Dance of the Imps

Dance of the Imps

Edwyn Kumar

A gentle beating drum resonated through the woods. The raging glow of a fire, from a single distant source, fractured the leaves and found gaps in the trees, struggling to meet me, guiding me forward. The edges of flickering light shone on the moss cushioned stones and damp earthy floor.

The even paced drumbeat carried with it a lilting laughter and the flighty jingling of bells and cymbals, cycling and forming a cacophonous din to an underlying rhythmic harmony before once again collapsing into entropic dissonance.

I hesitated and imperceptibly turned towards the tree-lined passage that drew me closer. I paused only for a moment and then moved at an even pace, the central path disappearing behind me.

The circles drew tighter. How had I already come so close to the center? Too soon. I couldn’t find a path that would lead me further away from the light. It has been so long since one had appeared that it felt like a time faintly remembered. When I was a child the outward paths were plenty. Here now, in my adulthood, the connecting trails leading inwards were persistent and common, like bruised veins spilling me towards a puncture wound.

I took the most direct paths at my weakest hours. When the fatigue of the journey started to wear me down.

My feet felt raw, my breath labored. The blood in my muscles and veins turned to sap, sticky and slow. The physical ails were the most obvious to feel and realize. At the height of my turmoil, I would rage at the forest around me. At my lowest, I would find myself leaning against the unmoving trunk of a millennia old tree for support as my heart raced and I sobbed dry tears. It was in those moments when the small shooting paths leading deeper into the woods rapidly would appear. The sound of The Dance grew livelier with each day. The fire brighter. The heat from the high flames warm and promising.

The forest was eternal as time and as finite as life itself. It was layered and dense, and for all its existence had reflected the seasons of the mind, unconfined by the turning of the earth to dictate its clime. In the briefness of an hour or a day, the warm embrace of a summer morn could transition into the freezing depth of the harshest winter.

In the center of it all lived The Dance. Like the forest, The Dance was everlasting, and I too would find my way to the crashing sounds of those yet unseen figures who played its discordant tunes.

In the early days, when I found a shorter path, I took it without hesitation, squandering my time with impatience. It felt like the right choice. As though the immediacy of that decision would be beneficial in some way for the future. I foolishly believed that the inevitable destination would somehow be richer and hold deeper meaning by carving a path straight for it.

For years in my travels, I was seduced by a harmonious and sensual sound. When I would catch a small hint of its comforting and passionate melody, I would eagerly search for a clear line through the deep brush, often cutting and scratching my flesh as I scrambled through the woven brambles and thorns that guarded the gaps between the trees and ferns, shunning my futile attempts to reach it. With certainty, I would find my way back to the central path upon which I had started and intended to travel, perhaps ahead or behind from where I had departed, torn and ravaged by my impulsiveness to breach the woods. I felt a presence beside me at times, even in the better days, yet whenever I looked, there was nothing there, and the feeling left as quickly as it had arrived.

In those early days, the fire was distant. Impossible to see directly except sometimes in the reflection of the night sky. I was innocent and hopeful then. The jingle sometimes wistfully caught my ear, but not enough to lure me closer. I had outgrown the thirst for attaining the fettered scratches and scars of my earlier days.

The warmth of the fire was not a friend to me then, but present circumstances forced a tighter affinity for the finality it offered.

The weather had turned. It started with a gentleness that belied its intention. A light dusting of snow had settled on the soft earth. Crystalline drops froze on the summer leaves and the gentle branches around me. It lulled me into thinking it would pass. Then a biting crispness drove its fingers into my bones. My teeth chattered and my heart drew cold in the passing weeks, as I clutched my arms around me, my movement slowing as the once early morning fogs grew thicker and settled into each day like an unwanted guest. The days wore on.

The light of the sun became a distant memory. The sound of The Dance rang loudly through the forest, carried by the charged and frozen air. The crackling of the flames and the promise of its warmth beckoned me. The shortcuts drew me ever inwards. I longed to be rid of the winter and the unrelenting fog and even of the forest itself. It had betrayed me. Life had betrayed me. My vision and the promise of a new day was blocked and forgotten. All I could feel was the cold.

I knew the fire was an answer that would bring me closer to The Dance and the creatures that tended to it. I could hear them laughing and chanting. I could see the tips of their wavering hats silhouetted against the flames that burned bright in their personal twilight. There was no fog towards the within, and the clarity of the sky shone down in a star blanketed light.

The path forward and the path inward were the same now. The thickness of the undergrowth that held me back so many years ago was gone, and I found nothing to impede me. There was nothing holding me back, aside from the fog and the cold of the forest path behind me, and the ever-growing warmth of the grove ahead.

I pushed aside the last of the tightly budded and frostbitten branches. I saw the imps then.

The glee with which they danced, swimming around the flames, flitting through the sparks that landed at their feet, but never touching them, reeked of insanity. Some of the imps held bells that rang with shattering clarity. Some held triangles and oddly shaped instruments that made perverse sounds that cracked the air into a thousand pieces, as their brothers gulped the broken shards of reality like candied glass. There were imps with handheld drums who thumped and pounded. Others spun and held noisemakers that cracked and reverberated with crunching and snapping like bones being torn asunder.

In the center of it all, untouched by the flames, she stood. Serene and kind. Welcoming, without beckoning or impatience. I was drawn to her translucent and dark skin, reflecting the starlit twilight sky and revealing a depth as though looking through the glass of a snow-globe that had swallowed the universe. I followed her contours to a face that comforted me and made me forget of the imps that danced around her. They were her gate keepers: tragedy, murder, infection, wrath, illness, all servants and instruments of her . . . and the imp who, for me, played a delicious harmony.

The one with whom my eye kept darting towards, and now, that his song was clear and distinct, the one who had been calling to me for so many weathered days before. It was his tune, the one that had pursued me through the bitterness of the forest. The one I had hummed in my head and slept with at night. The one who promised to release my despair.

He spun away from the circle upon my approach, and my body, my hands, my feet and my mind began to move to his rhythm. I fell in tune and time with him and lost myself to the reverie and acceptance of his advance. He went to take my hand. I reached out.

Then I felt the presence again, this time behind me. I turned abruptly, breaking my step.

She was there.

I could feel her as much as see her, as beautiful up close as she was when she stood in the center of the flames. I was not afraid. She took a single step and my dance with the imp was broken. Relaxed and still, I stood. The grove was silent. A path, somehow unseen to me before, led not towards, but rather away from the fire, back into the cold and dark forest, that somehow held a new promise of something different and possible.

I realized then, that my fear had blinded her from me. She had always been with me.

Waiting, when I was slow. Traveling, when my progress was erratic and energetic, never interfering or forcing herself to be known. She was with me since my first breath, and had never left my side since my soul came into being.

The imp realized quickly that I was lost to him, and returned to his brothers, to the warmth of the fire and to the crashing song that fueled their dance.

I could no longer see her, but I knew she was there.

Her presence gave me comfort and strength. She was, and is, my eternal companion.

With her at my side, I stepped back into the forest and traveled a path away from the grove.

States of Being

In our waking hours, we exist in one of three states of being. There are a multitude of sub-states within the major trinity, and we'll dig into those as we explore the three meta-states.

At any point in time, we are either Creating, Consuming, or Experiencing. These three primary states, or meta-states as I call them, are fundamental to our day to day existence. The balance of these meta-states is vital to our overall mental and emotional well being, and hence imbalance, or too much time and weight being spent on one aspect over another can develop all sorts of subsequent issues.
I'll explain the meta-states in detail, and then dig into how they interact with each other.

Much of the later posts will refer to these three States of Being, and hence it benefits us to fundamentally understand them now and get a sense of my worldview.

Creating 

The act of creating has broad and far reaching definitions. It can be related to the obvious and expected development of artwork, or writing as in the case of this blog. It could be in developing ideas, taking notes, sketching and refining concepts in a raw state. It could be constructing, building, or crafting. It could also be applied to business, whether in operational structure, logistics or policy development. Developing a relationship through conversation is also creating, as is sexual intimacy and bonding with others on a deeper level. It is not necessary to be creative to create. After all, cooking a meal based on a recipe is creating based on someone else's creativity, but fulfills the definition regardless.

We often feel inspired when we create. Seeing an idea develop and manifest into something more fruitful or tangible can provide us with a sense of purpose. Expressing ourselves with production is a very human trait. Ironically, creating for no purpose at all is the most rewarding on a deep and spiritual level. Think of a child that plays with no real goal or outcome as a prime example.

Yet if we create and create and create, and never take a step back, we can feel trapped. The imbalance of being in a constant mindset of building, adding, evolving and never allowing something to be complete or finished can generate perpetual dissatisfaction. We impose our needs on it, and whatever we have created has to become more, and doesn't allow a sense of appreciation for progress from what "was not" to what "now is".

Consuming

The act of consuming is more than just eating or purchasing. Its a necessary part of our lives and can be defined as much more than it's name implies. We consume music for our senses, books for our intelligence, nutrition for our sustenance and enjoyment, and the beauty of the world around us for the awe that nature provides. Consuming, external of capitalistic ideals of being a "consumer", as a meta-state allows us to to develop and grow, physically, intellectually, spiritually and emotionally.

We must balance what we consume and how, tying them into the world view and outlooks of our goals. It would make little sense for someone who has no desire to learn about wine to consume hundred page books, attend seminars and debate academia on the subject, outside of physically consuming a glass now and again for its other benefits. It would be wasted effort better spent on other endeavours that would provide more return and value to their chosen profession, social circles or hobbies.

Excessive consumption can likewise be a detriment if the other two meta-states of Creating and Experiencing are ignored or undervalued. Gluttony can overtake a person who consumes too much food, leading to health issues and poor habits. A recluse who consumes information and media noise from television with no output or decision making provides nothing and shares little with the world. A hoarder who consumes items and keeps them with no applicable use or function also falls into an unhealthy state of being. They have created a downward spiral of taking and giving nothing back.

Experiencing

The third meta-state is Experiencing. This is the state where we feel and think and move within the inputs around us and within us. Running is an experience that we feel as the blood pumps our legs and lungs and propels us forward. Dancing, which can also create, is an experience that we allow to overtake us. When we listen or converse, we experience the people and smells and sounds around us. We are in tune with our surroundings and exist in the moment. Meditation is also an experience, wherein nothing occurs and we just are, experiencing the stillness of being and asking for nothing beyond that moment.

To truly experience, we must be present. It does little to be lost in stressful thinking of emails to be answered, phone calls to be made and dishes to be washed while standing on the coastline as the waves lap against the shore and the Pacific Ocean breeze flows over us with its ancient winds. To experience the touch of a loved one, the sounds of children laughing in the distance of warm summer's day are all available to us. Even the pain of sorrow and loss is required for a healthy state of being, and aversion to the less blissful moments of life often perpetuates them. Experiencing is very much an emotional state of being, but can also be logical and pragmatic.


When we solely seek experience and sensation we fall into hedonism and selfishness. We seek only pleasure, however we define it, and fail to see the damage that our own desires can have on others around us. The results can be disastrous, and even global in reach as we discard the greater for our own personal satisfaction.

The Interaction of Meta-States 

Each state of being can interact with the other two in whole or in part. For example, if we were to choreograph a dance, we are both creating and experiencing at the same time.
If we were to take notes on a lecture of philosophy, we would be consuming and creating. When we enjoy the company of friends over dinner with wine and music, we consume in the form of food and beverage, as well we ingest conversation and ideas, we create the meal and the setting with decor, and we experience the ambiance and joy of togetherness and shared time.

The more balance one can generate from transitioning from one State of Being to another leads to more richer and meaningful activities. We become more, offer more and even take more of all that is offered from the world around us. Deep and focused work on one meta-state is also welcome, as this is where deeper understanding of a domain can be realized. The artist who loses themselves in a painting as they create, or a sensory deprivation float tank meditation that allows a singular experience of being, are all powerful and impactful ways to explore those aspects of one's life.

Determining goals, ambitions and values that align with an individual's life plan is related to and holistically intertwined with the States of Being, and the meta-states do not assume ethical or moral action. We all exist in these three meta-states, and they do not preclude bad intention or malicious action.

I would challenge you to take a look at your day. Assess the time you spend on Creating, Consuming and Experiencing. Are you in balance? What area is lacking and how many of your daily activities are short on the interaction and relationship between the three states? Track your week, and then start planning your schedule and calendar with a balance of the three states. See what works for you, and with a more conscious and conscientious approach to your life habits, see if any benefits unfold over the coming months. Let me know how it goes.

Ed

A New Journey

Welcome to the first post of my blog, titled under my own name, Ed Kumar.

For those of you who followed my running blog Ultrainspired, much of that work will continue related to Ultra running and endurance sports. However, I wanted a new platform to talk about a broader spectrum of topics. You'll find many subjects and conversations here, ranging from personal development, family and parenting, atheism, career and restaurant life, wine and food, as well as art, writing, motorcycles, kickboxing and martial arts.

I know, that's a ton of stuff, and it's kind of the point.
Fear not, there is a common theme that will underly all the ramblings and rantings of these various topics and that is the goal of living a fulfilling life.

We live in an age of many distractions, and I as much as anyone am guilty of succumbing to the random shiny notifications on my smart phone or notebook computer that draws my attention from deep work, pulling me out of a flow state and beckoning me to waste away the minutes of hours on the equivalent of junk food. Aziz Ansari wisely stated on the Freakonomics podcast that Facebook is like being on the millionth page of the worst book he's ever read.
Ironically, many of you will find this posting on such social media channels, including Facebook. The dichotomy of our current state of living is unprecedented as we seek the things in our lives that have meaning in an almost hedonistic and selfish desire to consume, while at the same time desperately find ways to detach, disconnect and get closer to our truer selves in an quasi-stoic or meditative oneness with  . . . what? That "what" has eluded us for Millenia, and it's becoming more challenging with the added noise that assaults us daily.

I see and I observe.  I am more open to different perspectives and opinions today than I ever have been before. I'm an information junkie, and there have been many influences, both contemporary and ancient, that have helped form much of my current outlook, and those will all be discussed and unraveled as the posts continue to develop and explore this new era of my life.

I hope you can relate to much of the topics as they are brought up, and create some debate and dialogue for further exploration. The goal is not to provide a concrete offering on a point of view, but rather to allow the evolution of ideas to grow and unfold. A New Journey is an apt title for this first posting, as I don't know where it will end, and nor do I care. I am more interested and curious about what will be found along the way.

Ultimately, I hope that this blog will inspire and spark that childlike wonder and curiosity of pushing boundaries, questioning the status quo, evolving one's life and habits and perhaps even create new found passion in whatever endeavour you feel is your calling. I'm excited to dive into it with you.

Let's begin . . .

Ed