Respire

There’s a documentary filmmaker named John Wilson who narrates over scenes of everyday absurdities he finds on New York City streets. He parallels these bizarre images with deep and philosophical commentary. Think of it as a scoop of wild observances and larger than life New Yorkers with a dollop of existential dread on top.

Wilson gets a lot more action on those NYC streets than I do from my North East LA suburban lookout point. I mention Wilson’s work because I not only appreciate his intent, I envy it. 

My point(less) ponderings are just that exactly, from a one point perspective. My world is smaller than Manhattan. The pandemic has allowed me to pick up new hobbies and handicrafts, some bad habits too, and scribble through a several notebooks. I’ve had a career crisis (or two), a relapse (or three), and I’ve realized that the only way to pursue a happy life is to pursue the path with a lot more sand traps. And even if at times I feel hogtied, alone, and inspirationally parched from blazing intrusive thoughts, it helps to pause and look around. You’ll never know what you’re looking for until you find it.