Around the World with Jami Cakes

I met this beautiful girl in Italy, where she was staying at a hostel I was working at. We connected instantly on our love of food and of solo travel. She spoke Italian and I loved to eat Italian food, it was a match made in heaven. 

It was brief but we have kept in contact ever since, supporting, encouraging and leaning on each other through our respective trials. South America was somewhere we talked about travelling together. Unfortunately I'm not able to just yet, but I hope that you will join me in sharing her fascinating and passionate life through her blog. 

Around the World with Jami Cakes: LA to LIMA AND A SENSE OF FAMILIARITY IN BETWEEN

Attention

All experience is shared, either through experience or knowledge. All human emotions, all human experiences for that matter exist within a range. We can browse experiences but we do not lease their unique DNA for our own. We own the rights to our perspective only.

I wanted so badly to know myself as a unique. A Colorform on a wide and expansive sheath of space, free to stick, un-stick at will. But it seems we are more akin as vassals conducting our lives to pressure, expectation, conditioning, fear and culture; despite my greatest protests.

But what part of me protests?

And what part of me conforms? 

Are they really mutually exclusive?

Or part of a larger anxiety? 

A Push-Me-Pull-You of wanton grief and longing, running between acceptance, greener pastures and the long lonely migratory road between. Chasing that rainbow, despite knowing it has no end and no answer. It is my act of faith, my religiosity, to believe still, despite the evolution infront of me.

No peace in my heavenly doctrine, it is a fallacy of my own making. A fairy tale, that sets me off to dreamland each night and rouses me from its warm embrace, my happy place, between hot sheets, swaddled in the loving embrace of my fabric God; one part sandman, one part Dali Lama.

Where to go from here? Caught in the high clutches of a revealing perspective, somewhat aware of my own stupidity, in yet not quite sure what to replace it with. I don't want to give in. I don't want to give up. I don't want to loose in the game I have created for myself. My try, to walk my colorform ass off the sheet and say something. A grandiose jet fuelled concept, to hot to touch without the gloves delusion on, right hand narcissist, left hand maniac. 

Now let's play with these corrosive ideas. Burning bridges, burning futures, burning potential, fuel for the fire to keep this ego warm. Keep my masses satisfied, all those gathering in the court of my mind, spread the heat, the warmth of my love. Burn this life, for the characters that dance, indefinitely in this grey-space, in step to the bombastic twitches of my firing neurons. Brain chemicals as dry as 19th century water troughs, evidence of last nights party of beggars, criminals and warlords gathering in wait for my moving diatribe.

Attention! Attention all! I am about to say something profound and meaningful. I am about to change your life, to make you happy, to solve your problem with my monumental skills in articulate elocution.

Attention one and all. . .

Listen

Life is not a class in comparative literature. You do not get to write your story and compare and contrast thematic effectiveness with others. 

Stop feeling sorry for yourself because somehow you don't measure up. There are no answers as to who you are, in the lofty longing realms of desire.

Dream not of someone elses body, but feel and experience your own. 

Dream not of a better life, but how you can make this moment everything you need it to be. 

What you need is an intangibility written into the stars, you just have to reach out and grab it. Not in a song, or a book, or a series of photos of someone else life, but deep within yourself. 

There is a voice. 

Listen.