This Present Moment

Hey folks. This is just a quickie to let you know about The Present Dimension Podcast, a series of conversations my partner Molly and I have been doing in recent months. As previously announced here, The Present Dimension is the creative brand which runs adjacent to this magazine. While what you read here is always rooted first in the written word, The Present Dimension Podcast, conversely, is driven by the power of conversation. Thus far Molly and I have talked to musicians, poets, therapists and more, diving into their stories and their ideas through the same filter of consciousness which has marked what you've heard here over the last year. Similar gist, but simply through the iris of others.Having landed in North Carolina a year ago with a non-existent social network, the project of finding comparably-curious souls has proven surprisingly exciting. Making friends as an adult is its own adventure, and The Present Dimension Podcast has been part of that process. Perhaps Life simply is the function of all the people we meet.You can check out these conversations on Spotify or Apple Podcasts or at ThePresentDimension.com.Finally, regarding these emails, I always invite your feedback: Is there something you'd like more of? Questions you want answered? Mysteries which demand pondering

The winter nights were dark until Christmas came to play, Then strings of squinty stars lined every window frame. All plugged in, Suburbia would electrify in glow, Illuminating diamonds sparkling in the snow. The lights, the love, the pristine pines, red bows and mistletoes, Our little world was swirled into a Hallmark snow-globe. A candy-cane cacophony of sugar snow and gifts, This wonderland met its myth in the man who had the list: A bearded saint, we were told, knew of all our wishes— who we were and if we were good—with a God-like omniscience. And unlike dusty legends now dead to time, We left cookies for Santa: He was very much alive. I recall one Christmas Eve, amidst crisp midwest wind, My eyes saw some moving light that could have—possibly—been him: A celebrity sighting up in the sky! Look! It's St. Nick! (The drift of distant satellites blinks like Rudolf to us kids.) Everything was possible inside our boundless minds: We Believed it when Nat King crooned that "reindeers can fly." With such imagination I would sit beneath our tree Plucking off its ornaments to make-believe littles scenes. Kermit the Frog, some plastic kitsch, was my heroic figurine. He'd glide through all the branches to save his tree-crossed Queen. And all of it felt real, a free flow of belief. A reality we created through the one our mind's see. The years carried on and we left that world behind, As cold rationality clogged those magic minds. Like when Pan returns for Wendy, to fly to Neverland, And she replies: "Peter, I am Old ... I can't." Those memories of guileless possibility Seem some distant miracle to a grown man like me.Now we may not be so young, but Christmas never changed. It's still all red with gingerbread and the elves still look the same. There's this Christmas-y motif which we collectively create— A sphere of sounds and senses centered around this date, A global covenant bigger than its Faith, Like the whole world jingles if just for a day. I don't know much history about this holiday. We're told it's some dude's birthday—a holy man, they say. A carpenter out of Nazareth who simply served and loved, And realized our potential to channel kindness from above. Sure, it's been commercialized and diluted into goo, But the Spirit which speaks through it is the realization of this truth. It's that spark of meaning lit inside of Scrooge, Or how the Grinch's heart grows to make him someone new. It's that oft-forgotten Knowledge It's a Wonderful Life: That we're all angels earning wings, trying to do what's right. And as Clarence reminds us, 'No man is poor who has friends.' Perhaps real wealth is Community in the end. And of course we all know that December bath of cheer, Where chipper songs about chestnuts steal 'n tickle our ears. How every melody and caroler's so merry it's almost weird, As if Christ—whoever he was—is through the music somehow here. Like under every Christmas song is a divine little twirl, A smirk from his reality that sings joy to the world. Today we gather under those old creeds, Even as we blabber and eat mindlessly And open random presents we don't really need. But we find such triviality are the binds of family, Where the tiniest dearest thing holds something sweet— As we sit around a table enjoying my mom's toffee. All the while a star shines atop a tree, Winking to a child who beams in full belief That his world will be lifted to magic on this night, As a song behind him whispers, "Let your heart be light." And when he becomes King he may reclaim this bliss, Which hides inside the simple phrase: Merry Christmas. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thispresentmoment.substack.com

Last month, the actor William Shatner was launched beyond the Texas skies via Blue Origin, the nascent rocket company helping pave the way for a new era of civilian space travel. At 90 years old, Shatner—aptly famous for playing Captain Kirk on Star Trek—became the oldest person to ever exit Earth's atmosphere. After piercing through the stratosphere, floating above it weightlessly, and looking down at our planet, the TV icon emotionally recounted what was a transformative experience:"To see the blue color go whoop! by—and now you're staring into blackness!" he exclaimed. "That's the thing!" He goes on:This covering of blue ... this blanket, this comforter of blue that we have around us ... Suddenly you shoot through it—as if you whip off a sheet while you are asleep—and you're looking into blackness. You look down and there's the blue down there, and the black up there ... [Down] there is Mother Earth and comfort, and [up] there is ...He pauses, puzzled. "Is there death?" he wonders, pondering what the black beyond our sky holds. "Is that the way death is? Whoop and it's gone? Jesus! It was so moving to me."Captain Kirk's whole monologue is worthy viewing, for it's a message which beams upwards towards a most inspired future: the ever nearer possibility that we and the universe become one. In 1902 William James released the immensely influential book Varieties of Religious Experience. It was and remains a landmark synthesis of psychology and spirituality. The book investigates the various  interior phenomena which accompany what is known as "the mystical experience." The "mystical experience" is, by James' account, almost impossible to define. It is in the truest sense ineffable.... But words are all we got right now! So, James said that the first marker of a mystical state of consciousness is that we can't articulate it. It evades language. Poetry can gesture at it, but basically ya-had-to-be-there.As we will find, this was a mystical experience being had by Mr. Shatner. "I can't even begin to express ... " he says, struggling to lay words on the indescribable. "This experience is something unbelievable." In fact, astronauts have their own term for this: The Overview Effect is a well-documented shift in awareness often realized by travelers who exit the reality tunnel of Earth. To witness our world from a wider perspective stirs man into "an explosion of awareness," as put by Apollo 14 pilot Edgar Mitchell. He describes:There was suddenly a very deep gut feeling that something was different. It occurred when looking at Earth and seeing this blue-and-white planet floating there, and knowing it was orbiting the Sun, seeing that Sun ... set in the background of the very deep black and velvety cosmos, seeing—rather, knowing for sure—that there was a purposefulness of flow, of energy, of time ... in the cosmos … I suddenly [saw] the universe as intelligent, loving, harmonious.This Overview Effect bears the indelible markers of the mystical, a tilting of the mind which reveals some magnificent meaning beyond the veil. In fact, Edgar Mitchell was so changed by his experience that he ended up devoting the rest of his life to studying the science of human transcendence. He explains:When I got back to Earth I started digging into various literatures to try to understand what had happened. I ... eventually discovered it in the Sanskrit of ancient India. The descriptions of samadhi ... were exactly what I had felt ... An overwhelming sense of oneness and connectedness … accompanied by an ecstasy … an epiphany.Such experiences of unity consciousness—whether we call them samadhi (via Eastern philosophy) or mystical (from Western)—are the common seed out of which all religion bursts. They entail a noetic insight, as William James called it, which brings about an intense realization of meaning which reaches, it would seem, well beyond the boundaries of the brain. The function of life death and all its intermittent mania suddenly makes complete sense, as if after a lifelong sleepwalk you finally awoke into a world more real than the one you always knew. And then like an iris closing to the light, it's gone.These experiences are big, beautiful and usually brief. This fleetingness of feeling—or transiency, as James called it—is another marker of the mystical. Such heightened states of consciousness are rarely maintained for any long period of time, most being just a momentary glance into a wider webwork of meaning. James examines hundreds of such occurrences. In one a doctor describes how, after a joyous night out with friends, and with his mind at pleasurable ease, he spontaneously felt an "immense fire" within himself: There came upon me a sense of exaltation, of immense joyousness accompanied ... by an intellectual illumination impossible to describe. Among other things, I did not merely come to believe, but I saw that the universe is not composed of dead matter, but is, on the contrary, a living Presence; I became conscious in myself of eternal life. It was not a conviction that I would have an eternal life, but a consciousness that I possessed eternal life then; I saw that all men are immortal; that the cosmic order is such that without any peradventure all things work together for the good of each and all; that the foundation principle of the world, of all the worlds, is what we call love; and that happiness of each and all is in the long run absolutely certain. The vision lasted a few seconds and was gone; but the memory of it and the sense of the reality of what it taught has remained during the quarter of a century which has since elapsed.Now Consider Mr. Shatner, who himself could have had an entry in James' catalog of rapture:I'm so filled with emotion at what just happened. It's extraordinary! I hope I never recover from this. I hope that I can maintain what I feel now. I don't want to lose it. It's so much larger than me ... It has to do with the enormity and the quickness and the suddenness of life and death and the—Oh my God! It's so moving.You can sense him trying to hold on to this revelation as its radiance sinks beneath the mud of our Earthbound reality. But unlike a mundane morning dream which fizzles into obscurity, the enduring meaning of the mystical experience evolves with the memory of it. In another account from James, a gentleman describes his "sudden ... indescribably intense ... sense of being bathed in a warm glow of light."These highest experiences I have had have been rare and brief—flashes of consciousness which have compelled me to exclaim with surprise—God is here! ... I have severely questioned these moments ... lest I should be building my life and work on mere phantasies of the brain. But I find that, after every questioning and test, they stand out today as the most real experiences of my life, and experiences which have explained and justified and unified all past experiences and all past growth. Indeed, their reality and their far-reaching significance are ever becoming more clear and evident.To the uninitiated the dissonance between the mystical and the ordinary seems so insurmountable that these descriptions read as vague wish-wash. But to those whose curiosity brings them to the buckling boundaries of logic—the mystical seduces us like a siren. And if we listen to its song, we soon learn that this mysterious mode of mind underlies our every waking moment, hidden behind our normal humdrum consciousness like a radio station yet to be turned to. Such is one aim of the endless treadmill of spiritual practices which tune the mind and body to this frequency. Yoga, meditation, plant medicine, prayer … They're all strings towards the same space, strands from which this mystical netting is sewn.Revealed of its radiant wonder, the mystical experience is the magical experience, a dazzling reality tunnel which enfolds the smaller one you currently read from. It is out of this transcendent dimension that every wisdom tradition draws its rendering of reality. It is the sparkling denizen of the sages and saints who've spoken to us through millennia, all offering the same message: It is within you too.This special dimension is awakened through many means, but few are more propulsive than Awe, that soaring sense of wonder which tips the mind towards the sublime. Awe cracks open our consciousness and lets new light in, arousing in us what spaceman Edgar Mitchell felt to be "the primordial energy of the universe." As progress places this mystical experience just a rocket-ride away, technology will lay a fresh sake into the path of human enlightenment.Honestly, I've never been one of those dudes blissed out by the idea of going to space. I had glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling as a kid, but elsewise my walls were plastered by posters of the Chicago Bulls and Batman. But now I see what all those geeks and dreamers with the Milky Way murals on their walls were getting at. It's not just about going to space ... It's about the feeling of space.A vision of the future invited by this recent year is one in which folks will be able to pop up into space the same way we fly to New York. Captain Kirk's ten minute jaunt will eventually be a norm. These trips may right now be bound to a small band of the rich-'n-famous, but that will expand just as the automobile grew from privileged to pervasive. And as this horizon widens to eventually include the everyman, we may find ourselves at the foothills of a new religious pilgrimage. Imagine: You pop up to space for a psycho-spiritual cleansing, your own communion with the universe ... literally. To every color and creed under the Sun, a shared history re-emerges. The Universe itself becomes God—as it was from the beginning.And for those dreamers of yesteryear with posters on their wall, they no longer must just look to the stars in yearning, but may now manifest their visions into otherworldly adventure.And, fittingly, the present prophet of this good news is none other than Captain Kirk. Ageless and vibrant, our space-faring leader has returned to our screens. After guiding our ship through tube televisions half a century ago, the Captain is now zapped into our pockets. He ushers us into a real-life portal to the world he portrayed in our living rooms so long ago. "Everybody in the world needs to do this," he says. "Everybody in the world needs to see."William Shatner is one of the last household names of an old American Empire—the collective hearth-fire from which our older generations were warmed. This old America, with its many faults and its massive heart, held this nation together under one common flag.  Now that center has given way—in fact recently a poll indicated that almost half the nation believes we should break in two. Perhaps this shrill is just media manufacturement, or perhaps we truly do approach a karmic crest of national reckoning.Or perhaps it's both: We are creating the future in the image of our attention. "What goes around comes around."So many moments fly by us with the power to unite, but they rarely puncture the way our fears do. Our media is splayed out like a million queenless bees warring over a hive. Hissing headlines hover around our heads: Are You Scared? Are You Stung? If not, you should be!Most Meaning is lost in this buzz, while most hope is swarmed and swallowed by the hive-mind. And when it's not, it's ground into meme and mockery by the Snark Sharks and the Fear-mongers. Whatever good faith remains is left blowing in the wind. And yet through the twilight of this fading national spirit we hear ol' Captain Kirk. He's come to proclaim new hope! "It's extraordinary!" he declares his trip into the mystic. "What you have given me in the most profound experience I can imagine," he cries to (trigger warning) Blue Origin founder Jeff Bezos (

Modern life is tug-of-war between the digital world and the natural world. For some of us the pull is the daily news, for others it's Instagram. Perhaps for you it's your inbox or the financial markets or the metaverse or whatever turns you on. Most of us are victim to some covert digidiction (digital-addiction) which tempts our minds into a wormhole of endless satiation. I have many of these technological hair-triggers, which rip me from the present and drop me into a digital mist of my own choosing. My favorite is certainly YouTube, which offers me mindless relief with the movement of a finger. Bored? Anxious? Tired? Pissy? There's a remedy for it all! Just open YouTube and Boom!—an hour-long interview with Bob Dylan that I didn't know I needed! Phew! As the video begins, my digital desire is satiated and I can finally tune out of that tactile world around me.Whether it's on our phone or the TV, this digital datascape offers solace from the real world by proffering us a fake one. Of late I've dove body-first into Bikram yoga. I leave my phone in the car, turn down the day and enter into a space void of this digital haze permeating so many parts of my life. In Bikram yoga, one embodies 26 postures over the span of 90 minutes in a room heated to 105 degrees. It's basically a super intense stretching session in a sauna. It's as stifling as it sounds, but this roasting is designed to loosen the body and strengthen the mind. And it works!To maintain this simmering studio, the yoga instructor places an oblong blockade underneath the door to prevent cool air from sneaking into the space. Bikram is one big heat trap. But occasionally someone sneaks out to refill their water, and as the door swings open a brief wave of crisp air unexpectedly clutches my skin. Ahhhh.

Hey there! Forgive my hiatus, but I was stirring up something I'm very excited about. I am thrilled to announce the launch of a new brand I've created:  In the loosest sense, THE PRESENT DIMENSION is a type of lifestyle brand. It's an adaptable agency designed to explore and expand consciousness—in whatever form that takes. For instance, this writing series itself is a sort of bloodline to the brand. The ideas we explore here give life and conviction to the ethos of this new company.Because beyond being just a name, "The Present Dimension" is also a living philosophy which articulates a genuine 'dimension' of our individual and collective reality.It's what I call a Universal Space. The Present Dimension: A Universal SpaceThis Moment is the pinpoint where the past culminates And flips inside out into the future we create. In this present flippening, the world stands still And a whole new Dimension is suddenly revealed. It's that collective magnetism that joins us in breath As we gaze up at the wirewalker dancing over death. It seeps out in the gleam of a newborn baby's eyes, Or from the pregnant pink of a new day's morning sky. It slides through every Moment, and hides in the mundane, Like the multicolored prism beams from a drop of rain. It's the waterway to Love—and it resurrects our Inspiration, As a line drifts towards rhyme in divine collaboration. This Dimension's all around, yet it's always freshly found. Like an inner-diamond dug from our ancient common ground. It may tease us with a twinkle, or arrest us in luster When some strange providence ignites our Sense of Wonder. Each journey finds its road is lit by glints of glory, As cosmic coincidence casts meaning onto our Story. Put more simply, it's the Feeling of Being Awake— To the Beauty that flows from the folds of every day. Whatever makes us feel alive, whatever passions capture us, Whatever flutters of the heart lift us and enrapture us, Any Moment of Awe, or natural human connection Can be a Turnkey to The Present Dimension. And if we choose to Meet each other in this Center-Place, We'll greet a grander world in a fantasia of embrace. For there's a timeless mystery within this very Moment. And when our eyes are Open, it Shines in — And we Know it. It's breathing air. Its body's there. A Kingdom comes clear: You're Alive. We're Alive. Wake Up! We are here.This Brand is a wayfinder that gestures towards that ↑ dimension. Another leg of this brand is apparel. We're beginning with a line of premium tee shirts sourced from an inspiring manufacturer named Known Supply. Known Supply's all about ethical fashion production, and each of their shirts are hand-signed on the tag by whoever crafted it.And bringing this personal touch into even more immediacy, I've had the shirts embroidered across the chest—by a local artisan here in Asheville—with the phrase Presence is Power. In a world drowning in Noise, We each have the Choice To rise above the chaos And use Presence as our Voice. From the original hand-maker to the embroiderer to The Present Dimension, each step of these shirts' creation has been infused with a human touch. And now it's your turn to carry on that spirit. As you can see, The Present Dimension is many things: Aside from being a brand and a philosophy—this is also an art project. It's also an experiment in language. It's also, at its most metaphysical, a participatory hologram aimed at drawing a vibrational hyper-space out of the morphic field which—Ah, I digress! More on that one some other time!

Welcome back to a summery edition of This Present MomentPreface: June 2021The Year is born out of winter, and Spring brings it to bloom. Its flowering unfurls into this month of June. Now, Life is everywhere. The Year is finally grown. It's matured into Summer, its splendor fully shown. As the Earth has opened up, so too have we. Suddenly there's crowds babbling in the streets. Live music's traveling, filling the evening air, Carrying a Normalcy back into our ears. America's regaining her collective senses. She's stretching out her legs and kneading out the tension. Our faces feel free, our bodies touch when we meet, And the bounding Pulse of Life once again beats. Summer's here again, and so too are we. We reunite with friends and hug our families. And we all play together, in dreams forevermore, In the sacred common ground of our Great Outdoors.The Glow of Summer1. You Know that Feeling during a Perfect Day of Summer? Where everything around seems to burst with Life and Color. A glimpse out of your window strokes your heart to flutter, And you're seduced to go outside, as if glanced by a lover. This universal invitation of a Perfect Day of Summer Calls forth a world of Strangers to commune with one another. Like everyone has joined in worship of the weather. It is this clever way in which the Earth brings us together. Sometimes those Summer Days arouse a kind of glow, A joie de vivre which follows everywhere you go. You find you're greeting passersby with genuine Hello's, And sometimes they'll reciprocate as if they too glow, Like they are vibing with you in that Summer Flow. On the specialest of Days this multiplies and grows, Like some secret's got around and everybody Knows. Because everybody senses that vivacious Summer glow. 2. As an example I recall a certain memory: It was a Perfect Day and I was vibing on that energy. Prospect Park, in Brooklyn, was dancing with activity. I stood amidst a meadow, surrounded by the synchrony Of many little characters in their own little lives, Culture's many dots in a portrait pointillized: A Hipster tickled his Son, a Fat Man pushed through a run, Yogis moved to djembe drums, and a dog basked in the sun. It was as if The Artist had painted a Perfect Day, Like George Seurat's "Sunday on La Grande Jatte." There's something simply Right about a World at Play, Where the whole Human Drama lifts above the fray. The meadow felt in perfect balance, like fireflies at night Who from a frenzied flurry flash together in one light. Hiding in simplicity is Beauty beyond compare. We almost always miss it, but it's always right there. ☞ As I took in this Moment, a disabled man came my way. "Developmentally challenged" I think is what we say. He bounced on towards me as elated as can be, Radiating out this innocent giddy. He beamed me a few words: "It's a Beautiful Day!" "Yes it is," I said. And he skipped along his way. It was the tiniest exchange, but the realest connection, To meet him in vibration in that Present Dimension. At my worst I can get swindled into that illusion That for my wits and intellect I am somehow more "human." This man and me are given different looks by our society. I, with my "intelligence," am privileged to its niceties. He we can't make "sense" of, so we offer him our pity, As if our hard-scrubbed Vanity will keep our conscience pretty. But this charade falls away and the walls come down In that lifting of the lid of the Here and Now. 3. We all share in this secret, yet we all forget we Know. But on the Best of Days you may feel it start to grow. Rising from the Earth it thus blossoms to bestow A reminding spark of Radiance which sets the world aglow. There is something sacred in a Perfect Day of Summer, When Man lets luminosity and timeless Beauty govern. It takes hold of his consciousness and Life feels rediscovered, And just for that brief Moment, Paradise is uncovered.This story took place in a meadow near the southern end of Prospect Park. I've had a number of sublime experiences in this very spot, and I believe there's a special magic there.An hour after this story occurred I came upon a tribe of Rastamen in a densely forested hill overlooking the field. One of them told me that they protect the spiritual energy of this meadow, ensuring it remains pure. "Good vibes only," he told me.Until next time, enjoy the magic of Summer. If you've been enjoying This Present Moment and would like to support the project, you can now be a paying subscriber.And if there's someone you think may dig any these pieces, please forward it along! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thispresentmoment.substack.com

Hey folks! Some readers noted that Issue #2 of This Present Moment was relegated to their Promotions tab. If you find these emails being hidden, you can help the filtering algorithm by dragging the them into your Inbox. And if you were one of those unlucky ones who missed it, check out Issue #2—“Listen”—by clicking here.You are in a "Reality Tunnel."Your Reality Tunnel is, most simply, the reality you experience. It's the "real world" which plays out in front of your eyes. Right now, in your Reality Tunnel, you're looking at a screen.Your Reality Tunnel is also what's inside your head. It's how and what you think: All those beliefs about yourself, about others, and about how the world works. Right now, in your Reality Tunnel, you may be thinking "This sounds interesting!" or "Will this be long?" or "I love Joe!"

Welcome back to This Present Moment. It's been wonderful connecting with many of you through the first issue—and as always, feel free to shoot me any thoughts.Now, today's piece rhymes. And it's about a time When Beyoncé's world and mine became oddly intertwined. And I became confined to the clamors of my mind. And now that you're primed ... I. There lies a Wilderness of Noise, overgrown and tangled. The daily din of cracks and drones which interweave and mangle. It hollers from our TV sets and grips us from the Web. It rips from us our silence, and rings out through our heads. It's the blare of The Biggest Story! from the glare of The Newest Screen. This racket deafens us to Wisdom and stirs us from our Dreams. The Noise, you see, it seizes us. We're cast under its spell, Luring us against our will into the woods in which it dwells, Eventually we call it Home—the Noise becomes the norm. Around then the thunder starts. We're battered by this Storm! This Noise scrambles our compass, and we lose all direction, Rambling evermore into this dense dimension. Bewitched by our desires and how we must be seen— More money! More Things! More Likes! More Me!—We reach for some prestige! Our Thoughts battle our Hearts, and we're stuck in between. This Wilderness turns dizzying, the Noise twists into screams. Don't! Don't! Don't! the culture wars. Do that and you'll sink! Don't! Don't! Don't! your ego scorns. What will they all think?! The babbling of our brains, here, protests every whim, As a mad world howls at us—from outside our minds and in. Crippled by this mania, we wrestle every choice. Which way now? we ask confused, searching for that Voice. Muted under all this Noise, we feel its gentle cry, The "quiet desperation" as life is slipping by. I've lived inside this Wilderness. Perhaps you may have been? Reality there's a prickly place. The game is, above all: Win! You choose a role, and learn it well, and then you run a race. A Contest for Status, or Who Has The Prettiest Face, Or Attention, or Wealth, or Wit. Just focus on your chase! Keep sprinting towards the future. When you get there you'll be safe. Now this is all just nonsense. You know that's not the plot. Your story is much more than this, you feel that in your gut. That just beyond this Wilderness—There are Open Seas. Of Clarity. Of Mystery. Of Possibilities. At times we may dispel that hex, and clear the noxious Noise, To surf those effervescent waves some call our "inner-voice." I'll tell you how I've been helped in finding Open Sea, In navigating through the Noise and learning to be free. But I am just one Average Joe. "Learning" here is key. I'm purely aiming to explore and see where that takes me. And, yes, that Land does jerk me back, too often and too fast. The Noise is always ticking, ticking, ticking from my past. But in This Present Moment, I write you earnestly From a space of openness—that space we truly meet. My stories are a-plenty and we haven't time to share All the minute little tales that bring this Truth to bear. So one short bit will have to do, and I hope that it shines through That if we Listen to our Truth, our world is made anew.II. Years ago, as a scrappy kid, I somehow landed in this gig Working for Beyoncé. I was pretty unqualified, But I was bright and down to grind. So I got to stay with Beyoncé. My life got turnt before my eyes, And a slick, new phrase came to reprise: "I work for Beyoncé." Around the world I went and back, As this vogue lifestyle came to pass. My identity became "Beyoncé." Artists were all around within her vast Creative Team— An ecosystem of geniuses driven just like she. It was tirelessly demanding, but the work was so unique. Its reach was outstanding, and it honed my technique. I got to watch her Manifest, saw her flesh out instinct. And saw the stunning power that forges her mystique. Plus, girls thought it was dope that I was with Bey. And that badge means you're cool in NYC. And I thought it was dope that I knew Jay-Z. That s**t means I'm cool to me! It was an era which emerged so unexpectedly, Into this fertile stretch of dazzling opportunity.I can't complain, I know. But in time something shifted. And I became unsettled by this job I had been gifted. Maybe it was the endless hours, staring at screens for days? Maybe the Actor In Me sought a different kind of stage? I just don't think I cared enough to sacrifice my Being— Even for a visionary, even for the Queen. So the thrill began to fray. I gotta get out. Beneath my breath this mantra played: I gotta get out. It looped throughout my every day. I gotta get out. And loomed behind the digital haze. I gotta get out. But I got paid. And so I stayed. I stayed for the cool stuff I made. Such as, I worked on Lemonade. I stayed for all the accolades. I stayed because who wouldn't stay? But really I stayed because I was afraid. You see, giving up salary at the "coolest job around," To almost everyone looked insurmountably unsound. By any normal standard, I was winning at the game. I'd always wanted stardom, and now I was six feet from fame. More Money! More Likes! More Me! There was no bigger place to be Than in Beyoncé's crew at the age of 23. It was an addiction, impossible to drop. The Noise roared Beyoncé—and I couldn't get it to stop. Sucked into a vortex of my own desires, The Ego was loving it, but I felt like a liar. Drawn into that Wilderness, cast under its spell, Nothing mattered anymore. And that seemed just as well. The weeks became mechanical, and nothing felt real. Years were sliding by, as I ignored my Heart's appeals. I knew it in my gut: I gotta get out. But that there threatened The Ego, so he muzzled all those doubts. And as is wont to happen when we muffle our Flow, The pilot light began to dim and living lost its glow. A friend back then said "I'm so happy." In some misplaced zeal I retorted: "I don't think that happiness is real." I recall another talk with my Mom and Dad: "I feel dead inside," I vented. Why was I so mad? Of course this wretchedness went deeper than a job. I had nothing under me. No meaning, no god. Dust to dust, and nothing more. Just running that race. It drained me of my courage to take a leap of faith. That mortality within us fears all Unknowns. Yet that's the only place where we genuinely grow. So I could not move forward, because I became weak. As I was now a prisoner of my own ennui. Now, I get this was no Tragedy! It's not like someone died. I wasn't under some duress, or working in the mines! (Charge me with my "Privilege!"—and that may well be true. I'm grateful for what I was offered. That I assure you.) But sometimes suffering slithers from behind; It slinks in quietly and hides within the grind. At some point it bites everyone. No matter who or why. Pain can not be measured, though it seems we try. It's reduced into metrics, and split down party lines. I have it worse than you! squawks our tribal whines. We weaponize our agony and obscure our Design: Love is to Realize we're all One Big Mind.III. We were doing a show in Vegas, and I was burnt out to the max. It was 18 hour days for months, and I was desperate to relax. I lurched to my hotel room, and got pinged to come back to work. It was midnight. On a Friday. And I legitimately went berserk. F**k this s**t. I'm so tired. F**k it all to Hell. I looked at myself in the mirror and erupted with this yell: A PRIMAL SCREAM OF ANGER FROM THAT WILDERNESS. A VOLCANIC CRY OF DANGER FROM DEEP IN THAT ABYSS, WHERE SOULS HAVE LOST THEIR NATURE AND ARE BURNING TO A CRISP. And in the mirror—in crimson face—I think I saw a stranger. This rupture snaked around my mind and left it with a hiss ... The fever of this breakdown kept me in a shiver. When I got back to New York, I walked to the East River. The moon refracted off the waves in that sparkling way Where every burst of glitter is some secret kept at bay. I was not a man of Spirit then. An atheist, in fact. But that night I asked for a Sign, and I made a pact: "I'll change my life. I will. But I just feel so trapped. I'm in this hard reality and don't know my way back. The Self Who Stands Above Me knows this is not my Path But Little Me can't take the Risk. I need more faith to Act. I don't know what's Beyond me, but it seems I have to Ask: Send a Sign that says: "Go forth. This fear shall pass." "Ask and it shall be given. Seek and ye shall find." The next morning I awoke to a text cosmically timed: "Hey Joe! It's John" (A college friend.) "You just popped to mind. I work for Bravo! now doing video and design. We've got months of overflowing work: Do you have any time?" Whoa! An open door ... I asked and here's the sign ... Bravo, indeed! I thought. A wondrous magic trick! Well, now I had no choice. I had to act on it. I stayed in that vibration and rode it to the office. Holding that conviction, I gathered up my bosses. "Thank you for it all," I said. "And sorry I've been grumpy. I think I need to leave. I don't like who I'm becoming." And that was that. So simple. It felt like almost nothing. It almost turned this melodrama into something funny! I headed home at rush hour, and I just started running Through packed Manhattan sidewalks. My Spirit was buzzing. I must have seemed a lunatic, weaving through the passersby. It was that unbridled vigor of finally feeling Alive. For 30 blocks I ran. I'd rarely felt so free. I had escaped my Wilderness and was setting out to Sea. I know this seems theatrical. I was just quitting a job. But looking back on it, this is what it wrought. I played victim to my limiting beliefs That I was powerless against the plague of my own grief. And in that extra push from past The Great Divide I began to Realize the universe is on our side. IV. Life unfolded afterwards in many glimmering ways. Reality rewards us after diving into change. Curveballs, decisions, and hard times never cease. But there are these messages that shepherd us to peace. They're whispering beneath the Noise, guiding our way out: That electric spark of joy or a knowing sense of doubt. In the years to come, I've Listened for these signs. Sometimes it's just a dash of bliss which teases more to find. Or perhaps it's stranger, like a call perfectly timed. The webwork of reality seems weirdly intertwined ... Call them odd coincidences or call them divine, There are White Rabbits everywhere, even in this rhyme. Maybe that's the real game: We simply have to Listen. Easier said than done, I know—sensing intuition. In hindsight, though, we tend to say "I sensed something was off." So it follows that right now it's possible—somewhere—we're lost ... Perhaps we're always being Signaled to that Open Sea. But we can't hear beneath that Noise that's hexed us devilishly. We get trapped in Wilderness—that scraping in our head, Those painful thoughts that we avoid, that sprout up into dread. And the world becomes that prickly place where everything is sharp, Shrieking in anxiety and splitting us apart. And the things that scare us most are what we most lack. For as Jung said: "Where your fear is—there's your task." Our Task is never easy. But we each have the choice To Listen—beyond the Wilderness of Noise— To that song that plays outside of time and space. A melody that carries us beyond this mortal chase. It sings through the Universe in quiet chimes of grace. That mysterious compass that we may as well call Faith. The feeling that Something knows who you're supposed to be. Even before you know it. Before even you can see. That Voice that tracks ahead of us, singing "Wake Up! We are free." It surfs the open waters laughing playfully. Life glistens when you listen—so tune yourself to thee, Which know which way the wind blows and directs you out to Sea.This Present Moment is an experiment in connection. I want to hear from you and I welcome your thoughts. Feel free to reply to this email. And if you haven't yet:And if you've banked on crypto lately, you can now become a paying subscriber. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thispresentmoment.substack.com

Welcome to This Present Moment.What follows is the first in a series of semimonthly writings. In the coming weeks I will share emails on life, philosophy, consciousness and whatever else electrifies me. What this will blossom into, I do not know. It is an experiment in connection, and I invite you to meet me here. If you'd like to be kept abreast, subscribe below for new volumes at least twice a month.To move into This Present Moment, let's first look backward. It's almost cute how we compartmentalize our life into eras. We see our history as little chapters that comprise the Story of Our Life.It's portioned out into sub-narratives, like "My Summer Abroad," or "Middle School: The Weird Years," or "Grandma's Final Days." We also have collective eras, culturally agreed upon and enshrined in history books. "The Victorian Era." "Pre-9/11." And now, "COVID." In the centuries to come, those early months of 2020 will be the pivot in which the 21st century turns. And as with many of us, it is also a fulcrum in which my life turned.In February 2020 I snuffed out the last remnants of my bachelor life and said goodbye to the East Village. I whittled down my belongings to three boxes, moved into my girlfriend's uptown apartment, and she immediately got me hooked on La Croix. I am now a convert.But moments after I moved in, the world moved away. New York drifted into silenceThe nation held its breath.And we all became friendly with the unknown.The Observer In Me found this curiously engrossing. Tragic, absolutely, but it was also a time bursting with novelty. If you recall, this domestic drama premiered in New York City. It was quite the production. There was the now-mired press briefings by Andrew Cuomo, the banging of pots for healthcare workers, and, of course, a deus-ex-machina: The USNS Comfort. That Navy darling sat emptily one block from my apartment, greeting me during mornings runs. "May you live in interesting times." Well, what's more interesting than jogging through a totally empty Times Square like Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky?And as if reality wasn't shifting fast enough, we decided to get a puppy. Rooh surged into our life with boundless vigor. At once a firecracker and a love-bug, she's tested me where I'm weak and softened me where I'm hard. And in turn, she has become one of my greatest teachers. As rascalous as she is, I marvel at how I've come to love her. Animals are bizarre beings. On one hand, they're in some foreign world that shirks any resemblance to the mind of man. And yet, we draw our eyes to theirs and we connect. In that instant we know each other, and we see them as if they were us. That collective space—the union of mind—is what this present moment is really about. Somewhere behind the clatter of our daily thoughts we have a deeper seat of awareness, a point of stillness.Our minds have been affected by this virus more than our bodies. In the fog of lockdown, one was left with an inescapably close-up look at their life. It slowed our motion, held up a mirror, and asked Do you like what you see? In the mornings I would sit on a thin, grassy parkway on the Hudson River. This slice of "nature" became my center of gravity, my tether to the natural world. Lying in Shavasana, I would listen to the birds sing. They didn't seem worried about anything—just another day in the steady spin of time. The dawn sun would bathe my body, and I felt clean. What nourishment even the briefest ray of light offers us in otherwise dark times. "So shines a good deed in a weary world."My years in New York were buoyed by these daily trips to the park. Mini-eras marked by mini-plots of grass. Astoria Park. Central Park. Washington Square. With every new apartment came a new spot to commune with the Sun. Tompkins. East River. Riverside. Prospect. They were lifelines carrying me through the different islands of my 20's.But through the looking-glass of lockdown, these meager patches of Earth suddenly seemed insufficient. Where was there room for growth?And thus the closing words were written for "The Most Exciting Decade of My Life." Nothing will match the youthful jubilance of those New York years—a kinetic voyage of self-discovery that will forever be lodged in my heart. What a gift it was to come of age in the Greatest City in the World, to ride its waves to the shores of who I am. But it was time to traverse new lands. Molly and I condensed our few belongings into storage, bought a car, and with little Rooh took to America to find a home. The first stop was Molly's hometown of Carlisle, Ohio, a bastion of middle America, and a counterpoint to the high pitch of New York. Molly's folks inhabit an old haunted house where I spent my free time writing what amounted to a garage-philosophy theory of everything. Our month-long stopover was a gentle respite of relaxation, contemplation, and, as always, work. For the prior two years I had been a filmmaker at Google's Creative Lab. Gripes abound at Big Tech these days, and I could levy plenty of grievances over the perils of modern technology—corporate and otherwise. But my experience there was fantastic, and the Creative Lab is good people trying to do good things with a good company. Plus, the work was stimulating—crescendoing, for instance, in a Super Bowl spot of which I am proud.I was at the end of my contract—and at the end of my willpower to gaze into a Macbook all day. I bid Google adieu and, for the first time in my life, began turning down work. I was simply going to live.Thus began one of the most glorious chapters of my life.First we dropped by Chicago to see my folks, and then sojourned at Molly's sister's in Oklahoma City (a surprisingly hip place). Then we drove west to Colorado and nabbed an AirBNB in the mountains, nestled between Boulder and a crusty, hippie town named Nederland. The mammoth beauty of it all lifted me up, and I was Rocky Mountain High. The vastness of the mountains. The totemic serenity of the trees. The notes of pine in the morning air. It felt magical, and my spirit was ignited. We descended Colorado by way of a small mountain town named Crestone, population 86. Crestone is a bracingly unique spot in the San Luis Valley, flanked by dozens of Zen retreat centers, the Sand Dunes National Park, and my favorite: a UFO watchtower. (My visit offered no sightings ... But aliens are real. More on that some other time.