Collaboration, Introversion – twenty, The Elixir 13 – One

introversion20 elixir13

Our cure is being alone
Our being, is alone
Being; alone

This is a collaboration of both the Introversion Series and The Elixir Collection in one piece.

The Elixir series focuses on the core root of matters, a distillation of thoughts, a distillation of words. As such you can see visually the process taken to get to the heart of what I want to convey above. Mostly I will combine two words that together I will extrapolate on after.

You can read the whole Elixir series here: The Elixir Collection

The Introversion series is a collection of thoughts, musings, explanations, and personalisation of my affair with introversion. More here: Introversion Series

Not all introverts are the same, some more extreme than others but we have many shared traits too and we can easily identify with each other. Some of us, like myself have more than ample extroversion qualities but it really exhausts us to venture off into this area so we prefer our alone time.

When I have to engage in the public sphere or entertain too many people at once or as in the past had to manage hundreds of staff members, I was more than able to deal with them on a personal level, but doing that several times throughout the day and non stop caused me to get a little anxious, not because of the people, their stresses or their grievances, but because I was missing out on my lone time.

As such I can reflect back and understand myself a little more and realised that my cure for those anxieties was being alone. I used to hit two birds with one stone and train vigorously alone, after working a stressful day and that training was a catalyst to professional fighting which I did for years.

It was just me, my ego, my soul, my mind, my body all trying to reconcile to a whole, to one.
One on one, sure, there was an opponent in front of me, sure there was a trainer in front of me,  but even he became me and I became him.

My breathing synchronised with theirs whether I was listening to cues from the pad holder or listening to cues from the breath that escaped from between the lips of my opponent, watching the heaves of chest, waiting patiently for his souls exasperation as I would take my chance to pounce on him when he was at his weakest.

You can see the soul of a man leave him in a fight and know that this is your turning point because you are his soul and he is yours.

Your agreement to partake in the man dance means you acknowledge your opponents rhythm, you move to the same beat, same melody, an informal agreement, formalised to humanity manifest, a merciful glance and turning of the other cheek, an allowance to invade your personal space and you his.

You are his ailment and cure at the same time and he to you.
You are his being and he is your alone.
You are alone and so is he, you are one and he is one.
One and one are not two, at that moment you’re the sum total of one.
When one falls, you both fall, when one wins you both win.

My cure was being beaten out of me until I was all alone, only one, to defend myself.

This is the elixir of fighting, this is the introversion of one, for me.


Words worth their (less) weight in gold.


Quills gathered together,
They struggle to compose a line,

Lo, in combined effort they can’t,
So they compose nine.

Discontent with their content,
They gather seventeen,
Present it to the world
As if it is a sight unseen.
Quills, biro’s, typewriters and exquisite paper,
Empty jargon, wasted ink, nothing but vapour.
If you can’t explain it in a line or two,
This business of words is not for you.


Simplicity is the reflection of an art mastered.
One needs to know when they have exceeded the limits of the narrative, when they have fed too much to the reader, disengaged their mind.
There is an etiquette to the use of words to conjure an image, inspire a thought or provoke an emotion.

Too much fodder will devalue the stock.
Using indistinguishable words to the layman is an exercise of ones ego, not of one’s skill. Use words to suit your audience.
The best writers can put more weight in one line than a mediocre writer can put into fifty.
We read five hundred page non fiction novels and take two or three point from them when the masters of words would leave you reaping rewards from a single passage for hundreds of years. Anyone who doubts this hasn’t read Plato, Socrates, Rumi, Khayyam and more or lately, even for hipsters, Gibran.

If you aspire to write, choose the material you read wisely. You wouldn’t fill your car with bad fuel because you don’t want to pay the hefty price of repairs, why then would you flood your mind with useless junk, tv, media and so on?

Practise distilling your work.
Keep a journal, that is where you flood the pages with ideas and rehearsed verse and prose. But when it comes time to write, find your topic and begin to filter out the unnecessary baggage. Leave people with something to think about, with things to imagine, engage their mind but don’t give them everything. Be like a woman seducing her prey, lure them in, tease, let them pant, break a sweat, fire up their brain cells and stop. Know when to stop.


The Elixir – 1. My Soul, My Soil

elixir series 1


My Soul

My Soil


This is a series I want to experiment with where I try to distil as much as possible from my thoughts so that all I have is the nucleus, the elixir of what I want to write.

I may offer my opinion after each post or at the bottom but ultimately I want to share these elixir’s and have you guys comment on them. Tell me what you feel from them. Tell me what you get out of them. There will be no right or wrong answers. I genuinely want to know if you appreciate them, hate them, feel something or conjure something.

I look forward to your replies and sharing of ideas.

With love


Love supreme


The fresh sheet of paper said, “You’re my first love, please be gentle”.

The quill smiled and said, “You’re not my first and won’t be my last”.

The writer interrupted them both and said, “You’re both delusional, I’ll burn you paper and make you ashes and I’ll run you dry and starve you quill”.

Love intervened and struck a pain in the heart of the writer and said, “Look at what you’ve done. What started innocently will end in vanity, banish you all”, and disappeared from the writers heart.


Artists are not drunk enough

intoxicated art

For me, the ability to write only comes in the stillness of the night.
Thoughts, ideas, musings and pondering pass through me during the day.

A word from him, a look from her, a thought from that person expressed through mere presence, my guard is up and I’m on alert and I take notes but I only find the reaping at night when silence prevails, my belly is empty, life forms are otherwise dead and the stillness allows it all to manifest.

Like a bashful girl summoned from behind a veil, some things deserve their own stage.

You must find that place and realise the worlds most noble sages, scholars, writers, artists, musicians and poets all revelled in solitude.

Some may need alcohol to remove these filters and inhibitions, but it will always be a mask, a psychotropic drug that keeps the demons at bay long enough for you to function. But the best of your work will only come when the body is pure, detoxified of material and of ego and ripe with a fertile soil.