seeking_brilliance

A writer often enjoys writing prompts to inspire and remove blocks, but also to take avenues they wouldnt typically travel, thus building and enriching a writing voice. I wish there were exercises like that for musicians.

This is actually well known, but extremely effective. If you can go to sleep repeating the phrase "when I'm dreaming, I remember I am dreaming" then it's very likely to come true. If you wake up in middle of night, go back to sleep repeating the phrase.

Oh, I should mention, a night out drinking, then coming home to a good sativa dominant hybrid, typically results in an OBE for me.

@Hulia yes, but I was only moderately good at it. My mom was pretty good. She taught me alot about improvisation. At some point I went to only playing church hymns, while only being able to read music for the right hand. So my mom taught me how to feel out for the chords on the left hand. That's about all I know, and now I just have fun making stuff up.

I'm composing this music much like how I live life - - intuitively and making it all up as I go. With the paintings in mind, of course. It's a nice yamaha keyboard that my mom got me for birthday, and I can save recordings to a usb drive.

@Myioko do you play? I'm not really good when it comes to playing structured music, but I've started channeling these pieces for the paintings. One thing that helps is that I count many of the finger slips to be "grace notes", which add to harmony and dissonance. I don't really know anything about musical theory besides basic stuff I was taught as a child, and am finally learning to read music properly. I really wish I knew a lot more tricks with the fingers, but I have a feeling I will discover my own. I kind of like it this way

@Myioko Try this one headphones are always best! try zoning out to the video while watching it.

@Consilience @Consilience true, much of great writing is about what's not said, anyway

I am (not). ?

The City in the Sky The city shines like a cluster of green amethyst, a beacon of hope in light of a sordid past. Legends of old speak of how our City was plucked from the fertile green fields far below the clouds, from a land once held in the highest esteem. Only the eldest of the elders remembers the Motherland, and the great calamity which befell it many years ago. They only speak of it when pressed (or occasionally on karaoke night). But life here in the City is great. Sometimes I sit with a few of my friends at the edge of the lower gardens and watch the clouds burn in the crimson sunsets. Here we dangle our feet over the edge, and imagine ourselves flying through them, which would be the only thing to catch us if we fall. I'll admit it sounds a bit reckless, but the invisible barrier would never let us fall, only the streams of water flowing from the city's center. Where they landed, no one knew; but I liked to think they are cleansing the scorched earth below. Perhaps one day we can return. I tell my closest friend what's on my heart: "Sometimes I can see the earth peaking through the clouds below. Do you think there is human life down there?" "Shhh... Go back to the city!" Perhaps they are right. I have everything I need here. But I'll keep searching...

Maybe try a heavy dose of sativa brownies, and a benadryl immediately at bedtime. Hmm I might try that ?

Nothing is greater than anything. (Nothing >anything) which ironically points to equality or equivalence. Lol sorry trying to find distraction from hell week? just rambling really

Nothing >anything ?

Concept?

@Hulia see? its all about connections

@Hulia sorry that I am confusing. Probably comes from constantly confusing myself. ?Here's what I can say... I am INFP. I choose dreaming, I guess. Actually I don't even truly beleive that, but I'm really good at spinning several stories at a time. I'm not balanced, there's definitely a wobble in me, and in that wobble of supposed clarity and confusion, some really cool art has been coming up. And it's all been happening like a whirlwind, starting with the novel writing, then flash fiction and short stories, then the guided journeys, then channelling flash fiction to paintings, then music as well.... It's all done by what I consider channelling. And this I don't really consider to be anything, just some cool way to put it. BTW this all started with the 30 day covid shut down ? (or did it?‍♂️) So my point is, don't listen to me, unless you like my story. Go with how you feel drawn. Just stop and listen to the music. If you like stories, you know where to find us. Also that would be cool if the horses ran through you ? one time, I dreamed I went to my grandparents farm, and I wanted a horse to ride around. A herd of horses came by and I jumped on one. He was purple and I wished for it to turn into a pegasus and so it did. We flew around and landed in the midst of a trump parade. That was a cool dream.

For me silly. We can be one, or not at all, or whatever. Who cares anymore? Just write, for me (and you). Have a living dream about writing something, for fun, drawing upon the endless stories you've dreamt before. If you wish, wouldn't want to tell ya what to do

I have absolutely no idea.... Isn't it awesome?

@Hulia @Hulia I definitely am not the best example to follow... What comes out in art is a pure expression, whereas I live daily life with still a heavy atattchment to self character of @seeking_brilliance. I'm on a path of authenticity, that's all. For me, dropping charades extends beyond the charades of the character, but also all the nonduality speak. It's all charades to me. Honestly sometimes it gets really annoying and feels better to not think think about it, like you said ?

@Hulia if you write a story to a painting I'll write some music ?

@Hulia I don't know what to think of that either ? why so blank?

Misty Maze Forest If someone asks how long I've wandered the forest, I would have no clear answer. Not that there's anyone around to ask… The Misty Maze forest is near endless to those who get lost, and large enough to never cross paths with another-- yet teeming with ambient life and hidden beauties to discover. In keeping of our customs, everyone enters the forest when it's their turn. Those who emerge on the other side are given new clothes, a roof, and a family to raise if they still hold their youth. (…Or is that something I've made up since I've been here? Wait, what is at the other end of the forest?? At this point, only one way to find out…but I digress…) In truth it feels as if I have been on this path forever; trudging down the same weathered boardwalk for ages on end, never quite knowing which direction to take when given the choice. At times it's exhilarating not seeing what is around the bend--at others, terrifying. It takes way too long to admit when I am lost, and even longer to recognize when I'm back on the correct path. In times of weary stupor, I've even wondered if there is a correct path… And then something happened. Well lots of things happened, I guess, but something truly amazing happened when I stopped thinking so hard about which way to go. I just let go and watched as I went left towards cheery sunshine; or right, a detour through spooky shade. And each time I walked a new path, it was more beautiful than the last. Now, there is no fear of choosing wrong or missing out on anything, for the constantly changing scenery keeps me infinitely entertained. Sometimes I wonder if there really is an other side to the Misty Maze. Sometimes I dream of my youth, before I arrived. It helps to keep up the charade. Must keep walking...

More chances for Connor on that one...