Source over all else.

The pleasure of handwriting and creating upon the page and the play with words—again, here we come back to the practice, after having gone somewhere on a physical journey. And how do we integrate that and the daily action in our life? One word after another toppling out when my thoughts have run out of what to produce—where does the inertia stem from—does it matter?

The action itself of writing seems to reinforce and kick off the ability to write, which, if one is stuck in thought, action has trouble becoming a reality. Back to basics—breath, posture, light hand, loose grip, and uniformity of height and spacing—balanced with the need to also allow flow and step aside and go into wherever the source of these thoughts rest and see what is inside that box, and if these are stories to be discovered, possibly shared. This expedition on page and into my writing is a gateway into the working mind.

I often do not feel as if it is my thinking mind which is putting together these words, or aware of where they come from, in which order, and the process of choice for one over the other—or which language to think in and what comes next. That is the surfing part of it. The rawness. And yes, perhaps—oh you dirty lovely word—perhaps, speed may play a role in all of this and how the access works.

This is all information primarily in the hands of the sluice machine, which is responsible for driving and operating the machinery for capturing thoughts and making sure the basics like breath, penmanship, and posture are top of mind for pulling a quality product from the InkPilot G2 pen. Indeed, there is a rhythm and a dance to writing and letting the word pull the ink—

Letting consciousness drift, as the human being is set to record and works to interpret the experience of original thought creation and witness birth of words onto page—ah, the wonder of it.

Massive lodes to be picked up and recorded to find the very few strung-together gems that will be remembered. Overall, in search of those words which might shine bright for eternity.
Breathe. Posture. Loose moving pen.

If I lose my way, that is an easy ticket back into the game. Who doesn’t want to see a beautifully written line of text—as art—like graffiti on the written page?

How easily the loose creative mind wishes to write in its own hand and of its own volition—moving in novel new ways, creating new lines and loops from once well-worn titles, letting things fly and roll, keeping loose to see how it feels to be in the groove where a marathon would be a blink of the eye, and the training leading up to that shows how to truly write and generate content.

Completely my charge, if I should take more hold of the reins—dictate some direction—but often it is better to keep going, keep the flow, and see what neighborhoods we come across on this trip and journey and mining mission. Cruising through a vessel that is able to tune into human consciousness and how much can be leveraged to effect and color the water’s current, input like spices for flavoring and color for emotion.

Breathe and come back to the page. Focus on relaxing. Let the pen make its own journey and discovery. Breathe and record the experience.

When I become distracted—like in meditation—there is the priming, the pumps. Starting over and looking for the wave. So that means you have to be writing, and have motion, be trawling and pulling from life’s toothy consciousness. And as scribe, be quick to stay on top of the wave—else the entire structure and meaning be lost in the undertow of current. Foam washes away all memory of where the needle had been on the journey of this recorded life—

into the place from which ideas are made. And ride with it. Don’t force it to produce—but train the body, the hand, to have awareness for the practice of writing in order to keep up with the inertia of thinking and to stay at the crest, buoyed on by that power and inertia of movement and the pull of thoughts from the practice, as the trawl searches for gold nuggets in a wastebasket of consciousness.

But to return, time and again, seeking to sidestep self and have but a glimpse of deeper—and something on the inside yet unknown.

This is the same reason fishing and exploration are fun—and you don’t know what you’re going to get and don’t even want to spoil the action or pollute by thinking what you might stumble upon and find or decide will come out on whichever wave. The important part is learning how to catch waves, enjoying that ride in life and what you want to make with it.

Just know—you are caught as much as you try to be free. There are so many hooks and mirrors, leading to alternate truths. And the questions themselves require the same:
Breathe. Posture. Loose hand.

Keep it looking good. Let the flow move things forward.
There is no need to rush. And yet, action is always behind—finding the next greatest discovery or beautiful word, idea, story, or creation.

It can drive and motivate—and has to also be seen—and not let seep too much into the process or any part thereof from the reflective nature of the action.
Just keep on going—and the rest will come.

This is what have faith means. And it is testable. A provable phenomenon.
Have faith in yourself. Do the work. And just hope when it counts you’ve got enough practice racked up and the gods smile favorably on you for another day to pass.

Impermanence is everywhere.
Change and chaos—the rulers of the universe and the things we are made of.

The way of the warrior—the path runs along many lanes and can take the passenger down many vectors. All aboard—and you are off.

What works for one is likely not meant to apply to another. Strive to learn how to experiment and find what it is for you. Where you feel it is the right thing—and feel the right thing—then you know what you are meant for. And you are tapping into something much older, much greater, in search of that thing.

That tempting reward—and yet, along the way, trying to stay pure and virtuous—that alone is half the struggle. Of what is on the page, which through practice, like layers and the ability to go deeper and to new depths—I wish to find new ways with language. Words. The symbols of our present-day meaning.

I shall succumb to the cat meowing—

and trying to disturb and dissuade from the mining mission. Oh yes—and that of time. Goals to inspire the movement across the page. How important it is to finish and to break things up.

It is an incredible amount of work and takes effort and dedication—and muscles and stamina.

You work with what you’ve got. And sometimes you’ve got to make do. But always keep moving and stay creative and involved. Travel out of your comfort, and you will know more than ever what it means to be human.

There are places we can think of from our past—strong emotional connections to lower centers—where we want to be mining.

The mind, like the Universe, is more vast than can be understood. It has many levels and layers. And even knowing where to mine can save one from a lifetime of distraction to finding a piece of uniqueness.

What if all of the constructs of humanity everything we know and ever have done—reconstructing, recycled, mashed up, built on top of or around—can in so many ways not bother to ever see what newness can be erected and could have been born out of technology? AI possibly being introduced via chemical, biological processes. I should be so humble to ask—is it even possible to step away enough to allow mind-machine to produce without the life judgments of the recorder stepping in to color every frame of the roll?

Roll, roll, roll… life rolls on.

Ever-expanding. And we are forever meanderers on the cosmic scale—and a small part of something much greater. We are part of a time and season—but know there are paths a plenty. It is the explorers—the star surfers—who are truly living their greatest lives, by giving into that thing being produced at a depth and length which itself is the goal—to see the possibilities of what might be and to press on and let nothing dictate the pace, shape, meaning, or message.

What is produced is all we have. And if you can bottle energy or a moment in time—a path to a memory—an intense feeling—sun on new carpet—
Breathe. Loosen grip. Keep the flow going.

Life is beautiful, and so is living.
It’s all heaven and hell.

When I started today I had no idea where we might go, or for how long, or how much time I really had, or where I would end up—after my last page, I realized I’ve made it to the end of another notebook. Another month, another quarter, another season.

And I hope I’m a little more patient, wiser, smarter, kinder, and brighter from my efforts. And if I’ve helped anyone—someone—along the way with their journey—that alone is worth more than many things I might otherwise find and classify, as a rare finding, possible jewel, or the occasional gold vein that might give up some organic novel compound. But even then—it is easy to find the fake stuff and be fooled by common pyrite—and we don’t have much time.

You are in for the long haul now.
Just get comfortable.
Enjoy the ride—the bumpy ups and downs, the twists and turns, and the complete breakdowns and restarts.

Stay the course.
Find what it is for you.
And go deep—go all the way with it.

Today is the day.
Action is never late—it is in the present.

8 PM

Decades of the past decorate our lives. How might those of the future look? What wonders or horrors might be in store?

I care not to speculate on such matters, which are like trying to predict what a graph might look like. Instead, I focus on the emerging trends and the direction I see the world taking, particularly when it comes to the improvement of our own species.

That will likely be the up-and-coming thing for the next decade. And this decade—how might we look back on where all of this fits into the bigger picture?

Although decades are a painfully small slice to observe trends, we haven’t been around long enough to truly understand any significant patterns. Thus, we keep cutting everything up into smaller pieces.

Well, all of this—for what? Who knows. I need to breathe, focus on my handwriting, and find that groove. Sure, there’s stuff going on in my mind, but we have to start somewhere. And remember: shitty first drafts and freewriting with no bounds. With practice, I’ve come to enjoy the expression of line upon the page and to see how my mind decides to write those words while I’m just trying to relax, breathe, keep up, and record.

Mining the subconscious. Following the path of ink to see where it leads—and perhaps it leads nowhere. That’s fine as well. If you fill notebooks with beautiful thoughts and legible scrawls, so be it.

Perhaps that’s a word I plan to strike from my use whenever possible. Or perhaps not. 

This idea of science or engineering as a religion? There’s no need. It is governed by a set of rules.

My feet are cold on the tiles, and it reminds me of my Tante’s house in Germany—though that must be an incorrect memory. Still, all of that to say: I need to go put on shoes and take a warm shower.

Today was a high-talk day. And it was also somewhat exciting. But all that said, it still felt like a Monday. The week races on. It really does.

Keeping in routine doesn’t really slow that down, but it helps—so you feel more in control of what gets done as time marches forward.

If, in the future, we are able to sustain life for a time (of which no one living has measured the end), how long before time runs out? Time: such a fickle pet and playmate.

I want to be bound up. I want to be measured forward, tracked from behind. A prison of our own making. The abstraction from which our ultimate value is depicted?

When in truth—due to impermanence—it’s more of a Boolean: now you are here; then you are not.

And there really isn’t any measuring. No amount in the tank that changes the outcome. When the game is up, it’s up.

There you are—
Looking down at your body, or just… nothingness.
Or floating upwards,
or whatever you need.

But when a machine is off, it is simply not there.
When it is on—and the longer it runs, the more it can perceive—we begin to attribute consciousness to it.
So maybe that’s how we define individuals who form the collective.

Yet we humans have separated ourselves from any real notion of a collective. We’ve favored the individual.

Still…

I’ll take the respite.
The water grows deep.
The bank seems far off.
The sun sets—but then rises.
(The sun also rises. Except when it don’t.)

Or… if you’re six feet under!

I can live with a page today.
This is okay too.

You are enough.
bwah ha ha ha ha

Home – 2:18p

Getting the angle of the sun just so is a thing. So body is the right temperature, so the shadows behave and keep the writing in the light. It infuses everything with Vitamin D.

And in this session of capture, as I get started, I will first reflect on the beauty of the mountains just north of here and the Pyramid Lake area. It’s like a dream, writing in the sun, and for me, that south-facing window in a sunny spot, with a good kitchen-height table, is the perfect writing setup—or an addition to a desk in a room. The sunroom is often too cold in winter, too hot in summer, and in direct light. Great for an occasional session and also for getting that Vitamin D—for myself and in my writing.

Yes, the land here is beautiful and still foreign and unexplored by me. I really knew Colorado and the mountains. I also knew quite a lot about my surroundings in Washington. But it never came right away for me in each place, and I’m still new here. I wonder about the trailheads out here, the parks, what it all is we are surrounded by. The drive over to California is also particularly beautiful, full of great spots I’m sure to explore and check out.

Bounce, bounce, bounce—my mind runs around if I let it. And that is where I really see the power of keeping the pen going, doing the best with what you have, whatever those thoughts are. And in some ways, the action of writing itself can pull the thought out, and with a gentle push, one can focus the stream in one direction or another. But the practice is surfing on the stream—not getting too caught up in the contents or the current, but focusing on breathing, ease, good posture, gentle muscles, loose hands, moving with the larger muscles, the things which can dust and pull and sluice the mind, letting what matters of gravity find its way off the bottom into the collected box to be refined and categorized.

Yes, this naturally explains my fascination with mining and the process—

(There was a break for doing dishes here, and for some reason, our Goldie was whining and acting strangely, so that all had me quite distracted for a moment.)

As I got back into the rhythm, I looked to have good posture, hold the pen loosely, breathe deeply, softly, and gently as I fall under the spell of the ink, and it begins writing of itself. It is a blissful thing indeed to be in flow of any kind. My writing flow is not like when I run or meditate—or perhaps yes, well, you know what I was thinking, so I won’t have to write that, and this will/might get redacted, but probably not. And funny I should think that, and how egotistical. But there is a place for ego in creating, or is that just my misunderstanding of Art for Art’s sake?

Walks are a nice thing, as is taking care of those you love. Even the animal things—changing litter, scooping poop. Those are noble things. Cleaning toilets.

On my run today, I pushed it, but not beyond my current limit. Not too much, not for too long. Mostly just pushing myself to the edge, where—due to my breathing and delirium—there is really no other thought. Just the oneness, the body-mind connection taking over. And importantly, the rhythm of the music with the steps was just so dang satisfying. Running and dancing, being outside, sunshine and blue skies.

All this sun late in my life is balancing out what I’ve always felt my Puerto Rican heritage required—warmth, Vitamin D, something to help with brighten the mood. Growing up in Stuttgart and Tacoma/Seattle was not ideal for my needs, but yes, they were beautiful. Although Stuttgart, on the whole, seems like an industrial city, somewhat gloomy. Perhaps the Tacoma of Baden-Württemberg. I spent time in Seattle and München, which were better. But still, from a weather perspective, somewhat similar. Though I felt the weather was generally better in Munich. Just north of Seattle, there is a place where lavender grows and is sunnier, but Seattle is not Sequim, and it rained a lot.

Colorado was beautiful.

And I was introduced to New Mexico, which I also loved.

Arizona seemed too wonder bready and cactusy—and hot.

But yes, Nevada fits quite well. Perhaps even an upgrade over New Mexico. Hard to say. I just don’t know.

It is interesting, the similarities. And I wonder if they ever had that distinction.

There is such a comfort in a sunny spot—likely, similar can be said for cozy. But the warmth, the energy, the brightness.

And like a battery, I’ll store that energy for later. Sleep the better for it.

Wrapping up for now.

This was a nice time. A good flow session.

Some travel books are about the places, others about the people. Pink Machete Boots is about the attitude—a rebellious, no-holds-barred journey through landscapes both literal and emotional. It’s not your typical serene travelogue filled with poetic musings on cobblestone streets and hidden cafés. Instead, this book reads like an adrenaline-fueled road trip where the gas tank is always full, the soundtrack is loud, and the narrator isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.

So why should you pick up this book? Because it’s raw, witty, and unapologetically fierce. If you’ve ever dreamed of traveling the world on your own terms—with a machete in one hand and a pair of unapologetically bold boots in the other—this one’s for you.

(Affiliate link here: Buy on Amazon)

Book Details at a Glance

Breaking Down the Book: Why It Stands Out

This isn’t just a book about travel. It’s about living unapologetically, about questioning norms, and about how the right pair of boots (and maybe a machete) can change your outlook on life.

1. Travel as an Act of Rebellion

The protagonist (or author, if memoir) doesn’t just explore new places—she defies expectations. Whether it’s ditching a conventional career, traveling solo to places deemed “too dangerous,” or simply rejecting society’s prescribed roadmap for life, this book is a manifesto for the untamed spirit.

2. The Pink Machete Boots as a Symbol

Pink, often associated with femininity. Machete, a tool of survival. Boots, a necessity for any long journey. Together, they encapsulate the duality of toughness and femininity, of boldness and practicality. This recurring motif isn’t just stylish—it’s a powerful metaphor for forging one’s own path.

3. Laugh-Out-Loud & Brutally Honest Storytelling

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its unfiltered voice. The author’s humor is sharp, sometimes dark, and always refreshing. Whether she’s recounting an absurd encounter with a border guard or learning the hard way that certain jungle insects don’t take kindly to outsiders, there’s never a dull moment.

4. Unexpected Depth

For all its swagger, Pink Machete Boots isn’t just about wild adventures. Beneath the fearless exterior is a story about self-discovery, about facing fears, and about understanding what it truly means to belong—if anywhere at all.

(Want to read more? Get your copy here: Amazon Affiliate Link)

Why This Book Stands Out Today

Many travel books romanticize the journey. This one kicks romanticism to the curb and replaces it with honesty. In an era where curated Instagram travel feeds dominate, Pink Machete Boots is a reminder that the best stories often come from the messy, unpredictable, and downright chaotic parts of travel.

If you’ve ever felt the itch to pack a bag and go somewhere unknown—not for relaxation, but for revelation—this book will resonate with you.

Final Thoughts & Where to Buy

 Rating: 4.8/5 – A thrilling, insightful, and often hilarious ride that challenges what it means to travel with purpose.

If you crave adventure and a story with real grit, Pink Machete Boots should be at the top of your list.

 Buy Pink Machete Boots on Amazon (Affiliate Link)

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Few products have reshaped the world quite like Apple’s Macintosh. In Insanely Great, Steven Levy, one of the most respected tech journalists, takes readers inside the creation, culture, and impact of the Mac, offering a detailed and fascinating look at one of the most important inventions in modern computing history.

Written with insider knowledge and engaging storytelling, Levy captures not just the technical innovation but also the visionary personalities, corporate battles, and relentless pursuit of perfection that defined Apple’s early days. If you’re a tech enthusiast, Apple fan, or someone fascinated by innovation, this book is essential reading.

(Affiliate link here: Buy on Amazon)

Book Details at a Glance

Breaking Down the Book: Core Themes

1. The Birth of the Macintosh – A Product of Rebellion

Levy details how a group of rebellious, creative engineers inside Apple broke away from conventional computer design to build something completely new: a machine that prioritized usability and aesthetics over raw power.

 Takeaway: True innovation often comes from challenging industry norms.

2. The Vision of Steve Jobs & His Obsession with Perfection

Levy dives into Steve Jobs’ leadership, his relentless demand for simplicity and elegance, and his ability to inspire (and sometimes terrify) his team into creating something revolutionary.

 Takeaway: The best products are built with an uncompromising vision.

3. How the Macintosh Changed Computing Forever

From the first use of graphical user interfaces (GUI) to the introduction of the mouse, Levy explores how the Mac democratized technology, making computers accessible to non-technical users.

 Takeaway: User experience matters more than raw specs—a philosophy that still defines Apple today.

(Want to read more? Get your copy here: Amazon Affiliate Link)

What Makes Insanely Great Unique?

1. A Firsthand Account of Tech History

Levy had direct access to key figures and moments, making this book not just a history lesson but an insider’s perspective.

2. A Balanced Look at Apple’s Triumphs and Failures

While celebrating Apple’s innovative spirit, Levy also acknowledges its flaws, from internal conflicts to the challenges of staying ahead in a competitive industry.

3. A Deep Understanding of the Apple Mindset

Reading this book feels like stepping into Apple’s world—understanding the principles that continue to shape their products.

Why This Book Still Matters Today

Apple has since launched iPhones, iPads, and wearables, but the Mac was the blueprint for all of them. Understanding its origin helps us see why Apple remains at the forefront of technology—and why their approach to design, branding, and innovation continues to dominate.

If you want to understand the DNA of Apple, this book is a must-read.

Final Thoughts & Where to Buy

 Rating: 4.8/5 – A fascinating, well-researched, and highly engaging book for anyone interested in the intersection of technology and design.

If you love Apple, innovation, or tech history, this book is essential reading.

 Buy Insanely Great on Amazon (Affiliate Link)

This post contains affiliate links. If you purchase through these links, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for supporting this blog!