Consciousness & Awareness

I’ve already shared I Am Not That before — but this is a different take. A stripped-back, psychedelic-acoustic version with unconventional chord turns, more space to breathe, and a slow, evolving structure.

It’s born from those nights when the mind won’t stop spinning — chasing titles, praise, and progress. But underneath all that noise, there’s a quieter voice reminding: “I am not that.”

If you’ve ever felt the pull of ego, then the release beyond it — this version might sit differently with you.

"Drop the fight, drop the weight, It’s here, this moment, wide awake."

Do It Now is a gentle wake-up call to stop waiting for the “perfect moment” to live or be present. It was written as a meditation on the truth that later is just an illusion — life only ever happens now. The song invites you to drop excuses, step out of the storm of thinking, and find clarity in the simplicity of this breath, this step, this moment.

"We weren’t made to feel okay. We were made to break, and care, and repair."

Most songs about pain try to fix it or run from it. This one doesn’t. “Let It Be There” is a song about sitting with suffering — yours, mine, and the world’s — without flinching, without pretending it’s not there.

In this duet version, two voices weave together:

One voice admits the fear, the discomfort, the urge to avoid.

The other voice answers with compassion, acceptance, and quiet strength. Together, they remind us that we don’t have to fight every feeling — sometimes the most courageous thing is to let it exist and breathe.

If you’ve ever felt broken, heavy, or powerless but still wanted to live with an open heart — this is for you. Turn it up, take a breath, and let it be there.

"The truth I seek is not 'out there,' It’s in the stillness I can bear."

Clouds That Know the Ground is a meditative, beat-driven reflection on life after the noise of survival has quieted — when the drive to prove oneself fades, but the urge to express remains.

I made this during a moment of strange clarity. You know that feeling when you realize you don’t need to prove anything anymore… but you still want to express? That’s where this came from. It’s not a cry for help. It’s a whisper of freedom.

"Almost fine with being flawed. Almost done with playing God."

Sometimes we’re not in pain. But we’re not at peace either. We’re just… in between. Avoiding things we don’t like. Pushing ourselves a bit too far. Watching our thoughts but still clinging to control. Not suffering — but not free.

This song is about that space. The quiet tension of self-awareness. The soft rebellion of staying open. It’s not an anthem. It’s not a breakdown.

"It’s not about forgetting. It’s about not being ruled."

What if your thoughts weren’t the truth? What if fear was just a leftover echo?

This song came from a moment on a bike, passing through Glenorchy, half-expecting something bad to happen—because it had before. That’s how the mind works: it protects, it predicts. But it also traps. Drop the Frame is about seeing that trap and stepping out of it.

🌀 It’s not about forgetting the past. It’s about not being ruled by it.

If you've ever caught yourself reacting before reality even had a chance to show up... this one’s for you.

"I thought I knew what truth was. Turns out it was just belief."

I Thought I Knew is about the quiet shock of realizing that even our most cherished beliefs are just stories — comforting frameworks, not absolute truths.

Inspired by Peter Ralston’s Pursuing Consciousness, the song follows my own journey of deconstructing the belief that “people are equal and should have the same opportunities.” At first, it felt righteous and unshakable. But when I questioned it deeply, I saw how much of it was inherited — a lens I never chose.

Letting it go didn’t leave me empty; it left me freer, with a rawer sense of reality. This track is an indie-electronica meditation on belief, identity, and the subtle freedom that comes when you drop the “shoulds.”

"There’s peace beneath the ego's chant. It’s always here… I just forgot that."

What if the thing driving you isn’t purpose… but survival?

This song was born from a restless night — stuck in thoughts about work, identity, and the never-ending loop of proving myself. I saw how the mind builds stories and clings to projects, relationships, even packages in the mail… all to feel like someone.

But what if I’m not any of that?

"I Am Not That" is a quiet anthem for those who’ve started waking up — the coders, seekers, strivers, creators, who feel the ego’s hunger… but no longer fully believe it.

"No past to hold, no future claim. No need to justify or name."

What if you had no past? No story. No labels. Not brave, not broken. Not proud, not ashamed. Just this — presence, without a name.

This song is a guided contemplation in disguise — a gentle invitation to drop your life story, your traits, your roles... and feel what's underneath.

"I am no form, I am no race. I am the silence in the chase."

Every morning, I wake up as "me." My name. My memories. My hopes, fears, patterns. The life story loads — and just like that, the game begins again.

But what if that story isn't who I am? What if I'm not Kaili, not my past, not even my desires… What if I’m just the space where all of it arises?

This song is about that shift. Letting the identity loosen. Watching the story dissolve. And discovering that what remains isn’t a person — it’s awareness itself.

🌀 Inspired by Pursuing Consciousness by Peter Ralston

"I tried to catch the moment. But it slipped right through my hand."

This song was born from a question I couldn’t shake: What is experience, before we name it?

Inspired by Peter Ralston’s Pursuing Consciousness, this track explores the fleeting nature of now — how every moment slips into memory the instant we try to grasp it. It’s a quiet meditation on raw awareness, before thought, before story, before the mind kicks in.

"Hyper-sober, seeing through the veil. Where the ordinary turns surreal."

The clarity that feels like madness. The sobriety that opens a third eye.

There’s a strange high that comes not from escape… but from seeing everything as it is. No substances, no distractions — just raw, crystal-clear awareness. That’s what this song is about. The ache and awe of waking up in a world that never asked you to. You see the beauty, the grief, the patterns, the ghosts — all of it. And it’s overwhelming. But it’s real.

If you’ve ever felt like the only sober person in a dream, this is for you.