Questions without Answers(?)

I love the part of humanity that breathes curiousness.

By nature I love asking questions.. from the way people move, to the way we think, to the thoughts we never say. Questions. Asking "why?", takes my mind on a wild ride.. I love the possibilities that come with asking a question.
Even at this moment, my mind is racing through questions about the earth, about my surroundings, about truths and the ideas of wisdom and happiness. The questions never end.. but in a good way.. the way you don't want an insanely good book to end.. or the way you don't want a night to end sometimes.
There seem to be two very separate sides to my consciousness -
- the part of me that asks questions.
- and the part of me that needs to have these questions answered.

I am curious though.. what would happen if I stopped looking for the answers to all my questions? Its ironic... (another question), but truly.. is it possible for a person to ask questions, and remain detached from whether or not they get a reasonable answer? Or at least, the answer that they hoped to find?

I am only asking this question, because I've become aware that I compulsively attempt to "create" answers for myself. More and more frequently, I'm noticing a desire to explain away my questions... Without a blink, without a hesitation.
Often in the face of uncertainty, I jump - Jump to where I want to be in my mind.. to the answer that makes me feel in control
Answers... to the names of birds, to friendships, to behavior, to why I act a certain way, to why colors feel a certain way in my mind. I jump to the answers. I create solutions, and never bother to linger awhile in uncertainty.
But why not linger in the questions for awhile? :)

Maybe I will for awhile..
- Questions lead us to the possibilities of life - while answers take away the pure magic of living. There is an abundance of questions.. I want to ask them with an open, quiet mind - ask them without looking for a comfortable resolution.



(Andrew Tipton)

Rebel Raindrops

Whiskey silk, rebel raindrops.
feel it slow. Motion.
Feel it slowly on the back of your heart like a laugh,
Out. Loud.
Wait for it, want for it, be for it.
Black cloud breeze; the starlit outline of my smile - sometimes.
Between the patchwork of quilts;
the patchwork of my thoughts;
sweet tangle jungle dreams.
We are always asking questions about the color of rain.
We are always answering questions about the color of rain.
Watch her sway, in the dark.
Tilt back, arched back.
Can you pause a moment?
Would you try and touch a whisper?
Try and make it yours...
Hold it there on your tongue... It slips from the lips.
Splash.
Wet circles on my cheeks, wet circles on my skin, wet circles on my mind.
Slow.
Motion.
Everywhere.




Andrew Tipton

I got up my bravery

A ship in harbor is safe - but that is not what ships are for.

~John A. Shedd

Put the Magic Back

Journal Entry: Put the magic back.

Laying on my back, my skin still feels salty and saturated from the ocean waves and afternoon rays. I am lying here with my eyes closed, my hands behind my head, a worn-out patchwork quilt tangled around my legs, and grains of sand stuck to my bare shoulders. The night air feels like ice-cube kisses on my face, and I can literally feel myself coming and going from jellyfish dreams.
There is nothing extraordinary about this moment; no special sounds, no trembling heart or restless revolutionary thoughts... it is simply the moment before sleep; a common moment, an un-interesting moment - the sort that is quickly forgotten and never brought up in conversation. And yet, as I lay here, everything about it feels inexplicably wild.

Try and explain life.
Try and explain yourself.
Explain the simplest, most ordinary places.
Explain animals or dreams, or touch, or emotion..
I watched a jellyfish today... explain a jellyfish.
I watched a cloudless sky twist and sway and burn itself into a million beautiful colors.. explain that.
Explain rest, and explain sleep, and explain peace, and explain skin, and water, and sunlight.
Do you ever feel like you want to put the magic back into these days? Do you ever feel like there are too many answers, too many explanations? Maybe life only looks rigid and defined.. because we have said so.
Maybe life is still magical, still wild, still wickedly beautiful. Do you ever stop and remember that we are the ones who made up all these answers to begin with?




"I am just lying here."
"I am lying here."
"I am here."
"I am."
"I."
"__."


"____." is a magic place; a place where definitions, expectations, and explanations do not exist. Things just are. I don't tell them what to be.. don't tell them how to move.. I don't tell them what they were made to do..
What if sea turtles are _______.
What if sound is ______.
What if tigers are _______.
What if you and I are ________.

What an amazing beautiful place we would exist in.

I keep picturing jellyfish.



Andrew Tipton

Life as Circles

Returning is the motion of the Tao.
Yielding is the way of the Tao.
The ten thousand things are born of being.
Being is born of not being.
- Lao Tsu

I had an incredible weekend. Dancing at a rave surrounded by sweat and glow-sticks, rock climbing across boulders at sunset, telling stories around a crackling campfire, strumming songs on my guitar at 3:30 in the morning, swinging in my hammock at dusk beside a beautiful lake, playing in the park under a perfect blue sky and laughing until I couldn't breathe. As I tossed myself onto my bed last night, I felt completely exhausted - my eyes heavy, my skin still warm from a day's worth of sunshine, my muscles aching.. I was worn out in the best sort of way; I lay there for a moment and embraced the pleasure of well-earned tiredness.

I am beginning to see life as circles.. every motion I make, every decision, every smile or word or touch.. connected like veins to my past and my future. Life is not a linear experience. No motion is independent from any other motion. We live a moment, we act.. and that energy affects us residually for the remainder of our lives. Powerful.
This is entire weekend happened because of motions I made in my past: words I said, or songs I listened to, or a decision to go somewhere, or to call someone, or the decision to smile, or the simple decision to be silent - they add up, and they return to us.

It is what I do Now, that opens the doors to what I do Now, later.

When we know that life returns to us.. I think it creates a sense of honest sincerity; our now becomes our everything, because we realize that everything comes from what we decide right now.



(Andrew Tipton)

Wild Geese

Wild Geese

Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Don't Come Back Until you're Bleeding

When I was a child, my mother used send me outside to play. We lived in the middle of a forest, by a lake, in a cabin - it was the sort of place most kids only dream about. Raw, wild, anything-goes, excitement.

"Go play, and don't come back until you're bleeding." - those are the words she used to tell me. :)

I remember why I bled, I remember the climbing up trees, the rope swings, the dare devil stunts, the bike races, the bonfires.. the skateboards, the rafts, the dirt bikes.. the pleasure of being 9 years old, and bleeding; an honor - earning your way back into the house. Scratches, cuts, scrapes, gashes, tears, punctures, rips. Wounds. Beautiful, gnarly, disgusting wounds.
When you bled as a kid, it was because you were out there, enjoying yourself, being dangerous.. playing by your own rules.
Getting hurt, wasn't something to cry about, it was expected. Honestly, I never went out looking to bleed, but somewhere between bows-and-arrows, and rock fight, it just seemed to always happen.

I think my mom would probably give me the same guidelines she did back then.. even today. "....Don't come back until you're bleeding." - I adore that concept. :) Possibly, most people believe that it is a success if you make it through your day, comfortable and well-preserved - is that what we are content with? Really? That is all we want from these days? Where is the lust and adventure and beauty? Where is the carpe-dium we all say we desire.. when we agree to adopt a hum-drum, la-la-la, pen and ink success story?

At the end of the day, I want to come back and have some wounds.. I want to have sparks in my eyes, and dirt in hair, a few cuts on my arms or heart, and a smile on my face. Life best lived.

I love you Mama.





(Andrew Tipton)