To Run, Walk, Dance, or Be Still

As I wander around in and throughout mindful tangents, I've come to establish that the very attitudes and protocols in which I carry myself aren't things I would push onto other people. For example, my ideas on love. Or my honor. Or the things I strive for and the way I choose to do so.

My existance manifests all that I am composed of; woven, of thought and experience and imagination and importantly, ideals that are meaningful to me soley because of one thing: I am me.

The way I savor life, the perspective in which I view it and others. I couldn't possibly claim that my ways are right and the only way to do things. Haha, no where near it actually. I am farfetched in certain things, but I like it. Things that might be overlooked or deemed trivial...tiny intimacies and intricasies about me that no one will ever know nor ever care to know. That is me. And I know there are other things I can hold no judgement upon because I haven't even tasted them, though I make the mistake of doing so regardless.

That is why I refrain.

I couldn't possibly push my paradigms upon others, because they are only the product of speculation and experience combined with the yearning for truth. We are all looking at the same thing from different views. It is still the same thing, only often our opinions and experiences get in the way of seeing things clearly. I say, if you are interested enough to hear my view points, then don't hesitate to ask. I welcome it. Then maybe we can put our views together and make sense of those somethings that elude our comprehension.

There is also a price in this. We risk being victims of other's speculation, as well as our own, and it is prevalent everyday as long as people prefer ignorance and deny objectivity. No, it is prevalent as long as we are human...which isn't a bad thing. I am totally imperfect and make mistakes with every breath. Another reason I know that mere "I" am no source for what is right.

People are always trying to 'correct' me with their viewpoints. Though, its not a form of correction at all but rather a form of stating the perspective-in-question differently. I know their own inhibitions get in the way of finding understanding just as my own do.

There is so much one can learn from the fewest of words, even the smallest of gestures. Language, no, living is laced with endless meanings...and subtleties. Sometimes I laugh and wonder how any of us understand each other at all. [Of course, it goes much deeper than that. Some of us prefer this- for endless reasons, to choose decepetion. And the human race makes it so very easy to decieve and be decieived. I won't hide the fact that I have taken advantage of it.] I think and observe superflously, because humans fascinate me. Often, when listening, I watch and consider not only meaning but feeling and the source from which it originates. I wish to retain and utilize awareness as best one can, one of many reasons being the desire to simply know.

To know. What a delight. To get a little further along these journeys to find the things we are meant to discover.

Yes, this is me. I don't want to tell people how to see things (that's impossible anyway. Oh the art of influence. The artisan is actually the artwork.) and I certainly am in no position to tell people how they should feel about things. That is a jouney in which we are all in progress, an individualized maturity yet to be attained.

I laugh.

After all, it is simply speculation. I dance in it.

And you are free to move however you wish, as long as you continue onward.

Who knows what contemplations there are to be made tomorrow. They vary from day to day so much that often I feel like a different person at the break of each dawn.

And sometimes, I wonder amusingly, how people really know each other at all... if our perspectives are so fickle. But that must be a good thing, I think. It is evidence of growth.

Until the next horizon, my friends.

UpRooted

I feel as though I have grown much, yet in an instant a child. There is this subtle awareness...an awareness I am afraid to face, about the way I feel towards certain things. Ha ha, that is almost unbearably generic. I suppose the point is that I'm recognizing how little integrity I have towards myself; a cheat to my own.

I am an artist. I cope with the destruction through creation. It feels there are entire worlds I have to speak, incredible emotions and thoughts to express... I'm living in this byzantine brain, in worlds of metaphors. Everything encountered everyday is a mental trigger. I can't seem to get this brain to shut up at night because its running at mach speed for the sake of interpretation. Oh if I could articulate these insane deviations...

At any rate, I suppose that humans seem to fascinate me more and more everyday. They really do. "Expression" itself certainly is something...I think I've alienated myself from it for the sake of observation. I can't tell you how many moments I would love to express the profound beauty I witness day to day- the majority of it being in people's souls- It is nearly devastating. Counterbalances are everywhere, I've come to learn.

The visions of our world are free to be shaped as we see fit. Interesting how perspective affects each of us, specifically pertaining to the flow of time. I can hold an eternity in a single moment, or I can simply have a moment.

Hmm. Truth. Or shall I say words? Now there is something. Our perspectives become our truths, and these "truths" are manipulated into words. It isn't necessarily "true" in the actual sense of the word, but oh how all our varying perceptions can see the same thing differently and state it so. This, my friends, is the very whim of my existance. I laugh at such when perhaps no laughter seems fit to be deserved. I manipulate this entire concept to advantage, as my mendacious side prefers. This involves clamping my ears to unsightly verdicts, denying my being in its entirety, fact. I recognize verdict. I simply overlook these diseases.

And in the long run, perhaps that is the most destructive. To overlook worldly sickness rather than seeking out a cure. Sounds humorously familiar. In the mean time I create, to ease these lies.

I know one thing, however, as I traverse these abstract sentiments. I am waiting for something; though it is difficult to render. I am waiting to be startled.

Wherever You Go...

The day floats by all the same... yet different too. I think nearly all my blogs have at least some undertones on the concepts of passivity and activity. I don’t want to be passive and yet I have no idea where to even begin. When I stand up to go, I halt in uncetainty and ignorance. And to compensate, I write. Because writing is a form of coping, a form of gaining control.

I am terrified of complacency. I am afraid to get a good paying job and nice apartment and settle down etc etc because Im afraid I’ll like it. The simple, self-serving lifestlye of supporting oneself and indulging as a consumer.Because then I won’t want to do anything else; I may lose sight of the things that are really important and are beyond just me...the things that affect us all. I am afraid I will get caught up in america...I am afraid of that kind of "happiness."

Yet in this place...are there no other alternatives?

The worst thing is, everytime I try to get answers, I just can’t have them. Like I have to cut down the invading greenery on my own. But life is about that, isn’t it...Its really not the next thing you can achieve, its the long journey ahead. I know I tend to treat it as both, heh.

I want to know what other people are living for, what they are trying to achieve as "destiny." What are you aiming for in your life? What do you live for?

Remember Me as a Time of Day

I think this is one thing that everyone can write about. It applies to all of us, and depending on who you are, it rules us too.

Time. How strange that in the same moment things can feel like they are comming down to the minute yet the hours dull and transcend, unfamiliar and intangeble...that it can be so far away.

And when those moments finally come they seem to come only when you're off guard...like, "So soon...?"

Moment. Did you know that its one of my favorite words? Moment. Its capacity alone can be so dramatic. So much can weigh upon it, yet it remains so often overlooked. I kind feel like a moment. It fits me perfectly, heh.

Remember as a Time of Day. Remember me a moment.

Hopefully not one of those moments you regret...

Anyway,One thing I mourn is the slaughter of time. So much of it dies meaninglessly, wasted, when it is now that needs to be considered. The earth pays the price for such. We all do. How can it be acceptable to live on like this?

The time to be seized is now. Nothing can wait; we are far too disconnected. Not a second of agony can allow to pass by unnoticed.

I have something deep in my heart I wish to write about; but that is an entirely different subject...and for an entirely different time. My selfishness intercedes; no matter how necessary these cries in the night must be heard, now, I cannot let my time-frame be seen, my limits revealed...because I am a fool.

My question is, would you wait? Or would you seize this stranger's words

right

now?

I close my eyes and clamp my ears to the verdict.

Bury The Sound

The earth reverberates. I stand soley in its lamentation, living, breathing in its suffering and affliction of detachment- your tears are my own, your blood is in my veins, and your sight is mine as well. Our ears are one. I shake my head and sigh at the one futility I cannot let go...

Ο πόνος μου είναι ορυχείο.

This one sigh is felt by the earth and the earth alone. No man can recognize this tangent in me, nor can he discern...

In this way, the earth and I are kin.

There are ghosts in this dimension that observe such whims...If only I could reach out to them. They are intangible.

I run from the noise, I bury its destruction.
Though the sounds they shun are the screams of agony...
I run from their gluttonous laughs- laughs that devour the very souls of the ashamed.
They dismiss the echoes of grief. Their ears prick at the accents of malice, for which they hunger to be entertained.

I run from the noise. I bury its destruction.

In me.

They relish in it. It is the lavish golden calf.
What comes in the silence of forsaken
a healing peace, the angels' passion
a strain of paradise.

Of which you refuse to know.

O latent earth, the blood poured out upon you is poison
like the words of the belligerant...
Shall you fade away in the deafening silence
before you were ever known?

Scraps

Rain
how it floods the soul
where profanities bubble up from deep cracks
of past and present
over the surface
yet letting something of a piercing grace
take its place.

Cheers
Here's to the outcasts and castaways
the derelicts and lepers
to the refugees and vagabonds
Cheers
Oh how you travel such roads of color
Will none comprehend?
You are a monument against arrogant eyes
standing for the core of humanity.
You are the light of the world.
Let us drink in better days.

Sojourns

As the present unfurls...I begin to realize just how crucial memories are to this being. Its an essential part of who this one is, influencing hopes and dreams for the future... at least they used to.

Now I suppose its just an apparition...The concept itself is quite interesting I suppose; some refuse to let the past affect them and I wonder if it does anyway. I shake away from what I desired for in the future because I couldn't have it in the past...
Do I really don't want it or is i something else?
I wonder how much this applies to others...memories, that is.

And yet it is said that if your heart is far too submerged in memory, you'll never be able to break the surface for your dreams. Makes sense..

Somehow, I no longer want to find the arrogance to make assumptions on the rest of humanity anymore. I just don't seem to have it in me I guess.

I keep looking for any trace of a path...everyone else seems to just follow one set before them... mine lies in something alien. This concept of destiny... scary...yet at the same time, romantically exhilarating. If I could just find it.

How fragmented and contradictory. Sigh.