i am falling apart. it's ok. i've known about it for many years. I've known it forever.  I used to watch youtube vids of ascetics living in caves and it made more sense to me than watching people in suits playing jazz, making this and that, settling debts incurred by social conditions and rite of passage, and in fact, more sense than watching anything happen.  without motions, without fear, without worry, existence absolute.  independent, unchanging, advaita atman.  bliss absolute.  anonymous.  i struggle tonight though, massively.  so much music in me, so much joy, so much color, and yet i am a victim of the mind and emotions.  a colorless midnight observer of my measured lack, i establish sickness in this body.  if it is ok that i fall to pieces, then why does the observance of the process bring awareness of lack?  do i still give away perceived value to those who value perceived value?  apparently.  i wanted to give my earthy self to someone and it only amounted to that which all earthy things amount to: end.  identity, achievement, thought, legacy, they all end and rise like a smoky offering to a different an untold purpose, much like anise on the hot stones powering a native sweat lodge ceremony. I've known well for nearly 20 years that i don’t fit.  the only success i’ve had has come like a thief in the night, when i made no promises, and when i followed only the path put before me by balance within heart and mind, and honesty, sincerity and practice.  music is a hard path.  so powerful, so transient.  it’s an epic program written, it survives time, dissolves boundary, hope and hopelessness, it gives to and takes equally from maker and user.  it only does so because it is timeless.  instant.  eternal sound, ancient eternal sound.  jesus krishna.  love thy neighbor as thy self.  moses buddha.  love thy neighbor as thy self.  allah krishna.  durga mary.  love thy neighbor as thy self.  forms many, truth one.  observe the conflict and destruction that you are given,  look at this world that the masses are offered by the unnamed few who choose, and who remain nameless, anonymous, yet powerful through the ages of earth.  see all what/if/how/that  you know has been shown to you.  see that your mind is wonder of the ages, observe it.  when it stops repeating the conditioned phrases and images, it is a space of infinite and intimate creativity, bliss, healing, clarity and knowledge.  and then suddenly, here i am: remade, reconstructed. honest and cared for, safe.  it is hard to locate the ancient value when you buy and sell in this physical world.  it takes mind, practice, ferocity, loneliness, fire, despair, suffering and faith.  it is not understood by those who have not spent silent hours within, and because of that, it is understood by very few.  i wish to find it again now.  i suffer.  i have suffered.  i have been in bliss as a result of practice.  i have been in agony as a result of knowing small bliss, but no longer tasting it.  a little taste of honey is worse than none at all.  my vision has been clouded, but i wish to try again, and i don’t mind losing the things that this world values in the effort to see beyond the the things that this world values.  the unseen exists.