...and beauty rules the world.

Write just to write. It's almost 12:30, writing that as if 12:30 means its too late for something... as if something should have been done by now. Done what? What is there to do? 

Yoga was good. Modo is full of memories, some that I left in puddles on the floor around me, some I mopped up and threw in the dirty laundry. 

I keep coming back. There is something undeniably New York, about New York. What that means? I guess simply that there is no other city like it on the planet. I guess you could say that about every city, every place, every person - none quite the same. I'm grateful to be here. 

Art has been the main focus, often sole focus, or my energy this past week. God has been speaking to me through meditation, putting Lord Narasinha in front of my face - the body of a man with the face, claws, and ferocity of a lion. 

Two Indian men are sitting behind me in WeWork. A sign from the universe or simply a coincidence? Its the first time I've seen any Indian men in this place, along with other people of color. 

"...And beauty rules the world." Not my quote, not my roommate's either-- though one he uses frequently. I pause to look around at all the people in this giant communal room. The people of color are the ones that catch me, the ones that lift my curiosity, from the keys to the eyes. Life is better when filled with color. A clear mush of same same only aims to drown us all and the planet along with it. The melding is happening around me. Waysians on the way. 

I'm drawn to color. I'm drawn to learning - culture, music, rituals and rites. God has been finding me -- scratch that----I have been finding God, with ease and trust, in the beautiful moments of clarity and trust as well as the suffering found in the unfinished and letting go of control.  

We are never finished. As the tide ebbs and flows, emotions come and go. Change is the only constant. A grounded masculine sense of purpose must be able to pick up its roots and move when the ground falls away. And he must not chase the shaky ground. His responsibility lies with him self, his family, and his service to god --- not spread thin, trying to gather the crumbling debris of dishonest dust. 

What happens next, only God knows? I've got some work to do - charcoal to spread, words to write, challenges to create, and a life to build. Much love Human Heroes. 

ps. I have so much more to add now after selecting the title. When I was a chubby preteen getting heavy into the gym I never would have thought that physically what I was creating could work against me. People have judged me my entire adult life, surprised to find I have creative depth. We all have creative depth. Why would I be any different? 

Now, with a firm grasp on personal truth, its not the judgement of the other that matters, but the judgement of the self. Atma. We are all mirrors to one another - the challenge navigating between kindness and honesty. Ahimsa and Satya. 

Hatha yoga has brought me this far- following the branches back to the source. Thank you for leading me here. Thank you for joining me here. "Work" is quickly becoming synonymous with devotion. Much love HumanHeroes. 

Keep moving.