2026 and the invisible present

Hello there.

Beyond the hurrah and the happy of a new year; which I wish all of you with all my heart; this welcoming of 2026 is instigated by a rather long visit to a hospital last month. A very insightful series of events unwrapping people, emotions and most of all, my place in this beautifully meaningless world. Forcing me to incite change!

As my body and mind emerge from the fog of pain and medication, I am forced to confront certain truths; truths that recovery is gonna take a long while (I am told). That sickness is dull and can be avoided with better care. And that there are certain revelations that you can only come up with while being horizontal on a hospital bed.

And though my intentions are clear, I seem to have underestimated the disconnections that have festered within. The fears; the loss of self and the inability to make appropriate changes. We know that unguided change misleads without conscious effort; empty movement, quaking randomly like an illusion. The outcome being confusion.

I have moved and emoted, spontaneously, and endlessly. But this lack of self control has harmed deeply, both the body and the soul. Now harsh suffering grows where flowery meadows were meant to sway. My journey, along with that of monkeyverse, calls for a practice that is more sincere. More consistent with traditional wisdom. I should not rush into things again or get carried away. 

Forgive me, because there is no need for me to share this here other that I feel it might also bring light to some of you. Though this is personal, it is mostly about blind spots. Yours might be a similar search. Cryptic and chaotic.

Somewhere between 2017 and 2018 I decided to change my life and slow down. To take my time. No rush. No urgency. Or at least that is the story I told myself. But somewhere in this transition from taking on 5-6 projects at once, not eating or sleeping, and living a manic party life; to retreating into some form of silence and taking on lesser I seem to have dismissed that old habit die hard. That the self inflicted pressures to optimise, to stay busy, to keep moving unconsciously hound the peace out of my mind.

An invisible plague to escape myself chases me. I stress. I overcommit. I overwork. I bore easily. I am constantly trailing something I can’t clearly name, and am just as constantly exhausted by it. That hunger, combined with fatigue, creates an absurd loop where effort feels heavy, joy feels unwelcome, and rest feels undeserved.

But that hospital bed forced me to admit that what I thought was slowness was actually disguised urgency. A sprint of second winds if you will. A manic nightmare of chases. I rage in discomfort as I chart my way forward. Without grounding or surrender. And don’t get me wrong, from being a lone concept artist, I have made monkeyverse into a boutique studio that lives and breathes. I have bettered my life in many ways. I have made homes out of houses. So the effort does pay off. But the cost is what I am pondering here. There has to be a better method to do this. Instead of building on the foundation of fear. A fear that I will be broke, that I might not have another project, that no one will work with me for reasons unknown, that I will fail, etc. etc. And these terrors tire me more then the work or life.

I have created an illusion of structure. I am addicted to chaos.

You get the drift. And tell me if those are not the most rusted hinges to hang my dreams upon.

The hunger for mental progress. Physical progress. Spiritual progress. Relational progress. Emotional progress. To progress my skills. Have become parodied in the way that fast food parodies organic food.

But an alteration is required, both, within and without. A change of fundamentals. A change of pace. To look away from atomised breakdowns of time as disjointed increments that have no overall continuity. To reconsider work and commitment. That I can run on fumes without self control while abandoning rest. That growth comes from chasing. That my energies are infinite.

I must create a shrine within, and replace the thorns of time with bells of devotion, caution and love. These would be better foundations to heal and to grow from. Move toward clarity and connect with my stillness. Breathe and water into my intellect. To not be impulsive. To connect with my core and feelings. Be true to my primordial self; to the child and let him guide me upon the white waters for he is forever present and at play; fearless. To be still and clear within, and affect energetic movement without. To pour back the dignity that belongs within. To drink from the chalice of truth and heal the dismembered self.

I will ground myself in routine and discipline to surrender to the creative flow. To address my commitments without being drained. To improve my craft with meditation. To feel confident in my skin. To think of time as a long incense that burns slowly bringing with it calm, and not as a clock that ticks away. I will practice without expectation. I will not carry these broken ideas any further. But also remember that, change, though relentless, is slow and unforgiving. It is cruel. It bears no resemblance to individual hopes and dreams. It manifests of itself like the waters raging. And once upon it, keep the compass close and measure well. Be conscious and prepared. Sharpen the tools and heart. Learn to listen to the currents beneath.

Give the intuition preference over intellect. Breathe deeply at every step for the intuition must be mature, not impulsive. Take action not in haste for haste is impulsive.

And surrender again and again. Everyday to this shrine.