NitN 45 - Eight of Pentacles (SatoriD Knits Punk Badassery from Psychedelic Yarns)

At a cultural moment when bland—even milquetoast—generative algorithms threaten to slurp your soul straight out of your pupils, SatoriD is here to read dreams and hammer out digital media and writing that twists our perception toward strikingly more awe!

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Intro!

Jazzed up with blinding blue, electric, high vibes and explorations, eclectic. Tongue tripping dizzily across my palate, hungry to taste the whole world. To swallow it a bite at a time without chewing. Now and then I find myself revving hyperactive catholicity; ravenous hedonism; thirsty fuckin’ mania. And I have to remember not to follow the white rabbit impulse to plunge into stimulants and fall deeper down rabbit holes in a limitless feedback loop of crown chakra detonation.

I have to remember… to breathe.

To breathe in peace and breathe out agitation. To take a breather to do my breathwork: box breathing; Wim Hoffing; pranayama; xanax breath.

I have to remember those breathing techniques because breath is energy. Not to get too appropriative and Perennial, but various cultures have intuited that with words like qi, prana, subtle energy, light, bioenergy, et cetera. I’ve got to do my breathing to prevent my energy undergoing atomic fission or fusion or whatever happens when you fuck around too much with physics and create a cascading reaction that levels lives.

It’s my responsibility, sometimes, to relax.

It’s my responsibility to interrupt the instinct to reach for uppers as apparently innocuous as green tea and fish oil. What may be harmless to most can be dynamite for my bipolar brain.

It’s my responsibility to rest.

Even if I don’t feel like I have to—even if I never lose consciousness—forcing myself to be prone and motionless for 9 hours a night is necessary for the maintenance of my mood.

As The Kybalion says, “rhythm compensates,” and the same force you exert pushing a rubber band in one direction is the force with which it will shoot back at you when you let go. (Unless it snaps. There’s always the chance I’ll take some irrevocable risk and truly ruin what I’ve built for myself.)

But the recoil into a proportionately deeper depression is a more typical concern. The dark night of the soul where I suffer, crushed into a lonely mental cage can be avoided. So why not take care of myself? Blowing up my life and planking in the pieces sucks. Even if it ensures another visit to peak experience. Even if it does give way eventually.

That’s when I find myself.

Want to learn more?

Find SatoriD and his Infinite Imaginarium home base on Minds!

And definitely check out his awesome YouTube channel!