I seem to be an eternal thing fastened to the body of a dying creature.
I don't know why I feel that way. Are my neurons firing in such a way to create the illusion of a deeper meaning, as some sort of survival mechanism?
Or are we all truly spiritual beings bound to sacks of flesh?
Ideas spurt from the ground, enter through my soles and shoot through my body into my brain. My head is not mine, it’s spinning away in parallel realities. My ego has yielded its control to a motley crew of drunken zen masters and holy fools.
This is the battleground of adventurers... artists and actors. Those who live life exploring their deepest fears, and some days bounce up feeling raw, euphoric things.
But at both ends, they’re intensely alive, and that’s what counts.
They were fully present when it happened, and now they’re ready to share it with a public, channel it through their art. Paint it or write it or act it.
That’s why it takes courage to be an artist. It involves diving deep into the self, something people spend their life avoiding.
Addiction is ritual taken too far.
It’s an attempt at engineering pleasure that becomes pathetic in its repetition.
If you were just able to keep it under control, to not do it until pleasure becomes pain, to be moderate. To be mindful.
All that goes out the window. The excess you’re looking for always ends in a sad mess.
Sebastien is a filmmaker and writer currently studying at York University in Toronto, where he was recipient of the Helen Vari film award for outstanding creative achievement. His work includes poems, introspective essays and experimental short films, exploring subjects ranging from psychology to spirituality and psychedelia.