Terminal Velocity

The theory is that information cannot travel faster than the speed of light. If this is the case, there is definitely a physical limit to how bad things can ever get. The penny that one throws off of the Empire State Building cannot cause nearly as much damage as one might think. With that being said, I feel terrible for that tiny pigeon that happens to be in line with the object's trajectory.

Lately I've been camping out and watching the great forest fire that the authorities are attempting to extinguish. I had no idea my house was so flammable! As bad as that is, I'm beginning to feel nostalgic as I roast those marshmallows. Sort of a home away from home. Alien, yet strangely familiar. My mind becomes clear, empty, at peace. I focus on the texture and subtle flavor of a slightly charred treat as I close my mouth. The hot, yet tolerable heat from it causes the blood in my veins to move at a quicker pace. I listen to the low rhythmic pounding in my ears as my heart consistently delivers and receives the goods. A smile comes to my face when I begin putting trust back into that vital organ, the same one that's been my most trustworthy and reliable friend since the day I was born.

Of course, the bag runs out eventually and I have to get up and keep buying new ones, though at least I know that there's a place down the corner from me that sells them buy one, get one free! To get myself above the five dollar minimum for credit card transactions I buy a few lighters. Also because I fucking love irony!


A cool, breezy autumn day is the best thing in the world for me, despite my allergies. While I find that the majority of others enjoy the summer more than anything, it is in the fall time that I find myself at home. It reminds me of closure, of conclusion, of realization. The end of a war. The leaves no longer remain on the trees and after just a few weeks of changing colors they all inevitably fall down. It's a humbling experience. The rustling sound they make as the wind blows them around the streets is a calm reminder for me to sit back and relax when things get tense.

For the duration of this season my subconscious grants me permission to allow the world to happen, just happen, in front of my eyes. "I am not the god of this planet," it gently reassures me as I put down the chain I've been tugging so hard on for so long. I relent and take a long, deep breath.

The leaf gently falls flat on the water of the stream, and the stream carries it down, passing by large stones, bridges, boats, eventually making it's way to a vast ocean where all that's left is the calm and peaceful waters.

- Ether

There To Catch You

(note: this is specifically a special guest entry I wrote for the Mental Illness Happy Hour website. You can download episodes of the podcast for free at MentalPod.com)



Enlightenment seems to be inevitable when you realize that the hole you are falling down is most likely bottomless. Allow gravity to perform it's natural duty. Yield to the flow of the universe. September was an unusually cold month this year of 2011, even for the weather standards of New England.

Saturday, the day before the 11th, I was on my way to an outdoor cookout when I received a call from one of my half-sisters. Her voice seemed void of expression, the words came out slowly. “I just got a call. Dad's dead, and the police and coroner say it looks to be definitely self inflicted.” This surprise hit me like a meteor. In my mind I traveled back home where a chocolate bar and pairs of socks lay waiting as gifts for his birthday and Father's day.


Those moments disappeared and the thoughts of our last phone conversation from the prior month appeared. “Dad, I hope to see you at least before your birthday and give you all these gifts. I miss you. Take care, I love you.” There was a sigh, then my father responded, “Yeah...well...yeah you know. The words. Take care.” Memories surfaced: the moment my half-sister's mother committed suicide, and just 8 years ago my own mother had entered her own downward spiral. But my dad was the stronger one! He had quit smoking cold turkey years ago, no health issues, and was still painting houses in his seventies.

The amount of tears that came forth could have flooded the countryside, as if Hurricane Irene hadn't already done so the week prior. That faucet was then opened again a few weeks later when my wife admitted to me that during the past six years of marriage she's lost all interest in me and has been living a perpetual lie.

This news comes after having two children, one only 9 months old at the time. If you had asked me two of my greatest fears I've had for quite some time, I would have told you that I was afraid of my father ever passing away, and that I was afraid of my wife falling out of love with me. Within a 30 day span of time the two worst things I could imagine happened at once, and unfortunately it coincided with a time when my depression/anxiety medication stopped working.

What really saved me was my support structure. I learned awhile back that I was not alone, no one truly is, and decided to reach out. I had started therapy at the beginning of the month, and now had a life coach. I allowed myself to be vulnerable. I talked to everyone I could and learned that there are others who are willing to help you put on that parachute as you're being pushed out from the plane. They're willing to walk you through opening it up.


They're even there to catch you if it never opens!

Realizing this fact has saved me.

- Ether

Dream to Live

Whether we like it or not, we are all born story tellers. Story telling is in our genetic code, and I'm sure someday soon they'll find the correct sequence for it. Along with story telling, we also love listening to stories. Our subconscious minds create them with very little effort. Most of the time, we don't even have control as author or reader!

We live to dream. We dream to live. I'm paraphrasing what a good friend told me that once.

I've gone over it in my head quite a bit and I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea, the identity, the persona that I've realized I've become, is called an "Artist." I should probably just accept that I am one and embrace it, and yet part of me has always believed that saying so would just be a weak excuse for my actions.

"You're very emotional and sensitive!"
"You're very creative!"
"Your head is always in the clouds!"
"You live in Dreamland!"

"Oh relax everyone. It's okay because I'm an "Artist."



Some part of me also believes that I'm repressing this aspect of myself. I'm downplaying it because I've been taught to deny my birthright. It never seemed to jive well with the limits my environment has always put on me. Permission had never been granted, and always vehemently refused. It seems almost as if my own success would have emphasized the failure others had put upon themselves. I'd be lying if I said I'm not at least a little cynical and jealous when someone wins the big lottery or jackpot. I say to myself, "Wow, lucky them..." then proceed to feel more empty in my own life.

Again, this is what I've been around my whole life so it's been absorbed into my skin. I had no say in the matter really. Now that I'm realizing this however, I can perhaps change that aspect of myself. I can consciously say, "Yes, this is who I am, and that's okay." More than okay! I need to be proud and stand tall! No one should ever deny themselves a gift that they fully deserve!



This may be a new chapter in my life, a new part, a new book. Hell, it may even be the case that the book was never fully opened to begin with, and we were all just reading the cliff notes! Sure you get the end result, the plot in a nutshell, though we've been robbing ourselves of the journey. The journey is the meat and potatoes. To say I've finally found my calling is a lie, because I don't think I've gotten there yet, however I've now accepted my responsibility as a creative person. I can't put it off any longer, denying the inevitable that awaits ahead.

Mountains to climb.
Oceans to sail.
Stars to visit.

- Ether

Cherish

It's a beautiful sight to see a falling star, a comet, any sort of astrological gem in the sky on a dark night. Even a full moon is unquestioningly magnetic to the human eye. I'm a lunatic. If given the opportunity I would stare into the moonlight as long as it was visible above. I would cancel my plans, I would make the necessary preparations, I would turn my phone off. During those moments it would just be myself and that amazing wonder in the infinite black. No words need be spoken. There would be a deep understanding, down to the soul. It would just hang up high with it's inevitable beauty, and I below filled with admiration of it's nature.

But alas, those moments are temporary. The experience can never fully be duplicated. When taking part in the experience, be sure to be present and never take it for granted for even a second.

This, too, shall pass.

- Ether

Compression

In audio engineering, compression is a very useful tool, and perhaps the least understood when it comes to it's general use. Heck, even I don't know how to properly utilize it most of the time! I'm deathly afraid of any professional taking a peek at what I do out of fear of being chastised. (and rightly so)

So for layman's terms, a compressor provides a few essential functions in the audio world. As a limiter, it makes sure that when the decibels get too hot that it'll push them back down to the user's specifications. As a noise gate, if the sounds aren't loud enough they are completely muted. And general compression use is mostly for making the loud and soft sounds into one normal, consistent volume. Predictable, manageable, easily controlled.

Unfortunately misuse of this leads to your music sounding empty and lifeless. Regardless of the composition, the melody, the rhythm, abusing the compressor will suck the mix dry of all it's essence, much like frozen vegetables and processed meats.

That's just it. Most people in the world just play it by ear and are doing lots of damage. All those songs which had been born, brought into existence with so much promise and potential end up being compromised and abused, never truly shining the way they deserve. They've been denied their birthright from their abusers.


Everyday you'll hear mixes that are walled to death. You'll never hear the subtle qualities, since they are drowned out and never to see the light of day. Expression may come out incorrectly and not as it was originally intended. And all the screams become muffled, interwoven and hidden between the cracks of the rest of the composition unable to break through and have the presence it requires.

A lot of this injustice is also done voluntarily by individuals who are too wrapped up in themselves to really see what's right. For them, the tracks they're provided with get mashed and molded into a way that only they can understand, because they subjectively believe that it's the 'right' way and if anyone else disagrees, that's their problem. They'll make every excuse as to why their actions have merit, perhaps garner some support within the community to reaffirm their beliefs. Unfortunately you just can't change a mind who's unwilling to be open and vulnerable. Just about all bad work comes from one's inability to see the big picture, and flat out refusing to open their eyes. So many others suffer for the pigheadedness of these people.

But then again, it seems like most people don't have an ear for this kind of stuff, so I suppose they aren't really affected by it, which is why changing this behavior is something that one can't really count on happening anytime soon. Our low standards perpetuate the cycle of abuse.
- Ether

Silver Diffusion

Within the cool, foggy mornings surrounded by trees and silence I find myself at home. We all yearn to go from Point A to Point B, and in this instance I feel as if I've arrived. Unfortunately Point B always seems to be temporary and static, forever moving. Perhaps it's just a variable that's greater than another variable, yet still undefined. The only thing I truly know about it is what it is not.

Can Hope be a physical, or at least metaphysical, place that we're all seeking? Like the birds we have a special magnetic sense that draws us to that place. In a recent documentary film about him, David Lynch imparts some wisdom. One thing that's stuck in my mind is when he talks about the importance of 'doing.' He says that the end result of 'doing' is the fruit, though it's in the 'doing' that we truly find our peace.

He has to be right, as much as it may not make too much obvious logical sense. We see the dollar signs and a world of praise and admiration as the central motivator to our actions, our projects. So why is it when we achieve these things we are left eventually feeling empty? It's because you've reached the end, and it's time to start something new. I think about why I watch movies and read books. If the real reason is for the ending conclusion, why bother with the rest of the story? All that conflict and turmoil? Does anyone consciously seek out issues and problems that cause us nothing but stress?



I've found that when I'm on a journey it is one big, deep meditation experience. There's always unexpected turns and roadblocks that challenge me in my path. I sometimes lose sight of why I'm on the trip to begin with, becoming discouraged. It's when I then remember that the journey is in fact the reason the final destination is so coveted. Ultimately we're motivated to do all this stuff for our own well being.

And so it's imperative that I keep taking short walks and schedule long journeys. It's healthy for everyone to do so! As an artist it is essential for me to continue with my works of expression, regardless of the opinion of others.

It's my purpose.

- Ether

Invisible Ink

What is the secret to breaking through everything?

Addictions and bad habits are traps. They hold us and deny us our freedom. They prevent us from doing the necessary stuff that life throws at us. We're allowed to continue living because it benefits the parasite. It's sad, really, because some of us go through life without ever knowing of it's existence. It emits an analgesic toxin that allows us to stay in denial.

I find it okay to allow a separation between myself and my parasites. It's so easy to identify with and falsely believe that you are the bad one, that you could have taken measures to have prevented the infection. Unfortunately parasites are part of the natural world, as natural as living and dying, and I know that I'm just as vulnerable as anyone else.


Certain times I minimize the severity of my situation, making excuses. The habit requires a continued existence and has the ability to manipulate it's host to insure nothing comes in the way of that. Help is for crazy people, and you're not crazy right? So I've tried handling it on my own, only to find in the end that it is impossible without assistance. It preys on your fears. It reminds you that you're afraid of how others perceive you. As a people-pleaser, it's almost impossible for me to make really difficult decisions.

The entertainer is naturally a people-pleaser. It's what seems to drive him.

I say I don't care what others think of me, but it has to be a lie. It's something I tell myself over and over, trying to convince my psyche to believe it. The truth is that I have no idea how to fully be 'normal.' Does anyone really? I know that I try to conceal my flaws. My invisible ink only appears under specific conditions.

Society seems to frown upon originality and uniqueness. It's a foreign invader! As I grow up I notice myself hating current music more and more. Every generation seems to do this. New things are alien to adults. It's something you can't fully understand unless you finally reach that point. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," is for comfort. I've yearned to understand this world, to come up with the answers to the questions. It's frustrating to find out that the old method, the way you used to live is no longer applicable and you have to adapt yet again.


Quiet Cabin
by Deede Denton

There's a quiet, cozy cabin in the woods that I've been searching for my whole life. Every time I think I've finally found it, I then make a futile attempt to keep it forever. I fight nature and always end up losing. Trees fall on the roof. Termites eat through the walls. Flooding, tornadoes, forest fires, grizzly bears, earthquakes, avalanches, blizzards, and the occasional volcano eruption. Eventually I'm forced to move out with tears of sorrow and discouragement in my eyes.


Time traveling to the subjective past can be an unhealthy addiction. I've used it as a coping mechanism, a means of escape, the euphoric rush of a fantastic and ideal world that no longer exists. It has it's place, much like the infinite future trajectories. It's not often that I arrive exactly at the location I previously visited in my mind, since the iterations of the future are mind-bogglingly numerous, though it can get pretty close. The time travel practice can provide us hope and temporary relief, but with anything like that you have to be careful not to exceed the recommended dosage or else you'll suffer the consequences.

And by itself I know that this activity is not a cure for my parasites. Just a tool, not the solution. Help is a tool. Ultimately though, only I can purge them from myself.

- Ether