thoughts

~ A Life Worth Dying For ~

~ A Life Worth Dying For ~

Back in the neighbourhoods of normality scrolling, scanning and searching for something that I knew was not there. I didn’t see it any of their eyes or hear it in any of their conversations. People of my kind; of my sickness and madness. This world had claimed the last of those wild souls, their world cemented over and tarmacked down, their dreams dead on the cold streets of modern life where houses were full but souls empty, where newspapers opened and minds closed – where the curtains were drawn along with our creativity and curiosity. I didn’t want any part of it. I wanted to go far away from it all. I wanted to get lost. I wanted to live a life of adventure and exploration. A life that would shake my bones and rattle my teeth; that would put light in my eyes and fire in my heart. Sometimes I felt bad for my parents; that I wasn’t anything that they probably wanted me to be. But I couldn’t change even if I tried or wanted to. My heart was corrupted and it was out in the unknown where I belonged. Wandering wide-eyed through the wilderness. Getting lost in the dream. Living a life that I could call my own; that I would remember as the last bit of light left my eye. A life to tell stories about. A life to write home about. A life worth dying for.

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thoughts

~ The Solitary Shadows ~

~ The Solitary Shadows ~

You know those spaces well. Whenever you fail once again to find your place in society, you return once again to those solitary shadows, dreaming of rising from that world of borders and barriers, of shackles and chains, of barbed wire fences, cement minds and plastic faces. But no matter how much you dream, you are still tied and tethered down to this world in which you don’t belong. You are stuck with the murdering machine of society waiting for you. The jobs that make the light leave the eye. The mindless crowds of conformity that kill the individual spirit. The way being totally yourself scares off anyone who is afraid to show their true face. And where, you wonder, can a person turn to in the quest to not be consumed by a machine which cannot tolerate your very existence? It’s your own isolation. It’s the fringes of sanity and society. It’s the edge of town where you stare back at a place you know you’ll never belong. It’s the place of the outcast and outsider.
To be an outsider in society is not something that you aspire to when you’re a child. And make no mistake about, no matter how strong the individual, it hurts like hell when you first realise that you don’t belong – that you are not ‘one of them’. Holding your head in your hands, you retreat to the isolated places. You kick your feet. You lick your wounds. You despair in the darkness. But after a while of being on your own, you look back in at that world and what do you see? You see a world defined by rules and regulations. You see many people living in fear of what other people think of them. You see people who allow themselves to become slowly twisted up by neglecting the nature of their souls. And it’s from that position, you start to realise the beauty of being existing in your own space. For you know that not being controlled by the crowd, you can see the things they don’t see; do the things they can’t do; go to places they can’t go. You develop a unique, creative outlook on life. You uncover the treasures you possess within. And with them in hand you move fearlessly forward. You grow; you evolve; you rise. You become the maker of your own destiny – the ruler of your heart. After a while life takes on a new meaning and magic, and ultimately you no longer fear the solitary shadows, for you know it’s there in that darkness where the greatest gold is found.
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thoughts

~ Turning Tides ~

~ Turning Tides ~

“The tide is high and the masses have been proven to be wrong once again. The earth burns as so many continue to sleep-walk through life. Mental health is worse than ever. The system is killing us slowly but surely. We now live in lives of technological development but spiritual emptiness. Lives where the houses are full but the soul empty. Lives where newspapers open and minds close. Lives where the curtains are drawn along with our curiosity and creatively. If there was ever time to take back control then this is it. Toss aside whatever doesn’t feed your soul. Tear up the script of convention. Ruthlessly explore your inner and outer worlds. This was never meant to be a formulaic journey to the grave down a grey highway of work, television and weekend drinking. That is nothing but a formula that has been shoved down our throats from a young age. So many have swallowed it and allowed themselves to sink into sofas of submission with their dreams disappearing down the sides. Those dreams are precious so don’t let them gather dust in dark, forgotten corners. Don’t let the wonderful gift of existence pass you by. The time has come to rise up from the drudgery. To throw open the curtains once again to the light of beauty and life. To open the door to adventure and exploration. The time has come to go out there and live a life, and not just exist in one.”

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thoughts

~ To Live ~

~ To Live ~

“To jump the fences. To run with the wild horses. To dance beneath the stars. To walk wide-eyed through the wilderness. To stare into the sunset skies. To stoke the fire in your heart; to shine the light of your soul. To hunt the horizons of foreign lands. To awaken to new sights and new sounds and new smells. To be so immersed in life that your eyes glisten with magic. To forget everything you’ve been taught and begin anew. To take the trip. To roll the dice. To sail into the unknown. Is to live.”

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short stories

~ Coming out as a Weirdo ~

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~ Coming out as a Weirdo ~

‘You march to a different beat. You know it. You’ve always known it. You hear the things they don’t hear; see the things they don’t see. You feel something different when you stare into those skies and walk down those busy streets. And it’s that moment when you stand and face out into the great unknown, and you feel it calling you away into the wild. The adventures. The wonders. The dreams. The magic and mystery. Don’t shy away from it any longer. It’s time to stop hiding who you really are. It’s time to stop dwelling in a life which doesn’t fulfil your soul. Accept you are destined for something more than another standardised existence. Break free from that crowd. Emerge into the light of your truest life. Move fearlessly forward towards the shores of your own destiny. Ruthlessly pursue your unique passions and gifts. Be bold. Be different. Be beautiful.’  – Ryan Millward.

In this life there are few experiences more initially terrifying than exposing yourself to the crowd. Than showing them all that you are not one of them. That you are different, abnormal, odd – a little bit strange. Since we were hunter-gatherers on the plains of Africa, human-beings have thrived off social acceptance and fitting in with the tribe, and doing something different from the rest is the sort of thing that can install great anxiety into people. It’s the sort of thing that causes people to put on a mask and hide their true face. It’s the sort of thing that can cause some people to spend their entire lives going through the motions just to please others and fit in, and not be judged for being different. For not being regular in the sense of tradition and expectation. For not being ‘normal’.

Since as long as I can remember, I never really considered myself a normal person. Yes, I know we all have our individual quirks, but beyond that I knew something was dangerously different inside of me from a young age. At school I found myself a chronic daydreamer, escaping into alternative realities in my head that were more pleasing to me than the bland scenes that surrounded me. While the other kids played and chatted, often I stared out of those classroom windows envisaging myself becoming some sort of bird or animal. When I was five, I went around my neighbourhood collecting the wrappers of a specific chocolate bar after some older kid had told me they could buy a ticket to Australia if only I had enough. At one point I used to pretend I was a stuntman for Hollywood and went climbing dangerous things with those imaginary cameras shooting. And that’s not to forget my little phase as an undercover spy, which, admittedly, is best forgotten for legal reasons.

I guess these sorts of mental musings were typical of childhood, and something I thought maybe my eccentric mind would grow out of, but in secondary school I found that my weirdness stayed with me. Again, I didn’t really understand a lot of things the others did and preferred getting lost in the wilderness of my mind. Because of this, I wasn’t good at finding my place in the social ladder. Whatever group I was a part of, I was still the outsider of that group; an awkward tag alone. Still, I guessed I wanted to have some friends so I suppressed my madness and eccentricity to a degree, although occasionally it bubbled out in the form of me becoming a MC rapper, or declaring that I was going to take a vow of chastity all of my life to see how people reacted (definitely not the smartest decision to make in an all boy’s school, admittedly).

As an adult my weirdness only increased. At this point you were supposed to be preparing yourself to become a normal civilised member of the human race, working 8-5, interested in things like careers, mortgages, marriage, furniture, television, cars, credit ratings and talking about the football over a few pints down the pub. Still, all I truly cared about was doing creative things and going on insane adventures. I wanted to climb trees and talk about the universe. I wanted to share ideas about existence and create works of art. While people were more interested in starting careers, I only had eyes on travelling in foreign lands. Naturally, this led to me still being known as the black sheep anyway due to me never going on holiday with any of the others, but always choosing to instead fly alone to some random country like Ghana or Peru. By this point, I did actually have a core group of friends at home, but I was still known as the eccentric traveller. The outsider. The misfit.

I guess that internal pull to get out into the world and do something different was my subconscious calling me toward some sort of personal purpose. While on these adventures and talking to fellow misfits, I gradually began to realise that I was never really destined for the regular life of the socially accepted citizen like my friends from back home. But naturally that was a scary thought, so whenever I was home, I hid my true alien nature and tried to suppress who I was. I bit my tongue. I pretended that I was going to pack it all in eventually and return back to normal life, starting a career and doing all those super official adult things like driving a car and getting a credit card and pension fund. Surrounded by people who I was on a different path from, I started to feel social anxiety for the first time in my life. I put on a mask and, even though people considered me weird anyway, they really had no idea how deep my madness went.

My friend Ryan was one of my good friends from secondary school and probably the closest person I could relate to in the pain of wearing a mask and hiding your authentic self. He had suppressed his sexuality since his teenage years as many gay people in their youth did. I guess it didn’t help that we went to an all boy’s school too. Most people naturally suspected he was gay, due to his camp nature and the fact he fitted in so well with groups of girls. Even though we all suspected it, he never came out as gay. We lived in an age where it was more acceptable than ever to come out, but still, for many years he hid his true nature out of not wanting to face the daunting spotlight of the crowd. I didn’t know the true extent of this until we were at a restaurant over dinner with friends in London and he reminded me of our hike up a mountain in New Zealand. It had been over four years since the hike, but he reflected about it as we drank together at the table. The hike was just a couple of weeks before he finally came out via a video on social media. I was totally oblivious at the time to the storm that was raging inside his head as he prepared to expose himself for being different than the rest. But he told me that it was on the hike where he decided he couldn’t hide who he was any longer; that he decided he was going to come out and reveal who he really was. Seemingly, it took him to go to the other side of the world, up the top of a mountain, to finally feel free enough to take off the mask to the daunting crowd.

While he told me about the struggle of wearing a mask and hiding his true nature, I reflected on myself and my own alien ways. He said holding it in was like holding your breath and I resonated a lot with that in terms of my own identity. As everyone around me walked down the aisles of conventional life, I had to hold my real nature in. I had to pretend I was interested in a standard existence when really I knew I was in conflict with society at my core. I didn’t care for what I was supposed to care for. I didn’t see any personal value in my expectations and cultural traditions. Even very basic attempts to fit in left me anxious and depressed. The act of writing a CV and applying for jobs I had no interest in only my heart rage and rebel against it all. As life went on normally around me, I often felt hopelessly alienated and misunderstood. People with good intentions assured me I’d find my place in the mould of society, but I guess I knew in my heart of hearts that I was an alien, an outsider – a weirdo.

The thing that kept me sane while experiencing this alienation was expressing myself via an artistic form. Over the years I had discovered that writing was my main talent in life. I could express myself with writing words better than I ever could when I opened my mouth. It was like there was a whole ocean of thoughts in my head, and when I spoke it was like trying to drain that ocean through a bath plughole. It was a hopeless task, but when my fingers touched those keyboard keys, suddenly I had the ability to pour everything out; suddenly I could send tsunamis of thoughts out onto the page. Writing was my ‘thing’ so to speak, and I knew that I had a lot of poetry and prose in me that I wanted to share. The problem initially was, whenever I wrote things with my name attached to it, it was often a restrained and frustrated affair. Burdened by the thought of other people’s opinions, I wrote from the ego and not from the heart, obsessing over what my peers, parents and friends would think of the mess that filled my mind. Still, I knew I had to express myself and eventually it got to the point where, like my friend Ryan, I could no longer hold it all in. At one point I decided I was finally going to write from my heart about how I felt about life, myself and society.

At first, I used the anonymity of a social media blog to hide my face; to not have my name attached to what I was writing. I created a concept ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’ where I posted pictures of random strangers walking in nature with some sort of internal, introspective reflection about life or society. I made it look like the quotes were from different characters, when really they were all the thoughts and words that I had stored away inside myself for many years. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of what I was writing, it was just that, like my friend Ryan, I wasn’t ready to expose myself as the misfit I was to the stern-eyed crowds of culture and convention.

Nonetheless, the relief of not having my name attached to it worked and allowed me to finally write out everything I had locked away deep in my heart. Out it all came in a prolonged burst over a year or so. Declarations of my weird, alien nature such as:

 “One day in this life you realise you are infected with the condition of being an outsider. The symptoms are revealed to you gradually. As you walk the neighbourhoods of normality you realise your heart yearns for something else. Stability and security only give you a feeling of sadness. You have no interest in the contract of life offered to you. As you stare at the rows of houses and green lawns and shiny cars, as you look up uninterested at career ladders before you, as you stare wistfully into space in the supermarket queue, you gradually begin to realise that something isn’t quite right about it all. Every ounce of your being rejects the things you were told to desire. What gives you fulfilment simply isn’t available in their stores or on their menus. You have no interest in material riches or status. Their television shows and newspapers are toxic poison to your mind. You are allergic to their conventions and expectations. The suits and ties don’t fit you. What is important to them, to you seems meaningless and trivial. In your world adventure and exploration and art rank above all else. Yes, accept it: you have the alien madness – the condition of being an outsider. You are infected…”

And:

“Yes, the more I stood there on that hill and thought about it, the more it seemed this was the destiny of someone like myself. The cards had been dealt and I knew deep down in my flesh and bones that it was my fate to sail alone, to get lost in the mazes of my own mind, to dwell in solitude among those mountains of madness. This was how it was; for some reason I would never fully understand, this is how it was. I guess by now it was just a matter of acceptance: a matter of accepting that I was a lone wanderer – a matter of accepting that I didn’t belong. I guess by now it was a matter of accepting the fact that no matter where I went in this world, I would always return to those hills above the cities, standing alone, staring up into the skies, looking for something – anything – to come and take me home.”

And let’s not forget the delightfully cheerful:

“In a world of steely-faced executives and agents, I felt like a castaway soul stranded in the dirt, chained down by gravity and government – trapped in a cage of slowly decaying flesh and bone. Since I was born, I often felt homesick for a place I’d never known; homesick for a place I’d never been. In the worst moments I gazed up into skies above thinking that maybe my species was somewhere out there beyond the neighbouring solar-systems and stars. After all, there was an endless ocean of galaxies and worlds out there, but somehow I had ended up in one full of things I just didn’t understand. The situation was strange, but what else could I do? Where else could I turn? Where else could I go?”

Sharing my writings with the internet world, I immediately felt rewarded. I discovered that my words could actually influence and even change people’s lives. I soon started to build up followers, shares and reactions to my posts. I received messages of gratitude and great emotion. People poured their hearts out to me, a stranger, via internet messages. Hearing that intense feedback, I felt gratified for sharing the chaotic contents of my mind. I always knew what I had to share was real and needed to be shared, and the response to my writings clearly validated that.

Eventually I had the idea to attach my name to it by compiling all the thoughts I had written on the blog and putting them into a book. This would be the point where I would proudly own up, take off the mask and show that it was me – Ryan Millward – that was the writer behind the pseudonym ‘The Thoughts From The Wild’. This was the sort of thing that installed great anxiety into me. What allowed me to write so purely was having this alter ego, and attaching my name to it only caused stress and strain in my mind. People would finally be able to see on printed paper my name along with the deepest, darkest and most private thoughts of my mind. It was initially hard to do, but my desire to be a writer and publish my stuff was too strong and I soon found myself creating the book, putting my name on the cover and sharing it with friends, peers, relatives and anyone else who asked a little about my life.

After the book was finally published, I had effectively ‘come out as a weirdo’ in my mind. Something that terrified me for years, was soon shown to me to not be so bad after all. Some people naturally distanced themselves from me, but many others bought my book, congratulated me and even told me they resonated with a lot of things I had said. Now that many people knew I was on a different path, I felt a lot more relief and freedom in what I could do with my life. Some people even gravitated towards me in my new state of being. It seemed that many normal people liked to have weirdos around to make them feel relaxed. If they were surrounded by ultra-serious, conventional people all the time than life became a drag. Hell, I even made new friends from my book. On one occasion I was travelling in Switzerland and ended up meeting up with a woman who had come across my blog online. She invited me and my friend around for dinner before going out for drinks. While listening to someone living in a different country tell me that my words actually mattered, I felt a strong gratification for sharing the contents of my heart. Like my friend Ryan, my life improved dramatically the second I took off my mask and revealed my true nature to the crowd.

As my life went on and I prepared to write my second book, I found I could write and express myself easier than ever. I didn’t even need a pseudonym any more to write down and share my most private thoughts. Like my friend Ryan had said, it was like finally being able to stop holding your breath for so many years. The sense of relief and freedom was enormous. Coming out as a weirdo had worked for me and I would now walk the streets and wonder how many other closet aliens and weirdos were out there hiding their rugged and real face. How many adventures were denied because people were too afraid to walk away from the crowds of conformity? How many great works of art were not made public because people were too scared to share the contents of their souls with this society? The thought of it stayed with me and I stared at the faces of those in the crowd wondering what weirdness and madness lay hidden behind their eyes. I thought of all the great writers, poets, painters and adventurers and explorers that went to the grave without ever coming out as being different from the rest. I knew that there were definitely more of the strange ones out there, hiding their secrets, suppressing their voices, feeling the things that I had felt before I took the leap. That leap wasn’t being taken, because ultimately the part of the brain that craves social acceptance of the species had overpowered the gentle, pure nature of the heart and soul. The thought of it made me sad and inspired me to keep on writing away, to shake some feathers and stoke some fire in the hearts of the wild ones out there. To stop people going to the grave without ever having the courage to be their genuine selves. To stop people from missing out. To stop people from never truly experiencing the unparalleled joy of living a life of authenticity and spiritual freedom.

As humans we will always crave social acceptance; it is hard-wired into our brains as a survival mechanism. But a life of hiding your true authentic nature is nothing short of torture and is arguably a life not lived at all. Everyone has their place in this crazy world, even if it is on the sidelines being considered ‘strange’ or ‘abnormal’ or ‘eccentric’. Coming out as a weirdo was the best thing I ever did, so if any fellow misfits are reading this and are still trying to find the courage to be their authentic selves, then my advice (and I’m sure the advice of my good friend Ryan) is to go forth and take the leap of faith. A new adventure awaits. So throw away the mask. Shine your light. Wear your colours. Write your words. Scream a little with whatever sets your soul on fire. Walk fearlessly forward to the lands of your own destiny. Ruthlessly pursue your unique gifts and passions. Be bold. Be different. Be beautiful.

thoughts

~ On the Precipice ~

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~ On the Precipice ~

“It had been another day of isolation in a city of thousands. The alienation was worse than ever and I wanted to write down and share my story with them. I stared at the blank page and lifted my fingertips toward the keyboard. In a moment of desperation, I hurled myself towards humanity. I offered my heart, my blood, my guts, my soul. I offered every ounce of myself to those stern-eyed creatures of culture and convention. Naturally, they didn’t want anything to do with me. I understood that, I guess. I was an ugly piece of work, a manic mind incapable of reasonable or rational thought. I knew I was making a fool of myself by sharing the mess from my mind, but I guess I just desperately wanted someone to see things from my perspective. Whenever I wrote, I often envisaged a sane and sensible person strolling down the sidewalks of society. I guess a sinister part of me just wanted to drag them into the woods of my madness; to show them the solitary world in which I resided. It was hopeless, I guess. No one cared what I had to say, and after a few minutes I wondered if I cared anymore either. In my bones, I knew that there was no chance of ever being understood. My soul had been corrupted and my cards had been dealt. No matter what I did or where I went in this world, I was doomed and destined to be an outcast – an outsider. A stupid alien roaming the fringes of sanity and society, of suicide and madness.”

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~ The Symphony of You ~

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“Let it come from the gut. Let it flow from the heart. Let every last drop come soaring out of you, pouring forth onto this world, streaming freely from the source of the soul. Let it scream out across cities of the sane. Let it roll in like a hurricane, like an avalanche. Let whatever is inside of you trying to get out, let it come out with furious urgency. Don’t hold back the very things that stir deep inside of you. To do that deprives this world of what it needs. And what this world needs now more than ever is something real and raw. What this world needs is the deepest, darkest secrets of the silent souls – the ones whose voice has waited in the shadows for too long. The ones who never get the air time, yet have the most beautiful things to share. The ones who guard their mouth, because they fear how this fake society will react to something authentic and genuine. Warriors of the shadows, you have been silent for too long. So throw down the barriers. Draw back the curtains. Walk out onto that spotlight stage. Open your heart and let this world hear the symphony of you.”