| Stranger in a Familiar Land |
[Dec. 1st, 2008|04:09 pm] |
I’m sitting in my room at 2 am in the morning and pondering the elliptic quality of all things. It’s a shrill mystery; this idea of living a life as you so choose, and to actively view the world as a measure of your own movements. Do I place too much responsibility on my own head? Doctor, doctor - help me through this somehow. Give me the pill. Take me away.
My bedroom is freezing cold. This happens most winters when it gets late and the heating has been off in my house for a few hours. I don’t mind. I sit here and wonder what my room will be like in Vancouver. I wonder what kind of person I’ll become inside their white canvas walls. I want to sit there and paint a world I’ve never seen before. There is a feeling floating in my guts: this perpetual flighty twitter and hum in my stomach; a fuzzy weak nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I am scared right now. I almost enjoy the shock and warm fear that fills me entirely. I’m so afraid of what is going to happen next. This is by far going to be the most radical thing I have ever done in my life.
I look around me everyday, at the snow covered streets, the weathered familiarity of the buildings, bridges, sidewalks, landscapes - and my heart slowly dies to them, minute by minute. I view this old town with a frozen isolated heart and somehow feel like a stranger to it. I feel like an odd observer to the events that occur day to day. I don’t have the foggiest clue of where I fit into this whole arrangement. My only true place is on the outside, working my damn hardest to get from here to somewhere far away. There is so little that holds truth to me each day. There is a handful of strong remaining relationships. My family seems closer to me than they have ever been in my life. It is going to be painfully sad to no longer have them around me. I am going to miss my parents' warm, smiling, loving faces. I am going to miss my sister’s everything. I am going to miss my dear friends. God damn, these people are all I’ve ever truly known in life. One thing I believe about me, and the life I've lived: is that I have been so blessed to know true friendship. Not everyone is that fortunate. It always shakes me up when I meet people who seem utterly alone in the world. They sit at the bar after work and drink beer alone, talking to anyone close by, and you can seem them in the background, they don’t feel connected to anything and it almost gives them a translucency; they seem so removed but act joyful on the outside in order to entertain the people around them.
I walk home in the winter chill, late at night when works the going done, and I wonder sorrowfully. I lament on the years that have brightly tunneled passed me. I wonder about the people in my life who have literally disappeared from it as if it’s nothing, and what’s disturbing most of all is that I hardly seem to care. I care sometimes, and I think about how awful it is to remember people who were once so dear to you, and to then realise that they somehow became disposable. People have came and went. Years have worn on war torn and broken by the weather. There is a hundred faces greeted, known, befriended, in my memory. There is dozens of faces loved, adored, admired in my mind's eye: will they one day simply fade away and be forgotten discarded roses?
When I was a child I thought the woman of my dreams would find me in the certainty of adulthood. When I was younger I thought we would grow up and live like our parents did. Everything would just find its place. We’d be married with children and that would be normal, we’d be completely prepared for that because adults knew everything there was to know about life. I used to think the world would become smaller, ideas would become easier to grasp; the learning would be done and that I’d be ready to take a son by the hand, a boy such as myself, and guide him confidently through the madness that is life - but nothing has become easier, the world seems bigger and more obscure, and I can't figure why, god damn, I don't know what to think or feel, walking home alone on this dark evening; whether I'm forgetting everything too fast or remembering too quickly. I guess that's all the precious little gem of mystery life promises to be.
I walk along the snow covered avenues of this town called home, going almost twenty five years strong now, and I’m confused about how I’m even connected to it anymore. It appears like a replica of the real; a carefully constructed movie set of the neighbourhood I once grew up in. It’s not the same home it was. It has been born, expired, reborn, deceased so many times over again through the years so that it no longer contains any of the ingredients of the past. It is strange in a sort of ghostly way. I guess really nothing about home is truly encompassed in landscape. Landscape is only temporary. Home is essentially within me and is a beautiful place I visit when I feel loved. Home is in my soul and I live there whenever I remember why I love me and the people close to me.
Still, I must admit, I feel such an astounding gloom fill me when I identify with the painful memories locked in each old building, in each familiar tree, in every sad sidewalk crack I pass. I can’t break off the chunks of regret and heartbreak stuck on me. And so I say out loud, ‘Please forgive me, I am sorry. I was once such a young boy, I didn’t know any better, I’ve been a liar and thief so many times. I’ve felt my heart break enough times to know it don’t feel good. I don’t wish anything but love for us all. I’m sorry I was careless with your feelings. I’m sorry when I failed to think about you, that I have ever been self centred and only concerned with my own troubles. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I loved you when you were sad. To all lost friends and lovers left behind, I offer my every last apology and I hope you succeed in all things you do. I really do. Now I must move on without you, I still have so much more living out here to do, you see, I can’t carry this hurt along with me any further. So I am going to leave it behind. I do thank you for forever impacting my life the way you did.’
I may be wrong in saying this. There will always be the potential for me to make mistakes. There will always be the possibility everything in life will fall apart in front of my eyes. The structure of self identity can so easily collapse inward if I base myself too much on my surroundings. I think I just always gotta keep carrying myself along and remember to be my own best friend. It’s important to remember when the world feels distant and communication seems cheap.
I walk home in a chilly winter evening, sick with anxiety but cool and collected, with a strong composure to my thoughts. I'm so scared of impending change but can’t wait for all the terrors and joys to come with it. I can’t wait to be put to the test. I feel so strong and confident. Every new piece I put into the puzzle on my own, the more independent and capable I feel. I have planned this trip essentially on my own. One year ago I would have never thought myself capable to pull this kind of move off. I have always looked for the guidance of others. I have always looked for assistance before proceeding on my own. I have always considered my life’s course to be in the caring hands of others. The band was, almost literally, a small traveling vessel moving through a frigid land, fueled by the life force of a small tightly-knit community. There was no I, there was only We. There was never an experience you had to go alone if you didn’t want to. The group lived and breathed as one, watched over its own and fended for itself. It survived on a system of giving and taking. It was a communicative effort between friends, a journey to find ourselves in each other while exploring a foreign land. It was always an experience together. I trusted and left my life there in their very hands.
This life support is gone and I am frightened of what’s going to happen. I am still walking these cold London streets and I can almost count the years of my life at twenty five now. I’ve spent them all here but it doesn’t feel like a home to me, not inside my heart. It is not a matter of me feeling superior or better than this city, because I am not thinking in those kind of terms. I think I’m just viewing my life a little differently now. I look over everything that is involved in this life of mine and there is no sense in remaining. There doesn’t seem to be any good reason to stay. No reason holds up to the undeniable reality that life must be lived and experienced to the fullest, and I am certain that continuing the way I live here would be the opposite of that. Why wouldn’t I jump headfirst into a wildly unpredictable future, to get along and see everything with brand new eyes? How could I resist the opportunity to experience the intangible, to taste the inexplicable? How could I ever deny to go a bold journey into the depths of my very self?
I just want to live my life with style and ease. I just want to live my life without shame. I just want to be me in my world and to continue finding out secrets about life. I am always smiling to myself over the little mysteries that gradually reveal themselves in time. It is always the things I never expected to bring happiness that fill me with the most explicit tenderness and joy. It is always the most minor interactions with others that brand themselves upon me with complete admiration and love for all humanity. It’s strange how things happen that way. It keeps you on your toes figuring it all out moment to moment. Some days you think your deaf and dumb to all meaning but then, poof, the walls come crashing down and you wake up from your apathetic slumber, and see the truth.
We eagerly comb the desert for purpose and fulfilment in life, as time takes us down the road; but maybe we should just allow things time. We rush to the destination, forgetting the whole time; the real reward is in a good journey. I just wanna to live my life without shame and always push myself forward on the lost highway of life. I want to keep growing into an inspiring and creative person, and to never again drift away into a life hiatus like rage or depression. I wanna be a passionate man who walks with surrender for change in his heart and a hope in his soul for the good to come in everything. |
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| Feel Good Lost |
[Nov. 20th, 2008|12:12 am] |
This morning the smoke came out and ate it when my back was turned, and so I paced in circles growling, then peered sharply back at the man in the grey mirror dullness. I watched facial hair fester and spin. I watched the colour in my eyes flicker mad then blow to kingdom come. And so I don’t stare when people smile thoughtless dreams. When I feel lost I feel tired, but it just takes a little charisma to pep me up. I get crooked fingers at home when I’m bored, but I can be good when I wanna. So lift me up then. Laugh with me. Laugh and laugh and laugh. I feel my stomach dip for an instant, light and weightless, and get lost in ephemeral infinity. I laugh, a simple laugh, and all the pressures drift away. I feel the powers rising above me. And so I can’t think of what else better to do tonight then run through the cold wintery night singing stars in the orange phosphor rain ‘cause God Damn, I know who I am tonight. I know why I’m living here, in your peculiar house, that is so rigid yet amusing. It is touching and kissing pawns everywhere; oh my funny headache. You’re eyes are calling out ring, and I’m dying to pick up. I whip my heart out so she can suck on that already, and I’ll treat her to love alright. We’ve lived alone together, for almost 4 years handling. I’m dying to feel like somebody inside but all that’s there is an empty bluff.
Pick me up please. I want to exist here with you. I want to know what loneliness feels like when love shoots up bloom in the bathroom at early dawn while their lover lays in bed oblivious. I wanna hear you laugh at night under the covers, I wanna buy you everything you desire because I’m so scared of losing my money. I wanna tell you I love you because I’m so scared to commit my effort to a serious and loving relationship. I’m too obscured to offer any numbers. I’m not daft enough to picture life as beautiful though most mornings upon waking it’s breath-taking to still know I’m alive:
Here we go again, squeaking these eyelids open, feeling dazzled by the wonderfully rued skyline outside the bedroom window. It’s sucha riot: the choices you make, all in this one simple flabbergasting moment upon waking. The perks are voluntary. You don’t have to be happy. You don’t have to believe you’re truly blessed. You should focus on what’s important already. Do whatever it takes to make yourself more comfortable. Don’t dare your family to leave you cause they just might. Remember that taking risks in life may actually cause you to experience some inner tension. So whatever you do, don’t stress your mind like that, I’ll tell ya one thing, it’s too reckless for a perfectly healthy heart.
Glutton up already silly, look, there’s an extra spot here on the sofa, next to me, oh boy, we can watch all the t.v. show specials. Did you hear about what Bobba Balue Hair hooped on her dancing jones? No! Why....you should’ve seen it. It was so fantastic. But don’t worry. You’ll get used to it easy enough. You’ll get hooked real easy, I promise. You just have to watch the people and point out their weaknesses and adore the ones that intimidate you and make you wonder how you could be like them someday.
You pick the shade of white that drapes down over your branches. You take the stand at dawn when the red alarm flares, speaking in professional numbers, and insists that you act right away, that instant. The vibes in the delicate air then pull apart like crumpled bed sheets in the morning: slept alone in, single bed, gigantic marble body impressions left in someone’s chilly absence. The cold window blues of old man winter panter on the window. And I think about how much I want you back monkey. I want you back, so come cheer me up. I want you back to tickle on those lima feet. I wanna feel that shoulder to paw on. I want your giggle to pour bottles of life down my throat, into my lonesome aching soul, so I can brighten up your sunny.
Yes. I have won. This round again to party my confidence up into a jumping row of excitement. Remember what’s good about being me. Remember that no matter how bad the going gets it will always get better. Life works on each one of us so slowly. Sometimes we settle for absolute certainty and bribe our way, the best way we know how, to ensure nothing is really threatened by change. Some things change but golly just as little as possible. That’s how we like it. We can’t keep our worries down unless we count out risks. Under no circumstances should we be getting swift ideas like taking chances cause we’ve all been in the doghouse enough times to know we don’t like it. No sir. We enjoy our stay right here, on our leather sofa, sitting down smack in our sunny indoors. Television roars the coward lion. We delight in the fuzzy noisebox commotion but cringe when people wring out the gruesome details. Then we judge our hopes with a bubbly sense of priorities: work left to be done downstairs, wife is going to leave me for younger- more charming man, I don’t know how my life ended up here even, and I don’t think it’s funny that everything’s a total blur and that I don’t have anything to show for it but problems.
...
Let’s go get kissy. Hold my hand tight as we walk downtown through the howling flakes of tuscan white. Just think about our future. Think about the rumble romance jetting out this way and that. The sky is vicious like honesty and I pride myself on being scattered. I’ll be a new trip every second if I wanna. Then I’ll pause with my head in the whispers: when the dialogue in my head quietens and is left in awe of everything. It is the one second when you come to the most simple conclusion with your life and suddenly you are certain of the path you walk on.
Why hadn’t you seen it that way before. It was all so obvious, the whole time, but it took you this long to finally see it. And now that you see it, God, you never expected it to be actually this beautiful, with bittersweet tears in your eyes it’s so holy, and because you earned it, it moves you ever deeply, and nobody can ever have this the same, nobody else will ever know this the same way, because it’s especially yours. Everything is precious from then on in and what comes next is your grandest choices in life. You may not succeed entirely, or at all, but God Damn, you could never say you didn’t have the best of intentions. You made a natural decision based on the advice of your wise old soul. And that is something to be proud of. Living real and authentic to your nature and being. Being raw and loving. Being true and real.
What comes next is your most brilliant insights on the future. You gotta seize those moments and create. Right away. You have to rise and claim what is yours with absolute certainty. Life won’t always be much obliged and boy, it’ll get tough, but be strong. Be better than that and you beg your pardon to the shining stars, you strike your mercy upon that thorn of old pride, you sly dog. Take this one seriously and be whole. Be lifted and ready for the going. Don’t miss a beat. Your strength will reform itself in panting vitality. Watch as the anger inside mysteriously smokes up and everything somehow seems easy in a most intangible way. It’s easy if you let it happen. It’s easy to if you draw smiles on the faces of strangers passing by. |
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| The Great Ocean |
[May. 14th, 2008|02:04 am] |
(i) I don't think I have ever been as happy as I am now, and have been - for the past few weeks. It is a very strange realisation to come to. I don't feel angry anymore. I don't feel as though life is cheating me every time something doesn't go as planned. I generally feel blessed, fortunate enough to be in good-health, and delighted with the opportunity to be alive in this world. I am thankful for the friends I share this experience with. I feel a happiness in me, similar to a feeling I have known in other times in life - but it has never seemed solely dependent upon myself, upon my efforts to think positively, as it seems now.
Happiness has always seemed, in the past, to be a very delicate emotion. It has always seemed to rely entirely on certain circumstances of my life. It has never been something I have created in the place of a void. It has always been reliant upon something, like a lovely girl who has seemingly floated into my life and saved me from lonesome ruin. It has been something I have experienced when certain aspirations in my life has been successful.
When I was in the band, and things were going splendidly, and the future held some kind of hope, (an important tour was coming up, or if there was some interest from a big label) - I felt an excitement, a joyful anticipation for what was to come. These experiences of happiness never lasted though, and because of this, I think I felt powerless to life, and even fell embittered toward life when it seemed unfair. My happiness has never, until these recent weeks, felt solely dependent upon myself, and been a direct result of my efforts. In fact, I think every instant of happiness I have known in my life, the moment I have realised it has left, I have longed for it to come back. I have reminisced, I have daydreamed deeply into the night over what I once had and have lost. I have been a victim of nostalgia too many times, and why? - because I never acknowledged that life is ever-changing, and that happiness is also such, and must be continually re-created, worked on, and pursued, especially in the most difficult of times.
It is a very satisfying feeling to know that I am simply happy and satisfied with my life, and that this happiness isn't reliant upon events currently happening in my life. There is no lovely leading lady dancing in my living room. The band is no longer, and strangely enough, I am more excited about the future than I have ever been. I feel light-hearted, buoyant, and easy-going. Sure, I have my ambitions: to write, to write, and to continue writing, but I will not allow for my happiness to revolve around these ambitions. I will not allow my passion for writing to be compromised and eventually ruined by expectations, and by a continual nagging obligation to see some kind of success come of it. That is exactly how I fell out of love with making music. I won't have my passion for writing be destroyed. I won't.
(ii) I have been meditating each night before going to bed. It is a beautiful experience to let the world drift by, to let it go, and to reflect gently on my life. In my meditations I see friends, family, acquaintances, even strangers I saw on the street - float through my mind, and I wish them well, every single one of them. I hope that everything in their lives will work out one day, I hope that they will all find inner peace, and will eventually know, in a very personal way, why this world is such a beautiful place to exist in. I wish these things for their health, as well as my own, because it helps heal me inside.
When I am in a state of meditation, I try to calm my mind, and focus on what is most important in life. So often I am taken away with senseless distractions. I am continually frustrated by conflicting thoughts and feelings. I become consumed with so many things at once that it feels as though I am being pulled apart in a million different directions, and it is so silly. I know that what I am lacking is patience. I need to become more patient in all areas of my life. And so in my state of meditation, I contemplate patience, what it involves, what it looks like, what it requires of me to let go, to ignore, to accept (in order to fully possess it).
The very act itself of meditating takes a great deal of a patience, and so for that very reason I encourage myself to meditate on a daily basis. It really seems to help maintain my peace of mind, my sense of well-being broadens, deepens, and my happiness becomes more second nature than a continual, ongoing effort to maintain. The more times I choose to be optimistic, the more it seems to be the way my mind interprets things.
(iii) My counseling is coming to an end, it has almost been fourteen weeks now. It is strange how my sessions have changed. At the end of each session, Laura, my counselor, asks if I would like to come back for the remaining sessions, or whether I am comfortable enough now with where I am. It is odd to see how far things have come, where further sessions almost seem unnecessary. I usually just smile and shrug. I say that we might as well finish what we have started, and she smiles, and I think that she would also like to continue, perhaps to even see what I will have to tell her the following week about what I have learned in my time away.
To be truthful, I am a little afraid to not have my Monday afternoons to reflect on the past week with her. It is nice to have my inner most thoughts and feelings communicated on a weekly basis, and to hear what she has to say about them. I almost always leave her office feeling elated, and gently at ease with myself.
It is funny to be reminded of our earlier sessions, in March for instance: when I would come in exhausted, and tormented, having slept very little all week. I just didn't sleep some nights. I would complain about being haunted by so many awful thoughts. I told her I was afraid of going crazy, that the voices in my head, 'the room full of all my opposing selves' - would one day all incessantly speak at once, and that I wouldn't be able to quiet them, and consequentially, would go completely insane.
These are the things I complained of months ago, and that now almost seem comedic to think on for any amount of time. What a strange experience life is, how caught up we can become with our own inner demons, how sordid and ghastly the world can then appear - when really it is not. It is a very mysterious, yet wonderful and exquisite world to live in.
Our lives, each independently running in its own direction, rushing wildly away like rapid rivers, are all inevitably heading back to the same Great Ocean, where we will find our end, and become the interdependent One we always were, but perhaps weren't always aware of.
We all go separately rushing down our own given path, some of us taken away powerless by the current, some desperately trying to swim against it, and some simply going the ride and gazing adoringly at all the passing scenery as it passes by. We will all end at the same place - but only some will add something iridescent and beautiful when they reach the Great Ocean, while others will tarnish or spoil its richness. |
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| How I Learned To Avoid Suffering |
[May. 7th, 2008|12:38 am] |
I am generally always in danger of losing myself to bouts of hysteria. It all happens innocently enough, I get carried away over thinking about things, which is characteristic of me, and then one thing leads to another, and all of a sudden I am overwhelmed with the most terrible fits of suffering and madness. I am not entirely sure how I have come to live this way, but it seems to be a reoccurring instance for me, and well, I am weary of suffering, I am fed up with losing my head, and then not sleeping well or eating right for days.
So I sat down and I did some personal reflection. I tried to identify the stages that I experienced while slowly sinking downwards into the deep end. I carefully recorded each step on the way down to the bottom. The stages I identified were: conflict, confusion, despair, and finally, apathy.
Once I had gone and identified these stages, it was my hope that when experiencing one of these stages, I would be able to recognise it as such, and act accordingly. So what was to be done, what would be the proper way to act once I had recognised I was experiencing one of these stages?
I decided to work on a method that would bring me back to my senses, so to speak, and would help prevent me from losing my head and inevitably going downward. It takes perseverance and a strong will to combat the bad thoughts when they do begin to diminish me, and take me downward spiralling with them, through the stages of suffering.
When I come to realise I am in one of these stages, I try to remember this method, and use it as a kind of antidote against suffering. It is like fighting an uphill battle, and with victory, comes resolve to conflict. The battle of my thoughts and feelings comes to an end in a serene calm, a making of peace in the mind.
I am tired of suffering. I wanted to learn how to defend my well-being and protect my peace of mind. I created a method to use in times of crisis as a way of maintaining inner peace, so that happiness could be slowly cultivated, while the thoughts and feelings that caused me suffering could be kept in check.
Conflict
It always begins with conflict. When thoughts and feelings begin to conflict, and internal pressures rise, it greatly increases the tension inside me, and then thoughts and feelings begin to pull me apart in all different directions.
When I notice this happening inside me, it is important that I pay close attention to my inner most thoughts and feelings. I try to identify the thoughts and feelings individually as they occur. If I can successfully do this, and am able to separate everything, even if for only a moment’s time, I am then able to break down each thought independently.
It usually requires a great deal of patience and will power, once each thought is exposed, to not then analyse further. But I have to stop my thoughts there. And even if the pain does still remain, and resolve does not come immediately, it seems to make everything inside calm down a little when every individual thought has been exposed.
* What is pivotal to remember is that there is no secret road to happiness. Happiness is a garden that I must grow in the land I was given. It is a garden that requires a great deal of nurturing and continual care. It requires the delicate hands of a dedicated and diligent worker. It must be loved and adored. It cannot be put away on the shelf, hidden away from the sunlight. It will always need tending to. But eventually, with much perseverance, my garden of happiness will grow abundant, it will become more self-sufficient, weeds will be sparse, and the land will become more rich and plentiful.
(ii) When individual thoughts have been exposed, I have to immediately recognise the thoughts that are harmful, while continuing to keep all thoughts at a standstill. I must strip the harmful thoughts of their power before the afflictive emotions they cause begin to settle within and fester.
I do this by broadening my overall perspective. I like to imagine, in the eye of mind, gradually floating upwards, into the sky, watching the scenery of my world slowly grow smaller below me, until it is all there in view; every aspect of my life.
When I successfully do this, the disturbing thoughts that were troubling me seem much less significant in the grande scheme of things. What usually helps me engage in this experience of floating upward is lifting my train of thought into the light of positivity, and to focus on the positive aspects of my life. When disturbing thoughts are seen from afar, they don’t seem as desperate or tragic, and because of this, I don’t feel so utterly powerless to them. A solution almost always comes to me once I have successfully done this.
* Every wound can be healed with love. Even if mistakes in the past can’t be righted, I am forever capable, as long as I live, to better myself in the present. I can grow wiser by the day. I will always have the power to change the world for the better and to contribute to a brighter future.
In this method of thought, afflictive emotions caused by disturbing thoughts can be annihilated. Love can conquer hate. Patience can conquer anger. Humility can prevail over pride. True joy can overcome envy. Generosity can overcome greed. Calm can settle in the place of agitation. I just need to take a turn in my mind, and to make an effort to develop these skills.
The past should be looked upon as a guide for wisdom, not a well of doubt, not a grave of despair. It is beautiful. Everything. Life. We are fortunate to have been given the extraordinary gift of life.
(iii) Unfortunately, broadening my overall perspective may only alleviate tensions temporarily. It may still be possible for pressure to rise again, and for thoughts and feelings to conflict once more. It is important I visualise a direction I would like to see my life go in, to not remain idle when circumstances I am in are causing me harm. I need to be continually crafting this outward vision, keeping my consciousness moving forward and to not allow it to stagger or fall away to doubts. Disturbing thoughts need to be abandoned before they fester within. I need to learn how to let go.
Life offers no definite answers. We are forever in a touch and go, perpetually in a state of arriving and departing. We are
continually in a state of change. Resolve is not something we
discover, it is something remembered when the rest is forgotten.
(iv) When conflicting thoughts and feelings arise, it is important to identify them, as harmful or positive, to broaden my perspective, and to then, let go of what will only cause me pain. Otherwise the internal pressures will rise, intensity will build, and thoughts will start to move faster. They will multiply, spawn new thoughts, and become a maze of their own. This is when confusion takes me.
Confusion
This is when problems become more deeply rooted, and more complex. The original source of these newly spawned thoughts is almost untraceable. When confusion ensues, it is my duty to draw a line, to not withdraw or retreat, and to identify the thoughts individually. I must stand firm, remain steady, and unwavering, and keep my feet grounded. I must use this sure footing to survey the world around me with sincerity. I cannot allow myself to impose additional dimensions, perspectives, and opinions. I must view the world in a matter-of-fact way. If I am successful in doing this, everything inside me begins to slow down, and gradually settle, and I find myself back in the first stage: conflict.
(ii) But sometimes when confusion strikes, I immediately become disorientated seeing my world in disarray, and I begin to frantically chase the tormenting thoughts around as they circle recklessly around me. I try to fend them off, in my mind’s eye, I wield a weapon in the air desperately trying to fend them off, or I try and attack them individually, or worse yet, I retreat and flee from these abusive thoughts, but it is always in vain.
I soon grow tired, and fall to my knees, exhausted. I grow more disorientated. I admit defeat, and confusion overpowers me. It consumes me whole. My head is consumed with hateful, unkind and spiteful thoughts. The majority of these thoughts are directed towards me. It is difficult to not believe the things they say. The supportive, loving thoughts have been drowned out in the sea of hate. They have become only quiet murmurs in the distance; distant memories from a different time, different life, different being. This is when confusion takes me into despair.
Despair
In this stage, all hope has been lost, and so, suffering seizes me entirely. The pain is the most intense and most excruciating in this stage. Everything of the world seems meaningless. Every thought hurts to think about. I can no longer eat or sleep properly. Painful regrets storm my brain. Remorse is ingrained in everything. Sorrow is abundant everywhere I look. I am sorry for ever speaking or acting out. I express my deepest apologies to the world for ever existing. I am sorry I was born.
The thoughts circulating in my mind are incessant, and move sporadically in all directions. They are sharp, and jagged, and each individual thought inflicts its own unique sensation of pain upon me. They punch me in the heart. They stab me in the soul. Oh, they have their revenge.
(ii) When suffering in despair, I must exercise courage, to save myself from sinking down to the bottom. It is important that I be courageous and ensure that I continue feeling things. This usually means directly facing the thoughts that haunt me, feeling the afflictive emotions in all their intensity, and above all, refusing to let myself go numb. If I allow myself to become passive and indifferent, in order to save myself from the pain, I will inevitably drift into apathy.
When I exercise courage and directly face the disturbing thoughts, and feel the afflictive emotions in all their intensity, their impact will gradually fade. The suffering will slowly diminish under my gaze, like snow melting under a vibrant sun. It is important I am compassionate to myself in these moments.
While I am healing, I need to forgive myself, and forgive all others involved. I need to forgive. I have to let go of anger, hatred, and frustrations. They will only prevent me from finding inner peace. I have to be compassionate. Learn to love myself unconditionally regardless of what has happened. I have to be there to support myself, to encourage myself to trust the world again, and to hold a blind faith in it: that it is good. The meaning to my existence is not something, I imagine, will ever be fully
understood.
The meaning of my existence is not something I will ever be able to know through thought, but is something that can only be felt. It is fruit of the soul. Life is something that must be loved, before I feel that love reciprocated. Our meaning communicates itself in our souls through love.
When I have exercised courage, and compassion, the pain doesn’t seem as great, I have forgiven and let go; and so the suffering will not last, and there is hope again.
(iii) But sometimes when I fall away into despair, I drift to temptation, and seek artificial escapes that will alleviate the pain. I seek temporary distraction from my thoughts. I focus on meaningless modes of entertainment. I consume substances to create artificial feelings inside. When I do this, I ultimately give into suffering, and when the temporary distraction leaves or the temporary relief wears off, I grow despondent, I slip away into indifference, I begin to withdraw from the world entirely. I become completely and wholly apathetic.
Apathy
When I hit rock bottom, and find myself in the belly of apathy, I no longer care whether life continues or if it doesn't, whether I cease or continue, whether I live or die. I am no longer capable of loving anymore. I am disconnected from the world and all who live in it.
In this stage, I may discover a new confidence in myself, but this supposed confidence is very deceiving. I don't fear the things I once did, after all, I have ceased caring either way, so I am fearless, I am indifferent to all possible outcomes in a given situation. I don't have to time to invest feelings in the world anymore. I have withdrawn completely. I have disconnected myself, and cut off all ties to the world. It can no longer do me harm. I am invincible to the slings and arrows of all opposing forces.
This can all be very exciting for me, casting all fears aside, and simply carrying myself however I please. But, when I am callous, I treat all around me as if they were also void of emotion. I say everything on my mind however hurtful. I act selfishly if I wish to be. I hold my head up, smile mockingly, smirk at the faces of the passing strangers, with thick, black sunglasses hiding
the painful secrets lodged in my glossed-over eyes.
It may be exciting to suddenly feel fearless and even, dare I say, brave, when the great cloud of indifference shadows my every thought. But inside, it is empty. The heart withers without love. True, my enemies can no longer harm me, but the great consequence of invincibility is that my loved ones can no longer reach me.
The freedom I acquire in the grasp of this confidence is frightening. It is misguided. When in its grasp, I become a phantom being in the place where a real person once was. I become an empty vessel, travelling without a meaning or purpose.
(ii) Apathy is lonesome ruin. It is as close to death as one comes. When apathetic, I can no longer know the gift that is life, because I have traded it for death, or the temporary solace one might know in the final hours of death, when one finally feels free.
When I am consumed with apathy, I gently float away in an aimless pursuit of greatly desired end, but find nothing to silence the demons, no higher calling to settle as reason, no existing love to hold close alone at night, nothing feels good, and so it is bad; and all that remains, is my own, selfish, and deluded beliefs: that the world is gone, and that the people I once loved in it meant nothing.
And slowly the world just drifts away from me, leaving me alone in my embitterment, and a stranger to everyone, I fall weary to existence, with no sensations to move me, in this place, among the dark hours. But I want to come back.
I hold my heart, and tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember the love I once knew. I remember everything in the sputter of an instant, the blinds are pulled back, and a splendid light casts down upon me, O’ tender world, and I'm exposed, apathy dissolves, and hell freezes over, and I am lively with an ambient heart to receive you!
Copyright © 2008 Sid Richmond
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| Communication |
[Apr. 30th, 2008|11:11 pm] |
I was thinking about why loneliness deeply affects me, how enduring it through the long, and difficult nights shakes me at the very core. When I am happy and well, I can't stop asking myself why I should desire, or need the commotion of another's life conflicting with mine? How can I possibly figure out somebody else's inner commotion when I can hardly make sense of my own inner commotion?
But then it dawned on me why anyone gets deathly affected by loneliness, why it stings, and why it drives a person into desperate longing. It is because of the importance of communication. It's significance to our lives as human beings is undeniable.
Communication between our self and our inner most thoughts and feelings is extremely important, but something much more profound is created, with unfathomable potential, when these thoughts and feelings are expressed to another, and even furthermore so, when they are understood.
When we express these thoughts and feelings to others in conversation, in sex, in holding, in gestures, in body language; it voices the very essence of our soul, and allows that soul to, then, be loved and understood by another being, our greatest listener, a most attentive being who is willing to care for everything they receive there, and ultimately accept us as everything that we are.
And so with that being said, it seems simple and obvious why I should suffer from loneliness. The commotion experienced through the process of connecting is only a minor distraction at times, and is a small price to pay for such infinite love and understanding. It makes sense why I should long to communicate the core of myself to a woman, through great vessel of love, to be heard, and understood: on those dark nights alone.
So that I may, then, understand her language, her sex, her thoughts, her soul, and the tender light in her eyes; when she realises that she is no longer alone, here, in this mysterious place, existent upon a revolving sphere floating methodically, without any known rhyme or reason, through an immense dark space. |
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| Everything We Are Is A Flowing Consciousness |
[Apr. 30th, 2008|10:49 pm] |
This morning was harsh. The world seemed withered. When the alarm screeched loudly, stopping my heart momentarily, alarming me of the dangers of snoring longer (that if I should choose to ignore its call, I would be out of a job). For the first few waking minutes I felt dead. My eyes were sore and felt bloodshot. My throat was parched and felt like it was filled with sand. I was hungover again.
On my way home, I would walk keeping my eyes closed for minutes at a time, simply drifting down the street, and would open them ever now and then to orientate myself again. I fell into thinking as I walked blindly down the street. I suffered over silly things done and said. I suffered over limitations I feel as a person that always seem to confine me. But, then, something shifted inside me.
I began to reflect on the end of my night, and was happy to remember how I was there to listen to a close friend when he needed me to be. I was also pleased with myself for developing my ability to truly listen. I was glad that I could do that for someone that I cared for. I was proud of myself for making the effort to grow as a listener.
I found myself maintaining a serene patience for all the things said, and noting what was being said without automatically branding my own impressions upon them. I found myself listening, not desperately trying to participate verbally, to eagerly offer advice without fully hearing the whole story. I tried to imagine that I was simply a mirror for him, that my duty as a listener was to obtain the facts, and to eventually reflect an image for him to see, so that he would essentially be answering his own questions, and even giving himself his own advice.
It was a beautiful experience for me. I think that there is a time and place for advice, that many people who need someone to listen, really just need someone to listen without that someone imposing their thoughts and beliefs. I think everyone can appreciate the importance of a good listener, especially the listener himself, when realising his purpose, and then, fulfilling that purpose to the best of his abilities.
As I walked home, thinking these beautiful things, I felt light and radiant with joy. I realised that it was all true: everything that we know, experience, and become: is the creation of our flowing consciousness. We are nothing but of the moment. We are where our heads are.There is no self. There is only our ongoing, ever-changing present consciousness.
And so that being said, I can dwell in a pleasant place at any given time, all it seems to take is some work to find that place, to believe it exists, and to continue exploring it's infiniteness. It's never going to be simple or easy, continually living in a pleasant place in my head, especially considering the impact of external unpleasant situations, or physical pain or illness, or even bouts of disillusion, depression, despair: but knowing it's in my power to do so is half the battle.
These thoughts all brought me to a great place in my mind. I was joyful on a morning that would have otherwise been very difficult ,and even miserable. Even though I was exhausted and bleary, I felt magnificent. My disappointment in myself for drinking too much had faded away. I no longer dreaded going to work. I was now willing to make the best of the experience.
When I finally arrived at work the place was in total chaos. People were angry. There was a tension in the air that could be cut with a knife. The external circumstances of this work day, the work that urgently had to be done, the stressful environment it appeared to be: was only a test of endurance for my character. Matt was furious with everything that was happening at work. I could've been just as angry, but I diffused that anger by exercising a slow and steady patience. I resolved for it to be my duty to maintain a good place in mind, to run with positive thoughts, and whenever possible, share a loving-kindness with all those involved with these unfortunate circumstances.
I soon discovered the contrast between my positivity, and the negativity of everyone else, and then, how it impacted those involved. I realised how extremely contagious joy is, and how much others appreciate and welcome its presence. The awful situation slowly transformed into a pleasant one, and all because patience was used to diffuse anger, and loving-kindness to diffuse hate. I realised how happy I felt, despite the situation being, in a sense, crude and unfair. I had found a meaningful purpose in life temporarily. Understanding that my actions had made others happier, made me even more joyful, and I couldn't help but imagine how different my life would be if I dealt with unpleasant situations more often in the same manner.
I could, in every situation, be a person who makes the best of it. I could make it my duty to approach a bad situation with intentions of identifying with the suffering of those involved, and do all that is in my power to relieve their suffering. Not only would I, myself, be happier, but others would also be happier as well. It offers a valuable sense of purpose to my actions, that they are undeniably good, and are able to affect others' lives in a very positive way. What a thought that is to imagine, and to then believe in!
A beautiful, and uplifting breeze of thoughts gracefully blows through my mind, showering it with seeds of positivity, and fertilising a garden that will soon grow even more beautiful thoughts, and I just smile all the while. It's not so much what you aim to achieve in life that matters, it's how you choose to live your life that truly makes the difference, and your actions will involuntarily always reflect that way of life. |
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| A Fragile Evening Such As This |
[Apr. 28th, 2008|10:25 pm] |
The night offers me darkness and a cold, bitter wind. Everything about this night threatens to take me. The events of my present life begin to slowly revolve around me, and I am forced to exercise some restraint with my thoughts before everything starts moving too quickly inside my head.
It is certainly an ideal evening to grow despondent, and to become deeply sad with life. I am weary with fatigue due to only sleeping a few hours last night. It's another bleak Monday evening following a weekend of complete excess. Though it was fun and exciting, the partying has worn me down. My peace of mind suddenly doesn't seem born long for this world. I walk slowly, hands in pockets, surveying the streets of my neighbourhood. The overcast sky is dull and dreary. There is an eerie silence that permeates the air. A soft chill nips my cheeks and my mind travels through memories of past nights sunk in the wintertime blues. It's a battle within to keep my head up. The make up of my exterior world is tragic, but I won't allow myself to dwell on its gloomy appearance.
Every tangled moment of this disheartened evening beckons to take me away, to drown me in mental confusion. It is an ideal night to cease believing in the world and to sing the demons lingering in the discontent of my soul. Everything calls for suffering. The drunken slurs of a reckless weekend resonate in the depths of my consciousness, and I can't listen, I won't listen. I don't know what it is that is saving me. There is a deep sense of well-being in the core of my person, its strength is beyond my understanding, but it supports me, and it perpetually guides me, while walking in a disoriented state, through the dark, abrasive hallways of fear and anxiety.
I am so close to slipping away, to falling apart, but this strength keeps me from dissolving. It is bold and unwavering. I feel resilient and complacent in my train of thought. This inner strength never weakens. It is a beautiful and serene state to experience. I want to smile and cry all at once. It strikes me that perhaps there is some hope in me living a happier, more satisfying life. Maybe it is truly possible that I can live life without my bouts of hysteria and madness, that I may be able to live well, with peace of mind, and no longer fluctuate so frequently between blissful states of fleeting joy, or painful bouts of misery.
A fragile evening such as this, is a typical occasion for me to, alone, lose my head. I am bleary with a bad hangover. I feel a sense of disappointment in myself, though I'm not entirely sure why. I guess I just can't help but beat myself up over my over-indulgence in the party lifestyle. I can't allow myself to let it slide. Something inside myself desires to see justice, wants to see me punished for getting so carried away this weekend.
But I am coming to understand myself and my mind more clearly these days. I know that punishing myself doesn't work. Being cruel, and unkind with my thoughts in order to teach myself a lesson only causes more trouble, and consequentially, more pain. I need to always remember that I've got a friend, here, inside. I need to learn how to be a better friend to myself, especially in these moments of disappointment. I need to be a better listener to my self. I need to offer my confused self some good advice. I will only be able to sort out the conflicting thoughts and feelings with a generous dose of love and compassion, and not by inflicting punishment upon myself in the form of nasty, and unkind thoughts.
In a fragile evening, such as this, it may always be a challenge to see things optimistically, but that is not to say that they can't be. I need to work for my happiness. I need to continue nourishing this internal well-being. I need to be my own best friend. I need to continue putting in the effort to cultivate lasting happiness.
When the cold and bitter wind rushes in to take me, I stand firm, deeply rooted in the calm of my being. I want to smile and cry all at once, but it comes out as laughter, and my eyes come loose in tears of joy. |
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| How I Learned To Avoid Suffering |
[Apr. 24th, 2008|11:21 pm] |
I am generally always in danger of losing myself to bouts of hysteria. It all happens innocently enough, I get carried away over thinking about things, which is characteristic of me, and then one thing leads to another, and all of a sudden I am overwhelmed with the most terrible fits of suffering and madness. I am not entirely sure how I have come to live this way, but it seems to be a reoccurring instance for me, and well, I am weary of suffering, I am fed up with losing my head, and then not sleeping well or eating right for days.
So I sat down and I did some personal reflection. I tried to record the stages that I experienced when I began to sink into the deep end. I carefully recorded each step on the way down to rock bottom. The stages I identified were: conflict, confusion, despair, and finally, apathy(rock bottom).
Once I had gone and identified these stages, it was my hope that when experiencing one of these stages, I would be able to recognise it as such, and act accordingly. So what was to be done, what would be the proper way to act once I had recognised I was experiencing one of these stages? I decided, then, to devise a set of important steps to focus on, that could be immediately acted on in order to combat the ill feelings that diminished me every time, and take me downward spiraling through the stages of suffering.
When I come to realise I am in one of these stages, I try and go through these steps. It is like fighting an uphill battle, and with victory, comes resolve to conflict. The battle of my thoughts and feelings comes to an end in a serene calm; a making of peace in the mind.
These steps I devised were to be considered my defenders of well-being, my protectors of peace of mind. They were to be upheld in order to maintain inner peace, so that happiness could be slowly cultivated, while the thoughts and feelings that caused me needless suffering were kept in check.
Conflict
It always begins with conflict. When thoughts and feelings begin to conflict, internal pressures rise, and greatly increase the tension inside me, and then thoughts and feelings begin to pull me apart in all different directions.
When I notice this happening inside me, it is important that I pay close attention to my inner most thought and feelings. This is when the first step, insight, is needed most. I have to identify the thoughts and feelings individually. If I can successfully do this, and am able to separate everything, even if for only a moment’s time, I am then able to study each line of thought independently.
This is when the second step, patience, is needed. When thoughts and feelings have been identified, and separated, they can be studied closely. I must exercise patience in listening to each thought and feeling in its entirety, so that I am able to better understand why there is the conflict occurring between them.
Even if the pain does still remain, and the problem is not immediately solved, it seems to make everything inside calm down a little, when every individual thought has been heard. This is when the third step, discretion, is needed. I exercise discretion in choosing which thoughts and feelings I will harbour in my mind, and which I will turn away, and discard.
This may only alleviate tensions temporarily, depending on the content of the thoughts harboured. It may still be possible for pressure to rise again, and for thoughts and feelings to conflict once more. This is when the fourth step, direction, is needed. It is important once I have used discretion with my thoughts and feelings, to decide, largely based on first impulses, on a direction to go next. I must take my first step in that given direction, carrying the thoughts and feelings I have chosen to hold onto, while leaving the rest (abusive, useless, or destructive thoughts and feelings) there behind me.
This is when the fifth, and final step, abandon, is needed. Once I have taken my first step in this decided direction, it is of the utmost importance, then, that I leave the whole ordeal behind, that I don’t dwell on the events that occurred any longer, that I let it go, silence my thoughts, know resolve, even if it is only temporary, and enjoy the silence for a moment.
Life offers no definite answers. We are forever in a touch and go, perpetually in a state of arriving and departing. We are continually in a state of change. Resolve is not something we discover, it is something remembered when the rest is forgotten.
Going through these steps (Insight, Patience, Discretion, Direction, and Abandon) is extremely important when conflict does arise, otherwise the internal pressures will rise, intensity will build, and thoughts will start to move faster. They will multiply, spawn new thoughts, and become a maze of their own. This is when confusion takes me.
Confusion
This is when problems become more deeply rooted, and more complex. The original source of these newly spawn thoughts is almost untraceable.When confusion ensues, it is my duty to draw a line, to not withdraw or retreat, and to use insight. I must stand firm, remain steady, and unwavering, and keep my feet grounded. I must use this sure footing to survey the world around me with a sincere and candour insight. I cannot allow myself to impose additional dimensions, perspectives, and opinions. I must view the world in a matter-of-fact way.
If I am successful in doing this, everything inside me begins to slow down, and gradually settle, and I find myself back in the first stage: conflict. In conflict, I can go through the steps: insight, patience, discretion, and abandon.
But sometimes when confusion strikes, I immediately become disorientated seeing my world in disarray, and I begin to frantically chase the tormenting thoughts around as they spin recklessly in circles around me. I try to fend them off, in my mind’s eye, I wield a weapon in the air desperately trying to fend them off, or I try and attack them individually, or worse yet, I retreat and flee from these abusive thoughts, but it is always in vain.
I soon grow tired, and fall to my knees, exhausted. I grow more disorientated. I admit defeat, and confusion overpowers me. It consumes me whole. My head becomes filled with hateful, unkind and spiteful thoughts. It is difficult to not believe the things they say. The supportive, loving thoughts get drowned out in the sea of hate. They become only quiet murmurs in the distance; distant memories from a different time, different life, different being. This is when confusion takes me into despair.
Despair
In this stage, all hope has been lost, and so, suffering seizes me entirely. The pain is the most intense and most excruciating in this stage. Everything of the world seems meaningless. Every thought hurts to think about. I can no longer eat or sleep properly. Painful regrets storm my brain. Remorse is ingrained in everything. Sorrow is abundant everywhere I look. I am sorry for ever speaking or acting. I express my deepest apologies to the world for ever existing, for being human, I am sorry I was born. The thoughts circulating in my mind are incessant, and move sporadically in all directions. They are sharp, and jagged, and each individual thought inflicts its own unique sensation of pain inside me.
They punch me in the heart. They stab me in the soul. Oh, they have their revenge. When despair begins, the steps that I devised, to save myself from continuing to go downward, and from crashing at rock bottom(apathy), is first, to exercise: courage. When suffering in despair, it is important that I be courageous and ensure that I continue feeling things. This usually means allowing the suffering to continue and refusing to let myself go numb to them. If I allow myself to become passive, and indifferent, in order to save myself from the pain, I inevitably drift into apathy.
When I go through the first step, courage, and continue feeling things, it is important that I, then, follow with the second step: compassion. When I am suffering and the world seems bleak, I need to forgive myself, and forgive others, if they are involved. I need to forgive. I have to let go of anger, hatred, and frustrations. They will only prevent me from finding inner peace.
I have to be compassionate. Learn to love myself unconditionally regardless of what has happened. I have to be there to support myself, to encourage myself to trust the world again, and to hold a blind faith in it: that it is good. The meaning to my existence is not something, I imagine, will ever be fully understood.
The meaning of my existence is not something I will ever be able to know through thought, but is something that can only be felt. It is fruit of the soul. Life is something that must be loved, before I feel that love reciprocated. Our meaning communicates itself, in our souls, through love.
When I have exercised courage, and compassion, the pain doesn’t seem as great, there is hope once more, and the suffering will not last.
But sometimes when I fall away into despair, I drift to temptation, and seek artificial escapes that will alleviate the pain. I seek temporary distraction from my thoughts. I focus on meaningless modes of entertainment. I consume substances to create artificial feelings inside. When I do this, I ultimately give into suffering, and when the temporary distraction leaves or the temporary relief wears off, I grow despondent, I slip away into indifference, I begin to withdraw from the world entirely. I become completely, and wholly apathetic.
Apathy
When I hit rock bottom, and find myself in the belly of apathy, I no longer care whether life continues or if it doesn't, whether I cease or continue, whether I live or die. I am no longer capable of loving anymore. I am disconnected from the world and all who live in it.
In this stage, I may discover a new confidence in myself, but this supposed confidence is very deceiving. True, I don't fear the things I once did, after all, I have ceased caring either way, so I am fearless, I am indifferent to all possible outcomes in a given situation. I don't have to time to invest feelings in the world anymore. I have withdrawn completely. I have disconnected myself, and cut off all ties to the world. It can no longer do me harm. I am invincible to the slings and arrows of all opposing forces.
Sometimes, this can all be very exciting for me, casting all fears aside, and simply carrying myself however I please. When I am callous, I treat all around me as if they were also void of emotion. I say everything on my mind however hurtful. I act selfishly if I wish to be. I hold my head up, smile mockingly, smirk at the faces of the passing strangers, with thick black sunglasses hiding the painful secrets lodged in my glossed-over eyes.
It can be exciting to suddenly feel fearless and even, dare I say, brave, when the great cloud of indifference shadows my every thought. But inside, it is empty. The heart withers without love. True, my enemies can no longer harm me, but the great consequence of invincibility is that my loved ones can longer reach me.
The freedom I acquire in the grasp of this confidence is frightening. It is misguided! When in its grasp, I become a phantom being in the place where a real person once was. I become an empty vessel, traveling without a meaning or purpose.
Apathy is lonesome ruin. It is as close to death as one comes. When apathetic, I can no longer know the gift that is life, because I have traded it for death, or the temporary solace one might find in the final hours of death, when he finally feels free.
When I am consumed with apathy, I gently float away in an aimless pursuit of greatly desired end, but find nothing to silence the demons, no higher calling to settle as reason, no existing love to hold close alone at night, nothing feels good, and so it is bad; and all that remains, is my own, selfish, and deluded beliefs: that the world is gone, and that the people I once loved in it meant nothing.
And slowly the world just drifts away from me, leaving me alone in my embitterment, and a stranger to everyone, I fall weary to existence, with no sensations to move me, in this place, among the dark hours. But I want to come back.
I hold my heart, and tears streaming down my cheeks, I remember the love I once knew. I remember everything in the sputter of an instant, the blinds are pulled back, and a splendid light casts down upon me, and I'm exposed, apathy dissolves, and hell freezes over. O' tender world, I'm lively with an ambient heart to receive you.
Copyright © 2008 Sid Richmond |
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| It Was the Best Mistake |
[Apr. 16th, 2008|03:38 am] |
Oh my dear, Sarah. It was the best mistake, but the music we shared together then still pains me to listen to. It’s those sad western eyes and that twisted cantaloupe smile that I miss so much while out here on the road. It’s your powerful desire for control that I sadly yearn for when my world spins in circles. Your dominance always made me feel strong in a world gone to disarray. My feet felt secure as if implanted in a cement foundation.
It was a little disenchanting to walk in on you with that man that night so long ago. It is fair to say I have sat with a lot of disillusionment over everything. He was just so macho and boisterous, with that big ugly oafish nose of his. He always spoke in that big, obnoxious tone that made everyone around cringe with irritation. Oh, I know we were split then, but I thought you had more respect for you than to go fucking a man like Stanley.
It was disillusioning in the sense that, before discovering you two together, I would privately worship your body parts, and womanly essence, and would hold up, with much adoration, things like your sexuality, and your breath on my lips that was sweet as morning dew.
After learning of your affair, all of these things then suddenly stood defiled and devalued. I couldn’t stop envisioning you bent over the kitchen table, with that big fat oaf whooshing into you. It took me months of gathering new perspectives to scar over that. But I don’t hold any grudge against you for it. You are beautiful just the way you are. I am just like you, and I say that because we both are here to hurt other people. We are like violence, you and I. That is why we belong to one another, oh love.
I wish things could’ve been different. My drinking problem is not much better really. In fact, it’s only really growing in magnitude, but its more organised now. It is more of an art now. People, places, and things have come to be held in this beautiful haze, kind of like the warm glow of a dream.
I am simply lost to the idea of happiness or unhappiness. A happy moment just isn’t right without the sad counter part, because they co-exist, they are both happening at once, one compliments the other like a lasting marriage; wherein lies all the true beauty of the universe. I just cant help but gaze around this pancake universe, a little slow, and hold a lazy feeling of awe for it all, because it is all so very beautiful.
So what is it that I have to say for myself, after running out on you like I did so many months ago? Nothing. I have nothing to say to you except that I was tired of being alone in your company.
(ii)Right now, Charlie and I are on the highway. We are just a few miles outside of Seattle now. Charlie has been passed out drunk in the backseat all night, snoring. I have been listening to the Miles Davis record we always played together on sunny spring mornings, when we were too lazy and in love to do anything except lay naked in bed together, passing a cigarette back and forth, humming along quietly.
I know you must be surging inside now to remember our times together along the road. Do you know what it is now that I remember most? Sitting in driver’s seat driving all night, and for hours seldom tearing myself away from the sight of you sleeping in the passenger seat.
You, pressed up against the car window dozing so prettily. I would stay up the night, all night, wondering things about you, and whether you loved me the way I loved you. I wondered if you’d ever stay up all night watching me sleep, and wonder whether I loved you.
I remember sunny afternoons driving with you. On happy days, when you were sunny, and you’d look over all pie-faced and exuberant, and fidget away with the car window or rest your feet on the dash. You were simply adorable with your playful games, dear.
But gone now are the days. They have come and gone.
I am gone. I am racing down this bulldog highway, and it is almost early morning. I can see the sun slowly rising, and the blanket of solitude and wonder that drapes over the world at night is slowly retreating. I would wake Charlie to see the sunrise but he drank all his pride away last night, so it is better I not wake him just yet.
His drinking has caused him much grief as of late. Every morning is always the exact lowest point in his day. I am sure when he wakes he will want to die, as he does every morning, but then I will reassure him that it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is, and things we’ll gradually improve as the day moves forward.
His wife just passed away recently. He lost her one night. After an explosive fight between the two of them, she ran off into the woods crying. Her body, what remained of it, was found the next morning by the train tracks. It seems she kneeled down in front of the train that night and was killed instantly when the train struck her.
So life has become a little Houston-we-have-a-drinking-problem for Charlie now due to all the guilt and grief he is suffering from. He drags me out to all the bars each night at every town we stop at. We drink away every dime. I don’t think it is a good idea to spend all of our travel money at the bars, but I know Charlie needs this time to hurt, so I allow him that. I am just being a good friend. I’ll keep drinking this life of mine away for as long as Charlie needs someone there; beside him, hurting.
I know how differently the two of us do think. I’m certain that your reading this now with much skepticism. You think I’m lost. But I have never been more sure of where I am, dear. Just try to stand in my shoes, see through my eyes, perceive my world for one minute.
I am simply fascinated with this ongoing experience that is my day to day life. I enjoy dousing myself in the rich failures of life. I know nothing of loss or gain. I know this existence lies solely in experience. There is no longer any equilibrium in this world of mine anymore. I have outlived reason, and learned the truth about living. It isn’t fair, but then again, neither am I.
We are racing down this bulldog highway, gazing out at the world, that is a sardine can, and simply being aware that everything could be gone in a blink. We keep our heads in it for the next experience coming our way.
I know this might all sound very confusing to you. It might not be what you’d like to hear either. But while I gaze out this car window at the passing scenery, and reflect on the years that have passed me by, I know I love you now, Sarah, more than I ever have before.
Copyright © 2008 Sid Richmond |
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| My Blessed Moment |
[Apr. 12th, 2008|10:49 pm] |
Yesterday, on the patio outside of work, I sat down on a chair in the corner amidst a steadily busying crowd of people laughing and talking amongst each other. I felt a sense of relief come over me. A gentle wave of calm flowed through me. I was free of worry and depression. I light-heartedly surveyed the changing scenery of middle-aged men and women chatting excitedly arriving on this sunny Friday afternoon fresh off their busy work weeks.
I felt entirely alone in the crowd, yet completely accepted by all surrounding. I felt accepted, in that, I was just another soul getting on like everybody else was. I posed no threat to anyone's good time. I, in no way, interfered with their carefree laughter and excited conversations. In this way I felt entirely at home, while an outsider, sitting on my own in the corner. I gazed up at the sun. The beer was doing it's job. I felt good, for just one blessed moment, I felt good.
My mind got passed around the crowd of excited faces. I no longer felt dizzy with thoughts. A joyful melancholy gradually digested in the belly of my restless soul. My disconnected head shook out it's smoke clouds, and gained a few inches forward in the battle on confusion. Confusion, you cannot take me!
The beer was momentarily killing the pain. I no longer harboured any resentment over the previous night spent sleeplessly chasing thoughts in vicious circles until morning. I was free of worry and sorrow for one blessed, ephemeral moment. I knew this moment of peace was only temporary, but that was okay, I was thankful for just that. My heart felt no anxiety, no pain; only an apathetic calm, a courageous amusement, a contented indifference for the happenings of the world. I smiled, delighted, and took the easy way out. I accepted the intoxicatingly sweet answer of blissful ignorance.
I knew nothing, would never, could never, but that was just fine. I had my blessed moment. I had the simplicity of a few feel good seconds, to know in my heart infinitely. I was just thankful for that. The beer did it's job well. The pain had left and I felt fine. |
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| Sleepless Nights |
[Jan. 21st, 2008|02:43 pm] |
Everything in my heart is aching, and I don't know how to make it better. O' restless days, sleepless nights. I'd rather escape this than remain strong and withstand it.
The doc askes, 'Would you like the pills to make everything better?', and I immediately shake my head no, confidently explain I have it in me to be happy, that I know I am strong enough to do this without.
But today I feel weak. Even after these talks; those seemingly monumental words I spoke to him, telling him everything that was in my heart, just as I saw it. I couldn't help but notice a gleam of admiration appear in his eyes after I had poured my soul out, as if he didn't get to see very many people the likes, as if all he ever heard was problems and peoples' inherently disasterous lives; with no abled men to find a self-remedy, none capable of discovering any kind of solution of their own to their suffering.
I don't possess any answers, but with that said, I always have gone to great lengths to find some kind of a solution in spite of the looming hopelessness; to discover an apparent truth hidden somewhere in the delicate hour; a moment of clarity when everything around seems lost to despair.
Even if I were to submit to the admiring twinkle in his eye, and allow myself to think I am an independently strong and passionate being, I would know it to be untrue immediately, it would be nothing more than an outlandish lie; I know everything would be meaningless without the holy art of writing. Without the holy art of writing I would be lost. I would be imperceptible beyond the plays of shadow, hidden in a distant corner, head in hands, weeping, a lowly coward, suffering to no end.
(ii)
It saddens me how easy it truly is to identify the patterns in my own life, to see the way things are headed. It's almost as if I've gone this direction before, and already know where everything will end up, yet I remain on the path(with new hopes, new ambitions), continuing onward, for a reason unknown.
God, it is just so important to not give up right now, what strength still remains in me is too valuable to be given away. I must grow stronger with the passing days, to build up endurance for what lies ahead. It is a time to be humbly decisive, and make these life-altering decisions. It begins tonight. Am I really going to be able to leave this relationship behind? Who am I without it?
Everything aches in my heart, and I can't make it stop. O' restless days, sleepless nights. Remorse is abundant within me. I am disappointed in myself for letting values slip away so easily, for allowing myself to become worthless, to letting who I am be had, and by something so unbeautiful. Am I not better than any of this? Will I truly, always, remain on this forsaken path of loneliness? |
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| What May Come |
[Jan. 17th, 2008|12:22 pm] |
I scarcely slept last night. I couldn't help it. My brain was consumed with overwhelming thoughts. It came to a point where I envisioned myself, in my mind's eye, spinning in circles, desperately waving a weapon of some kind in all directions, defending myself from the demons, hoping to somehow keep them at a distance.
I soon grew weary of spinning in circles and drifted off without realising it. I fell into a dreamless sleep, but was soon awoken a few hours later. My sister woke me come early morning, for an innocent enough reason, and I couldn't help but curse the morning the second its presence weighed in on me; where I was, what was going on, what had been consuming my brain earlier that morning.
Needless to say, I slept not another minute, and resumed my thinking once more, dwelling on everything happening all at once. It is so difficult to remind myself that this is something I've thought about for many months now, and have desired, probably more than anyone else involved. But this reminder does nothing to soothe the soul. It only makes sense logically, while my heart only aches with remorse.
I soon abandoned my efforts in trying for sleep again, because sleeping never really is something you can force, and I decided to run a bath and soak, to reflect on everything in its warmth, and to maybe write something down; because I am older now, grown wise enough by now to realise it is absolutely the only thing that will save me from this hysteria.
Unfortunately, my timing was poor. I ran the bath only minutes after my sister's boyfriend had finished his shower, so the hot water was gone, and when I got into the fresh bath, it was almost cold.
Strangely enough, I did nothing but lay in it in spite of everything. I sat and soaked in the cold for a length of time I can not even recall. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, and wondered on everything vaguely. Eight years. Twelve years, all everything in. Much longer than any people's relationships my age. Why? All I can ever ask myself is, why?--over and over again.
(i)
It strikes me rather unpleasantly how incredibly different a thing it is to frequently think on something, to vividly imagine it in your mind; than it is to truly experience. The experience always throws unexpected curveballs. It offers a tangibility to what was formerly intangible.
Suddenly it isn't merely something you are able to shut out of your mind. Its presence manifests in all things around you. You see it in everything. It is in the faces of others. Those questions begin that you wish you never had to answer. You long to dig yourself a hole and be able to hide away, to never come out again.
And therein lays the problem, this desire to escape and hide from reality. I have allowed myself this time to grow despondent, to be overly-consumed with what isn't necessarily important, and have become more lost with the situation than ever before.
I have no choice now but to bounce back. I must thrust myself back out into the world, to strive and remain steadfast with what I truly believe in. This is the time in my life, right now, that is of utmost importance. It is, therefore, critical that I seize the day, with no further delays. I must lift my head now and walk back out into the world with great confidence, with great strength, with unrelenting persistance.
(ii)
I'm laying here, soaking in the once lukewarm bath(now grown considerably colder), and still I have made no effort to leave this uncomfortable situation. The only effort I have made this whole time, through out all these thoughts parading my mind, is to turn on the water every ten minutes or so with the vain hope that the hot water will be back again; that it will run out the faucet gloriously warm, that it will pour back into my life again in a great magnitude of heat, and will run rampant and restore all that is good.
As if its radiance will uplift my soul once more, and then everything, once more; will be righted, and be good again. Life will seem a fair measure, worth holding faith for, something to remain optimistic towards and not be shattered away into internal despairs about. Because I am drowning in the sorrows of self, all while witnessing the tragic, unjust persecution of my formerly innocent, niave self.
Perhaps this is just apart of the journey that every grown up has the choice to experience or to refuse. This call to witness that we must endure and accept at face value. Because all it really is at the end of the day is a test of endurance. What will we withstand, and what will we allow to break us?
It is a part of aging that every adult must go, to make a pivotal life decision whether he will live out the experience of change, or refuse it, ignore the truth and, consequentially, fall away into anonymity among his various selves.
These selves will never again speak in unison, but lose themselves admist all the confusion. They will disconnect from eachother, and all communication will be cut off. All growth will cease. All energies from then on will be spent in an unfulfilling crusade pursuing that of the past.
Those who choose to deceive themselves will only long for passed days, which by this point, will be nothing more than a ghost story. Yet they will insist to live as a ghost, to fully accept this phantom self, even though it has long ago passed them by.
They will refuse to accept the changing tides, the new morning, the changing weather, and will perpetually always remain stagnant, at a standstill; dwelling deeply in the past which only grows more absurdly rich and plentiful in their deluded minds. They hope for what is unobtainable, what is passed and gone away, lost forever to memory.
(iii)
While these thoughts flood my mind, I remain soaking in this cold bath that I should have long ago left, but have refused, knowing that upon leaving, my naked self will only suffer more, and endure more uncomfortable climates. It is disheartening for me to think, after this already needless suffering in my chilling cold, that I should have to endure an even greater discomfort once I have found the strength to finally stand, dry off, and dress myself, and then go the slings and arrows of another day.
It is disillisioning to think after all these wandering minutes I have spent shivering, yet unconcerned, in a cold bath; that there is nothing in the setting sun to believe in, nothing in the forecast to wait for, nothing in the changing seasons, nothing to come of another rising sun, no expected joys to be brought in with the changing tide.
No radiance, no glory, does come to buoy my spirits in the fading sunset, and as it darkens and all becomes night, I am simply left here to reflect on all that has passed, and all that may come; because that is everything I have come to hold dearly now; what may come.
What that could be is anything, and that very thought alone can chill senses just as much as it can thrill them.
Life is wide open, it is free of all obligations, it is waiting to be embarked upon; for me to stay gold, to hold true, to buoy my own spirits for awhile until I discover what, out there in the big booming adult world, does call to me, from out of the unknown, to come hither; to perhaps run a risk, to go the odds, to chase the tail of a new ghost, to pursue foreign regions of my heart, to fully prepare myself the loss and gain of everything all at once; to lay it down and sacrifice everything with the fucked up belief that everything in life will someday work out, that everything, in the end of things, will simply be alright.
Surely life is meant to be lived passionately, to be lived out, experienced however ruthlessly given up we are to what wild kinds of passing emotion do stir us into creative bliss. We live for our passions. Where else should we discover our true purpose?
I remain here, to live and breathe for a reason unknown to me, but always knowing that I must remain, to stay gold, to hold true, to see through a new morning, to keep my head up, ready for what the tide may bring, to experience what may come. |
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| Fear and Optimism |
[Jan. 15th, 2008|12:05 pm] |
It has been a long time since I have gazed into the mirror and have been pleased with what I see. It has been a long time since I have looked further than the imperfections, or done more than simply dwell on what little satisfaction may come, on a given day, if I should find myself attractive on the surface, yet still painfully aware of what internal ugliness lay beneath.
But when I awoke this morning, something was different. While I was sleepily dressing myself, I happened to gaze in the mirror and catch my reflection. All of a sudden I was overcome with a feeling of glee, and I smiled, whole heartedly, at myself in the mirror. I smiled at myself--while in private, and I'm not sure why. I think it was because I respected the person I saw there. I admired that person. I gazed back at the person there, and saw, beyond any sense of pride or vanity, that there was something truly attractive about him.
It was that I adored this person's good nature, his heart seemed honest enough, as if he meant well. He appeared thoughtful, and pleasantly interesting. There was nothing reproachful or embittered about his presence. He appeared as if he were intent on doing good to others, and I wondered, slightly giddy, from whence this person came.
I make these remarks about myself only out of sheer glee because it is such a lovely thing to be free of my habitual self-loathing. It is such a nice thing to think nicely of oneself, as opposed to always having to think badly.
(ii)
It fills me with delight to think about how aspects of my life have changed. I feel a strong desire to affect other's lives in a positive way. For a long time, I never understood why people made such exaggerated efforts to be polite with eachother, why they made such efforts to be 'overly' courteous with one another.
I always regarded this incredibly delicate behaviour as unnecessarily tiresome. But I do see now, I wasn't fully aware of what beautiful things are created in certain moments of tenderness and kindess between human beings. There is a sense of purpose that forms in one's soul when he thinks beyond himself, when he reachs out to others, and offers them his love.
There is a mutual respect between human beings when one acts selflessly for the sake of another. A fond admiration develops for those who make sacrifices for others, an underlying respect grows in the hearts of those affected. When intentions are pure, good will eventually come of them. When motives are rooted in love, one way or another, the love will be returned.
Fear
I seldom do much more than read and write these days, but what a delight it has been! Perhaps, I have been alittle isolated from the world, but I need to remain focused on something. There is so much negativity surrounding me.
The ship is sinking, and what am I to do? It breaks my heart. The longer I am an onlooker, the more it pains my heart to see. God, what can be done? The ship is sinking, and we're all gonna die unless we abandon ship. And that arouses the humble question; die by their sides, or jump ship with those who still wish to live?
I just do not know what can be done. This confusion leaves me with so many pieces to assemble on my own. I am desperately trying to keep my head together, for fear that I'll lose my mind. I'm afraid that one day it will be as if waking out of a daze, and I will be completely overwhelmed with the severity of the situation. As if all prior thought payed to the matter was too vague, and when the finality of it all truly settled, I'd go into a terrifying panic, and all that would remain is the painful truth, and an incessant sting of regret.
It is so scary to think about. God, I'm not fully sure I would know who I am if it did happen. I would be so terrified of losing my grip on reality. I would dive into my work, deeper than I have ever; I would lose myself entirely. I would write myself out of consciousness, fearful of my will power being shattered away in despair otherwise. I would write myself to heaven and back. If I didn't have my writing, who would I be? Where would I go? What, then, would I do, if the ship sank and everybody was dead; the dreams of youth vanishing with them?
(ii)
In my free time, I seldom do more than read and write these days. It is the only method of keeping my head above the surface, to save myself from melting away into the blackest meloncholy, to keep my mind righted and flowing forward; so as to not go stagnant, to not swallow the pills of bittersweet despair.
It is a constant effort to continually view passing events optimistically, to not get down on myself, to not give up on everything all together. When I fail to rise to an experience, when my actions don't reflect what I wished they had, and I am misunderstood; I immediately try to create a lesson out of the unfortunate situation. I try to extract a moral from the story. I attempt to see where my actions steered wrong, and how I could act differently when faced with a similar situation, and by doing so, somehow rectify my mistakes in the past.
It helps keep my head up, and eyes looking forward. It is important not to lose oneself to hysteria. It is always a pivotal decision in one's life, when faced with crisis, whether one will be strong and remain optimistic, or whether one will simply give up, grow despondent, and shatter in despair. The latter of the two always seems, to me, the easiest motion to fall victim to, but I refuse.
Optimism
There is a few factors I would attribute this current will for optimism to. My new work enviroment has dramatically affected my attitude on life, it has allowed me to shed a new light on who I as a person. I went into this job with intentions of being more friendly with staff than I have ever been at a job. It began as a sort of experiment I suppose.
Even when it seemed pointless to do so, I persisted. I wanted to see what fruit my efforts would bear. I made sure to greet everyone, everyday, and by name. I think, at first, it took alot people there off guard. Who is this new guy greeting me each day, and by name? It forced the staff to remember me, it encouraged them to call me by name also, and gradually relationships began to form.
The fact is, I don't think anyone could dislike being greeted affably everyday and, I think, generally everyone enjoys being called by name. It makes the interaction more intimate, and more meaningful.
I always find it very refreshing, even touching, when I hear my name spoken by others, especially by someone I haven't known for very long. It warms my heart in such a way, as if, all in an instant, I realise I am a significant person in the lives of others. I am reminded, all in a moment's time, that I am real; a living and breathing human being, capable of sharing so much love. It makes me wish for nothing more than an opportunity to express it, with as many people as possible.
I went into the job with these given intentions and it took time, I will admit, but with every passing day, more people seem to warm up to me. They see a value in our friendship, and a mutual bond grows. Respect and admiration grow where unfamiliarity and distance once dwelled.
What a beautiful thing communication can truly be when expressed sincerely! What a wonderful experience the company of others can be!--when someone who was once a stranger becomes a friend. Loneliness retreats; and a tenderness, a genuine love takes its place.
(ii)
There is other factors that attribute to this present optimism. Living with family has been an unforseen gift. It is an uplifting atmosphere to live in. There has been days when I have regreted moving out of Charles street, but these are usually my low days, when I wake up with a severe hangover, and wish for nothing more than a way to chase the day away once more.
On these days, I wish I could retreat back to my bedroom at Charles street, and simply drink my life away. I burn up inside, to get fucked up, to forget my current life, to lovelessly indulge in drunken sex, to never again face sober reality. These days are always made worse when I am staring in the face of my loving parents.
They see the damage I'm doing to myself, and it is the disappointment I see in their eyes, when our glances do meet, that drive me into a terrible longing. A deeply morbid and destructive desire consumes me and I long for a fatal bliss, a final end to the suffering; for death and nothing more, so help me God.
It is unfortunate, that my parents should ever have to witness me in these states, days that they never had to witness prior to me moving back home. But, the reality is, what elevates me, what helps put my life back on the right track, is the very situation I find myself in, this pressure to not disappoint those who care for me.
It instills a powerful urge in me to clean up my act. To not overly indulge in the drink. To moderate my intake, to not let it get out of hand, to fear the mighty wrath of over-indulgence. Any heavy drinker knows the danger of that first drink, how far it can go without you even realising it.
I let things slide this weekend and had some drinks, but I don't resent myself for it. It didn't ruin any peace of mind, I didn't get carried away, and the hangover was barely existent. The truth is, a man needs to get out into the world sometimes, he needs to go out at night and live outside of his books. The difficultly lays in maintaining a balance, making sure the books remain the priority, the true journey, and that the journey never becomes something explored inside a bottle.
(iii)
Which leads me to the final, and possibly most important factor in my life today: my books. It is in my books that I discover a passionate will to remain optimistic. It is my books that stir my heart, that allow me to love the person I see in the mirror. They are my solace. It is because of my books that I fight in favour of life. It is in the knowledge gained through their words that I find the strength to go on.
They instill some hope, they offer an astonishing beauty that is difficult to even question, and therefore, I cannot seem to deny. If such beauty should exist in this world, than surely only a fool should refuse not to exist in this world also. If such brillance, such wisdom, such grace, and humility should exist in books, in music, in art---shouldn't our knowledge of this make a mockery of any man who longs for death?--shouldn't this make a fool of any man the moment he questions why he should remain, here, in such a world as this?--when all is required of him is to look beyond himself, to gaze up at the heavens, and admire all that is wonderful and brillant that dwells there.
The world, a wealth of inspiration, a work of uncertainty, a masterpiece awaiting its humble creation; the artist having only to cease being, defeat his demons, silence his ego, free his self from imposing will, let go to waves of emotion, open sesame to all things devine, let go of everything he holds dearly, and humbly offer the world all he knows of its beauty. |
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| From Dostoevsky's White Nights: |
[Jan. 11th, 2008|08:35 pm] |
'---he desires nothing, for he is above all desire, for he is sated, for he is the artist of his own life, which he recreates in himself to suit whatever new fancy he pleases. And how easily, how naturally, is this imaginary, fantasic world created! As though it were not a dream at all! Indeed, he is sometimes ready to believe that all this life is not a vision conjured up by his overwrought mind, not a mirage, nor a figment of the imagination, but something real, something that actually exists!
Why, Nastenka, why, tell me, does one feel so out of breath at such moments? Why--through what magic? through what strange whim?--is the pulse quickened, do tears gush out of the eyes of the dreamer? Why do his pale, moist cheeks burn? Why is all his being filled with such indescribable delight? Why is it that long, sleepless nights pass, as though they were an infinitesimal fraction of time, in unending joy and happiness?
And why, when the rising sun casts a rosy gleam through the window and fills the gloomy room with its uncertain, fantastic light, as it so often does in Petersburg, does our dreamer, worn out and exhausted, fling himself on the bed and fall asleep, faint with the raptures of his morbidly overwrought spirit, and with such a weary, languorously sweet ache in his heart?
No, Nastenka, you can't help persuading yourself that his soul is stirred by some true, some genuine passion, you can't help believing that there is something alive and palpable in his vain and empty dreams!' |
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| The Importance of Living Passionately |
[Jan. 11th, 2008|12:51 am] |
(I)
I have been putting in alot of hours at work this passed week. It's been disappointing some mornings, when I have been taken away in whims of inspiration, and have been unable to fulfill these urges to create, to write down the ideas blossoming in my mind.
Of course, there is always the option to retreat to the bathroom and write these ideas down, but I am weary of such retreats from the world. I am weary of this 'sense of duty' to write things down while overcome with these intense waves of emotion, rather than just simply experience them, as a human being should.
There are certain mornings where I feel so distant from people, I am very receptive to emotions, and I feel as if I could let go to tears at any minute. These are never tears of sadness, but something far removed from sadness.
They are almost tears of joy. Each tear, if it were to fall, would feel more like a precious gift of humility, and only those who listen attentively enough to what is happening in their souls and minds, those who are given to the passage of their heart, would also be able to appreciate the beauty in their falling.
These mornings are strongly passionate, and I can't help but embrace every instant of them. Unfortuntately, these emotions do, in some sense, isolate me from those around me. And sadly, I am not often surrounded by people who would understand, if I should try to explain, these emotions that seize me entirely and make my heart feel as if it were about to explode.
When I feel it come over me, my first instinct is, as I've said, to rush to the bathroom and attempt to write it out on paper, but I have been choosing not to. I'd rather live as a human being should live, love as he should love. I'd rather experience the moment firsthand, with grace, and with class.
I try to share these internal passions with those around me. I try to smile more, to make more of an effort to look others in the eyes while speaking to them. It is a glorious day to be a human being, why not experience these feelings together?
There is of course, an overwhelming urge to weep as well: I imagine the pretty girl sleeping late, still laying in my bed late afternoon, and I decide to call it in early that day, tell the boss I'm sick, and then rush home to her. I would undress and lay next to her, hold her, make love with her, speak with her, perhaps weep if the urge were so powerful.
To weep not out of sadness, but because we are, all of us, passionate beings, and capable of such intense feelings and desires. Our emotions should not ever be silenced, every living moment should be indulged in, acted upon, celebrated.
I'm not sure why my imagination plays these games with my heart, I feel so strongly for this imagery in my mind, even though it is pretend. But, if it were actual, if she were laying awake in my bed come afternoon, it would seem to me the absolute right thing to do, on a day when emotions rode so high.
Perhaps the weather has gone to my head. It's been so mild, and balmy. There has always been a gentle mist in the air, a euphoric haze that hangs above my head, waiting for my mind to float away and join suit. I can't help but deeply long out its way, my soul becoming light as a feather, and I simply drift away to the heavens above.
(II)
Much has happened internally these days. I feel a strong sense of duty to stand firm with a purpose. My purpose right now is to strictly regulate my courtship with the devil, alcohol; in order to keep my drinking in check, and to always remain stronger than it.
This strict regulation has kept my mind in tact almost entirely. I have felt very little disillisionment this passed week. Mostly, if the day is dull, and begins to feel meaningless, I think of the bigger picture. This usually helps me keep my chin up, and has even resulted in work days being a very pleasurable experience.
At work, I reach out to people I would likely never reach out to otherwise. I befriend almost every co-worker I can, and we chat however possible, where ever a common ground can be found. I do this out of a sense of duty to myself. It is my duty to create an enviroment around myself that is pleasant and uplifting.
It is my duty to stick to good judgement, to remain striving for the better good. I simply wish to be genuine to those around me, to communicate to the best of my ability, to above all, be a compassionate human being rather than act as if I'm a hostage held against his will. I wish to be someone who affects the lives of others, rather than simply remain an outsider buried in the supression of his feeings, and only because he believes himself to be a prisoner of circumstance.
It is easy to be an outsider. It is easy to give up on communication. It is easy to simply be misunderstood by others and believe it will always remain that way. I know this feeling just as any person does, but is it not more courageous an act to fight these beliefs and to constantly strive toward being understood by others, however great the differences are between?
(III)
All these hours of work have made reading difficult, and that frustrates me. It seems silly to have so many days pass without filling my mind with fresh ideas. It has been a challenge to open a book as of late and not feel my eyes growing heavy and then involuntarily close.
It's a damn shame. But last night, even though I was feeling ill, I was able to read the short story 'Master and Man' by Tolstoy. It moved me in such immense ways. Emotions rode high within the final chapters especially. I act as if this suprises me, yet this has almost become typical when reading anything by Tolstoy.
The story excited me, and instilled some sense of hope within myself. It helped me believe in my own crazy self, and the insanity it is attempting to keep my mind righted and free of distractions. It is painful at times, thinking over what is required of me, what must be done in order for me to ensure these dreams, which have absoutely consumed me whole, do become a reality.
It breaks my heart to think. Sometimes I wish I could reverse these feelings, I wish I could rewind my life and find myself again back where I was years ago, when things made a whole lot more sense. Back when decisions were easier to make. When life's purpose seemed clearer. When living was a more youthful experience, and therefore more intentionally foolish and needing to be such; that is what growing up is afterall.
But what I have come to discover, as I have grown older, is that you can only learn lessons so many times before it becomes a vain attempt to re-live moments of the past. You can only continue acting foolish in the same old ways for so long, and then it starts to become senseless and idiotic.
You can only act intentionally foolish so many times, until it becomes masochistic to continue to do so, because there comes a time when the consequences suffered for repeated bad decision making come as no surpise, and are only harmful to your sense of well being. These sufferings bear no fruit, and therefore, are only self-inflicted pain with nothing gained.
You can only learn lessons so many times before your actions are stripped of their meaning. You become trapped in the past. You live for passed moments. You live deep with regrets. You long for the comfort known in your youth. You long for innocence. You wish to be niave once more. But nothing you do will make these things true, and so your actions will lose their meaning. You will simply be wasting your time, perpetually running in a vicious circle, gaining no wisdom, losing all value in your life, and all because you were afraid to move on with your life.
(IV)
How frightening it is to go and make a great change in your life. It is terrifying to even imagine your life as an experience free of obligation. Imagine your life was a vast, wide open space, and the directions in which you could go were infinite. Where, then, would you turn? Which direction would you go next?
It is an intimidating viewpoint to take on your life. Imagine your life were a blank slate, as if it were cleared of its passed events, as if all ties to the past were cut, all attachments severed. What, then, would you base your decisions on? Who would you be, then, with no existing history? You are free to the moment at hand. You are life happening. With what do you determine right from wrong? What judgement do possess now? What is a wise choice, and what is a foolish choice?
It is a frightening place to come to with yourself, just as much as it is thrilling. I get goosebumps even imagining it. When I am in a good state of mind, the idea is beautifully inspiring. You realise, all in an instant, that you could do just about anything you wished with your life. You could do it right this instant. Right now.
It's as if we are always surrounded by this vast, wide open space. And yet we almost long to be caged in something, as if, when confronted with an infinite world to explore, we ignore it, because we don't have a clue what to do with it. We don't know what to do when everything is given to us all at once. Perhaps, it's that we prefer small spaces, to work our way from one place, then to the next.
I recognise this fear of the unknown, this fear of being absolutely free, and immediately understand how I have come to live in this same city for so many years. I immediately understand how so many individuals remain in the same meaningless line of work, living out mundane existences, sticking to a dull routine, even though they are miserable.
It is frightening to take on the unknown, to truly embrace the wide open spaces, which is why so many people continue living unhappily in assumed lifestyles. It's much easier to accept that which you know, and perhaps despise, than to take a good, hard look in the mirror and ask yourself what you truly desire out of your life.
It is easier to accept things you have already come to know of yourself, than to face the great unknown: a mirror casting the most honest reflection, and walk into it, completely unsure of where it may take you.
It is easier to accept given circumstances. It is easier to occupy your mind with mundance, meaningless tasks. It is easier to merely trudge along and accept defeat. This is why so many people become alcoholics. They mask their discontent with temporary happiness. They watch television instead. They dream about being famous. They drink beer.
(V)
There is simply no shortcuts to happiness. You just can't fool yourself when it comes to truly being happy. You just can't cheat, however close it is to the authentic thing, it won't be real, and your heart will know the distance.
It's funny to think how often I try to, even though I know this, I make great winded attempts to fool myself, but it never works. I would argue that even in my brief experiences of temporary happiness, afforded me by temporary alleviants such as alcohol, drugs, or loveless sex; I never for a moment believed them to be real, and consequentially, always remained at a certain distance from the experience at hand.
My heart always felt caged in these moments, no matter how beautiful they may have seemed at the time, it always seemed to me as if I were witnessing the experience behind a veil of fear. It seemed that, if I should have tried to reach out and touch something of the moment, I would have felt nothing. What I would have felt would have seem contrived by memory, created in my mind as something that should have existed at that moment. I am forced to compensate for what may have occurred in reality with my imagination.
Temporary alleviants, such as drugs or alcohol, are always thought to be what is required to achieve these given moments of sentimentality. And the following morning I am always left trying to fill in the blanks where memory was lost. Unfortunately, my memory can't share these experiences with me as a whole, so I settle for what's left.
(VI)
The realisation has dawned on me as of late, that this period of time in my life may perhaps be the best time ever. Living right now with so little expenses is a true gift. My only duty now is to remain sober, to moderate my intake of the drink if it is drinken, and save all the money I can.
Truth be told, money has a big part in making dreams actual reality. I'm not entirely sure what I am going to do with this next year of my life, but I know it is going to be a big year for me. I will save my money as best I can, and when the time comes to decide, I will have what is needed to fund it.
I haven't been intoxicated in over a week and I have never felt better. Clarity is abundant in my thoughts. My thoughts are so clear. I know a contentness I haven't known in so long. There doesn't seem to be the same desperate urgency to escape opposing conflict. There is, as there always will be, a feeling of supression between myself and the enviroment surrounding, but expression for the sake of being understood does not seem too great a task to achieve.
Every moment is but a stepping stone to the next. I have to remember to take things slowly, going day to day, and to continue moving forward with my life. The destination only appears once we are well into the journey. The truth is only found when the self is forgotten. The lesson is only learned once time has passed us by and we grow wise enough to catch up.
Our striving begins as an endless endeavour to find the unobtainable, and ends once we've stumbled upon the truth, that is beyond our capacity, yet always rooted deeply in our passions. This is why, we must, we must, we must(!) live passionately, to find these greater truths that lay beyond us. |
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| Bad Dream |
[Jan. 10th, 2008|01:24 pm] |
I'm in a room filled with animals. There are dogs, cats, birds, and mice all around me. I'm running around frantically in tears because I'm trying to save them from eachother. All of their cages are opened and are tipped over, upside down, with their doors flung wide open. The empty cages are scattered across the floor.
The mice are crawling out and getting eaten by the cats, and the dogs are eating the cats. My pet bird, Ceaser(deceased), is scurrying around on the floor, squawking and flapping his little wings. Suddenly, I see a cat pounce on top of him and bat him with his paws. I'm screaming at the cat to stop, but there is just too many animals everywhere, running around free, violently attacking eachother.
I'm covering my face with my hands, I'm shouting, but it's useless. They are just animals, they dont know that their freedom is getting them killed. I scream, I shout at the top of my lungs, 'You'll be safe in your cages, every single one of you dont have to die like this! There is a way to put an end to this, my friends!'
But they are just animals, and they don't listen. They won't ever understand the words I speak and they are all going to die because of it. Suddenly, the dogs start wildly attacking eachother. They start to devour one another's bloodied corpses, leaving the cats, birds, and rodents to fend for themselves. There is nothing I can do to stop this chaos.
I begin picking up little rodents and birds, and throwing them into seperate cages, but they keep escaping. The cats are having a hayday with the mice, and with the small birds especially. I gradually begin to accept defeat. I collapse onto my knees, and bury my face in my hands. I weep.
I let the blood run red all over the floorboards. When I finally collect myself, I gaze up, and through tears I see the dogs slowly rising to their feet. Their faces are blurring, and their bodies are changing. Their bodies change into forms resembling that of humans.
They continue running around just as they had earlier, and their faces are still featureless, their faces are imperceptibly shadowed. They gradually gather together now and begin to march, humans soldiers in step with one another.
They are chanting something horrific at the top of their lungs. They march out the front doors and into the streets. Their haunting chants fill the streets. The city is doomed and I just lay there in horror. My face is stained with tears, and my clothes are stained red from the blood bath.
I realise I am now surrounded by corpses of young children, beautiful women, and effeminate males. I am overcome by the very unpleasant feeling, then, that soon there will be no one left out those front doors, there will be no one left in this beautiful world any longer, besides a raging crowd of bloodthirsty dogs, waiting to destroy all that is good. |
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| Final Lessons |
[Jan. 4th, 2008|12:58 am] |
I don't think there is another option anymore. What dawned on me at work this evening was that I have been unintentionally punishing myself for my actions this week. I have been unable to put any effort into my writing these past few days, even though I have been in the worst shape, and most in need of its guidance.
I was directionless, and what's worse, consumed with morbid thoughts. These feelings came as no suprise of course, they have become routine anytime after consecutive days of partying.
I, of course, took the partying overboard on New Years Eve and what followed the next night was a drinking binge in order to kill the painful memories raging inside me. Drinking was, as it always is, the only way to silence the regrets for even a few moments. Drinking was the only way to feel better about anything. It was the only way to keep the depression from flooding my heart, and letting my mind be lost to despairing.
I don't know how many more chances I am going to get to realise, I cannot, I cannot, I absolutely cannot: dabble with drugs and alcohol. There is no end to how much trouble these things cause me.
I gave up on myself yesterday. I refused to put the effort in to write myself better. My mind called its own bluff. No matter how hard I begged, pleaded, prayed for some inner strength to write me out of the grave, my mind said no.
And so I punished myself, and it hurt beyond belief. I have never been at a lower point than I was these past few days. I felt on the verge of breaking down at any moment. I found myself weeping while trying to speak with my parents. My chest was constantly tight, and my breathing uneasy. The stress was relentless and I couldn't figure out why or how to make it stop. My greatest fear had come true, the writing didn't come like I had always expected it would.
I have been taking this gift for granted and I know that I can't continue to. Myself won't continue to make the effort anymore. It won't work that hard only to be defeated days later by foolish decisions. This is a scary realisation. I don't have any more chances. I really have to change or I'm going to be left out hanging to dry.
These past few days have been way too painful. It surprised me, that after all these months of self discovery, after all these efforts I have put into writing, and growing stronger in new ways, after never failing to pick up the pieces and continue the battle: I still managed to hit rock bottom in a way I never had.
What does this tell me? That I'm unstable? That I can as easily succeed as I can fail? That I am forever vunerable? That everyday is a conscious decision to make it better and that I must never forget that? That every decision counts and will continue to count? That things aren't going to one day get miraculously better, and the only way to make this happen is by changing the error of my ways?
It's sad to think how positive and optimistic I was feeling on New Years Eve day. I realised how different my attitude on life was as of late. It dawned on me, after reading some passed writing, that now when I was confronted with feelings of despair and disillusionment, I would distance myself from them. I was not afraid to see the origins of these feelings, but I would not give myself away to them.
It occurred to me, while reading some of my older writing, that this wasn't always the case. Whenever despair used to appear to me, say 6 months ago, I would follow it into the depths. I would embrace the feeling of despair and bask in the beauty it shared. I remember claiming on a few occasions that I thoroughly enjoyed sadness, and that when I felt it creeping into my consciousness, I would seek beauty in it. I would accept it into my heart and let it reak havok on any existing hope or faith within me.
I let myself be temporarily consumed in the shadows. I let myself be swept away with the emotion. I would find salvation in the tears. I would sing praises in the gloomiest of nights. I guess I saw myself as nothing more than something blowing away in the wind, and the helplessness moved me in inexplicible ways. I felt this movement, and believed it to be beautiful.
On New Years Eve day, I saw a change in my attitude toward life. I felt so capable of doing anything I believed in. I was more than just something lost to the wind whenever it did blow. I felt so strong, I could finally withstand despair. I felt powerful and willing to do whatever it took to become the person I always wanted to be.
I felt beautiful like an artist does creating his finest work. I was suddenly more than just a piece of art created by strong winds of despair. I was the winds. I was the world. I was creator of a world surrounding, and this realisation nearly brought me to tears.
And here it is, another measure of writing, another generous gift from within. I was only able to find this strength after I had thoroughly convinced myself I would steer clear of the drugs and alcohol. But now, now I am almost worried for having written these words. For now I have forgotten the torment of the passed few days.
It's possible I might even be a fool again and let my mind go battered and beat through the grinder. I might allow myself to give in, once again, and go the vicious cycle of drugs and alcohol.
Oh God, what must I do to finally get the point across? I have the biggest decisions of my life to make in these coming months, and I refuse to make them unless my head is clear. My head will only be clear as long as I remain sober. With every passing day of sobriety, my mind can then grow stronger, clearer, and more focused.
The decisions that lay ahead require a level head. I am tired of being pathetic and overly-dependent on comfort from others when my mind is weakest. Nobody can fix me but myself, and I know that. I cannot let my mind be weakened or else my life will continue to spiral out of control, and next time I'm not sure where I'll end up.
You would think these passed few days have been lesson enough. I have so few chances remaining in me to make good of these circumstances. I don't want to mess this up. I have too many important decisions to make. Too much is at stake. I don't know how many more chances I'll have before I lose everything; the gift, the will, the life. |
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| Anti-Regret Manifesto |
[Dec. 27th, 2007|10:22 pm] |
That which does not make me stronger, shall only be disregarded, disowned, and dismissed.
Few words are what is absolutely necessary to change lives. Few words are what can be embraced by masses, and will then move the world forward.
That which does not better me, shall only be disregarded, disowned, and dismissed.
You are of the past, and shall not be forgotten, but will not be of memory.
You are strong in your wisdom, as you are weak in your bold limitations.
I will not prolong these sufferings of remorse.
I will not dwell on regret longer than is of value to me. I will wear my regret only long enough to recognise it as such, and then I will continue on.
If wisdom is to be been gained, I will acknowledge my mistakes and contemplate then what, if anything, can be done to better the circumstances.
I will not surrender everything I have to them, I will not cling to these torments until they consume all that is good.
I will disregard them before they cause harm. I will leave them with the past where they belong.
I will not suffer another day for the sake of suffering.
Needless suffering only stagnates growth, prevents all happiness, and consumes all that is good.
That which does not make me stronger, shall only be disregarded, disowned, and dismissed. |
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