You searched and pined for the one to love, The perfect one, The one who would return that love, Would make you whole. In each situation, Your founding expectation rendered this person something other than they were, An illusory object that you could cradle, Possess, Lust for, But that was never really yours. In the… Continue reading Love meets purpose
Category: Personal writing
The silence and its meaning
Deep within you is a quiet space From which you were born, and which you will return to upon your death. Even when you forget it while in life, it is there; It is the space in which the experience of your forgetting is contained. You can feel this if you meditate: That deep-down hum,… Continue reading The silence and its meaning
Obituary to my childhood self
You are responsible for some of my earliest memories. Not earliest, I suppose—we didn’t meet until I was seven years old. Still, the memories feel primordial: they feel like they coincide with the genesis of my being. Playing in New Mexico, I remember vast expanses of hills and trees, valleys into which we would look… Continue reading Obituary to my childhood self
The authentic self and the illusion of the academy
While living in Colorado Springs between 2015 and -16, I wrote a novel on power, alienation, and education. I never gave it a title, but the work describes a high-powered Academy where children are taken away from their families, then trained in a series of exercises that culminate in the ability to “Produce,” meaning manifest… Continue reading The authentic self and the illusion of the academy
Awakening from the Matrix: on the purpose of “agents”
Recently I’ve been feeling like I’ve been awakening from the Matrix. What I mean by this is I’ve been coming into my power: trusting my intuition, unleashing my creativity, knowing that I don’t need to wait for anyone’s approval. This is a form of initiation. As this has happened, it’s been illuminating to see the… Continue reading Awakening from the Matrix: on the purpose of “agents”
Jackson Holzberg Buckley 