The Flow of Understanding: A Reflection on Consciousness and Existence

There was a time when I thought understanding had to be pursued—chased down like a fleeting shadow, always slipping just beyond reach. But now I see it differently. Understanding is not something we seek; it is something that finds us. Like a wave rolling toward the shore, it arrives when we are ready, not when we demand it.

Recently, I found myself in the middle of one of these moments, writing furiously as if transcribing a message being downloaded from somewhere beyond my conscious self. My handwriting was barely legible, my pen struggling to keep pace with the thoughts pouring into my mind. Looking back, it was as if I had tapped into something beyond myself—an unseen frequency, a shared current of reality. It wasn’t just inspiration; it was revelation.

This state of flow has been happening more often, arriving unannounced, sweeping me into its current. I’ve come to realise that these moments of deep clarity aren’t random; they’re a natural part of existence, waiting for us to be still enough to receive them. Like the Foo Fighters track All My Life or Street Spirit by Radiohead, its a relentless pursuit and explosive release, these moments of realisation build and build until they crash into awareness. The key isn’t to chase them—it’s to be open when they arrive.

Looking back on my childhood, I recall witnessing people speaking in tongues in church. At the time, I dismissed it as nonsense, even mimicking it as a party trick to expose the illusion. But now, with the lens of hindsight, I see something else: they were tuned into a frequency, just as I have been. They may not have fully understood it, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. The same force that moves through music, through creativity, through moments of profound insight—it’s all part of the same current.

Disclaimer: In discussing the church and religion, I feel a deep need to clarify: there are—No Gods, Just Us. This is the truth as I see it. Faith, if it is to have meaning, should be directed inwards rather than placed in external, imaginary idols.

I’ve come to see my life as a mosaic, a collection of broken and colourful pieces forming a larger picture. Each fragment represents an experience, a thought, a revelation—some sharp and painful, others smooth and luminous. Had I understood these things earlier, my life might have taken a different path. But I realise now that it had to be this way. Any sooner, and I might have been consumed by dogma, trapped in someone else’s narrative rather than discovering my own.

Music, writing, drumming—these aren’t just creative outlets for me; they are acts of decoding, ways of translating the unseen into something tangible. When I play, when I write, when I surrender to the flow, I am allowing myself to be part of something far greater than my individual self. I am not creating meaning—I am discovering it, revealing it, allowing it to emerge as it was always meant to.

This is what consciousness truly is. It’s not the thoughts we construct, the identities we cling to, or the stories we tell ourselves. It is the ever-present current moving through all things, waiting for us to stop resisting and let it carry us forward.

The greatest lesson I have learned? Understanding is not something you seek. It finds you.