Jacob's Website

Sunday, July 5, 2020

Confer my Experientialism


So it's been a little over a year since I moved to Vancouver and it's been a ride of tumultuousness, bliss and introspection.  Relocating has its challenges, certainly in the day to day existence but the majority of my intrigue has concerned itself with the self, perhaps because relocating to Canada is more of a geographical exercise than it is a cultural upheaval.  Sure the culture is different, in more ways than I ever understood from my tourist-visa haunts up here over the last decade, but finding a groove here is certainly easy thanks, probably, to the Commonwealth.




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However, the nuances of the daily are something I had in Brisbane (or anywhere), it's just easier to focus on them under the guise of a foreigner.  When I was touring, I felt like a tourist even when I was in Brisbane, seeing every thing and everyone progressing along their path in time yet somehow removed - therein perhaps lies the temporal bliss I drew from my home time, also, I never worked while home, instead opting to burn my tour pay on partying and skating.  Why did I ever think those emotions were something to expect? 





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Bliss is never deserved. I honestly thought that the wave of bliss I was riding derived from my decisions, my train of thought and not at all the fact I was living in a perpetual state of holiday while barely dipping my toes in what I now consider to be reality - it was rad, surely one of my life's greatest times, but clearly I did not anticipate that the bliss was relevant to my timeline.  





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If I was doing that stuff now, I wonder if I'd be as stoked? I'd say not as much, based on my evolution into adulthood, something that the perpetual holiday didn't just enforce but over time has shown me I was desperately ignorant to maturation.  Kids don't just have fun, they have naivety - something my older self wishes to shed, but something my future self will tell me that I never understood as well as I do then, as if in some paradoxical game with no end.





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I finally drew the mustard to force my hand to reach into the dark in search of the aforementioned bliss and in doing so slowly realised, and will forever realise, that the bliss was a fruit of my labour but came easy as I never actually went to work, or dealt with the reality of paying rent, putting effort in with people I loved etc.  This state of drifting upwards had a profound effect on every day, including this one, as I feel like the inevitable down that I experienced was the greatest learning experience I've had in my adult life.  





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Battling my psyche, the ability to work for work's sake, withdrawal and growing repulsion from life were certainly a ride!  A tough one for sure, superbly supported by the tolerant people close to me.  It kinda took moving up here to realise this and the futility of not addressing what surrounded/s me, for I've put myself there, and have not regretted the ride of the place - only I failed to commit to a better psyche through effort.  






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Nothing worth doing comes for free, and that's cliche because it's cliche - things are that way for a damn good reason.  I slaved over the camera for years before it started working out; I want to slave over mental betterment and it's ensured pleasantries.  Deal with it.







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I'm excited by new things, but also getting back in touch with the psyche I preferred basking in.  I think doing so will illuminate new paths and I wholly feel that my happiness derives from the new, but the notion of new is self-defined and I know it's possible to get a of pleasure out of small things as it's all I used to concern myself with (probs cuz I was turning my back on anything big).  One thing I want to do is make this blog responsive, which is quite a task, because I opted to code this thing with my ground-floor html skills back in 2009 and a few things have changed in web-world since then, like mobiles.

 

Blonde Redhead - Misery is a Butterfly (I've decided to write the titles because looking back I've noticed that many of the youtube embeds I've made over the year are gone, with no clear reference to what they were)



Tuesday, July 30, 2019

return to discovery


Well it's been a minute since I was last jamming pixels into this b-grade text editor and I'm certain that 2 years and 3 months ago I certainly wasn't concerned with the quality of a text editor but I certainly was concerned with what appear to be my first seemingly comprehensive existential crisis. It took me a good while to log back in to this very text editor, Seemingly a result of the data-retention goal posts changing since i was last here… something I am concerned with these days....










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Swatch of the Australian Magpie/world's most epic bird 









I’m sure there is a great number of things I wasn’t concerned with and in retrospect, it feels like I was driven by the very act of not being concerned, with much, or anything at all and in recent times I was led down a thought-warren regarding maturation and how my 2009-2015/16 self was seemingly existing in opposition to the idea of it, but I only feel this now, at the time I thought I was doing it (maturing). I think maturing and learning/experience are similar but exclusive as I’m of the opinion that learning/experience is something thrust upon you, by time, your self or way of culture and schooling. Ignoring the fact humans are fiercely judgemental, I feel maturity is a yardstick defined by the self, a measure that appears to have inversely proportional potency, in that more age = less concern for maturity? I don’t think it’s as simple as boiling it down to wanting what you can’t have but that universal truth is striking ever increasing chords in my emerging desire for simplicity. I was, once again, postponing my happiness, instead of working towards being happy.  I’ve been very lucky in my life, to have experienced much joy but it all came very easily and I think the result of that was not knowing how to find it and also that I NEED to find it, shit doesn’t just fall in your lap, you’ve gotta sit under the asshole.

In the depths of this intrigue I began to realise I was resisting the very things that made me me, or at least the things about myself that I enjoyed most, as my naive self thought the unknown-growth I was pursuing was most quickly attainable through shedding my previous self; this very idea is perhaps founded in my habit of defining borders in my timeline as moments of change.  Sure there are defining moments in life but we’re all a sum of previous instances combined and to assume that one can develop and mature by simply placing an imaginary border between two moments is pretty ludicrous. I recall my 5th birthday and how I was bummed that I didn't wake up taller, so really, I learnt this lesson 24 years ago...




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Brisbane Sunset, looks like winter. Ektachrome 100vs 135




A desire to avoid specificity is implicating this rant with incompletion but to summarise, for the sake of my diary-esque desires for this journal, what’s been going on since my last post has been extremely transformative. I became reclusive and struggled with a feeling of isolation from self and the people who were close, probably resulting from the travel - which I’m now thinking might be an unconsidered/unspoken downside to travelling over a number of years.  Travelling, perhaps not just for me, is a hyper-cultural experience whereby you’re saturated with intrigue and bombarded by the unknown and I’m not sure one can experience these extreme learning environments at home. As a result, it created distance between my home pals who were on their own epic trajectory and seemingly more so than ever as I was unaware of their own blissful progressions and I didn’t realise this at the time, but was probably why I didn’t like talking about trips I went on.  In my own experience this was happening in both worlds, as I was on the road with a relatively consistent bunch of dudes, meaning I felt separation from my home pals and my away pals, living in a state of perpetual catch up.  I guess the difference was the guys who I was roading with were living in a similar relational state of separation, so perhaps there was more solace for this struggle on the road than at home.  In 2017, when I was last here (this blog), I was probably in the thick of the my doldrums and defining my life by how much time I spent thinking/doing work.  Escapism probably.  I was learning and growing etc etc but I didn’t feel it, I felt the opposite.  I struggled with contentedness, perhaps another curse of my travelling and began resigning from the chase.









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Stormy Sunset in the Lost World Valley



I definitely wasn’t prepared for the next stage of lamb life, something I didn’t realise until I was coming back up for air. I put all my eggs in other peoples baskets and only very recently realised the best basket was Mary Lou and that the best place for my eggs were in her and I feel like those eggs are hatching right now. We’re on the verge of a new epoch and it’s the most excited I’ve felt for a number of years now and this epoch will be defined by a return to simplicity, a rejection of happiness as a thing that occurs, instead it’s something that results from effort. But that kinda sounds weird, kinda sounds like work, which makes sense as I’ve spent the last 3 years totally driven by and to work.  As I felt more work = more maturity (not experience or wisdom, only maturity) and managed to work alongside some very accomplished people however I didn’t realise accomplishment was resulting more from experience, than it was from the actual work, let alone capacity or capability.



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Lorenzo Borri, from Italy, surveying the Flatrock Green Zone




One thing I’ve just now noted is that my time entrenched in diving fell basically within my text-based-introspective-hiatus, and as much as I found comfort in hanging with the fish, I think they weren’t the best sounding board.  I’m excited by the idea of journalling some diving, and I think I need to approach this thing more lightheartedly, and less like a therapy session.  As much as it helps, I think I enjoy the act of expression and writing more than I do therapy, I figure bliss is somewhere in the middle.








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Fraser Island vortices.
















Monday, April 3, 2017

Clouds of Solace





In a restless world influenced by an seemingly infinite number of external factors, we humans strive to resist the entropy that defines living existence, a futile battle against certainty but one which motivates our existence..   If we, as a species, were happy sitting around watching the clouds float by than I doubt existential notions would have never came to be a thing and i'd most certainly not be sitting here worrying about self-imposed irrelevance and the desire to spend more time thinking than doing, which is currently my biggest concern, being concerned....  

I spend a lot of my time these days thinking about how to translate my historical desires and passions to become relevant to current day Lamb all the while feeling restless and unsure of where I want to be heading so really it's a bit of a concentric nightmare..  Over these awols i've noticed my ability to write suffers the most, but not due to actually writing ability but concerning myself with portrayal and not the content, the stuff that actually matters and the reason I want to be on here again- analysis paralysis sucks.    Through professionalism I exchanged love for dollars and I eventually realised that in the long run [outside of lucking into fads] was never going to be worth it.   

Now that I've moved away from photography as my main job all I want from it is the unbridled desire to explore that which used to come during early days in my freedom [getting a driver's licence] and with that I've realised I need to bring context back into this bessbee, not just jargon and jargon photos and ill-considered everythings..   I either tackle this with series or extendo captions, i feel introspective ranting usually just ends up in circles.. I think im also going to stop reading over what I've written.. it's my standard at the end of the day haa











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Karla ponder's her impending physio session.  She was born with hip-dysplasia and has since about the age of one required weekly physiotherapy to maintain her mobility, she's stoked.








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Willow was the height of rad kitty, if only her restlessness had never got the better of her.









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this Pigeon was not only endowed with both legs but also cunning...







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