a lesson in honesty and compassion
my mind never seems to rest anymore. in sleeping i find my mind wide awake... contemplating, in my own dreams. like looking in in a mirror, captivated by the infinite reflection from the mirror behind. i question sometimes whether this habit developed from constant analyzation of nearly every instance that i experience... one day i must have subconsciously snapped, and surrendered to the never ending process of argument, to counter argument, to counter argument, and so on.
this has been going on for quite some time now. roughly a few years. as time passes, it only seems to increase... with no vactions. at least not yet. although it can be an obstacle sometimes (like when i am put in a situation that demands my attention, yet my thoughts are everywhere but where they should be), i have grown to love it. it plays a major factor in defining who i am in the here and now... each instance eventually meets its conclusion. stands as proof, at least for me, that some type of consistency is developing. aligning itself with the truth, the reality... this is always the point where i fail to describe exactly what that reality is... for conversation sake, lets just say its beyond words. i hope that you can bear with my inefficiency. hopefully some day consistency will provide me with the means to overcome it... but we have already talked about this.
all of this has caused me to communicate in abstractness. a lot of times i say something and people respond with a 'what the fuck is that supposed to mean?' people give modern art the same reaction. so i feel like a walking andy warhol painting at times. this 'abstractness' condition, i am assuming, is also where my failure to concentrate comes into play. abstract communication is not abstract to me, it is normal. i read a poem, and understand it. maybe not the way that other people understand it. or maybe not even the way the author intended it to be understood, but it touches me in some way that is... beyond words.
i lost the ability to lie.
to lie to myself, and lie to others.
it didn't take long for the arguments to conclude that lying is merely a waste of time...
a never ending game.
the other team is always two points ahead.
lying ties my stomach in knots.
creates obstacles in being who i am.
which is all that i want.
all that i can do.
there is no reason to lie anymore.
and i will get around to explaining it someday...
when i have the energy.
raising my voice only happens when it is in line with pure emotion. no more laughing like a hyena, or yelling at random old ladies for no reason other than to fulfill that primal urge to be a dickhead. acting like that is a lie, when this little voice in your head is whispering about how it is such a waste of time. its been two weeks since the last time the primal urge erupted, and i think its safe to say that it died that very same day. all that's left now is compassion in its weak, seedling form. it was there all along, in someway or another. it was just dormant... frozen. or however the hell you wanna say it.... you know what i mean anyways.
this is what all the arguments have concluded so far:
my tiny brain cannot understand an infinite amount of knowledge that is in constant flux.
in comparison to all that is, i am a mere fragment of a fragment of a part of that all.
somehow or other i am under the impression that the two above statements are false, even though logic and experience tells me otherwise.
that impression holds me back from being me, and forces me to become what i am not.
freeing my mind has helped in overcoming that impression, and i have witnessed changes in my demeanor as a result.
i am driven towards a life of intuition, prayer, contemplation, simplicity because of this.
the desire to become some scholar (religious, education, science or philosophy) was part of the impression... it doesn't really matter to me anymore.
any amount of self control that individuals believe that i possess is not my doing... i am simply not strong enough.
any criticism that i receive for not acting in conjunction with words i speak,is wholeheartedly embraced... thinking that i am the doer is the cause of weakness. i need that pointed out to me time and time again.
i want to be who i am: i want to spend my life with someone that i love beyond myself and i want to be a father.
i want to breathe fresh air and always retain the zeal of youth.
i want to fulfill this impulse in me to play a role in uplifting people.
i want to submerse my thoughts in what is beyond words and i want my best friends to be those that do the same.
i want to dance in the woods and talk freely about what embodies my thoughts.
i don't want to be scared to look at someone and acknowledge the beauty of their face.
every day is a lesson in honesty and compassion. i have a constantly depleting fear that these lessons are meaningless. and it is all thanks to the 'restless' mind.
this has been going on for quite some time now. roughly a few years. as time passes, it only seems to increase... with no vactions. at least not yet. although it can be an obstacle sometimes (like when i am put in a situation that demands my attention, yet my thoughts are everywhere but where they should be), i have grown to love it. it plays a major factor in defining who i am in the here and now... each instance eventually meets its conclusion. stands as proof, at least for me, that some type of consistency is developing. aligning itself with the truth, the reality... this is always the point where i fail to describe exactly what that reality is... for conversation sake, lets just say its beyond words. i hope that you can bear with my inefficiency. hopefully some day consistency will provide me with the means to overcome it... but we have already talked about this.
all of this has caused me to communicate in abstractness. a lot of times i say something and people respond with a 'what the fuck is that supposed to mean?' people give modern art the same reaction. so i feel like a walking andy warhol painting at times. this 'abstractness' condition, i am assuming, is also where my failure to concentrate comes into play. abstract communication is not abstract to me, it is normal. i read a poem, and understand it. maybe not the way that other people understand it. or maybe not even the way the author intended it to be understood, but it touches me in some way that is... beyond words.
i lost the ability to lie.
to lie to myself, and lie to others.
it didn't take long for the arguments to conclude that lying is merely a waste of time...
a never ending game.
the other team is always two points ahead.
lying ties my stomach in knots.
creates obstacles in being who i am.
which is all that i want.
all that i can do.
there is no reason to lie anymore.
and i will get around to explaining it someday...
when i have the energy.
raising my voice only happens when it is in line with pure emotion. no more laughing like a hyena, or yelling at random old ladies for no reason other than to fulfill that primal urge to be a dickhead. acting like that is a lie, when this little voice in your head is whispering about how it is such a waste of time. its been two weeks since the last time the primal urge erupted, and i think its safe to say that it died that very same day. all that's left now is compassion in its weak, seedling form. it was there all along, in someway or another. it was just dormant... frozen. or however the hell you wanna say it.... you know what i mean anyways.
this is what all the arguments have concluded so far:
my tiny brain cannot understand an infinite amount of knowledge that is in constant flux.
in comparison to all that is, i am a mere fragment of a fragment of a part of that all.
somehow or other i am under the impression that the two above statements are false, even though logic and experience tells me otherwise.
that impression holds me back from being me, and forces me to become what i am not.
freeing my mind has helped in overcoming that impression, and i have witnessed changes in my demeanor as a result.
i am driven towards a life of intuition, prayer, contemplation, simplicity because of this.
the desire to become some scholar (religious, education, science or philosophy) was part of the impression... it doesn't really matter to me anymore.
any amount of self control that individuals believe that i possess is not my doing... i am simply not strong enough.
any criticism that i receive for not acting in conjunction with words i speak,is wholeheartedly embraced... thinking that i am the doer is the cause of weakness. i need that pointed out to me time and time again.
i want to be who i am: i want to spend my life with someone that i love beyond myself and i want to be a father.
i want to breathe fresh air and always retain the zeal of youth.
i want to fulfill this impulse in me to play a role in uplifting people.
i want to submerse my thoughts in what is beyond words and i want my best friends to be those that do the same.
i want to dance in the woods and talk freely about what embodies my thoughts.
i don't want to be scared to look at someone and acknowledge the beauty of their face.
every day is a lesson in honesty and compassion. i have a constantly depleting fear that these lessons are meaningless. and it is all thanks to the 'restless' mind.