How many times do we need to be reminded of how impermanent life is and how precious every moment we live is? 
What will impel us to drink directly from the wellspring of life?
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The other day I posted about a beloved friend, Dan, who passed beyond the veil and onward into his infinite journey on the boundless ocean. 
Many would say that his journey ended too soon and when I stop to think about him part of me (the heart of me) agrees, but this is exactly how this mysterious thing of this life works. 
In the end we can’t be too young, too this, too that, too anything, because there is a greater mystery at play. 

It appears that we are both the player and played in this grand cosmic soup game of life.

<h3>God or Machine or Something in between?</h3>
Whilst I subscribe to an aspect of the notion that Nick Cave sapiently sang *“I don’t believe in an interventionist god,”* I don’t believe the apophantic statement made by Father John Misty (Josh Tillman) that *“we’re just random matter suspended in the dark.”*
There seems to a superconscious energy permeating all of existence.
Constantly, consistently inconsistent in its perfection, magnificent in its tumultuousness and indomitable graciousness, **`this life is an incredible gift to be revered with every inhalation and received with quotidian gratitude.`**

<h3>Dangerous Assumptions</h3>
A long and fruitful life is what we assume we’ll get (and hope we’ll get) so we kind of squander the hours of our days as if we are going to live forever, but none of us know when we’re actually going to die as we somnambulantly wander through our work week. 

<h4>`Whatever it is that keeps us balanced in this fragile homeostasis is incredibly miraculous!`</h4> 
Yet when the scales tip against our favour and come closer to drawing our last breath we realise how much time and life-energy we’ve wasted on mundane and trivial things. 
This understanding alone can lead to wonderful realisations and life changing transformation, especially with the way we utilise the hours of our days, or more importantly, how we appreciate each minute. 

<h3>Wisdom of a wise stranger</h3>
I met a jovial 82 year old man a week or so ago and when I asked him how he was he vivaciously replied, *“I’m breathing another glorious breath! I’m alive! It’s miraculous! Every day that I’m breathing I’m grateful to be alive!”* 

Normally, when I ask people how they are, they doll out the same reply, *“Not bad,”* (to which I normally reply, “well, that’s better than bad” which usually elicits a smile) so when I heard this man say these words I was immediately uplifted. Actually, I was relieved.

<h3>The Song of Life</h3>
This precious heart has only so many beats within this song of life before the last drum roll will precipitate the coadunation back into the symphony of the universe. 
But it’s not so much the numbers of beats we have that’s important, is it ? 
We all know that it’s more the quality of each beat and the depth of each rhythm that counts. 

<h3>The Great Remembering</h3>
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Sometime after our dramatic entry into the world during our early childhood, the memory of the incredible magnificence of the nature and essence of what we can hardly believe we truly are is forgotten entirely. 
Yet even in our somnambulant state there is a stirring inside that grows into a deep longing for even a glimpse of remembrance. 
A taste of freedom. 
And those of us fortunate enough to have experienced glimpses of this great remembrance, we become seekers on a path to break through the seductive walls of illusion, referred to as Maya in India’s Hindu culture, to be free. 

Our heart knows that our spirit longs for liberation. 
It wants to express itself far beyond the limited parameters set by the status quo. 

A great wise sage once said that it’s not about becoming who we are, but more poignantly, *unbecoming* who we are not. 
Untangling the tentacles of indoctrination that act as blinkers to reality.
Sit there. 
Breathe. 
Let the masks fall.
*"Don't Just do something... Sit there!"* 
<sup>That's the title of my second album.</sup>
That is the metaphorical blue pill or red pill that is mistakenly spoken of in merely political terms by many who call themselves ‘woke’, yet it’s far more profound than that.



So what will trigger you to shed the comfort-zone-skin that society has placed upon you to lull you into a noctambulist stupor?

What will inspire you to pull down the masks you wear that you think are ‘you’ and radiate your true essence?

What will tickle that ebullient, radiant being inside of your meat-suit to shake off the shackles and live each moment to the fullest?

Will you wait for personal cataclysm to come first to push you out of your comfort zone?

Or will you start the process of initiation yourself?

My friend from long ago has just passed, perhaps too soon, and I will never be able to have philosophical chats with him again, but his actual passing has reawakened a passionate power within me and I hope that it triggers something deep within you as you read these words.

<h3>`May you appreciate each breath as if it will be your last, yet dream like you will live forever and take action as if you are a god. For who knows, maybe you are…?`</h3>

`Blissful blessings and smiles`
`in joy`
`Nathan`
NK
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