NOT Knowing.

“I don’t know” is a funny little phrase that we tend to not embrace as humans of the modern age.

We act like we’re supposed to “Know” everything, right now. Today’s society is all about being specific. “This is what I want, this is how I need it to be done, and I need it to be done yesterday.” “This is how I want the person I’m going to marry to be.” “This is how I want my in-n-out burger.”

I feel like you lose a lot when you’ve got to “know.”

The scary part about knowing is the opposite polarity of what we feel like we get when we “know.”

There’s beauty in not knowing. Let me tell you why.

When you don’t know, the possibilities are truly endless. You could be supported and shown up for by the universe in so many ways that your three-brained human vessel can’t even begin to conceive.

What if everything we are looking for lies on the other side of not knowing? Every moment of love that takes our breath away. Every smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Every opportunity that makes you jump up and down in your kitchen with excitement.

What if all of the best things in your life lie on the other side of not knowing? Would you trade “Knowing” for an infinite potential of happiness? For a well of love so deep that you couldn’t even fathom it before you decided to just surrender in to “not knowing?”

Let’s rewrite the story of “not knowing.” It doesn’t have to be scary; it could be exhilarating. It doesn’t have to cause anxiety; it can cause peace knowing that there are infinite ways for your dreams to come through.

I feel like we so often lock ourselves in to these boxes of how things are going to be to help give some sort of balance to the entropy that is human existence. To make us feel like we have some control.

The beauty is, what we really know, is that we don’t know anything. We’re a three dimensional, three brained human meat sack that has been on the planet we call earth for less than 3x10^(-7)% of the existence of our visible universe. We’ve grown up with trauma and raised by other uniquely un-perfect humans. Do we really know what’s best for us?

And do we really need to know?


Negative Attention is Still Attention

“Negative attention is still attention”

That was a deep realization I came to recently. “I’ve got a thirst for self destruction and I’m scared of it”
Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I had written and wired this neuron that equated attention to love, in any form. Even negative.. hell, especially negative attention. You know.. the kind of attention where there’s a lump in your throat, and you’re spewing emotional baggage out because you feel lonely, hurt, lost, misunderstood, etc?

Only as I knock on the door of thirty years old has my self awareness allowed me to see that I would lash out in these patterns in my life when I was feeling these ways, and grasping straws for attention from the people I loved, even if it meant I was a crying ball of bitch. Somewhere I was taught (attention == love), and I’ve spent a good chunk of the last 7 years rewriting this story inside of myself.

Only now do I realize all the shit my parents were going through in their own lives that might have influenced these beliefs inside of myself. That’s because I’ve finally felt strong enough inside to be able to sit down and look at it.

A few years ago, I started to wonder why I couldn’t remember much of my childhood. Did it all get erased? Did that big accident a few years back knock it all out of me? Was it all the weed? Or was it the trauma? DING DING DING.

I had blocked it out.
And I realized that I spent much of my childhood in my own little world. That’s why I have the imagination that I have today. I spent so much time practicing it to escape the chaos around me.

My parents divorced when I was 6. I found out because I went looking for my toy box and it was gone. My mom bent down to tell me that my toy box was at the place my dad would be staying at for a little while. I held that little white lie with me up until my dad remarried. I was crying at their wedding, and everyone thought it was so beautiful because I was so moved that my dad found someone amazing (and she truly is amazing). But I was crying because I realized, at that moment, my parents were never getting back together again.

That little piece of trauma was so wrapped up in my life that I had only begun to dissect it many years later, when my best friend Cam brought something new home for the apartment. It was a dope thing, and everyone I know would have been stoked on it. And I should have been stoked on it too. But I wasn’t. That got me curious. I retraced that feeling of “Why do I get so anxious when something in my environment changes, even if its good?” I went back and back to that moment of the missing toy box.

Holy fuck was that a wakeup call. That little moment had affected every single day of my life going forward in ways that I was completely unconscious about. That got me thinking what else from my childhood was affecting my every day life. Then I realized “fuck.. I literally don’t remember much of anything from my childhood…”

Why? I asked myself. I started to contemplate. Piece by piece things started to unravel. At first I was mad, like anyone would be when they realized that they had been influenced by so much of their life that was entirely out of their control. Then I started to have compassion.

My parents are amazing people. I love them so much and I’m so grateful for them. But one of the things I’m not sure that has even been realized or acknowledged outside of myself was how much their shit became my shit.

How much pain my parents were going through individually that myself and my brothers were just by-standards to. How much stress my Dad was under after losing the woman he married “for richer or for poorer, in sickness, and in health, til death do us part.” How much stress my mom was going through trying to put two groms through private school while managing an 80 hour work week, and still making it to all my games. How much both of their hearts hurt for the decisions and repercussions that were made. That made it a little easier to dive in and start to dissect these things I had been carrying with me.

If you guys are close to me, you know I’m incredibly “sensitive.” It’s my superpower. It comes out in my attention to detail and nuance. My ability to read people and situations. My ability to think outside the box. My sensitivity goes so deep in to my nervous system that I only have to take about ¼ of anything for it to affect me. That led me to a life of masking the sensations, because being incredibly sensitive while you’ve got chaos all around you growing up, was not very safe.

No wonder I’ve felt so unsafe all my life. No wonder I’ve been afraid of love. No wonder I have no idea what a healthy loving relationship actually looks like.

This doesn’t give me an excuse to carry this anymore though. In fact, the awareness of it means that it’s my fucking job to own MY shit and not pass this down the line to people in my life, and especially the children I bring on to this rock, if that’s in the cards for me.

When things would be okay, THAT would feel like chaos for me. What the fuck is “Okay” and how does one cope with trusting that someone loves you when your youngest memories of love are filled with screaming matches, substances, war, and being forced to pick sides.

Little fun fact: I solved my parents custody battle. I was walking out to the car with my dad at like 7 years old and we were talking about trying to figure out the days when we would be going back and forth. I thought it would be a good idea to go 5 days back and forth, because there’s 7 days in a week and that way, we could evenly split up the weekends.

AT FUCKING SEVEN LOL.
Two grown ass adults had been arguing back and forth about all this bullshit, and my little ass figured it all out. That would be a borderline nightmare for the next 11 years, but it’s a hell of a lot better than anything else they were proposing. That was the state of turmoil they were in.

It’s with that understanding that I must now rewire the inner child inside of me. Somedays, like today, I have to literally sit down with my 7 year old self and talk to him. Ask him what’s wrong. Tell him that it’s all going to be okay, and we just need to breathe, and trust that things always work out for the best.

Because they do. Even when its scary. But you can’t freak out. That never ever ever has made it better. Even though it feels that way, because that negative attention, it never helps in the long run, and we’re in this for the long run.

What’d I get from my parents divorce? That best little fucking brother on the planet I wouldn’t trade for the world, and the most amazing step mom that is a angel incarnate. I was given an unbelievable set of skills and compassion. I was given an unbelievable amount of strength.

Just like I said: It always works out for the best, even when you can’t see it right now.
So don’t freak out. Breathe. And Trust.
And most importantly, LOVE.

Because no one ever became lesser by choosing to love, even when its scary.
Remember: Negative Attention =/= Love
Even when it feels like its all we’ve known.

Trust that you’re worth it.
Trust that you have a path ahead.
Trust.
And Love,
Like its your fuckin’ job.


Call Me Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

I was reading an article this week from a psychologist whose demographic is primarily “Millennials,” and she was elaborating on her most heard complaint: We have too many choices. It causes us anxiety, because we stress about making the right decision.

This causes decision paralysis. You may know this. You have so many places to eat that you can’t choose one, so you eat in-n-out because.. fuck it. Or Netflix.. you know how many times I look for a movie on Netflix and just turn it off without choosing anything? Probably 2/3 of the time I open Netflix.

I have this polarity, since birth, and it’s quite interesting to be aware of.

I can see every option, every outcome, and the path towards them… so I tend to spend a lot of time running scenarios at the speed of quantum entanglement. I can stew, optimizing every turn along the way, thinking of every foe and how best to navigate them.

It can cause me to sit there and not make any decisions at all.

Until you put me in CREATE mode.

Then I have an answer for everything. I just listen to my gut and let the decisions come as the muse whispers. I feel that’s a reason why I love making films so much. When it’s time to direct, I must make every single decision, in the split second of time, with full authority in my voice. Your team has to feel that your vision is clear and their trusty leader will bring about the best decisions for the greater good of all involved.

Red or Blue? Left or Right? Or straight? Higher or lower?

BUT before you begin production, you get to think about every single one of those decisions. You can plan for how to best approach something, you can think about what each object means, you can make it as efficient as possible… until you say “ACTION.”

“A good plan, violently executed now, is better than a perfect plan next week.” – Gen. George Patton

We are a generation who has more choices than any generation before us. We have so many places we can imagine ourselves going, but many of us are stuck in neutral, waiting to make a decision at the crossroads.

Here’s a little piece of wisdom that was enforced recently: With every decision, you obtain more data. You refine your choices. You see how that decision felt, and you can then make the next decision a little easier. But you gotta make decisions. And you still gotta feel your options out! That’s where the finesse lies. That’s the skill of decision making that needs your practice.

I love making movies because it puts me in the hotseat. I’ve done all the research, I’ve thought all the thoughts, and questioned all the questions.. but now I must make these decisions in real time, with many a crew looking for guidance.

Red, Left, and put that shit WAAAY up higher. Also, let’s try this too.

Make some decisions this week. To keep shit, to release shit, to go make shit happen.

It’s all data in this game of human.


"Truckee ... Dog Country; A Destination not for the faint of soul"

“Truckee … Dog Country; A destination not for the faint of soul.”

I wrote these words in 2015, and today, as I write to you, ready to embark on my journey, I feel that there may be no truer words I have wrote. Truckee is one hell of a place, man. It’s the first place I’ve ever truly felt like I had a home. Even with me moving around every 6 months, shuffling from ski lease to ski lease, no PLACE has ever felt more like home than this place right here.

You know, the type of place where you can’t go anywhere without seeing someone you know. Truckee is like a big ass house with a lot of roommates (something that we’re all pretty used to here on a macro and micro scale). Every room of your house always has someone in it, and odds are pretty good, you’ll know a few, but a lot of them will be visitors lol. It’s like Truckee is your house, and it’s your responsibility to take care of it after every great party filled with mostly people you don’t know. But you and your friends had an even better time, so the clean up is all worth it.

This is the first place I ever felt like I got to experience what a community was. Where people actually gave a shit about something and dedicated a significant part of their time going for it. Where people would feed you or shack you up, because they too knew what it was like to be cold and hungry.

A DESTINATION NOT FOR THE FAINT OF SOUL

Life in Truckee, I feel, is TRULY unlike anywhere else. I’ve seen a lot of places, lived in some pretty diverse areas of the world, and I feel no more at home than this little rough and tough railroad town tucked in the hills of the Sierras.

And life in Truckee, is Hard.
It always has been. The end of the (rail)road. Where you’d trek all the way across the United States, and the end of the line, was Truckee. Where you must get off that damn train, figure out what you’re going to do with all your SHIT, and make your way to San Francisco. Best mind yourself though when you get off the train in Rough ‘n Tough Truckee, for if they felt you were too bougie as you walked off, you just might find yourself tar’d and feathered. People in this town work hard, for ALL OF YOU, and you better not walk in thinkin’ you’re better than everyone.

You see, this was because the 601, the “Railroad Regulators”, controlled this town, not that sheriff Teeter. The 601 vigilante group coined their name after the motto “Six feet deep, zero tolerance, one bullet.” You best believe these boys didn’t take NO SHIT.

There’s so much history and mystery laid upon these hills. And boy golly, did some of the finest people I ever did meet reside around here. There’s something about the energy here I feel that brings so many great SOULS through this place. The trees speak to the commoner, rather than just the shamans. The lakes cry songs that will bring even the strongest soldiers to tears. It’s something I feel draws so many people here and they don’t even know why they can’t help but drive 6 hours in bumper to bumper traffic to enjoy it.

But the ones that thought to do whatever it took to plant some roots here.. we knew why. We know what wisdom and healing lies here. And what our souls needed to work through in this lifetime that this place was the catalyst for.

I said to several of the boys on occasion that “this place was chosen by all of our souls as the most efficient way for each of us to grow.” This place is a catalyst.

Catalyst AKA CHANGE CAUSER.
Because, as I mentioned briefly before, that life is HARD in Truckee. Challenging.
You must be tough. People imagine what it’s like to live in the mountains, but rarely do they UNDERSTAND what 500”+ of snow looks like. Everyone single person I know that’s lived in Truckee more than 3 years has learned how to actually survive in the wilderness if they were fucked lol. We lost power at the house 3 years ago for 4 days. That’s 4 days no running water (we have a well, and this was before we had a generator [this was the catalyst for that lol]). You ever melted snow to take a shit? I have, a few times LOL. What about going in to work when it was sunny and warm (ish), and you come out to a legit 2 feet of snow in just a few hours? And the road is now closed to your house, so you have to sleep at work on the floor mat they provided you with, because you have to be back in 8 hours…

I wish I could say that was a rare occasion.. I think that happened to Northstar employees… 5 times this year?

This place causes friction in you until you figure out what inside of you is causing you to react to this with any other reaction except laughter. You have to just laugh. When the snowbank around your front door is 7ft tall, and you’re having to throw buckets of snow over that to use the bathroom, you just have to laugh. When you’re breaking trail on 2ft of fresh because the plow hasn’t come because it’s .. still snowing.. You just have to laugh! When that tourist almost T-bones you and then honks AT YOU because he didn’t know you had the right of way, you just have to laugh. When you’re cleaning up 4k lbs of cigarette butts on the fifth of July to get your beach back after a holiday, you just have to laugh.

That brings some of the most amazing souls that Source could have ever dreamed about here to play. The most beautiful, loving, caring, genuine people… who all just want to be left the fuck alone. Hahah. Na, but for real. They came here to work on themselves. To grow. To experience some solitude in the mountains enjoying the things they truly love. The things that bring them joy so deep that I fear so few humans have ever felt that ecstasy. The things that they’ll sacrifice their 401k and house/job security to experience for as long as they can, knowing that life is ever so fleeting in this human meatsack.

You say fuck it, I’ll deal with the $12/hr, $12 mimosa, “most expensive gallon of milk in America,” “9-million annual visitors” to get that fucking dream of a pow line on the Palisades that you’ve been eyein since you were 14. And I don’t care how long it takes..

Well, gratefully, I certainly got those turns this year. The ones I legit said “that made 6 years of shovelin worth it.” The ones so good that you can’t explain to anyone who doesn’t know, and you don’t even need to explain IYKYK. Because over the last few years, ever since those words above were written, I’ve felt this other call. This call to the unknown. The cry in the fit of void.

And I must follow it. And find out what it is, and what it has for me. I know that many don’t understand, and I completely understand them for it, but the call is too deeply ingrained for me to stay upon this shore without at least seeing what’s behind the sirens call.

For I have been on this journey many a time, in many different forms, and I know that I seemingly always end up adrift, away from home, longer than my will, for who knows what great challenges await for me. For this journey is mine. One of my choosing. One of my will.

I am so grateful for you. All of you, You all make this place what it truly is. I am so blessed to have partaken in the life of this great place these last ~6 years. Gratefully, I feel I have made an impact in this community, knowingly both good and bad, and I take responsibility equally, knowing the good far outweighed the “bad.” It was the least I could do for the place that I feel I begun to find myself again. Where I ventured to astray, and found more than one could have ever hoped.

I’ve been living 12 year old Evan’s dream! I have a mini ramp in my bedroom, the best skatepark in 150 miles in my drive way, a house full of my friends where we can go snowboard, dirtbike, mountain roam, blow shit up in the woods and play all day, without anyone calling the fuckin cops on us for being loud and silly.

My dad told me this story a while back: When I was VERRYYYY young, we were driving out to California to visit my grandparents for the first time since I could talk. I was pointing out the window going “MOMMY MOMMY WHAT’S THAT?!” and she kept going cow? Grass? “NO NO” *tears*
Mountains.

I had never, ever seen one before, and that shit blew my little fucking mind. What can you do on those things? What are they for?

They’re for finding your soul, little Ev.

And that’s exactly what you found in them.


Who am I and what the fuck am I doing with my life?

Who am I and what the fuck am I doing with my life?

Life?

This thing that you gave me, ..well, I gave myself?

That you just get tossed right in to the madness. Raw. Untouched.

And then we have to come and deal with what it is to be human. To experience all the facets of life. From the pain to the joy, and every infinite iteration between.

I’m avoiding the question, how usual of me.

I AM.

Right now, I am Evan. A 28yo human being from a small town outside of fort worth Texas. Born to a Julie and John, named of Atlas himself. The one who must learn to put the world down, and remember that I too am on this journey.

But who am I? I like to think that I’m kind. Caring. Thoughtful. I interact with people at a level that I’m not entirely sure that we have anywhere near similar accounts of the happenings, but I have a feeling they generally leave me for the better.

I do feel loved. And For that I am grateful.

I feel supported.

But in what?

What the fuck do I want to do with my life.
Me.
Evan, From Earth.

In this short expanse of the great, big, infinite universe.

Well.. Since you ask. I want to create.

I do create.

I definitely put a lot of pressure on myself to create. And it makes it not fun. And harder. Which is dumb.

But sometimes, I can’t really help it, its just a heavy dense transition, this whole 3d/4d/5d/6d thing.

I come from creation and that’s where I will return, to return my sacred vessel amongst the fertile soil.

But While I’m Here.. I wish.. no, INTEND. To create whatever my heart desires. And I do that. Now.

I realize this.

So.. Now what?

So now I create a future of my heart’s greatest potential.

One filled with love and passion. Where every day is filled with new light and experiences and people.

Other people are what we’re here for. Why else would we have fragmented ourselves in to infinite fractals of source If not to help experience and grow with each piece symbiotically.

But this pressure. It’s like the ticking hand of a heavy clock echoing through a quiet lecture hall.

What are you going to do with this piece of singularity. This moment, in all of the universe.

When Evan, From Earth, existed.

Boy if it ain’t the best damn moment and place to be in all of the cosmos.

The battle ground for the human soul. A moment of duality in the ever expanding times of the universe.

This time when a choice must be made.

Ascend. Or Vanish.

Forever. From the universe.

Lost as an ancient relic on this small, pale blue dot, circling a small yellow sun out in the skirts of the Milky Way Galaxy.

But Ascension.. Is it worth it? Can you know? What’s beyond all of this? The constant cycle of reincarnation. Is the enemy we know better than the truest void? To return to source.

To again create.

So why does this idea of legacy mean so much to me?

What I leave behind on this pale blue dot, why does that mean so much to me? I know the fruitily of this line of reasoning, but it forever lingers in the back of my mind.

It doesn’t matter, and it matters a whole shit-fuck-ton at the exact same time.

It matters for those others in the time and space surrounding my own.

For the souls on different parts of their journey.

I try not to be a soured old traveler. I am working my best to remember that everyone else is on a different path and part of their journey than me. And I can give them all hard earned bits of knowledge through my many cycles through this cosmos.

Ultimately, I feel that there is more though. But is it selfish to think that it’s for my own ascension, too?

Is this legacy something that my soul truly feels called to leave, or some fear-filled stench of an ego hellbent on lasting forever in the sands of time.

I guess I won’t know until I try.