How to Harness your Craft.
Some tips to form a bond with your life's purpose, and how it may be facilitated through the typing machine.
Many folks ask how I discovered the typing machine, and my journey started in March 2019, while I was searching Etsy for vintage Barling pipes made in England, particularly rare meerschaum varieties—in one store I came across an orange Silver-Reed typewriter from the 80s that was made in Japan, and it was calling to me, so I bought it.
I was having only video calls with my children at the time, as they were living with their mother in Mexico City, and I was in Connecticut, dealing with a situation of constructive discharge from my previous employer. Couldn’t ever convince the State of Connecticut that it was sex discrimination, but all the same—the world seemed to be closing in on all angles. I didn’t know at the time that I was responsible for everything that was happening in my life, as well as those around me. Going back to the day I was born. All of this—my responsibility. I didn’t know at the time that these experiences would be the ones that would propel me to where I am now—to where I am wishing to show people the secret to unlocking their own innate power, and how we are pure spirit.
When I purchased my first typewriter, I honestly believed that my life, my career, my purpose, my happiness—rested in the hands of external factors, and that life was cruel. The most common question I asked myself at the time was: Why?
Like I was saying, on one of these days, after the Silver-Reed arrived at my apartment, I started using it, and it was very challenging at first. I had experience with typing, thanks to a course I took at Cheshire High School my senior year that was perhaps the greatest gift I ever received from public education, as it made it possible for me to forget about where the keys were situated and focus on how to make this typing machine print text onto the page in the way I wished it to perform. This, takes, time. At least it did for me. As it did when I took up the guitar at age 17, right at the time I was memorizing home row on the keyboard — as there are no coincidences in this world. This is synchronicity. Happening all the time. Syncromysticism.
On one of the nights I was on videocall with my children I showed them the Silver-Reed, and how it printed words on the page instantaneously, and they thought it was magic. Never seen anything quite like this before, having only been exposed to cell phones and computers. They wished to see their words come to life, so they started spouting out everything in Spanish from ‘superheroe’ to ‘jaula’ to ‘arbol’ and from there, I started flushing out the stories. And these images came forth through the incredible illustrations by my dear old friend—George Sellas.
Here is what we have thus far:
It’s called Words from a Distance.
I saw this clip yesterday and wished to share it. It’s not a message for my son right now, but it will be something like this, someday:
What happens when you start working with the typewriter, is that it shifts everything in your life so that it’s geared towards creation. It provides the frustrations you need in order to experience resistance, and push, knowing now, there will be growing pains. And the result is a fortified, identification of self. One that is held in the light of truth.
So, for the writers still scratching their heads as to where to start: you begin with a dream of joy and happiness in your life. From there, it’s a matter of getting yourself a typing machine. My Smith-Corona Clipper from 1949 that I use every day I bought off of Ebay for something like $75 dollars if my memory serves—I still have the sale receipt in the case.
And then, you get on the horse and start writing. Whatever your mind is bickering about will be what gets the first bit of attention, until the ego gets all the way out of the way. This is a daily process. To keep this muscle strong.