Gashes In The Walls

A number of years ago, when I was around six-or-seven-years-old, I was lying in bed, on my side, and gazing at the walls in my bedroom.

During those first moments of gazing, the walls were perfectly still and utterly static.

Soon after those first moments, any semblance of stillness faded away, and in its place came movement and motion.

The cracks, gashes, and contours on my bedroom walls began to move.

From this movement, faces, humanoid figures, extraordinary battles, unique patterns, and spaces beyond comprehension, emerged.

I was scared of those walls. I was scared of the movement. I was scared of the faces, gazing back at me, just as I had gazed back at them.

Eventually, after some time passed, I became so scared that I told my mother what was happening and asked for…something.

Looking back, I can’t quite recall what it is that I asked her for. Protection, most likely. Clarity, perhaps.

In a way, I received both.

My mother slowly walked with me, back into my room, and showed me something.

You see, my mother said, the walls aren’t moving. You are staring at them — observing them — and, in doing so, you are making the walls move.

“It’s all in your imagination, Max”.

And it’s true. It was all in my imagination. I was the one animating those walls, giving life to them and the fear within me.

For a time, I didn’t stare at the walls in my bedroom. Even though I knew what my mother had said was the truth, the walls still frightened me.

Some time after the experience, when the fear was no longer present, I began gazing at the walls once more.

During the first few moments of gazing, the walls were immobile. Soon after those moments, the walls began moving, just as they had some time ago, engaged in a procession of movement and momentum.

I would gaze at the walls for minutes at a time.

Faces would become mountains. Mountains would become vehicles. Vehicles would become patterns. Patterns would become distant futures. Distant futures would become fragments from the unknowable language of nature.

Many of the journals, from that part of my life, have been lost. But, what I do know, is that some of my best ideas — “best” being a relative term, considering my abilities at that age — came from gazing at the walls, and surrendering to the limitless sea of movement and motion contained within the painted concrete walls of my bedroom.

Cracks, Gashes, And Contours

The act of gazing at a wall, and uncovering a rich sea of movement, sensation, and, inevitably, connection is not a new or particularly novel act.

Rather, this act, and the extraordinary fruits it can reap, has been known to some of the greatest thinkers who ever lived.

One of those thinkers was Leonardo Da Vinci.

For creative stimulation — the kind of stimulation needed to invent a flying machine, develop the Vitruvian Machine, and paint the Last Supper; among many, many other works — Da Vinci would gaze at stained, messy walls.

The act of gazing at these walls would reveal extraordinary landscapes, unique designs for inventions, non-Euclidean geometries, strange battles fought by strange men in strange battles; and a great deal more.

Leonardo Da Vinci would use that stimuli to create many of the works he is most known for.

To do so, Da Vinci would simply gaze at a wall — a wall with character; cracks, gashes, and contours — and surrender to the limitless sea of sensation contained within the wall.

All of those sensations, when accepted and engaged with, gave way to new ideas, unique concepts, creative works waiting to emerge; and so on and so forth.

The beauty and potential contained within a single wall is magnificent.

You, just like Da Vinci, can harness the beauty and potential of the walls in your space.

You can, in doing so, create, explore, learn, develop, and experience the true richness of our world and, in turn, your imaginative abilities.

Observation Is A Creative Act

The act of observation is creative.

Observation is a creative act.

Rather than seeing the world as it is, we see the world as we are.

Every little sensation that enters our sphere of experience is affected by our senses, and the limitations inherent within those senses, as well as the endless layers of invisible scaffolding contained within our minds and bodies.

Assumptions and beliefs. Familiar patterns and desired patterns. Habits of acting and habits of reacting.

All of those — and many more — serve to animate the world around us in ways that align with who we are and what we hold to be true.

You are observing the wall. You are animating the wall. You are creating the associations and connections — to new ideas, new ways of thinking, new projects; and so on and so forth — that emanate from the wall.

The same can be said for many other acts of observation.

Our world is seen not as it is, but as we are.

All that we hold inside of ourselves is that which animates our world and, as a result, the life we live.

By observing a wall, you engage in a unique act of creation. A unique act of creation that can bear innumerable fruit, if you allow it to do so.

Surrender

If my experience is anything to go by — and, since you’re reading this essay, I suppose it is — the key to gazing at a wall, and uncovering a tapestry of valuable ideas, patterns, and other treasures, is surrender.

You can gaze at a wall.

You can attempt to pluck associations and connections out of thin air.

You can attempt to force those associations and connections together.

You can do all of those things.

Or, you can simply gaze at a wall, and surrender to the limitless sea of sensation that exists within the wall and, in turn, within yourself.

Surrender is a tricky concept. Describing it can be a challenge. Prescribing it, in the form of a practice or methodology, is even more challenging.

Rather than outline a method for you — a method that may not work, or may not fit your own needs and desires — I’d like to share a little story that describes how I gaze at walls.

You may find this story, and its contents, useful. You may not.

Just know, though, that the concepts outlined in this story are flexible, and they are not intended to be a prescription for a specific methodology or set of actions.

Sometimes, when I’m looking for ideas, and can’t find them, I’ll gaze at a wall.

The walls in my bedroom are more than sufficient. But, sometimes, it’s nice to go somewhere else — the library, a coffee shop, another room in my home — just to see what those walls are sharing.

Anytime I gaze at a wall, I sit or stand, and just gaze. I’ll gaze at a particular spot on a wall.

Sometimes it’s a big spot. Sometimes it’s a small spot. Sometimes, I’ll move from one spot to another.

More often than not, I’ll gaze for three-minutes. Sometimes, I’ll gaze for more.

While doing so, I’ll take a few breaths. Relax my mind and body.

Eventually, I’ll notice something. Usually a crack, gash, or contour that looks unique and interesting to me.

I’ll gaze at the crack, gash, or contour some more. Various ideas will emerge.

Sometimes, I’ll follow those ideas; write them down, think about them some more, try to express them in one way or another.

Sometimes, though, I won’t.

No matter, though, since as soon as one idea emerges, another one does. I try not to think too much about each idea, unless it grabs me and won’t let go, evoking a series of feelings that resemble something akin to “passion” or even “bliss”.

Eventually, as soon as a few-minutes has passed, or I just don’t want to gaze anymore, I’ll move away from the wall.

After that, it’s time to write down the ideas that came to me.

Every now and then, there will be some very, very special ideas.

More often than not, the ideas are special, and worth recording.

Some of them turn into something even more special. Some of them don’t.

Regardless, though, I make sure to record them. That way, they’re available, whenever I want to look at them and, potentially, use them.

Conclusion

Thank you so much for reading this, admittedly rather strange, essay! I hope you enjoyed reading the essay, and I hope you found it compelling and useful.

If you want to reach me, for any reason, you can do so at “maxwellcakin@gmail.com”.

Thanks & Best Wishes!