Balex.ca

The advice I’ve been giving everyone lately is to let go. To just let go. To let go in a way that allows your heart and inner voice to emerge. To become one with your being, your experiences an your existence.

But my heart is mangled up in knots right now. It’s so protective and afraid, that I put on a stiff facade to keep composure. But how can anyone connect deeply in such a state?

Maybe that’s why I’m in such a strange place and transition point where my inner voice is screaming at me to find an outlet to express itself. I’m itching and yearning to go back to my photography, and to write, and to work on my creative projects. Perhaps it’s my own heart’s frustration to work itself out. A survival method of my spirit.

It’s been a while since I’ve had my heart completely open - and part of that was because of how “in my head” I was forced to be because of stupid existential angst that comes with pre-graduation jitters. Trying to “figure life out” when life doesn’t need to be figured out, but rather lived.

Time to get back into yoga, and deep breathing, and back into the stillness of being reborn.

Hopefully the world will still be there when I’m ready.

I usually make art when I’m strong. But I think its time to make art while I’m weak.

Not sure what I’m going through right now, but it’s big. Perhaps a creative rebirth. Just, touching down on the inner deep desire for my spirit to express itself.

I’m learning a lot lately about art, and art making. A favourite book of mine at the moment is “Art & Fear” by Ted Orland.

Here are just a few random thoughts on art & creativity:

1. The root word of “creative” is to create. It has nothing to do with uniqueness, originality, being different, innovative, or anything along the lines of that.

2. Creative energy is linked with sexual energy. This baffled me for a while, but the first indication is that sexuality is a creative act (well, before contraceptions). And even if not creative, it’s definitely the inner spirit’s desire to express itself and connect deeply with another human spirit.

3. It’s ridiculous that we care about the question “what is art” so much over the much more relevant question: “what is making art”? How do we make art? What is the dialogue, the discovery which we can only get through a conversation with the medium? The battle in which we fight with ourselves?

I describe my photography or my art as a battle with my inner spirit, and that more accurately describes every facet of the experience than anything else.

4. Creative expression is the result of the spirit’s need to survive. It’s an innate characteristic for humans to create things, to make things. When we have that suppressed from us, it’s interesting to see what other way our spirit seeks refuge. More often than not, when we’re doing things we don’t want to - we find a creative outlet. During exam times, I would blog, take photos, photoshop, sketch, cook… But during my free time, I would avoid all this. Interesting to understand this dynamic further to trick my spirit into always being creatively on.

2&3: I’ve always liked the phrasing “making love” to describe sexual expression, because it describes the spiritual union rather appropriately. Also it speaks of it in the same dialogue of a creative act, which applies to everything here.

Sleep time. G’nite.

I actually really miss blogging. A lot. The story is that I had Balex.ca as my travel blog from two years ago, which I worked on an maintained dearly. But one day while updating my layout, it exploded (the layout I spent days on to modify went haywire). I was so discouraged that I just shut down the blog, feeling defeated.

Before that, I was an avid Facebook Notes writer. That was during an angrier time of my life when I was working on my identity within our world. Gosh, was I angry. Ranting about society’s pressures and frameworks, in hopes that people will change their lives to suit me better. It was a dark place.

I’ve learned to just let go, and finally take the world in for what it is. And to use writing as a medium of self-expression, since I don’t get to always blab to someone about what my soul is experiencing. And when I do it’s great - but I still perhaps restrict myself relative to what people can handle. And thus, with a medium like this to just shoot whatever I feel outwards - there’s no real restriction to that. If you don’t like my posts, that’s okay - I don’t mind at all. But perhaps what I go through one day will resonate with someone, and perhaps make a connection. That’s the cool thing about Tumblr, it actually has a community. Like Twitter… with potential depths to not be as shallow.

Yep. So I don’t post for any other reason than besides my spirit’s need to express itself. Welcome back, Alex.

•He had been untrue
I had learned about his life
•I took a look in her eyes
And she caught me by surprise

•I threw his shit on the floor
•She rushed me out the door
•He tried to explain
•I didn’t do anything

•Knew that he was bad
Never knew just what he had
•I still don’t have a line
But I’ll find one soon in time

•Started cryin’ my eyes out
•I drive my car and boost out
•I wish we never met
•I never had any regret

•I’ve had it up to here
I can’t take this anymore
•If she’s this crazy now
There’s no tellin’ what’s in store

••Maybe I should start a life with someone new
And give up all my hopes for…

•I went down the drive
And he caught me by surprise
•I took a look in her eyes
Said I need you in my life

•I’m in love with him
•I’m in love with her
••You gotta give it a chance

- The Cults

When I was younger and in elementary/high school, I remember when I had to take time off due to a doctors appointment or illness, I’d always be wondering why there were people outside in the public. I genuinely couldn’t fathom that people did something outside school and office hours because that’s how I perceived the world. Could these people maybe be taking breaks? Could they be making deliveries? There were still so many people outside that it didn’t seem to explain everyone.

A good decade and some later, I find myself embarking on such an unconventional lifestyle relative to this typical 9-5. But I’ve also learned along the way that while untypical to suburbia, it actually is incredibly common to not be in a full 9-5 situation. Especially roaming the streets of the downtown core.

The public is so interesting. People watching is an incredibly serene guilty pleasure of mine, just knowing how many potential lives and stories there are that we genuinely can never fathom. Toronto in particular, where we get to visually see such diversity (not only culturally, but just the fantastic creative differences between one another too). Writing this, there’s a lady on the subway with pink curly hair fading into orange. There’s a girl on her cellphone doing who knows what. There’s a guy writing down who knows what. A girl reading. It’s curious - I always wonder how many amazing people I accidentally sit beside in my normal passing day.

I’m heading back to Ottawa for yet another month; my final month. Ottawa isn’t as exciting as Toronto is - its definitely a mid-ground between suburbia and a dense city. So I don’t suspect I’ll miss the city much after I leave. Even though of course I’ll miss the amazing people I’ve met over the years who managed to break the typical mould.

My life embarks to a new chapter, and it’s pretty frightening. But I’ve learned to deal with the unknown up ahead, since as much as we try to control the future, the beauty lies within the chaotic chances that inform us about who we are. And it’s within that magic of the unknown, and the unsettled, that we begin to live beyond what we could ever fathom.

Cheers to a new part of my life, and cheers to those who have yet to realize they’ll be playing such a meaningful role in my life.

(oh, the girl on her phone is playing that classic block breaking game. To each their own)

Yo, I heard that you’re doing well. That you um, found a girl and are married now!

Wait who?

Ugh, dude! Nevermind man, she’ll find someone like you. She’s probably wishing nothing but the best things for you.

You won’t forget her, you know. But remember the time when you said:

“Sometimes it lasts in love, and sometimes it hurts instead.”