A Few Spacious Words on Freestyling
HEY!! You’re on a cute space rock. And this cute space rock is somehow composed of beings involuntarily comparing themselves to each other in measurements such as skill, image, and wealth. One’s own worth in this intricate web of consciousness is sometimes… diminished? Downplayed? Suppressed? Hiding from view in plain sight? It’s difficult to find the proper word or mixture of words, because articulation is hard, man. Bro. Sir. Lord. Lordess. Whichever is your title for your daily importances.
“Freestyling” is often a term we use when an individual undergoes an endeavor that is natural, formative, creative, and typically unplanned. When you get down to the core of it, freestyling is channeling a certain type of fundamental energy. A channeling of the energy of STUFF. The foundation of association. The foundation of inspiration. A channeling of interconnected energies. A free-association of energies, known and unknown, so to speak.
Once someone has taken the time and effort to hone any certain type of skill, its usage to express the user as some entity without any specific end goal in mind essentially becomes a freestyle. Doing for the sake of doing. Doing for the sake of process, for the process is self-rewarding.
Free of preconceived labels.
For example, a dancer (and I say this as a dancer who has danced. Meaning: I have moved my bones to music of some sort) who learns all of the steps, moves, and culture of a certain origination essentially learns that “language” of dance. Once this language has been accepted as a part of the individual (what may be called muscle memory, ‘style’, ‘practice’), oftentimes we see this skill being taken beyond its own limitations — beyond its own perceived culture. The style is freed. When dance ‘styles’ begin to mix in any single individual’s ‘free style’, a unified portrait of expression is self-painted upon itself.
In the same vein, a writer who has been learning the rules of grammar, diction, syntax, pattern, and whatever ‘else’ through the fire-hose of stimulus that is life has become accustomed to a sort of “language”. Our usage of language is acknowledged subconsciously, and a recognition of the patterns that control this single medium of expression and looking beyond its limitations is key. Or not key. Whatever route we decide to take it. Whichever key we decide to wield and then lose 3 seconds later.
Are you going to take the red key? Or will you take the blue key? What was the question?
“”I LIKE THE PINK KEY””
It will give me pink eye. But only maybe. Sometimes.
And with that picture in your mind’s eye of some random dude/dudette with a sick middle part atop sky-scraping roof-heads overlooking neon WAVY city lights displaying nonsense Japanese [内部の旅行] , we bring you to the void. We bring ourselves to the void. We traverse the void. The void takes the form of music. Of words. Of thought. Of whatever. The void takes the form of the formless. The void is channeled into each cell. Each bone. Each nerve. Each muscle. The channel flows back upon itself, and expresses itself in its own spontaneous kindling.
“Then the whole house burns down.”
We bring back to you, messages from the ether. Through our skills or whatever we hone so diligently day by day, we are bringing it straight to you: the truth of yourself, free from your self. Through writing. Through movement. Through thoughts. Through electrical impulses. Free style.
