The two words have created much confusion and unwanted realities in their linguistic lifetimes. The term Freedom, in the context of the American way, has been overused, distorted, and muddled beyond recognition. It has become a default term with no weight or impact.

As a teen, and like every teen in existence, I wanted freedom. Freedom from my first “oppressors”. Freedom to do what I want, when I want. Freedom to choose. Freedom to refuse. Freedom to express. I deserve freedom. I am an individual. It is my birthright. Me. Me… Me….. Now that I am a adult-father myself and can look back at my teen years. I did have freedom. Maybe too much even. I was exercising it wildly. Flailing it around, no regard for my surroundings— with the safety off and finger on the trigger. Freedom is not what we have been conditioned to believe. Freedom is reactive. Reactive to an external context. A perceived authority. A claimed oppressor. We put them as the center of our motives. To get away from. To rebel from. To break from. To prove them wrong.

Freedom has you asking them for permission. To remain bound….but loosen the chains. To stay dependent……but don’t stray too far for too long.

Why do we negotiate with the enemies in our mind?

Why do we wrestle with hollow thoughts? There are plenty of world issues to wrestle with.

Freedom carries the past inside it. The very word declares that something was wrong before. There was oppression, and now there isn’t. There was a chain, and now there isn’t. But notice — the oppression and the chain are still the reference points. Your orientation is still shaped by what you were trying to get away from.

This is partly why one who gains freedom don’t automatically feel whole or settled. As a veteran, this was the hardest realization to uncover. Freedom doesn’t tell you where to go. It only tells you that you are no longer stopped. It’s like being released into an open field with no map and memories of your past self to reference from. The absence of the fence is real, but it doesn’t give you direction or the tools to build anything.

Sovereignty on the other hand doesn’t need a preceding constraint to make sense. It doesn’t need pain as a reference point. It is less about what was removed and more about what is present and intact within you or your people.

It’s a positive condition rather than a negative one — meaning it’s defined by what is, not by what isn’t anymore

Are we truly ready for sovereignty?

Sovereignty requires discipline while Freedom may exist with or without discipline.

Freedom asks “What are you no longer subject to?

Sovereignty asks “What are you the author of?”

Freedom is the story-loop you have to endure until you realize you have your own story.

Sovereignty is taking full control of your being and playing for your own kingdom. It is surrendering to self, taking up arms with self, and allying with self.

This isn’t a small shift. It’s a full psychological flip and invert—similar to Earth’s magnetic poles flipping. There is a rupture in routine and habitual order.

In order to take full control, you will inevitably be presented with the choice of deliberately letting go of past pains, wrongs, and any psychological architects one has created to justify any victimhood. That means all old modes of distorted motivation must be brought to awareness and transmuted.

Sovereignty is a powerful declaration of self governance and, at the exact same time, the gravitationally subtle form of forgiving and accepting ones past in order to start from where one is at now. A silent form of courage. The courage to not require an applause for doing what is required.

Lets stop trying to start from where we were or where we think we should be by now. Let’s start now.

If sovereignty had a price tag, it would cost your past. It would cost you no longer using a past narrative as a reference point for living your present life.

Accept the past as the price of admission.

There are two forms of freedom:

• Former Freedom

• Liberated Freedom.

Former Freedom says I am no longer controlled.

Liberated Freedom says I am the source.

The equation:
Letting go of borrowed freedom + claiming authorship = Liberated Freedom

Reaction → Release → Creation

From free from → to free as

Step into being now.

You carve into mind architectures.

Your particular view on life leaves shard fragments of your truth into the memories of others.

You create experiences that naturally require to be experienced—not held captive in the fog of possibility.

You create abstract mirrors for others to see themselves outside of themselves.

Your art is to embed deep memories into human beings. Your art is meant to influence those who need influence and inspiration to pursue their truest experience.

Externalizing core parts of you expresses core parts in others. The highest form of courage is putting a true piece of yourself out there.

First week of living as an artist rating 4/10. It was not as easy as I had in mind. Sitting down with the intent of doing something creative is more daunting than a good HIIT workout. I usually wait for inspiration; a very fickle fuel source, but I’ve been raw dogging some of these sessions to get some mileage in.

Did some sound design this week. Didn’t record as I wanted to. This week I have put the most effort into being an artist and it has felt like my least productive week. If artist is to get into flow then putting this much effort is a counterintuitive irony I’m not sure how to get past just yet. I’m calling this week a success; I did learn more within my craft. I will allow it.

Deliberate comes from the Latin word…..Dēlīberāre

• dē- means → off, away, thoroughly.

• Lībra → a balance, scale (same root as the zodiac, Libra)

Dēlīberāre meant:

• to weigh things out

• to examine by balancing ones options…

A scale. A pause. A weighing before chosen action.

Turns out it has nothing to do with freedom or liberation. The trap is in modern English where the Latin word for freedom is Liber.

Libra and Liber look and sound similar—but are completely different roots.

Deliberate means to place one’s possible actions on the scale and judge their weight before acting.

• To suspend reflex

• To pause between choice and action

• To exercise evolutionary capacity to think before impulse

The Evolutionary Pause is what separates us from the unconscious human—a regulated human vs regressed human.

So here’s a deliberate attempt ACT of going against my grain. The mistakes and all, the raw stuff. No curating. I post this video to rebel against perfectionism and actively work towards my thoroughly weighed choice of being (I will have to do my research on its meaning and etymology on the word Artist). For now, I choose to ACT against my maladaptive habit to ruminate (to weigh → re-weigh → never act). Just as much as I don’t know what the next sentence will be after this one, I choose to act anyway.

I’m winging it.

And winging it is accepting the faults and the misteps that come wtih flowing. Here’s to a raw post of me diving into a new mode of being. I always wanted to play the piano. I started playing random audio sketches on my MIDI keyboard about a month ago. Here lies my first imperfection of becoming—posting unfinished work before i’m ready.

Amun and I decided to pursue Art full time. Full time as in to Live. Breathe. Study. Hunt. Pursue. Devour. Digest. Create. Produce. Embody……. |Art|…… Coming together and deciding on becoming lifelong students of Art was a big step in our relationship. Amun has been non stop Creating since we first got married 6 years ago. I am fully convinced that she is the next Renaissance Woman—as I have witnessed her maturation as an artist on a daily basis. I, on the other hand, have been dodging the commitment; both consciously and unconsciously.

Truth is, I wasn’t done with the world. I still had the desire to pursue, conquer, and “make something of myeslf” despite the physical, mental, emotional and psychological toll it has had on my being. I still had something to prove. I still had just one more thing to achieve. I still had the itch to prove my value as a man. My upbringing, the media, my military career, propaganda did a great job. They all had their particular way of convincing me I wasn’t enough.

My mind entrained on it, my nervous system absorbed it, my reality reflected it, and my actions confirmed my inner inadequacy— pushing me to go after all the things the world had told me go after in order to feel worthy. At 35, I finally reject all of it in whole.

As a person who takes pride in catching patterns and connecting the dots, I sure procrastinated on catching the pattern of feeling empty — or maybe I put it off to collect more data. A psychic denial born from chasing the American dream for so long and realizing it was all a lie. I didn’t know if I could live with the wasted time and effort.

At the core (apart from being an Artist) I am a scientist.

I doubt all until I prove it for myself. I need to experiment and experience things on my own terms. I have trouble just listening to others’ experience. The great double edged blade it is to be a rebel scientist.

I have to touch the hot stove to confirm that its hot for myself. You cannot convince me that that glowing orange coil will burn me. No warning or explanation will budge me. I must test it our for myself. In my own reality. The fallacy of childhood indoctrination is that for the natural-born doubter, life inevitably becomes a testing ground one must walk alone — even when that ground is riddled with razors.

And— I did just that. I tried everything. I can honestly say I did all that i was supposed to do. All that I was supposed to achieve that the system had promised would bring fulfillment and that final happiness. I turned this country upside down and inside out—only to look at the mirror one day and realize I ironically hollowed myself out in the search for fulfillment.

I became a hollow.

As the scientist I am, I can confirm that it was all an illusion—and a hollow one will become. Was it worth it? No…but also yes—as I am man of science. Or a rebellious, stubborn fool. Either way, data has been collected. Numbers don’t lie.

I can understand claim of men having a lower survival rate than women now. I’m blessed to have had a Creator wife by my side before the hollowing. If it wasn’t for Amun, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Probably being another gear deep in the machine; being extracted of the little life force I had left before losing myself completely.

My spirituality journey is now the Creators way. Truth is, I was scared before. Scared that I would miss out on something, somewhere, somehow—i don’t even know what that something was but it very much existed—like that demon you convinced yourself was lurking waiting for you to turn off the downstairs light before sprint stumbling upstairs to your bedroom as a kid. The fear of missing out made me turn from my Creativity. Art seemed like a waste of time in the system. I was resistant to all that had to do with pursuing ones true path. I created a false identity to mask over who I truly was. It became a chronic asphyxiation I learned to ignore—even learning to embrace the suffering as a badge of honor. I got used to breathing in the carbon dioxide—forgot what oxygen even was. It deprived my mind of fresh air, poisoned my thoughts, and clouded my judgement.

I left the military when i was 29 to pursue Art. I proceeded to put off Art for 6 more years thinking I was still missing out. I am now 35 years old. It’s not too late, but I accept that I could have started this journey sooner.

There is no use dwelling on it. I have surrendered to the path. The Artist path. A path that will invigorate instead of excavate. A path that gives dividends to my spirit instead of extracting it of taxes. I love Art. I love the learning process of Art. I love Creating from it. I accept that it has always been there since the beginning. In grade school, Art class was the only class I looked forward to. I don’t know why it has been so hard to admit this as being my core self—but it is. I enjoy Art. I enjoy Creating. Better late than never.

So—this is my Declaration of Incompetence. I, Numinus, have abandoned my Creative side and I fully take responsibility. I admit that the right hemisphere of my brain is not the most developed side. I admit that my Creative muscle is severely atrophied. I accept the consequences of years of neglect. I accept the rust, the cobwebs, the dust, the dilapidation. It is my own mess. I will tend to it with my head held high—restoring it into higher order. I accept. I will gain it all back— at full function and even more. Starting at Level 0 Level -1.

My True North is established. I am the lifelong student of the Arts. I am honored and grateful that, as a hollowed, I can Create a fulfillment in my life that will grant me the opportunity to one day call myself a former hollowed. Let it be written. Allow it as is. Let it be. So be it.

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