Chapter 1: The Weight of Silence

Sometimes, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief when I write, as if I’ve finally pushed through the sticky, suffocating layers that build up each day I refrain from putting pen to paper. Just a few days ago, I managed to publish something on my Substack newsletter. Admittedly, it was a lackluster effort, marred by distractions that clearly reflected in my writing. I knew I could have given it more thought and care before hitting "publish."

However, the idea of crafting something merely for my audience feels suffocating. I often find myself wanting to cast such thoughts aside, like an unwanted burden. It’s a struggle, and sometimes I wish I had the guidance of a Brene Brown book close at hand.

The crux of my situation is that at this moment in my life, I must write for my own sake. I must express myself to feel alive, to connect with my own existence, even if it’s only a partial connection.

Life can be unbearably painful. Just the other day, I visited my neighbor, who had just returned from seeing her mother. She recounted how her mother, once a vibrant figure in her community and an accomplished artist, has now faded into the background as an elderly woman in a nursing home. As she shared this, tears filled her eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel the weight of her sorrow.

In response, I shared a memory from one of my father's last birthdays. My daughter suggested we bring him sushi, a delightful idea that we executed with care. We gathered in a long hallway of the nursing home, feeding him small bites of sushi. It was a messy affair, and to an outsider, it might have appeared disheartening.

Suddenly, a volunteer named Georgia approached my father, knelt down, and sang him a birthday song about a sailor boy. In that fleeting moment, my father’s expression softened, and for a brief second, he was restored to his former self.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m adrift in my own life, disconnected from reality. Today, my neighbor spoke about the importance of love and kindness, and I found myself expressing my struggle with vulnerability. Life can be so painful, especially for those of us who feel deeply.

Yet, what are our alternatives? We might seek refuge in alcohol, drugs, or even retail therapy. Some paths to escape are healthier than others, but they all stem from a desire to evade pain. I recall Pema Chodron's teachings on embracing suffering.

My dear friend U., who passed away last June, often expressed his desire to live life fully, embracing every sensation, including the discomfort. Unfortunately, he succumbed to alcohol, seeking solace in its embrace until it led to his demise. I tried to intervene, but he shut me down, and I retreated to protect my own heart. I regret that he felt alone in his final days.

It's essential to let the world in, to open ourselves up to love, music, and life. The winds outside today are fierce, demanding attention and grounding us in the present moment. The palm tree across the street bends dramatically in the gusts, the sky a vibrant robin's egg blue, and the streets are adorned with blooming poppies.

Writing is my lifeline. When I neglect it, I feel parts of myself begin to wither. Though I’m physically present, I become increasingly disconnected from my consciousness and the world around me, lost in a void. Writing serves as my declaration of existence, a way to assert that I am here and my life matters.

When I write, I affirm my presence in this world; when I don’t, I feel myself fading away. It truly is that straightforward.

Chapter 2: Opening New Dimensions Through Words

The first video, "How to Open A Portal in Time & Space," explores the concept of transcending ordinary experiences through the power of writing and imagination.

The second video, "How Could We Open a Portal to Another Dimension?" delves into the ways creativity can connect us to new realms of understanding and experience.