the overflowing bathroom tub

there’s this compelling, irresistible call to action that i experience from time to time. in these excited moments, life is not a mere passage of time nor a drain of energy. it’s a calling to greatness. whether this is actually a little bit of mania, or the result of caffeine, is unknown. but the feeling persists regardless, so i’ll move on from those binding classifications.

music lies within this realm of destiny and fate. this underlying motivation to create, experiment, and produce content drives the vast majority of my sessions. when i take out my guitar, i see a stage for performance. flipping on recording gear hallucinates a professional studio and the knowledge to operate it. sitting down at a piano projects concert halls full of skeptical and hesitant audience members consumed by the impending mystery that would be my modern-day symphony.

it might come off as selfish, which is readily understandable. if i heard someone talking about this ecstasy of adrenaline, and i hadn’t yet lived through such a wave, i’d chalk them up as an egocentric, yet disciplined individual.

but the mission is not geared toward greed or wealth. when i’m swimming in daydreams of music scores and practice drills, the fame and status awaiting a public breakthrough are costly side effects. we’ve all been privy to the testimonials of artists who accumulated kettlebells of anxiety and depression in pursuit of a socially corrupt goal. once they make it, they’re engulfed in a swath of confusing reactions. wasn’t the money supposed to make it easier? shouldn’t the fans motivate album production?

but see, that’s the self-centeredness — expecting others to give you what you need.

which is why i categorize a calling as something other than a cost-benefit amalgam. wherever this passion and desire came from (origin revealed in three paragraphs), it’s self-fulfilling; the rewards of such individualized objectives radiate achievement. when you’re around a rabid worker, their devotion may just inspire your next burst. it’s that petrichor of sweat, blood, and tears that reminds us of our human curiosity, along with our organic resilience to survive and compete.

if i label the challenges ahead of me — recording, producing, performing, advertising, marketing — as expectants for a rosy future, i’ll only be disappointed by the twists and turns leading to an indigenous land. but if each navigational decision and milestone is its own life-long achievement (it is if you think about it since your entire life leads to this moment), then there’s a cause for celebration springing from each block on the calendar. imagine a championship parade soothing you to sleep, then sounding as your alarm in the morning. the dominance of free will used correctly — subjective by nature — fuels my biology like the Nikola Tesla folklore.

but then, swinging back around to the present, what is reality but an accumulation of motoric sensory information? meditation, for example, is a practice designed to absorb our physicalities’ feelings. as one focuses on the breath in a relaxed, but intense manner, the cosmic worries and cognitive chatter dissolve to reveal the soil beneath their crinkled toes.

interestingly enough, if we continue downward below empirical mud, we find the overflowing bathroom tub flooding our house with inexplicable energy. can you hear its gurgle?

– D K T

Published by dktindepth

Passionate writer. Avid reader. Music obsessor. Spiritual student.

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