Missing the ocean for the journey

“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's kind of awkward looking at the screen. It reminds me of those chanced moments when you run into the last person you expect to see at the time you would never want to be found. Those individuals that know you coming and going so that words become a useless medium of communication. In a glance, more can be told and revealed than any attempt to speak.

Mayhaps it's why I refuse to keep people after a while since I feel they already know me more than I ever would. Those people repulse me more than the plague, knowing full well that I already find myself dull in most of my breathing moments and I'd rather not hear any amens. 

And yet, there is an unresolved drive that I would describe closely to breathing or getting off that drives me to endure the blankness of the screen in hopes of prying some coherent thought that somehow equate to my purpose on this spinning stone set in the vastness of dead space. Purpose and meaning. A need and desire to know that I am not hear to take up meaningless visage, but to inspire hope, provoke thought and to offer another train of thought where someone bold may just follow as a child chases a stream until they realized they are lost deep in their own thought and have to rediscover their path homewards.

I can not grasp the meaning of my being at times and I often fall into chains of thought that pull me deeper inside the ramblings of free and evasive thought that seem to slip away from ones fingers as fish often do in small spaces or dreams seem to linger as sweet kisses that fade into nothingness leaving only that feeling of warmth with no flame. I can sense these days simply waking and knowing that my day will not end until I've somehow calmed an eagerness without cause and knowing that I rather remain in shadows than to convince others of my self inflicted madness as one would avoid a great horror by committing great harm without lingering memory.

In these moments detachment is easy. I've spent days such as these sitting too long in a position only to have primal calls awaken me with such fervor and reminding me of my mortal responsibilities and that man must live at least on bread when thought yield empty calories. At the moment I realize that I'm much too wordy as an ironic casting to Wordsworth meaningless banter and child like zeal to fill pages with flowery and useless language with the intention of declaring that grass is green. I'd rather be more romantic and simply sighing more knowing that the words of the Bard ripped apart in some meaningless mulch the Mumfords seem to bastardize in some action of being different in a room of mindless copycats.

I can see easily that this post is meaningless and has as much importance as a limerick to loosen a tied tongue or a drink to instill bravery in cowardly kissers. I simply empty my mind as feminine fowl would spew nourishment to begging beaks. My meaning is lost in language not found to myself or to a lover who begs to be spanked only to reveal a crying moment rather any eroticism. All moments that pass and not worthy of a second glance. Purpose lost and meaning just far enough from paradise that miles and inches have no defining difference.

And in an empty action I remain unfulfilled and confidence loosened by the unmet purpose. Was there any reason to write or did I simply need to shake off stiff limbs to continue on to some other action?

Then again, it's not you sitting in the dark wondering if I served a purpose today when I know that there is so much more to be done at this moment that time lost is not a luxury that I can afford. Mental stretches has been had and I don't see any other use than to say nothing for this long.

Unless I've said it all without us noticing.

"Have you ever watched a crab on the shore crawling backward in search of the Atlantic Ocean, and missing? That's the way the mind of man operates." H. L. Mencken

Redemption Songs *working title*

I was going to write this one by December, yet certain events have come about and prevented me from writing this. Perhaps it's the curse of staring into a blank screen and knowing that words fail you. Mayhaps its due to understanding  how defensive I am with my thoughts and knowing that in certain cases I must be able to articulate what is meant without fallacy if I am to reach what is meant without people with nets knocking on my door. Thinking each thought at least 7 times searching for unintentional innuendo and shallow meaning, I can not bear to simply state what is without giving the depth of meaning that so many close to me have actually come to expect from me. And so, I will attempt to make my case to you in hope of simultaneously arriving to my chain of thought on why instead having you have me committed in an hour.

I think it was watching this film that has removed any knot from my mental being and lessened my symbolic tongue to express myself with a sense of meaning and purpose. You may want to take a moment to take a look before you begin to read any further. Do not worry. I will not be leaving any time soon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZU6-9pxYTmM&feature=share

Heavy, no?

I think it hit me a year or two ago when I was studying anatomy. That moment of clarity that comes from 10 to 12 hours of studying a day in order to know the names of muscles and bones as well as the anatomical meaning. I've never been good at memorizing without meaning and can attribute my lack of exemplary proof in my transcript. And yet, the meaning of it all hit me hard and with a shudder. It tabulated everything at that moment and I was able to see the magnificence of the realization. Studying the diagram of severed muscles pinned askew exposing others with small flags diagramming them all. The delicate severance of sinew  and tendon. the nakedness of bone. The arm stopped being an organism, a conjunction of balanced actions and counter movements.

It became me. It was you. It was everyone. It was all of us. It was the majority of life on this small orb. It showed the difference of what is and what was. It split time and space. It held mystery and potential. It had hidden meaning and purpose. It represented love and compassion. Evil and cold emotionless cruelty. It had lived to caress, strike, hold and motion. It had ended in silence and lost function and yet it still held on to the meaning it had once held. Everything and nothing.

The arm was once alive.

If I held an ounce of religious thought within my being at this moment I'd would have thanked God. And yet, here it was and here we were in a time of war, anguish, cruel and cold manipulation of the the mind of man in order to improve the lives of few rather than the many. I could not help myself to honestly question. It was then once more that I picked up my tattered book by a man who died not too long ago. Having read it at first I thought that the limitation of divinity simply expressed the corruptions of man and the perversions of mankind. Reading it once more it yielded thoughts that I could not simply answer as quick and simple. It allowed me to think back at my own thoughts and actions of a future past and a resent memory. It forced me to question my purpose, meaning, and action. It caused me to entertain thoughts and ideas that I feared and hoped I'd never had to deal with.

In truth, it killed a certain part of me. Freedom is not always best in some ways. It represent so much potential, yet without guidance or a method of questioning it simply opens up a world that we were not ready to comprehend. Freedom is slavery after all. Simply giving someone freedom is not enough. Freedom has to have some meaning. It has to be tangible and have some measure amount of energy and mass least it become empty and intangible. Simply saying that I free you means nothing. Blind do not simply see, nor deaf hear, or dumb speak. To believe it so is to believe in instant karma and easily dispensed peace. Seeds do not contemplate freedom. They struggle to grow and to strive without limitations or expectations in order to do what so many question as impossible.

After all how do bees fly?

The most immediate symptom what showed was my lack of aggression towards another human being. At that moment I did not want to harm another person. I committed many acts with my hands and many out of ignorance, and yet it's not excuse as so many well meaning individuals usually state under oath. And yet the complete weight was not on me as of yet. I can not call it shock since it has taken so long to show. If anything it simply is the collapse of a system of thought that was also Alpha and Omega. Can we honestly question at the importance of a good act is the math does not add up? Can't we simply rule out coherent thought and call it a miracle?

Doing so leaves us in positions that cost us more than our humanity. I can honestly say that I do not care to think of my past. I do not want to review what has been in order to understand what will be. I've done so the past 10 years in order to put meaning to fallacy and substance to paper mache Mephistopheles. It rids us our nightmares of childhood and replace them with true terror of willing hands and high beliefs. Circular thought collapses as a snake eats it's tail and yet it does not void time and space by becoming naught.

What is will always be and what is not will remain so. If there is any change reread what what you just read.

I think this has cause me to understand something that I'm still attempting to encompass with sane thought as one would take in the size of something immense. Something that goes beyond the eye as the mind attempts to take it all in. Three things happened to change time and space. They happened and they changed my outlook and yet not my drive. I'll start with what was, explain the happening and the meaning of what came about and I'll attempt to find a grasp on what is.

I've come to the conclusion a year ago that I was going to kill myself last month. Perhaps it was more of a thought experiment with a hard expiration or an attempt to find another windmill. I approached the thought as I would approach any problem to see if it was first solvable or if it didn't exist. I searched for the imaginary and where zeros would hide. I was as if approaching a a vast mountain a long distance away. It held promise and solution at a abstract distance and it allowed me to live a bit differently than it has before.

If there is no change then there is no life. Monotony kills us all at a slow numbing rate that we can not witness as you can not tell that you are dying at the moment. Cells dying at a rate that does not reach your rate of growth and yet without any change there is no growth. Without growth there is nothing but end. It either comes sooner or later. Perhaps I'm simply a bit more sensitive on the matter than most of you here. Whilst I live two lives more than the regular person I know the meaning of end and the illusion of a clean start. Hatchets do not remain burred, closets empty of skeletons and action without the cost of meaning. For every degree of knowledge pain must be paid in the same amount.

In truth, I've spent the past few years attempting to improve or correct what was done by careless actions and thoughts. To say that blood does not stain my hands is to say that the sun rises in the west and yet there is something about redemption that causes us all to correct what we have wrought without  the comfort of excuse or the relief of denial. There are some moments in truth that we can never make better. Some of us never realize that. We blind ourselves with what we can and simply make meaningless motions that in truth offer only an opiate's release than the relief of clarity.

Some of us are happy in our delusions. I'm not among them. And so, I decided to die. And yet, I know myself quite well. I'm not able to put down anything and call it an end without having given it my best attempt. I had to live. I had to live well and without any limitation. Understanding that energy is neither created nor destroyed I could not have any regrets. That and I could not let on. I simply seen the moment as the end of a moment of time. We all do it. Everything has it's end and yet we do not take a moment of time to honestly take to mind what if this was the last time we brushed our teeth. Walked through puddles or left cold and warmth. Reading my fill of zen I've come to understand that I understand nothing and must simply be in the moment in order to achieve and moment of satisfaction. Not more that my fill nor less. And so, a year ago I arrived that the thought that I must treat it with some serious thought and receive each moment as my last and have no regrets. 

Odd, you never know how well you live until you decide that it's time to die. At this point, I'll play my cards close to my chest and keep from you on my hows and whens. If it's anything that I hate more than anything in this world is having anything with well thought time behind it simply unravel. All I could say that it would have been simple, no remains would be left to be dealt with and there would be no surprises. Many have done it before me, removing themselves from a group while everyone moved on without them and with no ceremony. A passing thought if any. I still hold it close and hope to that it's how I will end my life. My choice rather than an act of stupidity, disease, or a burden on anyone.

Detachment, I've mastered it. A survival mechanism that allowed me to figuratively and physically cut myself off from anything, anyone, and everything. It allows for clear thoughts and quick actions when hell breaks through. It allows me to walk away and continue to move without hesitation or connection. It promotes my loss of deep memory or secret kept significance which I've lost so long ago. It allows only for a moment of embrace and a quick fading feeling of warmth. Transcending foolish actions that can cut deeper than steel and numbs limbs in order to do what must be done because we can and must.

In truth, my sacrifice is a price paid that no one else would have to pay. I've made peace with it so long ago and regardless of who may enter or leave in my existence it provides me it the initial movement to perform damage control and reduce the suffering of others. You can either kneel and suffer for what is lost or see it as a price paid to prevent another loss. And yet, my loss numbs me to what is lost.

Please don't pity. It what is.

 *Can't write more right now. I still need to ponder and think. I'm not too sure what I'll do and when. Let's just say I'm still going through the math. That and I would rather write this with a clear mind to look over rather than a whim. If there is anything I learned never to do....again....it's to never act on a urge or thought without taking time to grock about it.*