satieted stillness and the thought of repression

Ah the taste of blood.

Sweet, slightly metallic, and thin.  Sure its thicker than water... but nearly everything is you know (because most liquids have water in them.... duh)

A daily reminder of the things to come.  The irreversible change that happens inside and outside of everyone at some point.

Death.

I was standing on a chair putting up a curtain with a knife in my hand to poke holes in the cloth I was using as said curtain when I lightly sliced my finger;  Not as I was poking,because I was fully engaging my consciousness in the act, but rather as my attention turned to raising the cloth to the screw hook on the wall, the knife gently pressed against my knuckle with enough force to allow my insides to spill out a little.  A little wound, and a gentle reminder of the eventual death that will come of my life.  One quickly witnesses the thought that a well played alignment of accidents could easily spell this event sooner than later;  The chair I'm standing on could tip and the knife fall with (into) me in a way that might make death inevitable.

Don't focus on that for long; You walk in the direction for which you look, you know.

The knife is closed within a split second. The thought lingers for a second more, and as my mind returns to present, I step down from the chair;  It it slides out from under me as I react and hop to the ground.

Good one universe. 



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     So what of our impending death?  Its always been the one great and true adviser to my life.  A genuine pondering of the temporal nature of your being can really put your life into perspective and motivate one to their true will's desire without the cloudy fog of fear and repression that emanates  from your subconscious.  So its not such a bad thing to live close to death;  To be aware of your impending encounter so acutely that you do not waste precious time basking in the uncertainty, and numbing calm of routine that so swiftly sucks the life from us while we (consciously) sleep.

You will die and so will everyone else, it is the one great equalizer.  The one thing ubiquitously present in the world we live in.  Perhaps if we all fully realized this we would live much more fulfilling lives, who knows.

The great lesson of death is to take action in one's life, but also to have a heart of abandon.  That is to live lightly and hold on to things with the proper grip, ready to let go when the tides are a force to free them from your hands.  For when you die, will it not be like a dream?  Slowly fading into another existence and in that "oh so way" that the vivid dream turns to sand as you descend from dreaming to "reality"?  I imagine death to be a process that ultimately tests your awareness in that manner.

I've been in shock before, lost a lot of blood, poisoned myself to some pretty far corners;  I've felt the pull of death. It feels like we are just a collection of feelings, and amassed in a certain way we become souls or arrangements of those feelings whose bonds don't break easily.  The life you live now will disintegrate upon death... you are not that person who you think you are... we all come from a source and the nature of that source transcends our ability to comprehend things that  destroy that temporary bubble of awareness, that for which we identify as being "me".

That notion has led me to always reflect on the proper attitude to a situation. Our minds run programs like the computers we created (projection anyone?) and the language we use to talk to ourselves informs our perception and feelings.  So with an adjust of perspective we can shift the situation in a way that it becomes manageable or even beneficial to our lives at large.  What lesson is there to learn?    How can I transform this into something useful?  What do I have to believe?

I will die, and I don't want it to be a heavy frightful event.  So I will spend my life cultivating the mind that is necessary to face that.  To live with compassion for others but live as well with a swift hand to keep the space around me clean, to feel like I lived a full life without a thousand desperate hands pulling on me.  To be able to let go, but try at least to cultivate the awareness of understanding where my consciousness is going and know that this life too may fade like the dream does.  It is not lost, but forgotten in a way that I don't have words for. 

So I engage my senses in the moment, show my gratitude for the experience of life, and be aware of the process from which pain feeds joy (and vice versa).  It is truly a strange world we live in and I will never forget that.

 

 

Dan Akroyd and the ghost of christmas past.

man its fucking bright in here... ah a button to fix everything... how modern...  freeing us from the shackles of daily survival, technology, a force, enables man to unleash a tsunami of repressed psychological backwash over society at large.  160 min Directed by Danny Glover

Really now... its been a while since we were on the ol tour bus of  ye olde yore but its a trip worth going on I think.  Kind of that whole seesaw idea... go back and forth until you reach a stasis... a medium ... or a large, whatever the case may be.  It gets less difficult to let it all pull you into a vortex, like Ray and Vigo in ghostbusters II.  Don't jump in, just ride on the edge... then you can tie knots in time and make this whole endeavor worth a while.

having to believe is one of the more effective measures... and that cubic centimeter of chance just might be the snag in the tapestry.  It's twisting again and I can see a new wave of nothing come my way.  There is no is.  There is no is. There's no is. Over andover again.


Intermission....

Blue Skies, Yellow desert, and a skull with a mohawk

I could hear the words steam past my mouth... but they didn't add up... What did I just say?  Gauging my listeners reaction, I seemed to have said something intelligible.  Like running on a collapsing bridge... one step just barley escaping a pitfall into the dark mental abyss of nothingness.  All too familiar a feeling, but its a little different this time.  I don't seem to care as much about the loss of control... but enough to still push the endeavor.  Many times that genesis was the eventual result in giving up to a self-futility in enacting my will.  Why bother saying anything at all?  Like chasing a moving car, eventually the car gets far enough away that you give up and stop running after it. Sae la vie, or so it goes.

This time it feels less abrupt... that for a moment I can reach back down into the pool of my mind and grab that fish that's trying to swim away.  And success is had in recapitulating the idea into something that I can remember instead of a slew of abstract feelings associated with the idea that melts into a fading dream that one can never quite recreate fully in one's head.  Is that our world is too dense, too slow, to realize some of the quicksilver notions that stream past it's peripheral?  How do I pull that candy colored sky and those mechanized cartoon washing machines back into something I can focus on tangibly?  I suppose there will always be some downgrading of resolution when it comes to these things but dammit Im a human and I try despite what seems to be the reality of the case.  That you can't really reconstruct a dream as it rests in the seat of your consciousness.  Less that reconstruction is a step toward synthesizing something new.

I mean I suppose its rather a rubicon of sorts when you realize the nature of language is something much more mysterious than we accept in our lives.  That simple logical hardness of the written word that solidifies an idea into a thought, into a solid notion, is a mere construction of your perception rather than an apriori thing that exists in the ether.  And with that, one extrapolates the idea that language stems beyond just mere spoken words but to our experience of the world as a whole.  That is, our perception is a language that informs us of the world at large. Everything (we percieve) is language.  Language is an abstraciton.   Forever chasing our own tail back to its beginning.

So what's the hook?  Chasing the unknown... trying to accomplish the impossible.  Set your sites high and be grateful for whatever you can scrape up from the attempt at something that is way over your head. The world is one big experience collecting machine scouring the four corners to find out everything it possibly can about existence.  Don't stop too long on a square... it'll just change into a pool of water.

The beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning... and how the fuck do you spell beginning?

There is no solace in living a life in fear, and when violence purveys in a world that proclaims to denounce it, fear is a much chosen option. It is no wonder we hide in the banalities of materialism to mask the contempt we have for ourselves; For all the travesties to the human spirit we allow to endure.

I open up my wallet and it is full of blood. And holy shit, my wallet was made in China too. I go to the deli, and biting into the Bacon, egg, and cheese I eat the rotten decaying flesh of our culture like a cannibalistic zombie. No wonder zombie movies are so popular these days, you know art imitates life right? And if you can't go through life with an 18 wheel Mack truck barreling down a country road firing off your machine gun into the black of night, then well I'm not really sure if I can trust you. I mean, if your not totally insane in a world such as this, there must be something seriously wrong with you.

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The expressions of the collective subconscious through the mediums of mass media:

Mass media engages our subconscious through what we are afraid of. We express who we are through our culture, no matter how sugarcoated and clouded through the fog of survivalism it tends to look. The violence we see in the media connects us with the violence that many people over the world experience daily. When we cannot experience the truth of this violence someway in our own lives, and it is kept from our consciousness, our subconscious actively seeks out it's expression. If the conscious mind rejects the expression of the subconscious for whatever reason, it will seem as humorous, without meaning, absurd, banal, whatever flavor you want to put on it. We need to experience the evil that is spread throughout the world. The uncomfortable things that are kept from our eyes, because if we were forced to live in all our useless toxic waste we would all be motivated to change the way we live much more easily. It is the legacy of the ruling classes to retain their footholds as the ones who once control the wealth of the land for the benefit of the "less evolved and rational peasants". And it is the fear of that ruling class, that does not want to give up it's position as the primary caretaker of the Earth's resources that seeks to keep us in the dark, to extend the infancy of consciousness in order to profit. To keep us occupied with survival in a world where the Earth can provide all of our 6 billion needs, yet we fight like monkeys over pieces of the ground. We have no rational concept of what "sustainability" is because we've never as a whole confronted the idea without pairing it to the "way of life" that we have all become accustomed to in this short but dense 100 years. And because of our refusal to confront this, and to those who profit from imposing ignorance upon the trusting masses, we will suffer.

It is an intricate tapestry we weave, and to be but a thread in a such a large entanglement of string is to humble one's opinions of what is "right" and how the world "is". We are fish in water and until we face that fact we will be but children dreaming of fantastic impossibilities rather than men and women who find the pragmatic way to make their dreams reality. To let go of the details, because nothing ever manifests itself the way you imagine totally. Unless you are one wise motherfucker.

And a wise motherfucker will always keep his eyes wide open.