Walking away...
My birthday came and went with little fanfare. My body is becoming like a well-used car. The mileage is getting a little higher, the engine is running (more or less), and a few of the bearings and joints are wearing out.
You know, I guess we never truly stop learning in life. The thing about that statement, the thing that really frightens me, is what it is we choose to learn, how we choose to assimilate that information, and what we do with it (if anything). We are faced with shortcomings; mountains that need to be overcome. We learn to live with our shortcomings, at times, to adapt and see them as challenges, and to eventually overcome them. We learn to climb the mountains (or not). We begin to recognize that we have blind spots. We start to see which friends are real, which ones are fake... We take comfort in those things we choose to tell ourselves, and we attempt to paint an image of consistency in a world of chaos. There are those of us who embrace the chaos. Some of us are crazy. Some of us are strong... And the truth of it is that some of us are probably a bit of both. A landscape slowly emerges through all this, a bubble that shows us what it is we choose to see. We create this bubble, this self image of perception, of being, which we use in an attempt to tell us who we are, who we want to be, and often to tell us what we want to hear. Once we've created our little bubble, we venture out into the world. Sometimes we touch bubbles with others who may have struck a fancy with us, others who either choose to see us as we choose to see ourselves, and still others who choose to see us as we truly are (and still, they manage to love us). We avoid those who see in us a picture of boredom, of disgust, or of ugliness in its purest form. Much of what we do is a nonsensical attempt (some have it well planned, however) to paint a picture of ourselves. A picture that we like. A picture that means something. A picture that fades away into obscurity when we die. We all do this to varying degrees. I think the industry word for it is self image. And the world has twisted what this term should mean in a terrible way. People with fancy titles and German names get to tell us what it is we're feeling and why we feel it. Does any of this make sense? Sometimes the path into my train of thought is fraught with twisted logic, nonsense, and leaps of faith. I hope this makes sense to you. Because it makes perfect sense to me.
What are we really, anyhow? Are we composed of our thoughts, our experiences (both good and bad), and our self-perceptions? Do we glimpse the world, ourselves, or others outside of our bubble? Or does the bubble make everything blurry and hard to see? What are we, really? Are we just a bunch of thoughts and memories all jumbled together or are we something more? Do we pull aside the layers of fuzziness, the behaviors and tendencies that affect our behavior, in order to find clarity, a chance to find out who we really are? Probably it's the latter, or it should be the latter. Many of us, however, pile on the fuzzies. Some of us intentionally blur things (everything looks better when it's fuzzy, I hear). We live in a world of materialism, of money, cars, and clothing, a world that pushes us to add layer after layer to our bubble, a society that encourages us to try and affect who we are by teaching and enabling us to add outside crap--everything from shoes to cappuccinos. We really are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world. We sing, we dance, we decorate ourselves in crap; all in an attempt to stand out and blend in all at the same time. We spend our entire lives trying to figure out who we are when 'who we are' is right here, right now. I am me. You are you. We are not who we try to be, we are not who pretend to be, we're not even what we wish we could be. We're not monsters, we're not angels, we're not what we think we are.
We just Are.
Truly there is beauty in nothingness.
B--
You know, I guess we never truly stop learning in life. The thing about that statement, the thing that really frightens me, is what it is we choose to learn, how we choose to assimilate that information, and what we do with it (if anything). We are faced with shortcomings; mountains that need to be overcome. We learn to live with our shortcomings, at times, to adapt and see them as challenges, and to eventually overcome them. We learn to climb the mountains (or not). We begin to recognize that we have blind spots. We start to see which friends are real, which ones are fake... We take comfort in those things we choose to tell ourselves, and we attempt to paint an image of consistency in a world of chaos. There are those of us who embrace the chaos. Some of us are crazy. Some of us are strong... And the truth of it is that some of us are probably a bit of both. A landscape slowly emerges through all this, a bubble that shows us what it is we choose to see. We create this bubble, this self image of perception, of being, which we use in an attempt to tell us who we are, who we want to be, and often to tell us what we want to hear. Once we've created our little bubble, we venture out into the world. Sometimes we touch bubbles with others who may have struck a fancy with us, others who either choose to see us as we choose to see ourselves, and still others who choose to see us as we truly are (and still, they manage to love us). We avoid those who see in us a picture of boredom, of disgust, or of ugliness in its purest form. Much of what we do is a nonsensical attempt (some have it well planned, however) to paint a picture of ourselves. A picture that we like. A picture that means something. A picture that fades away into obscurity when we die. We all do this to varying degrees. I think the industry word for it is self image. And the world has twisted what this term should mean in a terrible way. People with fancy titles and German names get to tell us what it is we're feeling and why we feel it. Does any of this make sense? Sometimes the path into my train of thought is fraught with twisted logic, nonsense, and leaps of faith. I hope this makes sense to you. Because it makes perfect sense to me.
What are we really, anyhow? Are we composed of our thoughts, our experiences (both good and bad), and our self-perceptions? Do we glimpse the world, ourselves, or others outside of our bubble? Or does the bubble make everything blurry and hard to see? What are we, really? Are we just a bunch of thoughts and memories all jumbled together or are we something more? Do we pull aside the layers of fuzziness, the behaviors and tendencies that affect our behavior, in order to find clarity, a chance to find out who we really are? Probably it's the latter, or it should be the latter. Many of us, however, pile on the fuzzies. Some of us intentionally blur things (everything looks better when it's fuzzy, I hear). We live in a world of materialism, of money, cars, and clothing, a world that pushes us to add layer after layer to our bubble, a society that encourages us to try and affect who we are by teaching and enabling us to add outside crap--everything from shoes to cappuccinos. We really are the all singing, all dancing, crap of the world. We sing, we dance, we decorate ourselves in crap; all in an attempt to stand out and blend in all at the same time. We spend our entire lives trying to figure out who we are when 'who we are' is right here, right now. I am me. You are you. We are not who we try to be, we are not who pretend to be, we're not even what we wish we could be. We're not monsters, we're not angels, we're not what we think we are.
We just Are.
Truly there is beauty in nothingness.
B--