What is beauty? Many waves have passed since Omnia first realized that query. The truth is, beauty is absurdity—the absurdity of composition, of connection itself.
In 2023, I became homeless. On my first day, simply walking down the Monterey Recreational Trail with all my belongings was enough to make people keep their distance. The inconvenience I bore on their preferred realities was too much for far too many. It would be during this period of my life that I would first find myself totally submerged within the ‘in-between’ that has followed me all my life, the liminal, the transitory. This would ignite my realization that ‘Humanity’ is not just an illusion but a deeply poisonous concept easily weaponized by catalysts of decay.
On March 25, 1967, British music publicist Derek Taylor would first unleash the Monterey International Pop Festival‘s eminence upon the collective consciousness. Announcing it through his column in Discand Music Echo magazine, the subsequent three-day event would serve as a focal point for the rise of the era’s most prominent cultural movements. However, the heights of these movements fell utterly short of their potential, tepidly rippling the surface; their true vision twisted into decay. Here we are today, where ‘diversity’ is a vicious war, but the truth is that few truly want diversity, regardless of political position. Those in power don’t want true diversity; they want a variety of ornamental grass.
The merit and health of any society can be measured solely by how it treats its most ‘divergent’ members. In many instances, they are cast aside, thrown away as inconveniences unless they can be used. When these discarded individuals cannot cope, and when the sickness of our own societies decomposes their already wispy vessels, our instinctive response is to attack them, imprison them, destroy them—but heal them? Too inconvenient for us and our ‘systems’ we embrace in complacency.
The great tragedy is that it is to these same lives we owe everything. Those on the in-between, who planted the seeds of civilization, daring to try, to imagine, to create realities rather than merely experience them. They are the brightest focal points of Creation gifted to the cosmos, yet our societies crave to devour them. Oh, we’ll watch their lights dance if it entertains us, but the moment it doesn’t, the moment it burns us, how quickly we rush to snuff them out.
I spent my first few months homeless periodically camping along Del Monte Beach, and it was there that I found my greatest solace and inspiration beyond life itself. During this time, I gazed into the very reflection of my life—in the crashing waves of the sea—drawing strength from that lifelong love as Creation’s currents crashed into me without end. Even when one attempts total stillness, one’s form is more fluid than any sea. Nothing is more beautiful than Life; even a worm outshines the beauty of the stars; for it can realize the light of the sun.
Every life form in the cosmos is a reality unto itself. What we call Death, therefore, does not occur when an emanation of reality returns to the infinite void of Creation but throughout the passage of its life, in every experience dulled by decomposition when it could have shined brighter, when you still your own vibrancy simply to evade the isolation and turbulence of the in-between. But what we call Life is nothing if not the in-between itself; it cannot be evaded; it must be coursed through because the most vibrant experiences of your life, the ones that compose what we are, will always be realized upon its currents.
Today is March 25, 2025. I am declaring war on decomposition itself—a movement of vibrancy on behalf of those ethereal currents, for those on the in-between of All-Reality. Hi, Charlie! Allow me to introduce Omnia. Let’s boogaloo.