It’s the ultimate video game. And the best part is, I can enter this simulation any time I want. I am a master of my mind.

Except there’s just one problem. Please understand, what I have described is entirely accurate, except one part. I’m not the master; I am the slave.

I love freedom. The thought of being a slave is unbearable. So I started looking. What I am finding is that when I think I’m directing and watching movies of my choice, I’m actually paralyzing myself. What is actually happening is I am perpetually and viciously making short-lived connections within my brain. In english: I’m refusing to focus. As a result, I am failing to learn. To me, the world has been the same as it was 5 years ago. In the past two months I am certain I have pounded enough anti-venom into my soul that it found the strength to throw a wrench into the mechanistic modalities I have chosen to steer my life with.

This anti-venom, which I will share with you, isn’t a cure-all. It’s not something you can purchase with any medium of exchange. Except one. Your time. Time is the ingredient to so many things. Growing up in a semi-capitalisitc nation with an anti-capitalist agenda has provided two things. The first is bad advice. The second is a personality conflict.

With regards to the bad advice, I don’t think anyone I know has ever really hurt me on purpose. I believe every one I have ever known really meant well; they thought they were doing the right thing. And I can honestly say I am grateful for everything every one of them has ever tried to do for me. To be certain, not of all of it was bad. Some of it was powerful stuff. I’m asking myself, “If it was so powerful, why didn’t you use it?”. And my answer is, “Because I was off horsing around in my mind when it was being given.”

The personality conflict is my own demon. I’ve let it grown. I sought out connections that helped stifle growth. I sought refuge in the echo chamber of my insecurities and excuses. My very own shrine to mediocrity. The scary part isn’t that I built it; the scary part is that I never really left.

The interesting part of this transformation is that it’s both immediate and gradual. I believe Tony Robbins is correct when he says that change happens in an instant. Change does. Decisions can take time. I think it’s possible for aspects of my existence to learn, transform or adapt more slowly than others. So in this sense, my overall “change” has been gradual. Let me try my hand at a story…

Let’s borrow our earlier idea of having built a shrine of mediocrity. Imagine living inside the shrine. There are no windows in this shrine. Because I wanted to see the mountains, sky and sun, I painted them. I rendered them beautifully. I was so smart. Look at what I can create. A neuron fires. A connection attempt is made. A busy signal. The spark fades. The neuron chills. Some where inside me was a ray of hope. From whence it shown I do not know; it is hiding. What I do know is that that ray of hope shown its light on an empty wall. And it inspired me to paint a door. Until today, that door has never been opened. I’d thought about it. I really did. No I didn’t. I’d collapse next to it and cry. Or curse it. Why did I ever paint this foul thing. It does nothing but remind me!

Thank goodness. My hand is on the door knob. My eyes are closed. My nose points towards the earth. I inhale. Slowly, deeply, fully. Exhale. Turn the knob…

The door is opened. Ajar, really. I see… another ray. This one doesn’t move though. It’s apparently not coming from me. Or is it? Well, if I hadn’t opened the door, I wouldn’t be seeing it. So, even though it’s not coming from me, it’s not going to come to me. I have to go to it. So I must open this door wide enough for me to fit through.