Saturday, October 31, 2015

Rebelious October.

The idea that we create our own realities.   This begins from the idea of perception, everything in life is perception.  From the sunlight that is on our faces, the texture of a horse, the skin of a lover,  everything that we can interact with must be filtered through the vines of our ability to perceive as a human being.  
In Spanish this idea is said, “Nuestra Creamos realidad”  which translated means:  we are the creator of our reality.     Reality then becomes perception,  and our response to our perception becomes our take on the world around us.   We might agree on common ideas about the world around us,  we might be drawn to similar places or sensations..   and yet, consciously or unconsciously, at each juncture… at each point of interaction,  we are agreeing to the perceived reality that we have ourselves created.    This is such an intimate thing, such a common thing that we are usually completely unaware of our agreements.     Some might scoff at the idea of being able to create your own reality..   This might seem like insanity to many people.   How will you control the sun?   How will you not age?    How can a person walk through fire?     The idea of creating our own reality is not based on the limitations of physical presence,  but on the vastness of our very personal, subjective, perception of our universe.     There is no effect possible towards the outside world, if it has not been also experienced through our perception.   This is the creation of reality:  learning to speak our perception.   Rearranging the way the world lines up in our minds..  challenging the greatness and the simplicity of living experiences, and either accepting or denying their weight inside our minds.    We are changing the world, by literally changing how we perceive the world.    

Andrew Tipton

Wednesday, October 21, 2015


I've been thinking a great deal about the idea of leaving behind a legacy.   Blame it on an adventurous lifestyle or all the close calls I've had this year..  (I'm looking at you Rome),  but my mind just won't let the thought go.   
I know what a legacy is...  at least what I've been taught to believe about one.   That part of your existence that you leave behind, for your family, for your kids, for people following.    I know that politicians talk about leaving legacy and I know we admire great men who have "etched their legacy" into the history books through action and with sheer determination.     But recently I've been given the chance to re-evaluate my own terms of "legacy".. to abandon the lofty disconnect I've always associated with it..  and to truly ask myself,  what is of importance to me?    Or a better question....  who am I already?  

The, "who am I already?"  question... that struck a chord in me.    When you ask yourself that question, you also have to answer:  "What do I do?"     And not in a typical, work-related, bullshit sterile sense..   but organically,  naturally,  completely..   WHAT THE HELL DO I DO?     What do I talk about?   Where do I go?   What do I eat?   What makes me laugh?  Who do I adore?   Where are my dreams?    What are my habits?
 I think that a legacy is something that we are all building... some of us are intent about leaving a very specific one behind..    some of us could care less.     But perhaps...legacy.. the version that I desire, is not about manufacturing an image for the world to treasure once we're gone..  but more about leaving behind and essential-ness,  a quality that is so fundamentally us that we never even knew we were becoming it.    My perception of leaving a legacy... is becoming personal, human, intimate...  real.    
Thinking about people I admire,  or people that I remember,  many times it isn't their greatness or their towering achievements that stand out in my mind...  but rather their nobility, strength and passion played out through simple actions.  Practices of living that, over time, have become deeply associated with their character and presence.

I remember the way my dad's arms felt after he cut down trees with his chainsaw...  every Saturday I remember the earthy, rugged scent and the coarseness of the shavings caught in the black curls of his beard.  I remember the way drips of sweat left trails down his dirt covered forearms. 

I remember my grandpa's pipe tabacco..  watching him nimbly, expertly push it into place... watching him flick open his silver Zippo lighter with the eagle emblem,  and light that sucker up...  puff puff puff.. then the grin - the twinkle in the eyes.

These are very simple things.  The actions of men who were just doing what they loved..  over and over.    It isn't some great deed or single magnificent event that defined them... it was the action that they were least aware of..  the one they did all the time just because it was so wildly and intimately part of their essence.   
  I like that.    I like that version of Legacy.

Andrew Tipton

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Friday, October 16, 2015


Andrew Tipton

Stealing Horses

How do you work out the intricacies of another human?     It is necessary?    We spend so much time looking for answers...  making sense..  convincing others to rip themselves open and spill themselves all over us.    Why do we push and tug and struggle to get to the center of everyone else?      To figure them out,  to sort through the fabric and the dust of them.   Why is it that?   Why do we try to interrogate, to take bright lights into the soft and intimate spaces of people?   Why do we try to twist, and wring, and scour out their secrets, try to dissect and devour them?  

I release myself from my instinct to seek out understanding at the cost of peace..    I release myself from the insecurity and fear of uncertainty.     This need to attain clarity leaves no room for the subtle intuition and liberty of love.    After all..  how does a man fall in love with something he comprehends?     We are drawn to mystery..  we are awakened and enlivened by the things / the ones that intrigue us.  

Andrew Tipton