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Meditations

A Clean Slate

Everything must return to its source in due time.

A clean slate is a wonderful thing.

One may build from the scaffolding of that which previously came.

But to enter into a situation full of preconceived notions, opinions, prejudices and expectations, limits the situation entirely.

The vast majority of people in this world are full of nonsense.

In many ways, it doesn’t matter what they’re full of, only that they are.

In order to learn something new, or to produce something new, one must first empty himself.

He must become a clean slate.

One may look at the “state of the art” of anything and genuinely ask: why is this, as it stands, the state of the art?

The phrase carries with it an air of superiority.

Notions of ‘this is it’ — ‘this is the best it gets’.

But you wouldn’t look at a thirty-year-old television today and think of it as state of the art. In fact you would view it as quite prehistoric.

But this television was indeed the state of the art, in its time.

The state of the art is just that: the STATE of the art.

Nowhere does it say the END of the art.

It may mean “the best” today, but certainly not “the best” tomorrow.

It’s the people who understand this that continually push things forward, often by leaps and bounds, and change the world.

It’s the people who come to learn this, that radically change their lives.

And this can only be done with a clean slate. A complete rethinking of things from the ground up.

A fresh perspective brings with it limitless possibilities.

A full mind brings with it the same as it always has.

Most people spend their time filling their minds with common knowledge. Things that have already been done; ideas that have been commoditized.

This is because people, successful or not, tend to take their ideas and attempt to sell or push them onto others — even though the reason the idea worked in the first place (if it did), was largely because it was not for sale.

And then the people buying these things wonder why their “market” is too saturated.

Much of my personal journey has been an emptying of my mind.

It was only once this had taken place to a sufficient degree that I was able to begin learning the truth.

If your mind is full of opinions and ideas of the way things should be: you cannot learn.

If your mind is empty: you are free to fill it with something new.

Perhaps most people do not want to learn, or create something new.

Perhaps the violence of pushing opinions on others is more pleasurable to the ego.

I don’t know why people are unable to see brick walls for what they are.

But what I do know is that a full mind is an imprisonment.

And people have a way of adapting to their prisons.

It is truly a sad state of affairs, for they have essentially been beaten into submission.

What if you weren’t ‘You’?

You’ve been told all your life, “You can do anything.”

Then why haven’t things played out this way?

Would it be sufficient to say that you do not truly feel this way?

Why?

Whatever answers you’ve given yourself as to why this is — do you genuinely feel it’s the truth?

Or are they given to comfort yourself? To remove the fear of the unknown?

Why is the unknown something to fear?

What if in the shadows of the unknown sat your salvation, just waiting for you to reach out toward it?

I once wrote, “The dark lights the way.”

This is what I mean.

A full mind is a prison cell.

An empty mind provides a direct connection with . . .

Well, maybe you should just go and find out for yourself.

The problem with making promises and telling people “this is what you’ll find” is that it removes them from the search.

It keeps them on the lookout for a beacon, which in all likelihood is not what was trying to be communicated.

And so they find nothing.

In many ways, esoteric conveyance provides clarity.

A riddle forces one to come up with the answer himself.

To lay a brick down for one as they’re about to take their first step: this one will forever stay put, awaiting further orders.

A clean slate.

A new life.

A new experience.

Who are you, really?

What’s written on your slate?

Is it truth, or a collection of lies?

Is it a blank cheque, or a treatise on struggle with your name chiseled on it?

Does it have to be the latter?

No.

Can I tell you what to do?

No.

Can I point you in the right direction?

Yes.

The dark lights the way.