Dios Ex Machina Infractus

"El diablo es de gran alcance no porque él es malvado, pero porque él es viejo."

There is something to be said for ceremony, even though I can't help to believe that most of it is based on superstition. They hold people together who originally huddled together in the darkness of time and stared out into the abyss of nothing. We hold on to them so long that we lose the meaning of why we do them and simply blindly follow them out of some sort of duty and obligation that no one dares to question.

I think this is what would classify me as evil really in an olde Biblical sense which is associated with stoning and sacrificing calf to an angry deity as we wait for the reincarnation of a David to lead our Armies against an evil that had lost it's meaning. I dare to question when most would see it as sacrilegious and dangerous. And it's true, if I was in another part of the world a primitive form of the Thought Police would come for me and sever my cortex from where my thoughts keep me awake and thank the maker for doing their righteous duty.

I think I can question cause in truth I can say that I have play numerous roles in this situation. I know how blind devotion cause lead a man to fall and to allow insidious thought that caused fire to fall from grace and turn to our nightmare under our beds. Then again, I'm a romantic and partial Milton's Satan not because I have a child's imagination of what is and what should be, but because I've walked in his footsteps I've also gnashed my teeth at the heaven in hopes of a solution from above instead of my agnostic doubt.

There are moments in time when I find my words fail me. I write in some desperate hope of finding some sort of solution or to see what I can work with my own hands cause I'm am told that I will be helped if I help myself even though I've never seen the cavalry arrive when I so wished it to.

I've spent the past couple of weeks mentally pacing at everything set before me and I have to be honest, it frightens me so. I've seen this day coming for some time, but I always hoped that I can make it through somehow and make things right. In fact, if I knew I would have arrived at this point I would have not have boldly taken measure to place myself in this situation. And yet, I've honestly have to say that no matter what may come it will not end nicely.

And yet moments like these I can not help to try to find the third option. I learned early that the game is usually played with a set of rules that offer a progressive pace to a game which so many are willing to take part and not question, yet if for a single moment we stop and redefine what are the end results we somehow can not see anything but winners and losers. Yet, if we can redefine how the game is played and how we follow the rules we can always redefine the outcome. It's sometimes how we can cheat death or leave the game taking the sweetness from losing.

This is often a desperate resort to those who I often call Survivors. I still wait for the heaven to boom it down. I still wait for the numbers to add up. I wait for a sage to give me a straight answer rather than to allow my own interpretation to manifest. I can not help to ask the questions that many refuse to answer. I can not help to feel that I need to return with an answer. Something that people will accept and find solitude while I remain vigilante.

There is so much to say and yet I feel that I've already said it in every possible way. I've made my words and actions the same. I've pushed on with brave faces and smile as poster children are supposed to, to some sort of gains which people can hold up and thank. I've sat in darkness with only empty bottles to console me and to remove the bitter taste of losing another inch. I've stopped celebrating and consoling at this point only to know that as long as I have tomorrow I will continue on this Sisyphean existence. Survivors learn to take what they need and to abandon what they soon lean they do not need. To travel light and to move unseen least difficulty acknowledge our efforts and decide to challenge us further. I understand that things will get better and I know that when moments are finally good to enjoy the taste of not victory, but of solitude before the beginning of another trial.

There is always another trial.

Always outnumbered and always outgunned.

There is a reason why I'm saying this. In a way, this is as close as I can lie to myself without having my hypocrisy call me on it. In a way, I finally understood the meaning of my questioning my answers and answering my questions. I've finally seen the the difference of losing and winning in this situation and I have to be honest now. Why I haven't tasted my own end at this point is something I've question now. If it's held on some remains of a code passed down to me that I now suffocate on or if there is some sort of flair of ending that I must please those who still watch this macabre action. It's why I honestly wish that there is no one watching over me in fear of me casting a finger of indictment towards the cruel and sadistic.

I would at this point pray that the machine is broken. God is dead.....or killed....or the top layer of the tower is empty, than to be the point of a moral or of an experiment for cold calculating minds.

There is only so much one can take and there is so much one can give up.

As I said before, I am a survivor. Childe of Survivor. People who in truth should not complain after they have made through. After all, those who walk away and have not otter scars do not have reason to complain. This had finally became clear just yesterday. The cold fact that stares at you as you stare at it.

I study motive and action for meaning. I question, research and offer hope to others who sadly look to me for answers I do not have. I fight where no one see and come to the aid of those who have no one. I try to make every action and word have some sort of meaning, wasting no second on frivolous chases. My eyes do look over to my Windmills. My thoughts do escape between the twilight of sleep and consciousness to rare moment and stolen time when I can be who I wish to be and forget who I am. Sometimes people get the rare sight of who I was, am, may or can still be and it bring me a joy and love that at my naked moment, where I do not defend myself from Secret Wars, that I do shine out for the moment and simply be.

Buddha mentioned that if we can lose ourselves in the moment that we arrive to the truth of who we are and what we are. We become not what the situation makes us or how society, people, life, family, obligation, past, sins, shame, desire, or need makes us, but we become who we really are. In those single moments that I push myself against everything that is, I finally lose myself and become me.

Those moments are too far between and almost nonexistent.

So sitting here I once again come to the point where I stare into nothing. I do not know what may come my way of if there will be a tomorrow to fight on for. At this point I know that survivors sometimes have to let one thing drop to allow them to save everything else they hold on to. And each and every time that they reach that point a lie is told that they will be able to come back to pick it up again. That once things get better that they will be able return to what they let go. That it's only the moment. The lie is told that they will come back when they are able to. A promise which at a certain point loses it's life and hope and becomes that lie. A lie that we often time can not live with.

I'm saying this because it's what I have to come into terms with. It's what I have to understand before I can move on again. It's the price I have to pay again in order to endure tomorrow. As much as I would love to go into the reasons, I can not. I don't think I can honestly do so. I have to let go of something else once more in order to keep everything else. I have to sacrifice one more thing in hopes of keeping everything else that I come to realize that I can not let go. One day I may pick it up again or I may relearn to live without it and remain a survivor, a vagabond, someone who is never part of what is there nor would understand if they are ever welcomed. Sometimes our actions to survive come at a terrible cost that in truth we do not know until we are able to be among those who have not lost what we gave up.

It makes us feel that we can never belong among others if not for a moment of life.

I pray I will not have to lose what at this point I'm trying to convince myself that is not an important part of me. That it will not make me hollow or distant at times to will force me to leave those around me when I secretly wish to remain. I seem whole on the outside but I'm know that I am not able to remain near others for too long. That I have given enough of myself to survive, but not to live. That I will never close my eyes and simply be, but waiting for the next way to come. Always waiting.

It makes me distant and cold. It makes me flaky and odd. It makes some people look at me oddly and other even wonder what makes me "interesting". Eliot said it best.

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

My only hope at this point is that the price I paid allows me to do what many others can not. it gives me the ability to what must and needs to be done, especially for those who I love the most but I can not show.

I will be positive is not to set up a dramatic rescue that will come to me and allow me to be then to simply cheat what I face from the sweetness of it's victory. I will smile and I will have faith and above all I will continue to push against what I face until I can push past it to another task that will try me as the previous task could not. I will push on because all true Romantics push on and will never turn heels and allow what will beat us to savor its win. I will continue to be defiant and rebellious. I will curse with my last breath and laugh until I can not. I will not give in and will not go down without a fight. That I can do. I'm a survivor after all and it's what I am able to do.

Ha ha.....not one to make things easy for anyone.

So .....I guess I'm sorry. Perhaps all of this is my way of apologizing to so many of you who have tried and yet have been disappointed in me. Survivors make for terrible friends. There is a limit to what I can offer and what I can give. I can not help to feel cold and heartless in moments that demand me to be kind or giving, knowing that in truth I will not trust or allow those around me to feel that I place my confidence in them without having an exit plan. It's a whole lot easier for me to give what I can and to cut when I am no use to others. I would rather not be a burden to those who I love the most. I would rather cut them out of my life knowing that they will do better without me making their live harder than it should be than to be a burden. I've already been told that this is stupid by many, but it's my worry and fear. It's what's always son the back of my mind.

Or......I can believe in the machine. The crank will move and Jack will jump and everything will be ok. I can believe that when I need it the most, everything will be better and all will be fine. Things will be better this year and I'm worrying for nothing. I will laugh and laugh at all of it and we will look back and know that it will be all in the past. I have nothing to worry about.

Perhaps the Machine will work.

Perhaps.

Then again, I'm usually the one telling everyone, and perhaps you also, that things will get better.

Things will get better, right?

The Machine will work.