Same place. Same seats, same room, people don’t even matter. Same bartender, same waitress, same whatsoever. Same or different – in the end, i’m telling you: it doesn’t. even. matter.

Put your headphones on, close the white book, unplug the brain from the game. You’re the song. You’re each note of it, the rhythm, the measure, the beat. The space, time and spirit in it. Remember that. Now let’s follow.

You were dancing over the mellow steps of a tune whispered by some vague entity. You were guessing you had your own score and you wanted it out. You were searching for a way to get it through the thick sackcloth of the game. But you were guessing.

Still, you were searching. That was your first ingredient towards freedom. That’s how you stepped out of the crowd. You claimed your space, your true attitude, your ONE energy. You sparkled.

That was the first sign you were ready to receive your weapons. You were almost mastering yourself [or at least that’s what you thought] but once you got your instruments, the game flipped, the score changed its rhythm, the notes changed their term, you changed DNA. You became your weapons, extended.

Weeks, days, hours, every 3 minutes later you were reinventing yourself. You were having the perfect mirror, the perfect teacher, the perfect context, the perfect space, the Time, but most of all, you had the perfect substance: YourSelf.

You’ve been having that all along: you’ve been having those notes, those beats, those terms, some rhythm, but the score was floating, carelessly sprawling among the elements of this Universe. You needed discipline.

Cut. The master comes when the disciple is ready. And when he comes, his lessons are bitter, his methods rough, his words tough and his presence powerful. But you need that.

So now you’re becoming your weapons and they become your allies. It’s time. Close the white book, unplug your brain from the game. Feel your sword, know your gun, touch your trigger but don’t pull it. Don’t even bother attempting to write this score down. Everything you’ve been thought before gets cut out now. This is not a score to write. This is a score to feel, to touch, to smell, to breathe, to experiment, to live. Don’t ever write a single damn note down. Just feel, touch, smell, breathe, experiment, live, PLAY it!

The score is the complex instrument that you have now, but YOU are THE SONG. And songs… real songs… Real songs are not written, they are not timed, they are not recorded. Such a waste of time, these actions… Real songs ARE. They just are. They are splinters from and in the core of this Universe. They are PURE LOVE and there’s nothing more to add to that. Because you should have already known this by now: Love itself just IS.

Now go out in the Universe and PLAY, babe. PLAY!

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