The Insight Academy

 

I’ve always had a strange romance with academia. In my early twenties I gave serious consideration to the idea of becoming a teacher. More specifically, I wanted to eventually teach at university. I very nearly took that path, but I had the vague sense that it wouldn’t really fulfil me in the way I wanted. I always had a love-hate relationship with that world. To this day I love stories about teachers. I love the settings, the aesthetic, and the content. So, there’s definitely an amateur academic somewhere within me. But I also hated the idea of being bound by someone else’s second or third-hand conventions. I hated the hypocrisy and elitism I sometimes noticed in those establishments.

I understand this combination of attraction and annoyance a little better now. At university, my teachers often told me I had both the passion and discipline to earn my PhD and eventually even become a college professor, but it wasn’t to be. I have this constant tension in me between freedom and formality. On the one hand I think of myself as having a somewhat bohemian spirit, but on the other I love literature, colleges, and the general rigors of education. But now I realise it’s the processes of creativity and communication that truly enchant me. That’s where my romance really dwells. Both creativity and communication can come in many forms outside the lecture hall. Realising this was incredibly liberating.

Until this recognition, there was a part of me that always felt like I’d sold myself short by not earning that PhD. Like I’d failed the romantic in me by not becoming the teacher that I thought I always wanted to be. Thankfully, this feeling has dissipated in the last several years. I don’t have to sacrifice my love of literature, scholarship, or communication. I can pursue those interests in my own way. I can choose to look forward instead of backward. I don’t need an academic setting or a doctorate to enjoy the process of sharing art and knowledge. I just need imagination, a bit of skill and a lot of patience. It’s so rewarding to feel that for the first time in my adult life I’m exactly where I want to be. I haven’t sacrificed anything essential. I’m proud of my choices, my creativity, and my personal relationships.

I’m far more mindful these days, and a big part of that mindfulness comes from cultivating self-knowledge. Knowing who you are, and why. This is the kind of education that can’t be bought, but it’s priceless. My romance with writers, literature and academia in general doesn’t have to end because I didn’t become a teacher. It can evolve, finding new avenues of expression. I love the process of cultivating and communicating insight. Sharing it with those who might benefit. It’s fun, and deeply engaging. I feel like I’m doing what I’m supposed to when I can share these things in any form. Especially on this blog. An informal insight academy, you could say. So, it’s in that spirit of insight that I want to share another video from The Oldest Magic series. I’ve really enjoyed making these new videos. It’s been a very illuminating experience for me. My last discussion was very personal and quite difficult to talk about. But in this video I wanted to explore something more joyful and upbeat. Mindfulness, romance in general, and all the ways they can enrich our lives. I hope it resonates with you, my friends.

Wishing you all the best, and with love,

Raj

Myths at Midnight

 

It’s strange. I came up with the idea for this blog in the winter of 2010, but I never really put that idea into practice until March of the following year. Initially, I envisioned it as a kind of online art journal. A place where I could post my early experiments with video collage, essays I’d written at university that I thought might be interesting to a wider audience, and insights about art, history and current events. It seemed almost incidental at the time. An afterthought. Not really something that would be an integral part of my artistic life. However, Amid Night Suns quickly grew beyond that initial premise and became one of my most important avenues for self-expression and psychological health.

I quickly came to realise that the various forms of creativity posted to the blog didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to be thoroughly authentic. To myself as a person, to the things occurring in my inner life, and to my outlook on the world in general. I think I’ve managed to honour that requirement as my skills and modes of expression have evolved in the past fourteen years. It’s kind of crazy to think about because the blog is even more meaningful to me now than it was back then. It’s really been a touchstone for me. A useful platform for contemplation and self-reflection. Even though I deleted much of the blog’s earliest content during one of my lowest points, I didn’t remove any of my video-collage work from my YouTube or Vimeo channels. You can still find that work today, if you’re interested. Hundreds of little pieces of art, of varying quality. So, be kind. I’m still learning!

I also reposted many of the blog’s key deleted pieces, restoring much if not all the work I’d invested so much time and energy into. I’m glad I did that because I was never ashamed of my creative process, my earliest work, or the mistakes I’d made trying to hone my craft. I was just in a very dark place and became disillusioned with the exhausting journey of self-discovery, not the work itself. I quickly came to my senses though and realized I shouldn’t abandon Amid Night Suns. It was created with good intentions and had served me well up until that point. If depression and melancholy were the symptoms of a spiritual malaise, then art and creativity were the cure. That and firm, loving friendships. By the sheer grace of God I have all these things in my life now.

This is all to say I’m supremely grateful that I was inspired to create a platform where I could express my interests and explore my depths without fear of judgment or censorship. Obviously, I’m aware that my work isn’t for everyone. Many people might find the things I post here too dark, too oblique or self-indulgent, and that’s ok. Like I said, I initially envisioned this blog as a kind of online art journal where I could establish a dialogue with myself. More specifically, a dialogue between the conscious and subconscious aspects of my mind. Amid Night Suns is largely a journey through the various depths of one individual’s imagination. The utility of that journey is yours to decide, my friends.

I just want you guys to know that I’m not trying to trick anyone here, or appear smarter than I am. I have no interest in maintaining a mystique, or some ephemeral allure that comes with distance and inscrutability. I don’t give a shit about any of that. I don’t mind if these recent videos humanise me in some way, or even highlight my vulnerabilities. In fact, I’d prefer it. Artistic ego and delusions of grandeur are not why I post the collages or the esoteric free verse pieces on this blog. I do it to change my normal register of discourse, to better establish a connection with my subconscious mind. In a way, it’s a method of ever so slightly altering my consciousness without the use of drugs. I sometimes use meditation and breathwork to assist me in entering that more symbolic realm of mythopoetic imagination.

Artists and thinkers have often engaged in similar pursuits. Most famously the psychologist Carl Jung delved into the depths of his own consciousness and documented the entire creative process in what has become known today as The Red Book: Liber Novus, first published in 2009. Many critics view this process of Jung’s as a kind of creative illness. Perhaps even a form of madness. To me this seems an overly grim assessment of what is just an expression of the fundamentals of creativity, storytelling and narrative in action. Poetic association playing out in real time, through the lens of one person’s imagination.

So, I see my own work as a plethora of stories, video-collages and free verse poetry pieces that all exist in the same ‘world’ - within a kind of interconnected personal cinematic universe. Or multiverse, if you prefer. The Midnight Multiverse (patent pending). But in all seriousness, this process of mythopoetic imagination has been a very deliberate and illuminating experience for me. I’ve gained so much insight and joy from my artistic endeavours here at Amid Night Suns. And I hope they have uplifted, entertained or resonated with you in some way.  I’m a big believer in the idea that, even if we create something like an online art journal primarily to express ourselves, art is most potent and useful when it’s shared in a spirit of genuine friendship and service. That’s what I’ve been trying to do here for the last fourteen years. To connect and help people in some way though my own little bits and pieces of self-expression. The art of others has got me through some very difficult times, and my life is all the richer for it. I hope my own modest efforts can do the same thing for you, my friends.

Wishing you all the best, and with love,

Raj     

The Inward Eye

 

In this video I wanted to use my affinity for the night-time as an opportunity to discuss more personal and esoteric matters. I’ve really enjoyed making these videos for The Oldest Magic series, but I felt called to speak about something deeper, and that’s the process of contemplation. I guess changing the way I post content on this blog has affected me far quicker than I thought it would. My intuition tells me that’s a good thing, especially if what I post helps someone out there in some way. Even if it’s just a single soul who really needs to hear these particular words, or simply needs to resonate with my kind of energy.

I’ll be the first to admit the idea of filming myself talking to camera was quite unsettling to begin with. Just the idea of putting myself out there like that unnerved me a little, but now I get the sense that I’m doing what I’m supposed to in terms of a wider range of creativity. So, I’ll trust that intuition. In this video you might hear me refer to another video that I filmed but never published to YouTube. It’s just me trying to get better at and more comfortable with this style of self-expression, so please bear with me.

But yeah, this is the most intimate and personal I’ve ever been on Amid Night Suns, and I truly hope the video is taken in the spirit of affection and friendship with which it’s intended. More than that, I hope my words bring comfort or insight to those who need it. If you’ve ever been through similarly dark times, as discussed in this video, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Things can get better. So much better, and brighter. They did for me, and for the longest time I didn’t think that was possible. But anything is possible with a little guidance, inspiration, and contemplation.

Wishing you all the best, my friends, and with love,

Raj.

Crowns of Kindness

                                              

Namaste, my friends! I hope you’re keeping well. In my last video for The Oldest Magic I discussed a favourite movie of mine: 2019’s The Aeronauts. I really enjoyed making that video, talking about the finer details of a story that moved me so much. So, I think I’m going to do more of those kinds of reviews and deep dives. Movies, books and albums that really matter to me, or changed me in some way. I’m quite excited by the prospect. I feel like I’ve taken a lot of pressure off my shoulders by loosening up a bit and broadening the scope of what I post here at Amid Night Suns. It’s not like I intentionally stopped myself from posting varied content, but you get used to doing things a certain way and before you know it you’ve kind of put yourself in a creative Cul-de-sac.

Well, I want to break away from those limiting patterns. I’ve put a lot of work and energy into the poetry and video-collages I’ve posted on this blog over the years. I’ve made hundreds of them between my YouTube and Vimeo accounts. I’m proud of my dedication to my craft, I suppose, but I’m feeling brighter and more expansive these days. I hope the next few months on the blog reflect that. Now that we’re transitioning into Autumn – my favourite season of the year – I want to feel completely free to post more fun things as we get closer to year’s end. I know Amid Night Suns doesn’t have many followers, but if you’re among the handful of people who do follow this blog with any genuine interest or regularity, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

All artists crave an audience, even amateurs like me. When you go to the effort of creating something with real care, it can be quite crushing to feel like nobody is paying attention. It can kill the creative spark, extinguishing even the basic desire for self-expression. So, I’m truly grateful for the audience I do have, even though I have no idea who many of you are. I thank you nonetheless, and I wish you nothing but joy and positivity in your lives. This latest video in The Oldest Magic series is another movie analysis. This time it’s a discussion of the themes of royalty and uniqueness in the 1995 film adaptation of Francis Hodgson Burnett’s novel A Little Princess. It’s a film that moved me a great deal as a teenager, and it’s one I love to revisit and study as an adult. I hope the video piques your interest and kindles your heart in some way. Wishing you all the best, and with love, Raj.    

The Heretic's River

 

These feathers unfurl, a lifetime of dreaming at my back. Yet time still escapes me like summer sands as Yarden waters burn these palms. Drowning, and on fire, in an act of almost-flight. Flames like molten rock beneath the wave. The path of Antioch’s angels, I suppose. Criminals, cowards and so-called revolutionaries, spilling the blood of our brother’s sons to enshrine the shared lie of our fathers. My God, what a mess. Pickled peppers and pecks on the cheek. Heretic letters and paths of the meek. But kisses counted for little in Palestine. And still, detonations are supposedly mistaken for the Finger of God. Like magnesium cast onto the fire. Mere anarchy, appallingly loosed. The blood-dimmed tide, as Isaac and Ishmael continue to slaughter each other daily. And for what, for legends of land and promise? It broke me, even back then. It broke my daughter too. Utterly. Named for Eos, but defiled with spilled scarlet. Midnight of the Day. You think these words are fiction, don’t you, Fallen? Do you imagine the deaths of all those brown children as somehow equally unreal? Less meaningful? Now that the dawn is bright as snow do you care a little more? You didn’t back then. The hue of flesh is only skin deep. No child deserves to die because of the beliefs of their mothers and fathers, regardless of their genealogy. The best of us, irrespective of faith, caste or creed haven’t butchered our empathy so completely. Nor our humanity, especially where our children are concerned. Do you really need a fucking angel to tell you this?

Dear ones, I want you to know that these fists burned as they were plunged in ancient river water. A secret sooth, told quietly. Men are ruined rain. Mud is flesh and blood is the river. Didn’t you know? Sentient sea, all of us, animated by starlight. We drink the river’s reign or die, extracting salt for protection. A circle against those wraiths who despise all sailors. Hydrogen and oxygen. Time and space. But we are the mineral. We are the salt. The allowed reach of those wraiths. So, we unknowingly slaughter ourselves as we continuously fill our waters with death and filth. As once-bright feathers unfurl. Or is that a truth too flagrant to imbibe? I’ve been called a winged wolf in the interim, and it’s a fitting title. More fitting than you know. I’ve also been called a sorcerer, and a charlatan. A scribe to the Levant’s wending shriek. A giant among men. Like those legends of Offerus, Yohanan, and Saul. The tales we tell and re-tell. But I don’t just cross these rivers, dear ones. I bend them with my Father’s will. Mountains also, cut down with the palm of his hand. My maker’s hands are burned by Yarden’s ebb, and my daughter’s also. Not just my own. We share the anguish. I’m an angel, you see. An emissary. To claim myself as anything greater would be a lie. Still, I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. I am. Perhaps it’s pride talking, like the night’s first falling star. But, unlike that star, I have love in my heart. I never imagined myself as greater than my maker. My sins are many, but they are all too human. Driven by sheer grief. I would never dare to claim the throne, unlike the legends tell of Samael. The indulgence. The vanity. God forbid Mikael is ever confused for his winged sibling. But we are all both these brothers in theme. Heaven’s War raging within. Don’t you recognise this yet, Fallen? Or is your grasp of stories and psyche so feeble?

I’ve spent a thousand years honing my craft. Trying to learn kindness and patience. I’m still here in the dark with you, my friends. Still learning. Jack of all trades and master of none. Stumbling around for light and coherence. As we forgetful souls all do. Whilst my outcast brother keeps his memories and builds an empire of bones, violence and human shit from our darkest imaginings. The spoils of war, clad in the garb of officialdom and religiosity. False righteousness. We all know this, in our hearts. But the world does not stop for any of us, despite our rage. It’s incredibly sobering to realize that your anguish and loss is no greater than anyone’s. Pain is horrifyingly relative. We have no right to bomb and burn creation’s dreaming, shifting times and laws. Take it from a veteran of the vortex. A true traveller must move delicately, and with the utmost care. Yes, our loved ones can be taken from us in the most vicious way possible, but we are not the only ones who suffered such loss. The cosmos is vast. Infinite stars. Unimaginable worlds. Tragedy has visited so many of them. But joy too. Unimaginable joy, and grace. We know so little of our maker’s divine poetry, except when we dare to dream. Enjoy the warm embrace of love’s radiance, my friends. But recognise that the sweet sunlight we enjoy is not enjoyed by all, even in our own world. There are so many pockets of darkness and suffering where children wail and parents grieve in that brief period before the next detonation, and spirit’s connection to flesh is severed once more by mankind’s most hateful aspects. Palestine and elsewhere. Dark priests and wraith-ravage, enshrined. I’m not just a witness to this awful chaos. I am a writer. A depth-walker of the inner places. My insights change nothing, of course. But nonetheless, when I see our children and our brother’s children offered up as dark sacrifice – I as one of the Magi must speak. This is a fucking abomination. A hideous shame that stains our souls. It was so two thousand years ago, and it is still so today.

Friendship & Flight

 

At first, I was kind of hesitant about making videos where I put myself out there, without any persona or shield between me and my art, but it’s actually been really fun. And way more liberating than I expected. Initially I thought it was so far outside my comfort zone that I debated whether I should even give it a try. I’m very comfortable making atmospheric video-collages and writing free verse poetry with mythological themes, but less so talking directly to a camera as myself. But I’ve come to realise that I don’t need to worry so much. The things I make are never going to be perfect, nor do they need to be.

All I really want is to find new and interesting ways to express myself, to satisfy that creative impulse and have fun doing it. I guess trying new things is healthy sometimes, and surprisingly rewarding. It triggers growth, gratitude, and enjoyment of the present moment. We all get this intellectually, I suppose, but we don’t feel it emotionally nearly as often as we should. So yeah, I’m making these videos on my new YouTube channel mostly for myself. Also for the handful of people who might be paying attention and who hopefully find them interesting in some way.

I’m someone who believes deeply in art, creativity and self-care, but I’ve spent a lot of time holding my tongue and just keeping my thoughts to myself. I guess I’ve decided to change all that. I’m not nearly as existential as I used to be. I kind of roll with the punches and go with the flow these days, and I’ve got to say – it’s incredibly freeing! Hopefully you can sense my delight in these videos as I get more comfortable talking in front of a camera. I just want to post more stuff and talk about things that genuinely fascinate me. Things that move my heart. That includes art, philosophy and religion. But also down-to-earth stuff like books that I enjoy, movies I love, and albums that have had a big impact on me.

These coming posts over on The Oldest Magic and here at Amid Night Suns – they might not change the world or anything, but I just want to share the real me a bit more with those who might be interested. I don’t want to come across as some distant mythological entity, a wannabe auteur with illusions of grandeur and no sense of humour. I’m just a guy who loves history, art, and stories. I really don’t take myself too seriously in my personal life. Like I said before, I’ll be cross-posting most of these front-facing videos here, so there’s no need to worry about subscribing. I’ll still post my usual video-collages and more esoteric written pieces, of course, but the scope of my real interests is far broader, and I want the blog to reflect that.

Hopefully this new chapter of Amid Night Suns will be engaging and resonant for you in some way. It’s definitely been liberating and fun for me! So, in that spirit, here’s a video that’s basically a review of a favourite movie of mine: 2019’s The Aeronauts. It’s a film that didn’t make much of an impact commercially, but it moved me a great deal. I still enjoy rewatching it. In the video I discuss some of its deeper themes, and I explore storytelling more generally. Warning: there are major spoilers for the story though, so proceed with caution if you haven’t seen it yet but intend to! Wishing you all the best, and with love, Raj.  

Neverland

 

Sometimes, my darling, things hide in the light. Beautiful things. Fairies, secrets, and kisses. Most people don’t see them, of course. Or notice the signs. But I hope you do. Even if people occasionally do sense something – the possibility of magic – they usually disregard it as coincidence. Or imagination. In doing so, they pass by all kinds of enchantment. Wonders all around them. I hope you choose to see with better eyes than that, Kara. I’m not asking you to believe any version of any story, because my mind is bursting with literature and legend. All I ask is that you search your heart. That you read between the lines, noticing the kisses left in corners. Feel the depth and affection in those stories and savour the possibility. What if there’s more truth to them than anyone dares to believe? What if you’re special, Kara? More special than you could ever imagine? All girls are, really. But not all girls hold a lantern as high as you do. I thank you for that.

I want you to know that the presence of our Father moves with unimaginable grace through this world, mostly unseen. And unfelt. It can be a dark place indeed, but he does speak to those who are attuned. Those who care. Those who believe. I want to ask you a question, Kara, as your guardian. I know you believe in God, but do you still believe in fairies? Fluttering joy, winged awe, and the gentle tinkling of bells? I know you did once, when you were young. But do you still think it’s possible? I’m an artist and a storyteller, it’s true. But I’m also an angel, in a very real sense. I bring messages. I want to quicken and inspire all souls. Those kind and courageous ones, and those who have no voice. It’s my mission, my darling. It always has been. I’ve always been a guardian of light. So have you, and many of our friends too, though they don’t remember. I’ll remember on their behalf, sweetheart. And yours.

Tell your friends I’m grateful for their help. I need all the help I can get in this War of Imagination. This War for All Souls. I’m not as cruel or as selfish as the books suggest. If anything, I care too much, and it almost got me killed. But I survived, because of you. I thrive because your melodies restore my feathers each night, and lift me to the stars. I would love to be there with you, to celebrate the ascension of your art and song, but I have other pressing concerns. Responsibilities, and battles. Just know that I might not be near in terms of time or space, but I’m always with you. I’ll always be with you, for as long as you want or need me. The love that people share determines their closeness in the end. I know that to be true. So, though I may not be in the room, I stand side by side with a beloved friend and a cherished artist. I’m so proud of you. I keep your kiss, Kara. It is one of my most treasured possessions, and it shall never leave my heart.