Friday, September 26, 2008

Smiles on faces that know the abundance of perfect moments.

Smiles on faces that know the abundance of perfect moments.

The beauty lost between the first and second hand,
The moment - young we stood, ageless in our minds,
The moment past; and wiser we shall live.

I find the pleasure of truth delicate,
The truth of pleasure intricate,
And the thickness of my thoughts paint shadows on empty walls.
comfort and the means to what end?

There are moments when my doubt would overtake the joys of poverty. The fleeting lust of safety and safe words.
Forgotten faces toiling for the sake of fading vice.
I have looked at the life. I have weighed the price.
Neither worth my pursuit. Yours?

Who owns my morning, my sunset, my afternoon?
Am I the master of many things; or the slave to one-thousand shiny reflections?
When I wake, do I have a choice? Do I dread my tomorrow?
When I sleep, am I content with all that is?
And if nothing is my everything; do I dream in peace?
Beautiful choice. Beautiful moment owned.

Only here in the labyrinth of enternal luxury, have I forgotten the sensual ache of substance and the magnificent taste of worth.
Give me back my stolen days!
Give me back sanity!
$4495.00 - is the tag on the cashmere jacket. The price to be someone. Paid by those who are nothing without it.
It will fade like me, it will fade like all else in this fading place - and not be missed.
The sweat of palm trees drips into my imagination and I climb off the wheel.
Turn it yourself. Or better: don't - you do have that choice.
Suddenly, I know the abundance of perfect moments.
Count them. They are passing.
Ce Aujourd'hui.

(Andrew Tipton)

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Lost in the Expression

I was genuinely disturbed yesterday. Caught in the ramblings of a drunken art student, I discovered the desperate, morbid side of personal expression. Artistic work that is neither redeeming or purposeful - wrapped up entirely in the insanity of itself.

I am incredibly facinated by the creativity that artists possess. There are insights into truths, colors, angles, fabric, visions - sometimes perfectly released onto pages, or environments. They inspire me with their complexity, and intrigue me with their depth. My favorite type of artist, is the one that can completely express the beauty buried deep down inside their souls. Its amazing to see the very essence of a person portrayed in their work - the motion, the reasons that the person exists, right there in front of you. Those moments are priceless.
When I draw or paint, I feel that joy coming out of my body - the passion for living, and the excitement become part of the work. You can see it in the finished work. It has beauty.

Sometimes we forget that we cannot create beauty - we merely uncover it. Beauty is not something that we develop, or discover, or manipulate - it has always existed, we just see pieces of it from time to time; in ourselves, and in others.

Last night, I saw examples of angry, depressed people, creating morbid, depressing work, and calling it beautiful. Between the jumble and the intentional confusion, the artists were attempting to establish their own subjective beauty. Somehow we begin to equate creative with beautiful, - somehow we expect that if we dig deep enough between disturbing lines, we'll find something illuminous. Curious. I was neither impressed nor inspired.

(Andrew Tipton)

Friday, September 19, 2008

Shallow water

I got sick of talking last week.
I was sick of the emptiness of words and the shallowness that seems to wrap itself around everything I say. There are deep deep thoughts and reasons below the surface, a thirsty heart and awareness; but I am forever wading through the lethargy of bullsh*t that keeps conversation comfortable. BlaaahH! Where does that come from?

I was mid-sentence in a boring conversation with someone I didn't know - and suddenly I just stopped talking. I smiled and calmly walked away. The entire dialogue made me sick at my stomach. I had portrayed myself as petty, crass and arrogant - and I just didn't want to continue the charade. I couldn't do it anymore, my lips wouldn't move. I couldn't keep speaking the predictable responses to predictable questions. I don't have to. I could be real, I could start over, I could put myself out there and talk about something solid. About motion, or color, or the softness of rocks - its beautiful to be yourself.

Nobody brings substance to the table.
Even though we might have something substantial to say.

We're so damn afraid and insecure with ourselves, that we won't risk a reputation on a misguided sentence. What loss.
When I speak about shallow topics, I can be vocal, passionate, riveting... because my true self isn't exposed - I don't have to be real at all. This is comfortable. If someone disagrees with me, I am not offended, and I don't have to take it personally, because what we were talking about didn't matter anyway. I don't have to let you see the true side of me - and I like that. My deep thoughts and convictions can stay safely out of sight - tucked beneath my fabricated facade.
Ironically, when we have nothing to lose in a conversation, we also have nothing to gain. The communication disappears into a perpetual circle of fake smiles and cliche paragraphs.
Everyone knows that everyone else is shallow. We count on it. And we stopped listening to what anyone else has to say, a long time ago. We are simply waiting for a pause so we can cut in with our own little self-preserving antidote. Ce la vie.

What if someone brought truth to a conversation.
What if they really listened to what you said.
What if you finished talking, and you heard a response instead of just a reply.
We need some substance... we crave it.

I don't have a problem walking away in mid-sentence.... I will probably do it more often now - For the sake of the other person.
Lets swim in some deep water for a change.
Maybe the ocean? :)

(Andrew Tipton)

Thursday, September 18, 2008


Did you ever stop for an moment and consider what age, exactly, is a good age to die? My first response would be, "Live as long as possible!" - but I am beginning to change my mind.
Look around you. You can see it. Probably feel it. Most likely you've talked about it today, or complained about it, or ignored it. pain.
We are on our way down.
Bodies + motion = wear out.
Unfortunately most of us don't want to accept that fact.

We have a disorder.
Not a physical problem, not a over-the-counter treatable diagnosis, or a virus that can be cured with pills. We have something worse - an unbalanced obsession with existence. Existence at all costs.
We pull, and tug, and cling to life in every way, clawing and tearing in a desperate attempt to stay awhile longer - to keep our head above water a few more seconds. Why? What else do we hope to get?
From anti-age serum, to life-supporting respirators, all we are really doing is duct-taping ourselves up. A little bit here. A little there. We patch up the holes, and cover up the scars - expecting the "fixes" to last.

What experience would it take to make us OK with passing on? What is missing inside of us, that creates the longing to remain - no matter what. Why do we fight the effects of motion with such hostility and brutality? Curious.
There is only one thing certain in this life: our inevitable end. That knowledge should change our lives completely. I know that I am dying, but my only response is to ignore the reality. We live under the dillusion that we somehow deserve more time.. always a little more time.

TRUTH: We are meant to live a short while and then calmly, peacefully exit this world.
This fact becomes plainly evident, when we start noticing the abundance of duct-tape in our lives. As we age, and as the flow of motion wears us down, we slowly become one huge piece of tape - everything is delicately held together, so that we can live a while longer. We tape up our exterior, our face our skin. Then put some on our heart to keep it beating, duct-tape our knees and joints; life isn't about quality anymore, it is simply about quantity. We aren't designed to last.

Perhaps we were never meant to die at all. Maybe our aversion to death is natural. Possibly, a long time ago, we were so close to the source that death wasn't part of the equation.

It is beautiful to imagine a life existing in harmony with motion - a life that is so self-aware that it enjoys the moment completely. A life that knows the truth, doesn't need 100 years to be satisfied, it doesn't want to be held together by rolls of duct-tape and "fixes", and it isn't afraid to let go.

(Andrew Tipton)

Sunday, September 14, 2008

"Believe What You Want"

I don't believe in that.
Quite possibly my least favorite phrase at the moment. I have heard it a lot. It is simply a way out, a justification for thought that is not backed by reason, by depth, or objectivity - a numbing combination of naivety and closed-mindedness.

Belief never changes truth.
Know that, and live free.
Whether I believe in something or not, it does not matter - I cannot change the substance, and solidness of real.
if I choose not to believe in the color blue, does it change anything about the existence of that particular color? No.
If I choose not to believe in sunshine, or raindrops, or wind, does it ever affect the Truth of their existence? Never.
Truth exists regardless of all else. It is not moved or swayed by you or I, it does not conform itself to our reasons or our answers. We don't create truth, we don't own it, we will never tame it or make it comfortable - truth is completely and always outside of subjectivity.

When you realize that Truth is outside of yourself, it changes things.
I never have to defend a position, I don't have to be right, I never have to try and sway someone to believe my reasoning - because it doesn't matter. When truth is found, it makes your strong. You can feel it, smell it, run your mind around it - it is real and has power.

"I don't believe in that." is a weak statement. Try it. Learn it. Experience it. Then make your decision based on how much truth you find.

(Andrew Tipton)

Saturday, September 13, 2008

lost in the shadows of perfect circles

There was a full moon last night over the ocean.
I watched the waves through a filter of soft light, towering out of the surf in brutal majesty. The rise, the fall, the sound of thunder as they crash into the pale beach. I lay on the shoreline and stare helplessly into the motion.

My arms ache from 3 days of hard surfing. Muscles taunt, chest raw, eyes stinging from the saltwater. I still feel as if I'm moving.. up and down, side to side in the waves, clinging to my wax covered board. The tiredness is fully consuming, and yet, I find myself smiling up at the sky, considering the awe of perfection. Is it coincidence that brings us to our knees in the middle of the night? I feel like such a small part of this place, of these moments and movements. But, for a few desperate seconds I feel the power of the universe - everything happening at once in a tremor of perfect circles. I can see it, it is personal; and I can't breathe.

Moonlight is incredible.

(Andrew Tipton)

Sunday, September 7, 2008

knowing the source

How does a person know the source?
How can any man grasp the thoughts, will, or concept of a spiritual, supernatural being? I don't mean the "concept" of the source, or the structure and reason behind it - I mean the source itself.
We read many books. We study. We think and learn and remember. We know about it all in our heads.

Can you know the ocean without swimming in it?
Can you know heat without feeling the warmth of an afternoon sun?
Can you know the numb of freezing cold only in your head?

How can I possibly know the being who is the universe, if I never spend actual time exploring, enjoying, touching, breathing. Pages and writings from past experiences, cannot fill the void. There is a space in all of us, every creature, that can only be met, by interacting with the source in a real way. No faking, no subjective thoughts, no feelings.

I ran my hands across the stones - a smoothness carved by hundreds of thousands of years. I felt the hardness of the source in those rocks.
I was carried by a wave on the ocean, lifted high into the air, and then crushed under the incomparable power of the water. I felt the strength of the source beneath that wave.
I touched the skin of another human, I ran my fingers along her arm and held her small fingers in my hand. I felt the softness of the source on that baby girl.
I watched the sunset over Delicate Arch, the beams of purple, or red, of crimson, of blue, and yellow. I felt the beauty of the source on that mountain, watching the day end.

I am never closer to the source, that when I am in the source, or laying beside the source, or running my fingers through the sand of the source, or swimming in the waters of the source. Life and god are never real, until you have felt them all over you.
I've said goodbye to words for a few days, and climbed all over god's hands - I know life better.

(Andrew Tipton)

Saturday, September 6, 2008

The Person Underneath.

"Full nakedness! All joyes are due to thee,
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth'd must be,
To taste whole joyes."
- John Donne, Elegie XIX

There is the person everyone knows. The side of you and I that is funny, charming, happy, sexy. The mask we wear when we know anyone is looking.
What about when we are alone? What about the moments no one else sees? Do we still wear the masks?
I hope to god that I take off everything when I am alone. I hope I look at my bare body, my bare thoughts, and see me - the true me, the being that exists deep down underneath it all.

I found myself on top of a rock in Utah, overlooking a gorgeous blue lake. As the sun beamed across my face, boats zipped along below me. The warmth, the breeze, the rock, the water - it all came together right then.. I could accept it all, I could accept myself. No additives. No lies. No shell. No mask. Just me - alone on a rock with myself and the earth. I wanted to feel as naked with myself as possible, I wanted to be vulnerable, to be stripped of everything that I believe, and everything that others believe about me.
I took off my clothes, walked to the edge of the rock, stretched out my arms, and roared. It felt amazing. Every lie, everything false, it all just melted away into the wind. For the first time, I was able to forget to "Be someone", and I just existed as myself..

I don't think we truly believe, that deep down inside something amazing exists. We are soooo scared to let it all go, with our guard down and our clothes off, to let people see the real us.
I want to be naked more often.

(Andrew Tipton)

Monday, September 1, 2008

Exit the Circle

To us it seemed as if the island were mobile and had suddenly entered the circle of blue and empty sea in the center of which we had our permanent abode...


I have found that when I remain in a routine for too long, my outlook on life becomes severely skewed. The truth of a situation disappears, and I am left with a warpped, entirely ego-centric point of view. Life begins to rotate around me.
I begin to imagine that I am the center of my very own personal sphere - a circle of being, of which I am a god, and which all life revolves. Truth is reduced... smaller and smaller, until my existence is limited to the confines of the subjective mind. I am always subtly lulled into the deception. We are easily convinced of mobile islands, when we believe in the immobility of our own thoughts.
We are so naive.

We speed on the interstates... and do it so often, that we think we should always travel so fast - upset when there is traffic.
We buy groceries from the supermarket with ease - flustered when they are out of milk.
We watch late night television from our comfortable couches - tramatized when we can't find the remote.
We are outraged when we have to wait in lines.
We complain about a rainy day.
We worry and whine when we experience the slightest pain.
We are afraid of everyone and most everything.
We get upset over the smallest things.

There is no happiness in our own personal circles. The smaller the circle, the more miserable we become. All my misery is simply a product of routine. Routine. Routine. Routine. We expect life to rotate around us comfortably - always. When it doesn't, or when something collides with our perfect imaginations, we can't handle it; or we handle it without truth.

Step out of the line. Cross over into the unknown, the un-routine, the scary world of real. Drop the fear, lose the insecurities, open your eyes, and forget the technicalities of living.
Life is too short to worry about the failures of other people.

(Andrew Tipton)