FOR THE LOVE OF MOTION

Rekindling the Accessibility of Well-being

2012-02-12T09:51:00.005-08:00

A thought that has become very active in my mind recently is the accessibility of well-being . I have noticed in my own life that at times I neglect moving towards my goals of wellness, because I am overly focused on an ultimate outcome. There is, I believe, this false sense of distance between every-day action, and the output required to actually change. At times I think many of us feel this same way - that our ambitions outreach our means. We desire dramatic changes, we desire wellness, balance, peace.. yet we don't feel enabled to make such a vast and overwhelming jump. Often, aspirations of wellness are abandoned because there is simply too much effort between our present condition and "observable" success.

I was working with my friend Trent a few weeks ago putting a new ceiling in his house. Trent made the observation that we often overlook how dramatically simple actions affect our overall purpose. In order to "have a new ceiling", there were slight steps that had to be taken well before we were ready to actually install the panels of sheet rock. Buying screws, charging drills, ripping off wallpaper, cutting out old wood.. every step was critical for our ultimate vision. It is only by taking these small steps towards our purpose that we are able to succeed in a specific way.

At any time, when we say to ourselves, "I desire wellness, I desire well-being.", that statement does not have to be insincere or ambiguous. Well-being is accessible. Our intentions and slight actions daily are the driving forces behind great change. Even when we feel disconnected from our final purpose.. those simple steps take us inevitably into our desire.

Andrew Tipton

Poet Lips

2012-02-04T21:05:00.000-08:00

Say it,
Speak it right out of your mouth and
into mind.
I love the way your words have edges,
new angles. New eyes.
You've got your own voice,
your mouth is a straight line into my circle thoughts
into my stomach. ache because you punch hard with those similes.
I love how poetry does not wander aimless, that
it carves the heart out of eloquence and makes you stare
at the veins. When you press your poet lips to the microphone
the words are sixteen times heavier. full of weight. Chosen like a quiver
full of hand carved arrows.
Intentional.

Andrew Tipton

Felipe Restrepo - Falling in Love with Life

2012-02-02T12:25:00.000-08:00

Here is a person that resonates my own pursuits and thoughts.. I have followed his videos for several weeks and I highly recommend listening to what he has to say.

Here is the link to his YouTube channel.. check him out. Especially, "Giving yourself permission to be Free"

Felipe Restrepo

Andrew Tipton

Finding the Mood

2012-01-30T21:33:00.000-08:00

I feel as though sometimes we attempt to fulfill paths of life that our inner selves are not yet ready to explore. Although we might be able to comprehend an idea, or see a path with clarity, our present potential exists beyond the scope of our own will.
While we may appear to be the origin of our successes and limitations, perhaps we are also bound to the schedule of a broader, more intricate destiny. You could call this discovering the perfection of timing.. or I prefer, finding the mood.

The mood I feel, is a subconscious momentum shift in a particular direction.. guiding us toward the crux of our potential and acting as a facilitator for our innermost intentions.
Just as "being in the mood" is a crucial part of the sensual human experience, so "finding the mood" enables our mind's desires to be fully and optimally realized. The evolution of relationships, our capacity for creativity, the realization of certain truths and wisdom - I feel that the synchronicity of life's experiences are each highly intentional. Our thoughts and actions take shape much like the pieces of a puzzle, rarely fitting exactly when and where we desire.. yet perfect and functional in their own time.

Andrew Tipton

New Year's Morning

2012-01-23T19:39:00.000-08:00

Andrew Tipton

Sideways the Raven Flies

2012-01-21T20:00:00.000-08:00

Sideways. Sparrow hearted brothers.
The wings are wide. The wings. are wide.
I'm not seeing things straight. No more one direction.
Up or down.
Step of out line. Place a thought here to gather steam.
Seems.
I am. Roaming angles.
Aqua duct. Gondola river route.
Rain dance Raven.
The black birds are in the trees, and
they have already found what I am searching for.
I watched you running with your arms up. through a field.
Sea Shells wrapped around your wrists. In your underwear.
Running sideways.
Can't top that. Can't beat that. Up Down. No way.
The wings are wide. The wings. are w i d e.
Maybe I want to exist. after all.
Fasten my saddle for the ride. Its a ride. after all.
Sideways love it. Sideways love things like you. Who believe already
in love.
Walk the line men! Stay fierce men! Up. Down. Up or down.
..... But ...... this ..... IS.. s i de w a y s.
IS. Where the birds perch. Outside my window.
Next to god - out on a limb.

Andrew Tipton

Wounded Eyes and Seeing Clearly

2012-01-18T21:30:00.001-08:00

As soon as I saw the blood, my heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. I felt a silent agonized scream rip its way from inside my lungs, punching the breath out of me. My body wouldn't move fast enough or deliberate enough to reverse time or take back the moment.. I tried, I just don't know how. Suddenly the world lost focus and then realigned itself.. everything that had made sense ten minutes ago became inconsequential - we really are fragile I remember thinking. ArRRRrraaahhHHH! The scream finally broke free of my mouth.

(Thoughts while driving to the hospital)
I think that all that holds substance in life is love - Genuine, bewildered, unfiltered, and desperate. It takes the realization of impermanence to make me see that. But, DAMN! I do see it. I see how much is offered, I see how little I accept, I see the thickness of the threads.. like a web spreading out connected to everything I do. Love makes us vulnerable, it makes us tangible, it makes us powerful.. I don't want to miss it.

Andrew Tipton

Book About Waves

2012-01-11T21:34:00.000-08:00

I got a book about waves.
Hard to believe you could fit a wave between. The Pages.
In a book.

Some things you don't know until you're down.
Inside them. Thrusting.

And even then, you are just a man with eyes, and arms.
Make. Believe.

Maybe. There are more. Also
Gentle.
Delicate.
On a page. In a book. In our heads.

That we don't know the truth of them.
The mind thinks so. But the body.. oh the body
does not know.

Not the feeling. Outside. Beyond the talk of it.
Beyond the figured out and the all of it.

I held my grandfather.s hand yesterday,
while he told me goodbye for the second time.

He said, I'll miss you. And meant it.

And we both cried.
Because
Its one thing to talk about waves

neatly bound.
between two covers.

And another thing. To be inside the O C E A N.

Andrew Tipton

Feather love

2012-01-06T20:39:00.000-08:00

Andrew Tipton

Our Human Skins

2012-01-04T20:24:00.000-08:00

I remember about day 27 on a road trip across the Western states.. driving across Nevada. The windows in my car were rolled down, my hair was a wild mass of uncombed blond curls, several adventures worth of sweat and dirt clinging to my body. I remember thinking right at that moment how legitimately undomesticated and pure I felt. It was a content roar inside my head that embraced every tarnished, sunburned freckle of my exhausted human self. In that moment I was content to BE.. unabridged and relaxed.

Don't get me wrong, I am not addicted to perpetually smelling like a wet mountain lion.. but I do believe there is a goodness to be found in giving ourselves the liberty to be human - however scruffy, disheveled, pungent and brutally honest that may appear.
This is not a statement about "getting back to nature, man" (Although I like that idea).. this is something more realistic for all of us.. cutting ourselves some slack.
I think its critical for our sanity and well being that we let each other exist as human people - unprocessed, imperfect, and supremely beautiful. Almost every day I either feel judgement coming towards me, or I pass judgement toward other people based on nothing more than appearance. It is a sad place when we AS HUMANS do not allow ourselves the fullness of the HUMAN experience.
I think we're starving for it.. starving to just relax into our own bodies for once and not be judged or critiqued.
I want to admit my own humanity.. I have faults, I have fears, I have weakness,.. and that's OK. We all do. I do not want to exist in a world that denies or conceals the struggle and the wonder of the true life. We miss a lot when we are not resting in our own human skins.

Andrew Tipton

Reclaiming the Soul Filled Life

2011-12-22T16:12:00.000-08:00

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be.
There's no time limit, stop whenever you want.
You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing.
We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it.
And I hope you see things that startle you.
I hope you feel things you never felt before.
I hope you meet people with a different point of view.
I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

I was painting last night and had the pleasure of hearing this quote while my paintbrush made effortless gray circles..
there is an echo inside all of us I think that resonates this same truth.
The message of hopefulness.
Hope in ourselves, hope in the tangible and the unseen, hope in the mystery and the vastness of our world, hope in the simple and mediocre things too.
We give life its soul and heart and lungs. We breath strength and substance into the crevices and the rough edges. I resolve to believe that beauty is seen through my own eyes and equally given through my own words and touch.
Today on the walls and tomorrow in the ocean.

Andrew Tipton

Tearing Down Walls

2011-12-21T09:51:00.000-08:00

Andrew Tipton

Priorities

2011-12-19T21:48:00.001-08:00

"If you are afraid of death, you are afraid of life, for living your life leads to death. Until you face death and see its beauty, you will be afraid to really live - you will never properly burn the candle for fear of its end."
- Doris Haddock

The Spoken Existence

2011-12-11T18:51:00.000-08:00

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof." (Proverbs 18:21)

Recently I have become fascinated with the idea of spoken words altering our living existence. The thought that when we vocalize our intentions, we are actually creating a bridges between our desire and our reality.
This not a new concept, the idea of sounds altering an environment has been studied and analyzed before.. even the Bible talks about "speaking" and literally changing our environment (moving mountains, healing, etc.). I have to admit that I am naive in my own practice.. It has simply never occurred to me that speaking our reality into existence could really hold some truth.

I remember watching the cartoon of Aladdin when I was younger.. In the story Aladdin speaks to the desert the words "Abra Cadabra" and behold the sand opens for him and he is rewarded with a vast treasure. I have always loved that story! The idea of speaking to a desert, or the ocean, or a forest and being granted access to extraordinary secrets and power.. what a seductive fantasy!
Perhaps though it is more than just wishful thinking.

When we speak, we use language, which is merely sounds strung together to form words. We have learned to control our sounds over time to articulate emotions and thoughts.. when they are spoken, they convey the vibration of our consciousness. When words come out of our bodies, they are filled with intentional energy.. this energy does not dissolve, but expands outward - its the same force that grows plants, that fuels volcanoes.. the same energy to which other people respond.

People respond to our voices. This is sort of a huge deal I think.. one that I have not truly grasped. It happens so much that I probably the magic of what's happening is taken for granted. It is incredible to me that we can "speak" with intention and vastly change the physical human environment around us. We can walk up to another person, share a few sounds (intentions) from our minds through our mouths, and "Abra Cadabara" the world has shifted! It is not necessarily the words that are affecting, but the meaning behind them.. the vibration of our consciousness letting itself be known in this physical space. Vibration is at the base of everything.. it is life, it is motion. I believe that we do have the power to create new realities with our voices.. we can already see it happening everyday on the human level. That same vibrational energy is woven into everything.. so it makes sense that the world will respond to us. To our words.

-Andrew Tipton

What Happens In Montevallo

2011-12-05T21:26:00.000-08:00

Nothing stays here.
The words leak out of bounds and the sounds go with them.
The music from the guitar strings and the fierceness from songwriters' lips.
All the love and the anger or the affection you can throw at a person never stay in that one place.
Words are never where you left them,
our actions grow wings, and travel to a thousand different places.

I've seen a beautiful thought make it to Kai'lua,
I've seen sadness start here and fly all the way to the Alps.
The world's growing on our motion,
Cross-pollination. Starts right here..
In your town,in your house, in your room,
in your mind,
Nothing stays.

Andrew Tipton,

Blue Heron

2011-11-30T21:26:00.001-08:00

Andrew Tipton

The Politics of Ecstacy

2011-11-26T18:45:00.000-08:00

(Theo Gosselin, one of my new favorite photographers)

I discovered some new tastes recently.. people, places, and things that have legitimately stirred the embers in my mind! I find myself studying in the late hours of night, lavishing over subjects that were once foreign - creative desires growing, it excites me to see where all these roots are headed.

I can't help but feel though that there is always some form of subversive thought lingering just behind a new love. The ecstasy that flourishes in the first few encounters, is often subdued by the agenda of 'purpose'. I feel at times that I lack the will to begin a pursuit (even one that tugs at my heart), because of the expectation that accompanies it. Maybe a lot of us feel that way.

Our relationships have expectations.. our friendships, our creativity, our work, there are expectations for sex and pleasure, for our voices, for our writing and songs.. It almost takes the joy out of loving a thing.
Sometimes I wish to be rid of the politics that accompany a new pursuit and just lose myself in the experience. Find out for myself its secrets and its details.. without being told 'how' or 'what' to admire. I want a relationship without precedent, a love affair that makes up its own rules.

Maybe that is asking too much from a thing? Maybe its asking too much from a person? But it is what I want.

Andrew Tipton

Meditations

2011-11-20T20:29:00.000-08:00

"Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider that the nature of the universe loves nothing so much as to change things which are, and to make new things like them. For everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which will be." - Marcus Aurelius

It makes sense that our thoughts are motion as well.. never dying, never lost or abandoned only reborn in the minds of others at different times. I was reading the last few pages of "East of Eden" tonight.. and came upon this quote.
Its like stumbling on your own thought.. written two millennia ago. How remarkable! It is my quote.. my prayer, my mantra. But written before me. I forget that I am not the creator truths.. only part of their circle. And it brings me comfort to know that these ideas, and revelations can never be lost or abandoned. Motion is my poem... but I do not own it.. I am the grandchild of its energy.

We are constantly, eternally, being remade.

Andrew Tipton

Gift Basket

2011-11-19T19:11:00.000-08:00

I am warm
from your touch:
flower / eye
body / body
creature / god
We are all warm.

Charles Paisly

Every Word is Sacred

2011-11-14T20:44:00.000-08:00

Poetry is such a perfect language.. every word that we use is wrapped in meaning. There is not space in a poem for wasted breath. Poets are the ones who grasp the roots of thought and shake away the dirt. It is marvelous to watch.. to follow an idea so intimately down down down into a person's heart.
I watched poets perform a few nights ago.. speaking about anger, and love, and youth, and sex. Each poem was like a knife, cutting through my pretensions and my own noise.. entering me, and making my mind bleed. Thoughts.

I would love to meet Sarah Kay.. she speaks with her entire body.. the subtleties of her voice leave me hanging in space. Graceful and warm.

Andrew Tipton

One Thousand Butterflies

2011-11-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

It is such a release to look into the obscure shadows of death and not avert our eyes. To accept our mortality as a common thread.. that life comes and goes, and we are all bound to that experience - we can accept our humanity and share the emotion together.
We pretend that if we hide from the idea of death, that perhaps it will disappear; we only talk about it in whispers, but I'm tired of keeping my voice down. We're dying! We are ALL dying.

I spent last Wednsday in the company of hundreds of other people - recognizing the sacredness of the living, celebrating the loved ones that have already passed on, and embracing the delicate distance between our world and the next. I watched as thousands of candles flickered around alters.. their warm glow punching holes in the fear and the lonliness of dying. Alters dedicated to friends, fathers, prophets, brothers, mothers.. people who came, and loved, and then transitioned onward. It was like we were holding death and shining a light onto every pore and blemish, until there was nothing left to run from.. we can see it now.
We see these people who have died, and we see ourselves.. and for those who are willing to look, that truth unites us. We're all it together.

Rachel's father died 10 months ago.. and to celebrate his life she folded one thousand oragomi butterflies and hung them from strings. That was her alter.

Me Now

2011-11-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

Your days in one
This day undone
The kind that breaks under
All day at once
for me, for you
I'm just too young
And what of my heart
This day was once
Silence before
All grace of lost
Can't wait at all
Can't wait at all
Temptation won

And what ever comes through the door
I'll see it face to face

- Beirut

Costa Rica Nightlife

2011-10-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

This is a tree house near Bellavista in Costa Rica.. I have an obsession with this type of place. The openness, the simple luxury of the trees and their sounds. There is a pureness that you can't find in most places.. a connection that runs deep, bringing us to face our animal selves, the ones that are not fragranced and overtly clean. There is a sensuality here that nestles down in my mind, making me want to grow in a place like that.. to make love and write and invite friends to come and make music there. It fascinates me.

Andrew Tipton

The Night is Still Young

2011-10-23T20:05:00.000-07:00

Our creation sides leak out sometimes.. unexpectedly, in odd places. Our vision for the night sways and is reborn. Its always a pleasure to watch the mind make up its mind.. like a spiral staircase - to the room, to the brush, to the stroke. The night is young.. We are a breath away from a thousand choices.

Andrew Tipton

The Commune

2011-10-19T21:21:00.001-07:00

I have this idea inside that won't quiet down. And I keep wondering if there are enough people out there to start something.. to take apart our single selves and blend them into a community. Thirty or forty people.. Can you imagine the energy of us if we shared the same spirit! The same attitude about life. It is hard to find people who love creating.. love the intrigue of design, of building and learning, and romance. The ones that love the elegance of sand, and notice the intimate details.
This is not my dream.. this is a future that I believe is completely possible. A community built by people who adore life. A place that we can create music and adventure, and write wild new thoughts.. where we can study and touch and marvel at the fleeting things. Imagine thrity people pouring their talents, their ambitions, their intellects and finances into the same place.. all breathing the same message, that we are all dying.

Andrew Tipton

Dancing Tree

2011-10-19T20:43:00.000-07:00

Before we left for the beach I went to visit my grandparents and as I was leaving, I looked up and saw this tree in the field behind their house. It literally seduced me.. the sunlight was trickling through her leaves, and she was dancing with the breeze. I quietly walked up close to her and watched.. It was sensual and breathtaking. She was alone at the end of the field.. catching the last beams of light with her outstretched branches,.. she swayed from side to side, like she was listening to some silent rhythm of music too soft for my own ears. Her hips were the base of her branches.. her fingers the leaves,.. she moved and arched without any inhibitions.

Andrew Tipton

Omens

2011-10-10T20:06:00.001-07:00

Journal on Omens:
When a thought passes, we get to look at it.. see it as we'd see a stranger pass us on the street. It comes and goes.. sometimes at a slow stride, sometimes so quickly we don't really notice the details. But do we ever question where our thoughts come from? Are we creating them?
Can you trace a split-second, fragment of an idea to anywhere in particular?

For the most part, I haven't really been paying attention... at least not to the subtleties and the shadows.
Probably like most people.. I assume that my thoughts are more or less me, or my consciousness just randomly coming up with things. I never assume rhythm or reason, never elaborate on the coincidences.

The coincidences.. are starting to impress me. Or, I should say, they are beginning to appear deeper than I gave them credit for. Really, its a certain type of thought that has been catching my attention.. you don't notice it at first because we're not used to separating the sensations of our mind. But there is a difference.. its like these particular thoughts are coming from a source outside of myself. A thought is such a fleeting, fragile thing.. but if we can catch them at the instant they strike our minds then we have a chance to feel where they are coming from.
These "coincidence" thoughts, are interesting because they always manifest themselves physically somehow. When I react in a positive way, its like I have been shown a special doorway, and allowed some other (knowing) source to move me through it. It is me responding.. but I am responding to a feeling, or an instinct or an omen that I did not create.. the thought came to me not from inside of my mind.

I have been reading about omens, the idea astounds me.. Omens, to the best of my knowledge are instances in our paths that connect us to a deeper root of what's happening. In a sense they are exterior stimuli that lead us in a certain direction... or to make certain choices. But only if we see them.. or feel their guidance. I have started calling these thoughts.. omens.
They are becoming more frequent.

Andrew Tipton

My Friend Joshua

2011-09-30T21:29:00.001-07:00

You create. The life around you.
And people notice.
They wonder at the things you make.
The beautiful way. the nonsense way.
You sing. and speak. and walk.
I think the world needs you.
Your curiousness and your bewilderment.
my friend.
You are the gold in a sunset,
you are the tears in a laugh,
I don't know anyone who dreams as much as you.
I don't know anyone who believes in dreams as much as you.
You make good things better.
You keep joy in your pocket and bring it to parties.
My friend.
Sometimes I hate you and love you all at once.
Sometimes there is nothing to do but listen to one of your songs.
And smile.

I'm not sure if can feel my energy tonight,.
but I'm sure giving a lot to you.
Good vibes. Good vibes.
It hurts to know you hurt.. I think it would be easier if it was me.
There is a lonliness in a friend's pain.. that makes you want to sit down.
And close your eyes. And somehow change everything back.
I just wanted to get that out..
My friend.
You're irreplaceable.
You've carved a nook in my heart, and it is just your size.. nothing else fits.
So I hope you rest well tonight and feel better in the morning.

Your Friend,

All the human birds

2011-09-28T20:52:00.000-07:00

Despite my own truth that our "self" is not truly human, we are left with our presence in our human bodies. i feel as thought there are two options for those of us who come to this realization, we can defy our physical being in favor of the conscious / thought that we understand ourselves to be, or we can accept the truth and embrace our humanity / our presence on the earth.
There is a difference here, because I don't think that embracing our human experience, and being willed by our human experience are the same thing. In my mind, as we see ourselves as separate from the physical world, it shouldn't take away from the experience of humanity. It is an opportunity for us to freely explore the physical, emotional and irrational side of WHAT we are. Our human bodies are our windows to the world, we are connected by our physical self; it is not WHO we are, but it is how we perceive the physical experience. Almost an alternate reality in a way.
Surprisingly, I am finding that as we accept, learn and enjoy the human side of ourselves, we begin to enjoy the human side of people - other people. What we love and see in ourselves as a human, can be felt, observed and reflected back to us by other humans. Its as if we are the mirror through which our experience of humanity can be seen. We start to see that humans are bound together by our common physical presence - we are a consciousness that is living out the same physical story!

How do we enjoy our human experience without being attached to our human self?
I would suggest that we view our human-ness in its truest light - that we are a consciousness fulfilling a physical form. Just as you can imagine a consciousness filling the physical body of a bird, or of a tree. The bird soars and glides on the wind, accepting and embracing its "bird" condition. A tree grows tall and powerful, spreading its beautiful branches, displaying its leaves - accepting and living its physical capacity. It is consciousness contained in another form.. just like us.

As we explore our human condition, we see our senses, our emotions, our creativity, we acknowledge our ability to cry and laugh and scream, and die, and run, and hurt, and feel pleasure. We divide ourselves from "self", from the consciousness that we are, and allow our human sides the privilege of being human. It whatever capacity that may be. It is a beautiful thing to be human I believe.

Andrew Tipton

Our skins and stubborn bones

2011-09-18T22:04:00.001-07:00

There is nothing. Like it.
Starts low, feels low inside deep
between the fibers and the muscles.
An urge. Desire. Crawls up in slow chords
like an onyx dragon.
Whispering close to your throat.
Each exhale is a gift and is terrifying.
Nowhere to hide from the thought.
That you were born to rule.
This moment. Is your tree house.
Is your dark chocolate.
Is your
summer dance.
As you play with the idea,
color grows wild through your intentions.
The horizon line, blown out background.
Hope.
Comes in colors. Feels like colors. It remains when you close your wings,
still there when you open them.
Its on the inside out.
The part of your stomach that loves rain
and photographs of wild horses.
Because sometimes,
you also imagine that you are a horse.
That your life is about running.
The pleasure. And the weight of it.
The stumble. And the sex of it.
You feel it inside. Breaking your seams.
You were born for. Being here.
Here. This place.
The knowing.
That there is no lack of beauty.
Only how we touch it.
We live on the words of strangers, and
The rough licks of our memories,
tucked away in our shirt pockets.

Andrew Tipton

The Human Condition

2011-09-15T17:53:00.001-07:00

"... I feel that I am a man. And I feel that man is a very important thing -- Maybe even more important than a star. This is not theology. I have no bent towards gods. But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe." - John Steinbeck

I think he saw what I have missed. The experience of being human.. the tremendous wonder of it.
I have spent years looking into the eyes and mind of our natural world.. the details, the stones, the trees, the sky.. but I feel like I have overlooked the sacredness of my own existence. In a way, avoiding the very condition that enables my perception.
I am human. And for the first time, I'm beginning to enjoy that humanity. Not just mine, but ours.

Andrew Tipton

Drops on the Branches

2011-09-11T20:40:00.000-07:00

Andrew Tipton

If you want a revolution

2011-09-08T07:05:00.000-07:00

If you want a revolution
return to your childhood
and kick out the bottom

don't mistake changing
headlines for change

if you want freedom
don't mistake circles
for revolutions

think in terms of living
and know
you are dying
and wonder why

if you want a revolution
learn to grow in spirals
always being able to return
to your childhood
and kick out the bottom

This is what I've been
trying to say - if you
attack the structure -
the system - the establishment
you attack yourself
KNOW THIS!
& attack if you must
challenge yourself externally

but if you want a revolution
return to your childhood
and kick our the bottom

be able to change
yr own internal chemistry

walk down the street
& flash lights in yr head
at children

this is not a game
your childhood
is the foundation
of the system

walk down the street
flash lights in yr head
at children but be way
of anyone old enough to kill

learn how to disappear

before they can find you

(that is, if you want to
stay alive)

if you want a revolution
do it "together"
but don't get trapped in
words or systems

people are people
no matter what politics
color or words they use
& they all have children
buried in their head

if you want a revolution
grow a new mind
& do it quietly
if you can

return to your childhood
and kick out the bottom
then become a being
not dependent on words
for seeing

whenever you get bored
change headlines
colors politics words
change women

but if you really want
a revolution
learn how to change
your internal chemistry
then go beyond that

walk down the streets
& flash light at
yourself

D.A LEVY

Climbing Trees In Rainstorms

2011-09-05T20:05:00.000-07:00

This afternoon it rained... first time in over a month.
I almost forgot the scent of it.. the way it feels in September when it comes in sweet and cool.
I had to celebrate; I bought a bottle of wine for the occasion.
Stripped down to my shorts and took off into the storm.

You think to yourself half-way up a tree in a storm, that maybe you are crazy..
Maybe this climb, with a bottle of Merlot in one hand and a glass in the other is the opposite of a good idea.
One branch, two, three branches.. higher. Up up.
By branch four, you realize you are indeed crazy, and there is no sense in faking sanity. Even for the sake of appearances.
Sanity is an annoyance most of the time anyway. It always clings to my shoulders like a wet jacket.. one I wish I could take off and leave draped over a branch somewhere, and never come back for.
Right now, my arms clutching branches twenty feet up, I'm happy to leave sanity on the ground. (Let him stay down there for all I care)

Finally, I'm in the tree. Pressed against the trunk and a sturdy limb. Nine branches up.
The rain is coming down thick.. drowning out sound.. roaring as it splashes off the wide fat leaves. I feel like an orangutan in the rain forest. A obscenely wobbly orangutan with a bottle of wine.
I wrap my legs around the branch below me and pour myself a glass..
As I sip, I notice how the rain drops feel cool against my skin.. and how the wine feels warm, almost gentle. Sweet red goodness!
The tree sways gently. I can't see out very well.. I am surrounded by layers of thick green leaves.. and beyond the leaves are millions of raindrops. The rain saturates every pore of my body.. my eyes, my nose, my mouth.. it gets in my glass of wine. It is a wild feeling to be soaking wet.. and to be very high off the ground. I laugh at that thought.
Its probably the wine.. but I start to sing. I don't know why but it feels right. I sing about the tree. I sing about the rain.. to the rain, like its someone I know. I sing to my body. To my ears.
The rain is so loud I can barely hear myself.. but what does it matter.
this is a celebration after all!

When we leave a day behind.. I wonder what it thinks about us?
Is it glad to be finally done with us... or sad to see us go?
I wondered that as I was climbing down.

Andrew Tipton

Getting the words out

2011-08-31T20:20:00.000-07:00

Its dark in the street behind you,
I'm listening, but I'm looking over your shoulder
And I'm seriously considering throwing this champagne glass.
Not because Im angry,
but because I love alternate realities as well.
Like you said, lets not rule out the choices that don't make sense.
These are still choices too.
There are ways that quietly fuck with your mind.
Like raindrops that drip back up into the clouds
Or a girl in a white evening dress simply walking at the park
That's what our entire night came down to,
A thousand ways to die, and ten thousand to live.
And each one just as sane as the next.
Do you understand that's what I mean?
Do you believe that this is all make believe?
I hope so. I do.
I mean, I do believe it.
I'm rainbow trapped in a mud-puddle.
Who I am, and what I seem get stumbled up on the way out.
Exactly.

I know you see walls.
But they aren't too keep you out,
I put them there because people are as much afraid
of beautiful as they are ruthless,
I'm not talking about me,
I'm talking about the time I bought twenty dozen flowers
and gave them away to strangers.
Because I have the same hope you do.
That we are all ok. That love is real.
People are scared, even when you just want to give them flowers.
Thats sad yet understandable.
The world wants leaders that believe in purpose.
Because they make us feel like life is worth living.
But I already believe life has worth.
Even without purpose.
So. I will lead that group.
I meant to say, right before I thought about throwing this glass.. that
I miss you. I miss your abandonment. I miss your uncertainty.
It was so good when you didn't know, There are so many people with answers.
Telling us. But we are making it all up.
I laugh because it doesn't matter. What I say. What you do.
Like you said, Lets not rule out the choices that don't make sense.
Maybe I don't make sense.
I'm a rainbow made of mud.

Andrew Tipton

fight no more forever

2011-08-30T22:08:00.000-07:00

Just the Ripples

2011-08-26T21:28:00.000-07:00

I took a solo trek into the Little River Canyon this week.. to get some inspiration, and for the sunrise. The sunrise there is so beautiful because it happens incredibly slowly.. filtering in through the leaves, the sun comes to the river stone by stone. I woke up well before dawn.. started hiking down the gorge, just so I'd be sure to be there when it arrived.

I met a man named Kyle the night before, right at dusk as I was packing up my books and my wine about to hike out of the valley. I was taking one last look at the river when Kyle walked up smiling and sat down beside me. He was heavyset, southern drawl, sandy brown hair. He asked me my name, and asked if I wanted to hear some stories about this place.. I said yes!
For the next hour Kyle told me about the river.
He told me about coming here as a child, before anyone knew how beautiful this valley was. He told me about diving into the water during a thunderstorm.. how it felt to be alone with the river and the pouring rain. He told me about how life changes.. how people change.. how places change.
He told me, "You can see all the beauty in the world just in the ripples".
I laughed.. I told him that was such a true thing to say,.. and then he laughed.
He offered me some "Early Times" whiskey straight from the bottle.. I accepted. We shook hands.. and I was on my way.

Andrew Tipton

She Loves Me

2011-08-26T20:48:00.001-07:00

I feel like sometimes I am walking the thin line. All around me god is kissing the earth.. and I notice how delicate her lips are. You can't help but tilt your head back, close your eyes and hope it rains; its a firece thing to live.
Sometimes the color of her mouth makes me hurt all over.

Andrew Tipton

Fetish

2011-08-17T20:56:00.000-07:00

A friend designed this fetish for my dulcimer.. it is made from the wings of four different birds, beads and a wrapped leather chord... I love that these birds are now part of my music. Its as if we're creating songs together.

Andrew Tipton

I'm Not Yours

2011-08-13T21:35:00.001-07:00

I don't want to own you. I don't want to hold you so close that you can't breathe. Or for so long that my arms get tired. My arms need space.
I like wondering where you are.. and not caring who you're with.
Because life's made for experiencing people.. all kinds of people.
Its a sexy wonderful thing when we're together,
but I dig it when you aren't around.
My body needs space.
We're so afraid of space..
We're afraid that people won't come back if we give them space.
But we all need space. We breathe space.
I don't want to get used to you.
People get used to things, and they stop marveling.
Like when you get used to the ocean.
Or when you get used to the air in Telluride.
I like it when there are stories between us.
I am not yours.
I am not your reason in the morning to live.
I am not your escape from the shadows of night.
I am not your yours. I need space.
That's what I love about you..
that you aren't afraid of that idea.
That you aren't afraid to let go.
You know that the world doesn't belong to anyone.
So it would be foolish to try and hold onto any of it.
We live with our hands open.
I'm not yours.
Wherever you are.. enjoy life. And I will do the same.

Andrew Tipton

The Fleet

2011-08-09T08:34:00.000-07:00

A summer rain storm came out of nowhere today at sunset. I got out to feel the breeze and watch. the sky completely changed into a sea of color right before my eyes - swirlling, twsiting together until it was like molten waves. Then these smaller clouds stared to move in a slow, simultaneous arch to the left, like a fleet of ghost sailboats, out for a cruise before the stars came out to claim them.

Andrew Tipton

Drawing Circles In the Darkness

2011-08-08T20:39:00.000-07:00

Andrew Tipton

We Are Us.

2011-08-01T20:42:00.000-07:00

Its hard to see through the skin sometimes.
Hard to see what it is. See.
Why it is sometimes. that we are the same thing.
No you. Not a me.
Just the us.
The doves and the antelopes.
The groves and orchards.
The music.
We are all. There is.
I watch science sometimes. See it up close.
See the smallness that makes us the largeness.
All the same. Up down and sideways. The same thing.
Through my skin. Into the air. Through the air. Into your skin.
Our skins.
We wear them together like a blanket.
Around everything. A sheep's skin. A baby's mouth.
A house made out of the ocean. No roof.
Together.
Tell me. Why. That is so hard to see?
To believe in.
If God loves you, then so do I.
Because we're the same. Me and you.
Me and god.
We are us.
You're my heart. I'm your lips.
He's my sweat. I'm her kiss.
They say love is the best thing.
Maybe. We should love ourselves.
And that would take the spaces out.

Andrew Tipton

Planting Trees

2011-07-24T22:03:00.000-07:00

I've been planting trees for about 3 days.. digging into the soil, shoveling dirt, making space for new roots, new branches, new life. My arms and hands ache beyond belief, I am fiercely aware of every muscle and tendon beneath my skin.
There are eight trees left to plant.. tomorrow we'll see if I survive them.

I had this thought at sunset today though.. right as I was finishing the dig for my final plant. Looking down at my shovel full of dirt sweat I realized exactly what I was doing.. "I am just digging in the ground", I thought to myself. "Just digging holes."
For some reason the simplicity and absurdity of the endeavour caught up with me..
all seriousness abandoned. How does this look to the birds flying over my head I thought.. I wonder if they think to themselves, "What the hell is that guy doing.. just digging holes down there in the dirt! I began laughing... first to myself and then out loud! We do the funniest things in the name of seriousness.

I realized right then, that "just digging holes" is really all any of us are doing.. EVER. We create an idea of the magnificence of a occupation or an adventure, or a relationship.. but really it is all the same.
We are just living. We are just dying.

I went back to planting my trees.. the only thing left to do, I thought, is to enjoy the pleasure and the thrill of digging.

Andrew Tipton

Vino y Otra Cosas

2011-07-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

Andrew Tipton

Te-lah-nay’s Wall

2011-07-19T20:10:00.001-07:00

We left early in the morning to find a Native American man named Tom Hendrix.
Tom has spent the last 32 years building a rock wall by hand, in honor of his great-great-grandmother, Te-lah-nay, of the Yuchi tribe. I was fascinated by Tom's story, so we made the journey to Natchez Trace to see if we could find him.

This wall is something very special.. being there in person is somewhat of a surreal experience. It stretches for almost a mile through the forest - curving and winding its way between the trees. Every stone is meticulously placed.. thoughtful, purposeful. When you walk along the path, you can feel the energy emanating from the rocks.. you can feel their weight and their sorrows, and their pleasure. Each rock looks at you.. into you, and you feel it wants to tell you something, maybe wants to share a story with you somehow.

As I sit down in this particular curved section of the wall.. I am captivated. I think about how much energy went into creating this silent tribute.. about Te-lah-nay, for some reason I imagine her being there singing a song. I think about the long days, the heaviness of the stones, the satisfaction that must come alongside the sweat. I start to imagine the passion that drives each of us to do what we do. In all of us we have the same urgency, the same desire - to be swept away by our dreams.

Te-lah-nay's wall is sacred place to me.. touching these stones and talking to Tom, reminded me of the possibility of love - loving. That it is not so much what we do with our lives.. but how we love what we do with our lives that matters. Seeing a man, who despite logical reasoning, was determined to do what he felt in his heart - I can't help but be intrigued.
I can't imagine a life better lived.. than one lived pursuing what brings you alive inside.

Andrew Tipton

Sunday Morning Goodness

2011-07-17T20:49:00.000-07:00

She comes strolling up the front porch steps, still talking about feathers and adventures on the open road.. a broken bicycle trailing along behind her.
We were having this delicious conversation last night.. she just picks up where we left off, teasing my adventurous mind with stories of indie-rock music festivals, and then feeding my imagination by describing the plump, ripe tomatoes from her mom's garden.
I'm standing there in a pair of worn out jeans and a tank.. leaning against one of the pillars in my doorway, watching the morning sunbeams as they trickle down through the leaves.. casting these crazy-beautiful shadows on my bare feet. Summer-time is so incredible,.. I want to scream that out loud.. but all that comes out is a smile.

Andrew Tipton

Leave Nothing Untouched

2011-07-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

Andrew Tipton

Nectarine Moon

2011-07-07T07:20:00.001-07:00

I just took my clothes off
to go swimming in an abandoned quarry.
My arms and legs moving in crazy circles. Underwater.
There is nothing but blackness below me, my splashes breaking the moonlit, glossy finish that keeps everything calm. Water tension.
The moon looks soft.
Like a nectarine,
I think because of all the fog that the rain brings.
There is still lightning in the distance.
No sound, just the flicker and pulse of silver streaks against a night sky.
The way my arms strike and sink into the water, make sounds like
double bass drums,
a deep echo. Maybe I've somehow stumbled upon the heartbeat of water.
Wasaboom. Wasaboom.. Wasaboom.
i feel like a sea turtle drifting.
i feel like I can see everything from right here.
I love how vulnerable I am,
I love the sensations of the bubbles swirling around my legs,
I love how my arms feel strong and muscular as they glide through the water.
Then, suddenly, I am empty.
Every thought leaves my mind at once.
Silence.
Outside and inside-out.
All that I'm feeling are the breaths coming into my nostrils as I try to stay afloat and the scent of rain.
I become a fish,
I become the silhouette of my friend standing on the rocks above me,
I become the nectarine moon,
and I take a bite of myself.

Andrew Tipton

no words

2011-06-27T22:08:00.001-07:00

Andrew Tipton

The Moment After

2011-06-20T12:27:00.001-07:00

The moment after hello
is really the first moment of our goodbye.
Perhaps it will be a good long one.. a goodbye of many years.
Or a few months. Or a few days.
Perhaps we'll say goodbye with a lifetime of adventures together.
Maybe our goodbye will include swimming in lakes at sunset, or sex, or surfing waves in Maui.

And then there are the goodbyes that are almost still hellos..
desperately short..
so brief that we never even realized they had come and gone.

These experiences we share are just indefinite, extended goodbyes..
because honestly we don't know how long this is going to last.
Every time we say, "I'll see you later.", and walk away.. there is always the chance that there isn't a later at all.

And that makes me want to take notice.

Andrew Tipton

Liberty

2011-06-15T20:47:00.001-07:00

Say whatever you have to say,
I'll stand by you.
Do whatever you have to do,
to get it out
and not become a reaction memory
To hurt the ones you love
you know you never meant to but you did

Be whoever you have to be,
I won't judge you
Sing whatever you have to sing
to get it out
and not become a recluse about you,
how to come out

And take whatever you have to take,
you know I love you
come however you have to come,
and get it out
and get it out

"Sway"

Liberty for me is freedom; freedom that I accept, and the freedom that I in turn offer to other people.
Liberty is not a blind eye, it is the observation of a life in which all things are sacred. My life. Yours.
It is the hopefulness in each of our destinies.
It is the opportunity for breath, and the quietness in the ears of others so that they might breathe too...
So that we can all take our inhibitions off a few times before our hearts give out from tiredness.

Andrew Tipton

The Blue Experience

2011-06-12T21:04:00.001-07:00

These past few months have been about blue. About feeling it.. experiencing it. About embracing a color as more than a color, more like a way of breathing, or a way of thoughts. I spent hours diving into blue waters, starring up into a serene blue sky, drawing pictures with only blue paint, searching for the iridescent blue feathers of Stellar Jays. The "color" as we called it has been more woven into my days than at any other time in my life.
And yet...
In the end, I am more bewildered by blue than ever.

My recent closeness with the color blue, has only shown me how vast it truly is. Instead of becoming more narrow and more concise, it has transformed in my mind.. losing all reference and bearing. My interest and curiosity has only been rewarded with experiences.. not answers, not understanding... only experience.
Because of this, I am coming to believe that perhaps some things cannot be broken apart, or figured out, or calmly observed and then then written down.
I am under the impression tonight, that perhaps there is much more of life that is this same way... here to be experienced.. not to be comprehended.
Maybe its better that way... maybe when we stop attempting to know something, we are actually setting it free. When we stop demanding answers, its as if we give wings to the thing we want to understand, allowing it to soar to far loftier heights than we ever could have taken it.
Becoming a wondrous anomaly; a gift for our eyes, or for our mouths or for our hearts..
Blue is profound.

Andrew Tipton

Nonordinary Reality

2011-06-09T19:10:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about myself.. about the physical nature of who I really am. When I see a photograph of myself, it looks like a person I know, but I don't feel like I'm really looking at myself; It doesn't seem like that body truly has the ability to contain all that I am.
And when I look in the mirror, I see my face, my dark brown eyes, my lips and mouth, my cheekbones.. but I don't feel myself in the face - it is just the face of a close friend. A face that I recognize, .. much like you would recognize a familiar word.
The word "Tiger" for example, when I see the word "Tiger" I understand that it represents a wild, fierce animal.. but I also understand that the word in itself is not a "Tiger" - it is just a metaphor that alludes to something greater.
The more I stare, the more I fail to see ME.. the being I feel I am. I don't see me when I look at my chest, not in my arms, not in my legs or hands.. its like I live in this structure built to facilitate the REAL ME.. a being who is existing somewhere deep inside.

I have begun considering the idea, that if this "structure", this "body" is only an outlet for expression or survival, then perhaps I am something beyond physical, perhaps I am more like a thought.

I'm curious about what, or who I really am, because I am curious about REALITY. My reality.
Depending on "who" I am, I see two possible choices in my mind, when it comes to my interaction with reality.
The first response, if I assume that I am a "physical" being, (if my body is who I am) then I am bound a completely carnal experience. I will live woven inside an instinctual, surface level reality; a life that is dictated by external pressures. If we exist in a carnal reality, It will be a roller coaster of an experience.. because the physical body is responding to every sort of stimulus: pain, pleasure, fear, frustration, tiredness, etc. My life could one day be a blessing, and the next day be a curse, depending my environment, my physical perception - depending on how my body feels.

If, however, I am separate from physical, if I am something beyond skin, and bone, and eyes and lungs.. (which is how I have begun to see myself), then I believe there is the possibility a nonordinary reality - a personal experience that makes sense regardless of my physical limitations.
If I am a thought, then perception also becomes a thought.. and if perception is a thought, then reality becomes a thought as well. If I prescribe to this idea, then I am no longer translating and responding to my environment.. instead, I have the potential to author my experience.
Thoughts come from me because I myself AM thought.. and my reality is at my discretion because it too is a thought.
This means, that I do not fluctuate in my universal experience.. it means that the same ideas that govern my lifestyle when I am warm and safe.. also govern my behaviors when I am weak or in pain.
The comprehension of life becomes internalized, seared into the walls of my mind instead of gently resting on the surface of my skin.
It would create a life of perpetual balance.

Andrew Tipton

Staring into the moment

2011-06-04T11:16:00.000-07:00

The mind wants to wander so much.. I have to keep telling myself, "Breathe, breathe.. Look around you, this is where you are."

Chris and I grilled slabs of steak over a roaring campfire, ate them with our bare hands.. ripping off enormous bites with our teeth and growling like wolves. We let the blood run down our arms and fingers.. gave ourselves permission to be animals for the night, then laughed at the beauty of our magnificent fading blue sky.
We talked about the excellence of being human.
Decided that our lips and hands are truly wonderous.
We laid blankets out in tall grass, and slept under the stars.
There was nowhere else to be..
I was there.

Andrew Tipton

Hugging Cedars With Shelyn Somani

2011-05-27T17:24:00.001-07:00

I feel like I know you.
When I look at your smile, it feels like a smile that has been in my life for seventy years.. a smile that comforts the inside of my heart.
What was it, 6 hours? Less? How long did we walk through the cedar trees and look for feathers?
You found two, a gorgeous blue pair.
They're in my journal, next to the scrawl of your penned thoughts.
I am amazed by what I do not understand.
I am amazed by you..
by the way you hugged me when we met..
By your abrupt and radiant honesty.
I look into your face, and I want believe that we are eternal.
That life is just like we said. AMAZING.
Maybe we don't choose each other.. maybe life chooses us for us.
Maybe we knew each other as raindrops a thousand years ago.
I don't know.
I do know that when our paths parted that night,
I was glad for finding you.
Or maybe you found me?
Such a gorgeous creature.
Stay well my wild hearted, affectionate friend.
I am blessed for meeting you.

Andrew Tipton

Still

2011-05-22T00:16:00.000-07:00

I stay awake because I want to see if our world is going to be here in the morning.
Stay up with me, till our sun makes his appearance,
till our sky melts apart,
till our legs are tired of walking,
till I work up the courage to kiss you.
We make sure to tie our shoe laces; on ordinary days.
to put on our Sherpa jackets, on ordinary days.
to take a photograph out and write good words on the backside; postcard style.
What did you need to hear?
While its still black outside, before the stars slowly wander away,
what is it that you wanted to say?
When you speak, I listen. Please. Speak. I never ask;
But. Your mouth creates storms that tear down my walls.
But. Your hands make me believe in silence.
In my head, I'm wondering if there are spaces to grow,
to take care of our bodies, to nourish our laughter
to decide that tomorrow morning, if it really does come,
will not be as amazing as this fire we are sitting beside tonight.
I want to believe that is true,
inside my vertebrae, where it keeps me upright.
inside my lungs, where it keeps me alive.
What is foolish?
I watch your eye lashes as sparks shoot up into the sky.
What is foolish?
We spend days just painting on rowboats; and each others palms.
What is foolish?
If we are truly going to die.
If this is all permanent like a dream.
What is foolish?

Andrew Tipton

Chase the Black Fox

2011-05-17T21:43:00.001-07:00

Perhaps we must lose our devotedness and ardent thoughts,
before we can discover the splendid edges of ourself.
The Outlines.
Gifts for the empty, tucked away in lonely valleys.
Orange rock; my mind.
Owl's Clover for the eyes.
The secrets of a black fox.
This absence of sense.. a renaissance for sensuality.
Naked of intent.

Andrew Tipton

creationist

2011-05-11T13:34:00.000-07:00

The world is shivering. Lean left. Quiver right.
Doorways lean and then straighten.
The shadows on the floor dance - yet nearly imperceptibly.
I exist myself, this natural and imposing case.
Absolute silence, absolute clarity, no spaces between the light on the hardwood floor and the sweat on my lips.
music flows out of the next room; calling to me.
Release; all of this is make believe. At least to me.
Am I the silk patchwork of a butterfly's cocoon.
Am I the teeth in the mouth of my mother.
Am I the scent of incense. - cedar.
I am all of these now; all of these are me.
As the world tacks slow, I watch myself come apart.
Not to pieces, not into tormented fragments,
but into something untouchable, limitless, astounding.
If I can look at these walls, and watch them quiver,
barely holding themselves together,
then why shouldn't also my fears quiver,
and the thoughts tucked away in my resolute chest.
All that must fall is one card, and the desperate act also falls.
Not disastrous; not hopelessly - when it falls, all is equal, and I can see what has always been just out of sight.
Truth, liberty,
sanity, peace,
life, death, wonder.

Andrew Tipton

Come Alive Let Your Self Breathe the Colors

2011-05-07T23:23:00.000-07:00

What makes us come alive? What is it that unlocks our dreams, that unbuttons our jeans for us and takes us skinny dipping under a full moon?
What moves our souls? What makes our hearts wild crazy like galloping ponies? What do we adore about ourselves? What do we adore about each other.. about our days, and our late late nights and our sunrise mornings?
Do we know? Do we know ourselves well enough to come alive?

I have been watching my hands today, watching what they do.. have you ever watched your hands? They are beautiful!
Watch what they do, watch how they move, how they feel, how they know where to be at just the right moment - perfect. How they hold a pen, how they strum on an instrument, how they move firewood, how they stroke skin. I have had these hands for all my life, and I think that today is the first time I have really seen them.
Right now I am running my fingertips across my dark blue jeans.. mesmerized.
What a lucky person I am to have hands! Two of them!

How much else have I overlooked?
How many colors have I missed?
Blues, reds, yellows..
I think I know so much.. have answers and explanations.. in touch with my world.. and yet I do not even know my own hands!
Here they are.. mine this whole time.
I am coming alive.. breathing a world that keeps revealing itself inch by inch. Sensuous complexity.
When I look around, there is never a lack of bewilderment.. never a lack of color; it is simply drifting in my blind spot until I give it my focus.
There the whole time.. waiting for me to notice.
Notice today.

Andrew tipton

7 Layers Feet

2011-05-04T22:22:00.000-07:00

Tuscaloosa

2011-05-01T22:05:00.000-07:00

I watch from 2500 miles away.
I watch the world collapse around you. My home, my friends.
Watch the walls fall apart, fall down to pieces without a fight.
Wish I was stronger. Wish I had wings that could spread out like an eagle and save the ones you loved. The ones I never met.
I see the tears in your eyes, and some part of me wants to cry too.
Because we're living the same dream.
I feel human tonight. Brutal like a punch to the face.
You probably feel it too. That everything is still so fragile.
Life. Is so fragile.
That despite what we want to believe, there is no tomorrow.
We've just been making up beautiful, unpromised stories.
I paddled out to the center of the lake today.. silence.
Thought about how the sunshine felt on my shoulders, and how it must have felt on your shoulders a few days ago.
What matters tonight?
The same as yesterday?
I look at these photos of broken homes, and exhausted, shattered faces.. and I imagine myself there too.
Witnessing the destruction of all I posses.. how many seconds does it take?
Suddenly comprehending the sacredness of being alive.
What an incredible gift. Even for the least of us.

I hope you are resting tonight.. I hope at peace.
There is nothing between us but space. We're the same.
I hope I see you soon.

Andrew Tipton

Let Yourself Go

2011-04-27T11:25:00.001-07:00

In the book I'm reading, the author equates freedom, to living like no one else exists... I love that.
I cannot imagine a life better lived, than living it on our own terms.. taking the beauty that we are.. that we see.. and embracing it with a roar.
We are awesome.

Andrew Tipton

Close

2011-04-23T23:45:00.000-07:00

God is not far away. God is in your breath, God is in your heartbeat, God is in your blood, in your bones, in your marrow - just a single step of closing your eyes and entering within yourself.
-Love, Freedom, Aloneness

Shatter the Windows

2011-04-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

The Cathedral, white with a reflection that steals your words.
I watch for snow cats, black silk. making their way across the ledges,
the purple curly tails of pigs in the early morning sky,
that's what Joshua calls them.
roll over and expect nothing,
maybe though.. expect to be dismayed.
expect to be open handed, anything fits.
This instrument tonight, play, strum until you drift. Snow drift
across my fingers. We are warm blooded, Hot. Because it melts under our touch.
Touch. and watch it melt. See how we are. Incredible human spectacle.
I am seeing my voice inside out.. watched it shatter the windows.
like a million diamonds. Slow motion, beautiful explosion.
I wish you could see the inside of my mind.
Lips and sounds that strike a pose, strike a chord
Like songs that stroke the shoulders of your soul... watch with a silent mouth. Wait for it... wait for it... NOW.
I am undoing what has been written down.
Dry erase. Chalk board. Pencil drawing.
discovering that we are better than I ever imagined.
discovering what it was like in the beginning
before we knew cleverness,
before we were broken to the purity and dismay of simple colors.
it comes. melts into itself,
unravelling with grace and silent confusion -
like a conversation about kissing in a language I do not know.
the words hang silent on my tongue,
waiting to silp into the breaking waves..
we do not comprehend what we see.
we do not comprehend what we say.
I hope we do. Love. it. all.

Andrew Tipton

the way the gass sway

2011-04-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

Jumping Fences

2011-04-13T21:03:00.000-07:00

Once on a Wing

2011-04-11T22:02:00.001-07:00

Keep Your Hands Open

2011-04-10T08:29:00.001-07:00

So many times it seems like the best thing to do with life is clutch it tightly between my fingers.
"Its so good right now." I tell myself, "Why would I want change?".
Maybe if I squeeze hard enough I can keep it like this.
But I am only clutching air. I am only holding a passing beam of sunshine.

I'm reminded this morning to keep my hands open.
No matter the fullness of this moment .. keep your fingers spread wide, and your palms open.
I'm breathing that thought this morning.

I'm watching the ceiling fan turn.. its breeze gently stroking the black and white photos on my walls.. dancing with the white feathers on my dream catcher from Chandel.

Andrew Tipton

The Questions to My Answers

2011-04-04T21:43:00.001-07:00

Where are the questions that got us here?

I've been drawing a lot lately. Black and white sketches of the human body.
It has been an eye-opening glimpse into how I perceive my world.
I have realized that while I am aware of what a human body looks like.. as a whole.. I am clueless to the intricacies and details of its form.

Show me a photo of a naked woman and ask me to sketch her... I will. In a few brief moments I will use my pencil to construct a rough drawing. When I am finished you will see her curves, her lines, her legs.. you will see her long flowing hair, you will be able to identify her as the woman in the photograph.
But ask me to specifically draw her hands.. ask me to only draw her lips, or her shoulders.. ask me to draw her cheek bones, or the curve of her stomach.
Drawing the individual parts is a challenge!
I think this difficulty comes from never fully questioning the details - never understanding how they flow together to create an complex design of human beauty.
Sometimes my sketch of a person looks slightly off.. it seems solid at first glance, but maybe a shoulder is crooked, maybe her torso doesn't quite line up.. Once I know why parts fit together, then I will be able to accurately explain them in my drawing.

To accurately capture the human form.. it seems like you have to stare beyond the general lines.. dissecting the "Answer" of the body until you have fulfilled the questions that create that form.

Q: Why do the shadows fall slightly heavier on the left side of her lips?
Q: How slender are her fingers?
Q: How much space is there between her eyes and mouth?

Instead of looking at a photograph of a person and trying to express their entirety.. it would serve me much better to understand the pieces that make them who they are. Once I comprehend the parts, then I will know how to draw them as a whole.

Andrew Tipton

Iridescent Blue Nameless

2011-03-30T09:28:00.001-07:00

This is a photograph I took last week of a of dark purple Man'O War jellyfish.. near Alys Beach in Florida.

You might read that explanation, and be satisfied.. say, "Ok, I see."
You might read my explanation and think to yourself.. "Well yeah, of course, I already knew that."

But, I wish you could have been there with me on the beach.. when we discovered him. When we sat down and actually looked at this ridiculous blob stretched out.. slender tentacles still clinging to the edge of the ocean.. the incandescent shimmering of its body.. I wish you could have seen it up close.

What is in a name? A purple Man'O War jellyfish.
That is the name of this thing. At least that is what someone decided we should call it.
Does a name explain, does it define, does it de-mystify?
When we look at a picture like this.. are we calm?
Why are we calm?
Because we think we already understand what it is we see?
Do we believe that because we have named this thing.. that makes it fathomable?
We remember what we have been taught.. and an answer comes to our lips.
A name.
Jellyfish.

I love names.. they serve an amazing purpose. Allowing us to collectively identify and organize life in our minds.. allowing millions of people to communicate.
But I think the simplicity of names have untruthfully given simplicity to the objects themselves.
Instead of remaining a mind-blowing visual experience.. we have turned this creature into: "Jellyfish".. and in doing so, we've falsely removed its mystery and its magic.

Take away the name of what you see.. detach yourself from description, from definition, from your own responsibility to comprehend it.. and look at it again.
I think to see something as it exists without a name and without a description, is to see it with utmost clarity.

Andrew Tipton

Local

2011-03-23T19:10:00.000-07:00

The breeze from the ocean is coming in the sliding glass door on my left. It is cool and slight; sends chills across my skin.. good chills. The skin I wear is a golden bronze color, warm from the inside, radiating heat. I lay on the beach today with sand between my toes and in my hair and against my shoulders.. looking up at a blue sky, listening to a blue ocean - feeling like a local.
The surfboard sticks to the curve of these waves.. saltwater champagne, bubbles everywhere. Purple and blue jellyfish on the shore. No sharks in sight.
This is my peaceful rebellion for the day, the chance to look out to sea and wonder to myself at myself.
Looks down at his hands and his legs wrapped around his surfboard.. looks beneath the surface of the water he sits on.. looks as little fish circle around him.
Blessed like colors are blessed.

Andrew Tipton

Lava Silver Waves Breaking

2011-03-19T20:19:00.001-07:00

Andrew Tipton

TIGER KILLS LION

2011-03-08T08:31:00.001-08:00

Re-imagine what can be.
Remove the limitations of our stories and the ways that we behave without thought.. how long have we thought the same way, spoken the same thing.. how many lies will eat & drink up before we want something better than what someone else has to offer.
They say, "I want to be him" or "I want to be her" - but when do we ever see the ones that want to be the ones?
I want me.. I want us. We are able.. we are gods.. we are what does not happen. We are what has never been. We are the stories that insite confusion.. ask the "why>", never refuse to ask the "why?".
Life is profound and a powerful creature.. it takes what we offer and becomes what we can never dream.

A tiger killed a lion today in Turkey. And the world noticed.
I noticed.

Andrew

Coversations with Jessie

2011-03-05T20:50:00.001-08:00

Many times, we take offense to honest questions.. because they illicit honest answers... answers that perhaps we have not yet fully resolved ourselves.
Personally, I am used to being asked watered down questions.. those comfortable, easy, non-threatening ones.. that keep me off the hook, never engaging my mind or thoughts, never pressing me to address my own actions.
We like those questions I think.. because they are ambiguous.. because they let us drift. I watch myself and I watch friends, lingering in states of perpetual vagueness.. fulfilling daily urges, routines, and yet never attending to the reasons that drive our lives.
If we give ourselves the chance to create our own honest answers.. then we have given ourselves the chance to influence the shape our lives.
When someone asks us.. "Why are you here?", or "Do you think your life has purpose?", or asks, "Where does your happiness come from?" - the question will not seem so vulgar, because the answer is already resting in the back of our thoughts. Instead of fleeing because we have no response.. we will welcome the chance to expose our resolution.
I need some honest questions.

Andrew Tipton

In Our Beginning..

2011-02-27T20:48:00.000-08:00

What is it like to lose all notion of inhibition? To ignore what has been,.. and what is, and journey someplace inside ourselves that is capable of imagining what could be.
What is it like to start from nowhere.. and then create? Is that possible?
What's it like, not just to redefine an idea.. but to begin one.
Or a sound, or a motion, or a lifestyle, or a thought..
Are the beginnings all used up?
Or is it possible that we are able to represent a path beyond what already exists?

I don't know the answer to those questions.. I'm not even sure if there is one.
But I do know that when I look around me.. I see people that have the ability to create anything.. absolutely anything. I see eyes raging, I see hands that are shaking, mouths moving in silent patterns, hearts racing.. and I can't help but wonder if we will be satiated until we have loosed ourselves - until we have dissolved the sovereignty of replication.
Can we create? Will we create? Maybe that is a better question... will we.

I say this because I feel it inside myself.. the real possibility not just to continue some one's revelation.. but to BEGIN my own.
I believe life is open to us.. to our will, to our thought, to our creation.

Andrew Tipton

Feathers in the Dark

2011-02-23T19:58:00.000-08:00

I think to see the beauty of the mountains, you have to leave them for awhile.

When I was in Telluride,Colorado, I would always ask people if they enjoyed living, nestled perfectly between some of the world's most beautiful ski slopes
"You get used to them after awhile." They would always say.

Yesterday was a trip away from the mountains for me.. or more like a journey away from them for a decade. I missed them so much!
Not actual mountains... I would describe them as people mountains, thought mountains; faces and minds. I was exposed to a different side of life for 9 hours yesterday - a side of life that is not what I cherish. I realized that I have become so used to existing around this world's most astounding people, places, and ideas, that I've forgotten they are not ordinary things.

My Friends.. I'm so glad to be a part of an idea that is bigger and stronger than me. What we know and the way we live life absolutely astounds me! Our ability to create, the ingenuity and cleverness of our minds, our pursuits... our liberty is breathtaking! I knew it.. I have know it.. but I couldn't really see it until yesterday - when it was missing.
We are marvelous beings.. I thrills me to be us.

Andrew Tipton

Inside Waterfalls

2011-02-19T20:27:00.001-08:00

Ryan and I rappelling inside Steven's Gap.

Andrew Tipton

Two Horses

2011-02-16T07:07:00.000-08:00

I thought the sun breaking through Sangre de Cristo
Mountains was enough, and that
wild musky scents on my body after
long nights of dreaming could
unfold me to myself.

I thought my dance alone through worlds of
odd and eccentric planets that no one else knew
would sustain me. I mean
I did learn to move
after all
and how to recognize voices other than the most familiar.
But you must have grown out of
a thousand years dreaming
just like I could never imagine you.

You must have
broke open from another sky
to here, because
now I see you as a part of the millions of
other universes that I thought could never occur
in this breathing.

And I know you as myself, traveling.
In your eyes alone are many colonies of stars
and other circling planet motion.
And then you fingers, the sweet smell
of hair, and
your soft, tight belly.

My heart is taken by you
and these mornings since I am a horse running towards
a cracked sky where there are countless dawns
breaking simultaneously.

There are two moons on the horizon
and for you
I have broken loose.

-Joy Harjo

a;knvaoiho

2011-02-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

We wonder what they are thinking.
At the break of morning,
as the sun swells beneath winter cloud,
the warmth of four lit candles, flickering, almost gone,
illuminating our dreams.
Casting shadows on our young faces.
We wonder with our eyes closed
with our hands in our hair
fingertips to our lips
considering silently our body and the skin,
the taste and the sound.
Here lies the provoking sensation,
our desire to know our own smiles
and to be explored from the stars inward.
To see where the blackness of the sky,
meets us - becomes us.
We let truth have its way with our pride,
stripping off our stone skins,
undoing our tightly buttoned cliches,
until we are naked enough to feel ourselves dying.
Awake; if only in our laughter.
A voice grows from the inside,
a quiver, that becomes a growl.
Like the black stripes at the circus,
like the alcoholic stooped beside his name,
We are no longer tolerant of bars.
And If we are not interested in plagiary,
how much can be said?
The winter clouds break,
and now we wonder only about what we are thinking.

Andrew Tipton

Towards the Ocean

2011-02-02T08:04:00.000-08:00

"A river remains clean, because it goes on flowing."
- Attached to Nothing (Osho)

The Teachings of Sexy Bear

2011-01-31T18:03:00.000-08:00

I talk about the curves of the road, the open horizon ahead - and he listens.

I explore my pleasures, my dilemmas, my bewilderment - and he listens intently.

I sing - and he listens with unbroken fascination.

I scream - and he listens without the slightest discomfort.

I am silent - and he still listens.

Staring back into the eyes of my silent travel companion; his relaxed and eager gaze seems to draw the thoughts from my lips. As my words come spilling out, I realize that I am speaking without a filter.. without the need to edit my words.
A exodus of ideas come out of my mouth, brilliant conclusions, forgotten fantasies, remarkable solutions - and the words keep pouring out like a rushing stream.
Sexy Bear, has never said a word.. he has only listened.

In our search for wisdom, we forget that the answers we are pursuing sometimes already exist inside of us. We want to be taught much of the time.. we want knowledge to come to us, instead of through us.. but perhaps the best teachers are the ones that do not try to convince us of truth... but allow us to discover it on our own.
The silent, eager listeners.. neither condemning, nor provoking - only accepting.

Andrew Tipton

January 31st

2011-01-31T08:21:00.000-08:00

swim upside down,
past the carnivores.
into waves of black silk.
let your mind rest along her curves..
along the mysterious lines,
and the open imagination of her lips.
Cold to the touch,
merely the cradle that holds new life..
we look and we lust, and we leave..
but we seldom journey as far down as the soul.
To the why.. to the reason.
you are a storm inside of minds. Mine.
When do we ever become aware of the profoundness of ourselves?
When do we wake?
When do we see color for the first time..
see our faces and the dust on our jeans?
I have been taught to
watch genesis from a distance..
and do not roar,
do not scream,
or the world will fall to pieces -
and who desires such a thing?
Perhaps it is time for rebellious dreams.
For flames,
and for obscure
and marvelous things.

Andrew Tipton

Love Freedom & Aloneness

2011-01-26T08:56:00.000-08:00

"..for centuries your roots have been cut, poisoned. You have been made afraid of ever being in love with yourself - which is the first step of love, and the first experience. A man who loves himself respects himself. And a man who loves and respects himself respects others, too, because he knows: 'Just as I am, so are others. Just as I enjoy love, respect, dignity, so do others.' He becomes aware that we are not different as far as the fundamentals are concerned; we are one."

- Osho

Never Saw it Coming

2011-01-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

The future ain't what it used to be.
- Lewis J. Bates

My friend Angela's house burned to the ground a few days ago.
She is alive, safe and well. I am glad. Sometimes it takes a fire to make you see someone again.. or see yourself.
I have been thinking a lot about our times together. Our laughter, our conversations, our silence, and our creations. Lots of incredible memories.. nearly an hour has passed since I wrote that last line.. there was a lot to remember.
Today when I woke up, I lay there.. thinking about our future.
Mine. Yours. Angela's.
We live like we've already been there.. to the future.. like we know whats waiting on us. How our lives will flow.. the sort of person we'll eventually become.. the books we'll write, where we'll end up.. who we'll end up with.
Angela probably knows it better than me.
We don't have a future.. Not yet; Not a real one.
The one we think we know.. is just a daydream, based shadily on only our present condition.

We play god the best we can.. and then everything shifts.
We win the lottery.. or we die on the way to watch a sunset.
We never saw it coming.
That is our future.

Andrew Tipton

Indian Song

2011-01-16T21:25:00.000-08:00

"..Life is just a day on the way.."

Joshua Kumrits

Sometimes it is hard to see through the weight of the moment.
What we desire, and what we hold in our hands seem at times very different. On the horizon, we distinguish the place we want to be.. the person we want to become... often though, it feels like there is such a great distance between us and that point. I've watched my own anticipation get the best of me at times.. and found myself wondering aloud, "Will I ever arrive?

My friend Josh wrote a song a few years ago.. called, "Indian Song".. it is 2 minutes long, and it is brilliant. In the last few lines, he sings softly.. "Life is just a day on the way... oh, life is just a day on the way." - The first time I heard those lyrics, they were etched solidly into my mind. They are simple, un-struggling, calm, passionate, natural, resilient, careless. They are true.

Yesterday I came across that song.. and when those lyrics swept through my ears, down into the deep caves of my soul.. the whole world melted away, like it always does. The shadows and cathedrals of my own invention disappeared - I found myself as I always have been, a simple human, on my way through an uncomplicated life.. living for awhile, and then dying.

I am grateful for Friends who share, and whose words and dreams continually point me towards the truth.. that all of this existence is marvelous.
As I walk towards my dreams, I turn my focus away from the distant horizon, and instead watch the steps below my feet.. this one.. then the next.. then the next..
One step at a time... one day on the way.

Andrew Tipton

The Possibilities are Endless

2011-01-14T21:53:00.000-08:00

There is no reason to be false.

Andrew Tipton

Speak Like You Eat

2011-01-07T07:48:00.000-08:00

When we put the right foods into our bodies, we're making ourselves healthier, stronger, balanced.. its almost common knowledge by now, that what we eat affects the overall potential of our physical body and well being.
I walked into a bookshop yesterday, just browsing titles.. wandering down isle after isle of books dedicated to what we put into our mouths. Nutrition books, dieting guides, cleansing, muscle building, spiritual health.. we are quite knowledgeable it seems on how to eat our way to a more fulfilled life.
But our mouths work two ways..
After browsing a few dozen books about eating.. not a one mentioned being intentional with the content that comes out of our mouths.
Perhaps we have been so concerned with monitoring our "intake", that we have neglected to explore the potential of our "release"..
After all, with every inhale, comes an exhale..

These things that we say.. the sounds that slip out between our lips.. words - they are powerful! They can change perceptions, they can bring about epiphanies, they insight fear, they dispel doubts, they create affection, they sever friendships.. A single word of encouragement or negativity can forever echo in the mind of another human - changing the course of their life. That is incredible to me.. astounding.
Are we aware of this power? Do we have the will and the awareness to use it?
Sometimes it feels like we "talk" so much.. without purpose.. like we're wielding a gun without intention. Most of the words I listen to are uttered without ever a thought given to them.. they are pointless, powerless, and quickly forgotten, like pebbles tossed into a deep raging river.

When I was younger.. we used to say a prayer before each meal, to acknowledge the food we were about to eat.. to pause a moment and recognize how it was nourishing us, blessing us. I imagine that if we paused a moment to acknowledge our words before we spoke, the things we would say might be quite different.

I want to speak like I eat.

Andrew Tipton

Storms & Silk Elephants

2011-01-04T10:08:00.001-08:00

Jan 1st, 2011. 3:17 AM

It is new years night, I am lying on my back - naked, wrapped in wool blankets, staring upwards out of a skylight. Surrounded by the rushing serenade of thunderstorms; watching sheets of rain weaving themselves through the blackness.
The camper windows are pulled wide open, allowing cool gusts of rain to come inside.. wet drops keep landing on my face and chest.. like the mist from a waterfall against my warm skin.
Through the skylight, it is black for a few minutes.. with only the roar of the rain outside.. then I see flashes of lightning as they tear through the clouds above. I am quietly in awe. There is no sound other than the storm.
Raging.
I am feeling raindrops on my hands, and its as if the water is washing away the tiny lines on my fingertips which form my identity - I have no identity tonight.. I have no roles to fill.. I have no poems to recite.. I am becoming like the night outside, blackness - without definition.
I am watching her lips as she whispers, "I want you Andrew Tipton." - it as if a pride of lions just roared my name.

Here, I am becoming him.
Here, I am him already.
Liberty. To be nothing, or to be anything.

There are silk elephants dancing over my head..

It is good to be alive tonight.

Andrew Tipton

Feathers

2010-12-30T13:15:00.000-08:00

I was watching the birds.

Stretching this morning beneath this enormous cedar tree.. I listened as they chirped over my head. My eyes closed, my breaths coming in and leaving slowly.. I just listened to their cries and whistles.
What is a bird to me?
Its easy to look at a bird, to see it sitting on a branch or flitting through the air, and to consider it a lesser being. It is smaller, it is weaker, it doesn't seem to share the same acute sense of reason or thought.
It doesn't wear clothes, or go to college, or paint on canvas.
It has never been snow-sking, it has never been drunk,
Birds will never build skyscrapers.
Birds are simple.

But, as I stood there this morning, my mind racing with a million thoughts, desires, questions, doubts,.. I looked up at these birds.
And I envied them.

In all of our complexity.. we lose ourselves.

Andrew Tipton

To the Ones Who Start Fires

2010-12-21T21:48:00.001-08:00

To the ones who start fires.
I am glad to know you.
To the ones whose words are like embers.
I listen.
To the ones whose thoughts destroy worlds.
I welcome new ones.
I have known the feeling of breaking apart at my seams..
The feeling of losing my best answers..
Truth does not grow from safe words or consolation.
There is nothing more terrible and more brilliant than a burning mind.
Your motion is subtle, yet provoking.
Your skin, ordinary like mine.
You are the travellers.
You are the heretics.
You are the lovers.
You are the worshipers.
You are the healers.
You are joy.
You are wisdom.
You are peace.
You are dangerous.
Burn these days down.
Burn my heart until is aches for rebellion.
Until I long for liberty.

Andrew Tipton

2010-12-19T09:27:00.000-08:00

Let Go and Feel Your Nakedness

2010-12-18T21:02:00.001-08:00

...

Let go with the senses, pull out the stops, forget false teachings and lies
Let go of inherited belief, let go of shame and blame in brief
Let go of forbidden energies, choked back in muscles and nerves
Let go of rigid rules and roles,
Let go of uptight poses
Let go of your puppet self, let go and renew your self and be free
...
Let go this moment, this hour, this day, tomorrow may be too late
Let go of guilt and frustration, let liberation and tolerance flow
Let go of phantom worries and fears, let go of hours and days and years
Let go of hate and rage and grief, let walls against ecstasy fall for relief
Let go of pride and greed, let go of missiles and might and creed
Let go the dead meat of convention, wake up the live meat of love

- Harold Norse

Permission to Live

2010-12-17T08:56:00.001-08:00

I remember what you said on the way to the funeral,
How you stopped and looked at me with those wide eyes
You whispered your name,
You said it again, louder and people heard you this time,
and it felt good when you said it
it felt real, from the inside out real
I wanted you to say my name too
I wanted to hear it from your lips
You took off your shoes and I watched your feet sink into the grass
Its right then I fell in love with you,
When I knew you were leaving
When you ripped off the bottom half of that dress so you could run faster,
I loved that.
I loved what they screamed, and how you didn't care,
And when you didn't look back over your shoulder
When you disappeared people just stood here silent
holding their eyes on the horizon,
like they expected you to come walking back.
I knew you wouldn't

Andrew Tipton

We are Wild Horses

2010-12-13T21:12:00.001-08:00

"THEY ARE FREE WHO DO NOT FEAR TO GO TO THE END OF THEIR THOUGHT"

I read this quote a few days ago, and it has been consuming me ever since. It embodies the essence of absolute freedom.. the possibility of living out the motions of our minds.
Take a thought.. any thought, and consider for a moment what you would do with it.
Maybe, its a thought about getting up and walking outside, stripping off your clothes and laughing at the incredible feeling of sunshine on your skin. (thats a good one)
Maybe, its a thought about creating... music, words, ideas..
Maybe, its a thought about getting on a plane and travelling to Timbati to climb trees with the Leopards.
Maybe its just a thought about discovering happiness at this moment.

What do we do with these beautiful thoughts?
Perhaps we would pretend for a few minutes.. fantasize about how that thought could change our day, change our life even! We let the thought enter our minds.. and we think about how awesome it would be. But then, right along with the thought.. we also let in fear. Fear kills ideas.
Uncertainty.. doubt.. negative expectations.. All untruth that we have been fed since we were just tiny babies. Illusions that somehow certain ideas can never really be birthed, or actualized.
This mindset is absolutely fear-based.. manufactured by our ego..
We are afraid to fail.. and so we never try..
If we could see through the smoke of our fears.. I think we would discover that most of them are our own creation..
We are afraid of what people might think.
We are afraid of what might happen.
We are afraid because we don't know.

These fears are contrived.. they exist only within the walls of our own minds. If we allow them to dictate which thoughts we act upon.. and which thoughts we run away from.. we will never experience a life of sovereignty.

I am not advocating the "fulfillment" of every thought we have.. for example, maybe I won't go to Africa today and play with Leopards (but it would be cool if I did).. truly, its about understanding that we are able to pursue a thought as far and as deeply as we want - Any thought.
Victory is not completion, it is being fearless enough to take action.
When we can look a dream squarely in the eyes and not look away.

We are majestic, wild horses that have always lived within the fences of our own fears.. but we are discovering that beyond those fences is a landscape of uncharted liberty and possibility... and we are aching to break free.

Andrew Tipton

Acadia Song

2010-12-09T21:29:00.000-08:00

Some footage from our journey to the northern forests of Acadia..

Music - myself and Trent (Dulcimer and Guitar), an idea for a new song.
I can almost hear our friend Joshua's voice swaying in and out of the melody -
Just simple soul.. the motion of ordinary, incredible things.

I remember the skies, as we chased a hurricane up the Atlantic coast.. we spent our nights dreaming in hammocks under the stars, and playing music as we watched the flickering embers our campfires soar upwards and become new constellations.
Such a Wild earth.)

Andrew Tipton

OM.

2010-12-06T09:40:00.000-08:00

What can we believe about ourselves?
That we were once animals?
That we are still animals?
Life moves to us the way it moves to the birds, or the white lions of Timbavati.
What must a lion do with life?
What must a Raven do with life?
Does a fern need to achieve some sort of greatness or esteem in order to be valued?
How are we different from them?

We wake up in the morning, when the sky is alive with color.. and immediately place ourselves underneath false expectations and false burdens.
We put on our clothes and our intellects, and re-establish how successful we have become up to this point in our lives.
The day is forgotten.. our animal being is silently slaughtered.
And then we breathe a long painful sigh..
Being human is difficult we say.. and perhaps it is.
But how much of that difficulty are we creating ourselves?

The separation from our animal self has led us to believe that we are more than animals; that there is more to life than living and dying.
If we believe that.. we are selling away our peace.

Andrew Tipton

Snow Leopards

2010-12-05T22:23:00.000-08:00

where do snow leopards go to dream?
When they are exhausted from the cliffs and narrow ledges..
when chasing wild sheep has left their paws torn and aching.
do they travel beyond the mountains?
away from the cold of Patagonia nights..
away from the avalanches and the echoing screams of Golden Eagles.
Do they have a warm den someplace..
where sunset sunlight filters in deep,
and they can lose themselves in the spotted fur and melodic purs of another leopard?
These are the hours of December..
when snow seals in our dreams..
and we roam to find some solace from the bleak afternoon grays.
The clouds glide overhead, close.. moving east to west..
Thick and heavy like Himalayan candlelight..
We both hear roaring bears in the distance..
It is happening before us.. sometimes to us.
All around us. Like this.
Snow leopards on mountain tops.

Andrew Tipton

Mercy

2010-12-05T21:05:00.001-08:00

(LUCAS OLENIUK/TORONTO STAR)

"Where is Mercy?"
When our hearts break. Where is mercy?
When our daughters slip away without a goodbye. Where is mercy?
When the morning brings with it coldness and gray skys. Where is mercy?
When there are no good words for our ears. Where is mercy?
When our wounds ache and our bodies are weak with pain. Where is mercy?
When age strips away our flame and our strength. Where is mercy?
When hunger and suffering and poverty and hate overtake us. Where is mercy?
.......
Mercy was given to us when we were born.
It was given to us when we saw our first color, and heard our first sound.
It was given to us when we breathed our first breath.
Do we deserve more?

Andrew Tipton

2010-11-28T21:16:00.000-08:00

Andrew Tipton