The Origins of the Surrealist Life

We come into this life open beings with no definitions of anything. 






We then spend most of our childhoods immersed in "education", which is someone else's view of reality. 

Sometimes my reality did not always match what others told me it should be and there was pressure to accept the world that is already defined and neatly cataloged.

Most genius minds did not accept the norm.
They asked open ended questions.
What is the world were not flat?
What if we can harness electricity from the earth?
What if..........

Now in these times of change I see many asking open ended questions. How can humanity survive? Is it possible for men to give up the reigns of power 

and let a new wisdom guide the earth into grace and beauty?

When I moved to Mexico a few years ago my live became a Surrealist Journey.
I have come from a melting pot of cultures that is very modern. Everyone striving to fit a definition called "the American Dream" based in another definition not so visible called "Manifest Destiny", more accurately described as American Superiority, a God given right to take whatever we want in the rest of the world.

The culture I now enter is ancient.

It is layered with definitions,none of which I have clue about. Even that language is a garble to me. At first my brain struggles to make sense of it all, to give it meaning . And if it does not fit then the mind I have been trained to rely on begins to try to fix things or judge them. I see it as a common affliction of ex-pats. 
The symbols are so complex. But slowly I give into open ended questions. 
What if I did not need to understand? Is it possible for me to simply flow through and around what I do not understand and trust that my brain is making use of whatever it is offered.
After all I trust my subconscious has a reason for being. My dream symbols resolve conflicts and allow me to experience new possibilities on the multidimensional timelines. Perhaps all Mexico's symbols guide my life in ways my intellectual American brain will never understand. 

Like Dali's melting clocks, perhaps time will soften and melt the edges of my mind.