The sands of time have stopped. I too, have stopped
With no waves to drag me into the sea,
Nor pinch of wind to diffuse the beach,
I'm in stasis, under a heat-haze spell.
On the shoreline's the sun―the sorcerer―
He sees me and I have nowhere to hide.
I cannot run, cannot hide in clouds
And we watch each other unblinkingly.
He is the fire; I'm his blue crystal ball,
And he glares into me for the future.
But he won't tell me of my predictions,
And burns the evidence before I learn.
The sands of time had stopped―and I stopped too.
I was witnessed. That much, I know is true.
A lot of people have been commenting that I seem very "light" of late. I can't say I know exactly what that means for them, but I do know that I don't feel particularly weighed down by much at the moment. I'm quite satisfied with my life and where things are headed―even with the noise and clamour playing out in social and political arenas.
Nor am I worried about what's happening in the world. That doesn't mean there aren't real risks to be navigated, but I have enough trust in myself that I can plan for those eventualities, and pivot appropriately if something knocks me sideways.
I still see the occasional sentiments online and in group chats of people still rallying others "to fight", or doom-posting about Burnham's backdoor authoritarianism, the increasing poisons in food, or just about anything along those lines. I don't like those things either―but what I've found is that I get much more about just going out and doing what is in my control each and every day is far more effective than worrying about the things outside my immediate sphere of influence. Those little moments of paying cash or bartering for things I want, reading a good book or being outdoors instead of some online battleground, nurturing my connection to the divine, finding little ways each day to be less dependent on "the system" without compromising my ability to create and share magic with others―that is what causes a parasitical fear system to collapse, because there is nothing in my resolve for them to feed on.
And what a time to be alive! What a time to not only be able to see and understand the problem, but also to be that change that brings solutions. The presence of evil in the world becomes an opportunity for each and every one of us to become the hero that defeats it. I think that's pretty cool. If I can show others that they don't need permission to step into that way of thinking―or rather, that mode of being―then I consider my work in this lifetime done. I think the control systems that exist in the world would collapse much quicker, too. That'd be another win.
Poetry is just one pathway I have to do this work for myself, but it's perhaps one of the most important. If the information and experiences we acquire in our lives are the food we eat, writing poetry is my form of digestion. The final poem is those nutrients synthesised and put into a form that allows me to "make sense" of the world. In that way, perhaps poetry truly is the "living word" that some say the Bible should be. It is on us to give those words life and meaning, imbibing them with our spirit and soul to make change, just as we do with other tools.
Even going back just a few months ago, I was hooked into believing my poetry had to be fed by something else in order to make the act of writing and sharing it with you sustainable―or that I had to make poetry something "of service" to people. What did I find upon further examination? Another self-limiting belief system. Language coaching, poetry therapy, teaching containers―all of those existed in the context I needed to do something "more" with my writing.
Joining the Solari Report team was the first big shift for me. I discovered that, actually, I really enjoy working "for" other people with good integrity and values, having them set the direction, and me getting to use the best of my word-craft skills in aide of that. I'd rather that kind of activity be the thing that "makes money" than trying to force something artificial out of my poetry.
So what about these writings on here―the things that are still right to share, but that don't necessarily belong on other people's platforms? The move to this new platform (of which this is the first exclusive post) forced me to ask the question: "Have I just been overcomplicating things in the belief my poems by themselves are 'not enough'?"
I think the answer is yes. Creating art should be an enjoyable process and bring catharsis―not something that is just part-and-parcel of bringing in another paycheck. The other experiences I created are still phenomenal in their own right―but not because they're contributing to the value of my writing.
So I'm putting most of those things―Master Your Word, Poetry and Tea, Poetic Realignment Bundle, and beyond―on the backburner for now. If people ask me in private for some of those things, I'll probably provide it to them in a purely personal capacity if the circumstances are right. This pursuit will be purely about the poetry and other writings, and I have setup a patron system if you'd like to contribute financially to keeping this endeavour going. I'm keeping it simple: A monthly gift for access to the back catalog and a physical poetry book shipped to you every time it's your birthday. No monthly calls, no special course access, none of the noise and the paraphernalia that characterise various "subscriptions". Just the words for you to enjoy at your own pace.
If you'd rather make ad-hoc contributions to my work, there are plenty of ways to do that too.
The poetry and writings here are really stories and lessons from a life of navigating a pretty crazy world. Those are valuable things for all of us, and that'll still be coming to you free every week. Look forward to more soon.
With gratitude,
Tom
