In Rob Boss’ Burrow

by | JBE, Volume 1

  • Be extremely present.
  • Set inspiring music.
  • Set a positive intention. (“This is what I want to experience.”)
    • This story will relax me.
    • I will be at peace.
  • To relax, you may try to:
    • Listen to the music beforehand.
    • Meditate or do breathwork.
    • Observe nature.

Welcome to Rob Boss’ burrow. Rob Boss stands in front of a blank canvas which doesn’t know how lucky it is. Oh, this reality binds and blinds us.

Rob smiles, and so does the bright weather outside. It deserves more attention. He says, “Thank you for existing with me, weather.”

Rob looks at the camera. It didn’t do anything wrong.

“We’re going to paint happy little mountains that owe us nothing,” roars Rob as he slams his paintbrush covered in toothpaste-grey into the frail canvas repeatedly.

“The brush just needed love,” smiles Rob. “If you bump into someone and they lash out hatred, give them love. They are a malfunctioned toy that a child treated badly. Show them affection. Anyway, I will be using three colors. Snowy yellow, elephant blue, and Alaska pink.”

The music is so happy to be here for you. Notice it.

Rob mixes the colors together. They will never be alone again. It doesn’t matter what they want. Meanwhile, Rob spills a pearl of wisdom, “If you want to catch a rabbit, stand behind a tree and make a noise like a carrot. When the rabbit comes by, you grab him. Okay, let’s meet Mr. Mountain.”

Rob paints a mountain, the one from his childhood.

“It’s not all about you, mountain.”

Rob paints a cloud.

“I went to school with that cloud,” explains Rob. “We painted little hills of ice-cream together in a park. Just let that brush dance and play. Tease it. Express affection.”

Rob stares at the camera. The sun is shining in the burrow. It meets Rob’s face halfway. There is you, the story, and Rob. Nothing beclouds our simple collective existence. Life is perfectly fine. We are all alive. And you are such an amazing creature. Thank you for being born.

“Let’s throw some bushes in here,” Rob says, “just sneaking around, having fun. Now it’s beginning to make a little sense.”

Rob works that paint. He adds some character to the bushes. They revel in the bristles’ tingling. Happy bushes.

“There’s really no end to this,” Rob points out we don’t have to be committed. “We are just having fun.”

The canvas is also having fun. It is making all kinds of happy little splashes. Life is an ever-present moment.

Rob speaks.

“Bushes get lonely too, so we’ll give them a friend.”

Rob paints a masculine tree while explaining, “It’s okay to cry now and then, Mr. Tree. Put your feelings into life. It’s important to me that you’re happy.”

Beautiful. Rob makes a second leafy tree. Have you noticed it? Now you have, of course. This text is creating a new reality for you. There is no proof that words are not alive. Do you remember what we said about the text being your guide? Do not dare to call me a line of words or an arbitrary bunch of symbols. You and I are equal parts of the universe; omniscient, alive, feeling. How come, then, you appraise Rob as less alive? Oh, come on. Just because you are imagining him inside your mind?

Although Rob is intensively focused on the canvas, his words sink claws into you, “I know you’re saying, ‘Oh Rob, I need to take my pills.’ It doesn’t take much to get you addicted.”


Rob knows insanity is the key to artistry.

The music dances with you. Open the door. Let it in.

“We don’t really know where this goes – just like your trip – and I’m not really sure we care.” utters Rob. “Here, let’s paint a river for Mr. Tree. Say hello to our new partner.”

The camera takes a step back. The painting looks so good. We might as well not stop. A little happy sunlight is shining through the studio.

“This is your world,” tells you Rob. “You’re the creator. We should build some nice big arms on these trees for birds to settle into. Trees need arms too.”

Meanwhile, you are eating your morning cereal. But the milk doesn’t know that. It doesn’t ask. Why don’t you share some with the boring river while Rob is painting birds? Ah, birds. Petite chirping humans with whom we share existence. Lovely.

“I knew this little fella,” says Rob. “He used to goof around just outside the window. Okay. Now… What more does this painting need?”

Rob stares into the camera. His teeth aren’t hiding today, “That’s right. It needs a happy little sunshine.”

Rob paints you on top of the mountain. Nothing is bothering you up there. The notion of fresh air is completely synthetic in nature, but it will serve us well in this synthetic story.

“If you need help, ask the birds.”

Rob tells you it’s perfectly normal to be weird.

“Nothing wrong with making friends,” he says. “You know, trees cover up a multitude of sins. If there’s something wrong going on in your life, just paint a tree over it.”

Rob’s choice of vocabulary makes you emotional. You feel like painting a second river on the floor. Rob is such a wizard with words. Even greater than Harry Potter.

Rob looks at the camera. He notices you crying.

“Don’t get too greedy with the rivers. We don’t want to overdo it,” he says. “Remember how free clouds are. They just lay around in the sky all day long.”

You are embarrassed, but there is no need to be. Rob doesn’t take sadness for an answer. He will beat the devil out of you. He accidentally touches your arm, “Gotta have a little sadness occasionally, so you know when the good times come.”

He concentrates on the painting with furrowed brows.

“Here, we’ll paint you a friend,” Rob explains the delicate process. “The color I’ll be using is dark Vienna. Dark Vienna is stronger than dusk Washington.”

Rob paints a mighty waterfall next to you on the mountain. The water is making happy sizzles.

“See?” shows Rob. “It’s beautiful to share existence.”