(no subject)
I must preface this post by saying that; when I logged into my live journal today it asked me to restore the saved draft I was working on the last time I was logged in. I wanted to see what I was working on and this popped up. I have altered some spelling mistakes but otherwise this is what I was thinking about as I was getting ready to move to Gastown. Very interesting.
When I went to look for a bag with some snowboard gear in it the other day, the first place I looked was the work shop. There were many things in there but alas my gear was not among them. I went next to the crawl space under the stairs. I was again not successful in finding the gear. I then went to my closet and had a look around in there. I was not so much disappointed at not finding my gear as I was amazed at all the skeletons sitting holding converse together. As I stepped in to search for the gear they all looked at me with those extremely unnerving permanent smiles or leers or lipless grins and fell as silent as the empty tombs they should have been filling. Its a strange thing to walk into a space and be confronted by things that know you as intimately as you know yourself, or at least that part of you that pertains to them. They all just sat there mute, considering me with unseeing yet piercingly seeing gazes. What do you say to your secrets? The specters of sin and fell or foul deeds. They live. They will always live. As long as you are, so are they. Im not even sure I was able to tell the difference between the secrets that were mine and the secrets that were given to me by others. They had all become a part of that dark place that you spend your sleepless nights, or quiet moments of inner tumult trying to forget.
I decided to make friends. Since this is my strong suit and there is no way to beat or overcome or vanquish or banish or kill or rid ones self of in any way bar freeing them all. It seemed the logical thing. We sat and talked of my faults and failings that had led to the genesis of some of them. We Discussed my Deep Love for the friends who could not hold some of them and must needs pass them on. How the reasons that gave rise to the existence of some had ceased to be and the irony that despite the ascension to a higher level in hopes of leaving some of them behind they still walked in my shadow. I was taught by my darkest secrets, my most embarrassing moments my most hateful actions or those of the ones I hold dear enough to harbor theirs for them, how to take strength from and use the emotion stirred up by them for the good. How odd to despise and fear knowledge of deeds or the memory of, instead of taking council from and growing because of every experience lived or listened to. Fear truly is the mind killer. Curiosity and courage and a little collaboration can open worlds of lessons to be learned.
At the end of all, I did not find the snowboard gear I was originally seeking. I did however unwittingly blunder into the middle of something I was searching for much more arduously if more subtly than at first intended.
When I went to look for a bag with some snowboard gear in it the other day, the first place I looked was the work shop. There were many things in there but alas my gear was not among them. I went next to the crawl space under the stairs. I was again not successful in finding the gear. I then went to my closet and had a look around in there. I was not so much disappointed at not finding my gear as I was amazed at all the skeletons sitting holding converse together. As I stepped in to search for the gear they all looked at me with those extremely unnerving permanent smiles or leers or lipless grins and fell as silent as the empty tombs they should have been filling. Its a strange thing to walk into a space and be confronted by things that know you as intimately as you know yourself, or at least that part of you that pertains to them. They all just sat there mute, considering me with unseeing yet piercingly seeing gazes. What do you say to your secrets? The specters of sin and fell or foul deeds. They live. They will always live. As long as you are, so are they. Im not even sure I was able to tell the difference between the secrets that were mine and the secrets that were given to me by others. They had all become a part of that dark place that you spend your sleepless nights, or quiet moments of inner tumult trying to forget.
I decided to make friends. Since this is my strong suit and there is no way to beat or overcome or vanquish or banish or kill or rid ones self of in any way bar freeing them all. It seemed the logical thing. We sat and talked of my faults and failings that had led to the genesis of some of them. We Discussed my Deep Love for the friends who could not hold some of them and must needs pass them on. How the reasons that gave rise to the existence of some had ceased to be and the irony that despite the ascension to a higher level in hopes of leaving some of them behind they still walked in my shadow. I was taught by my darkest secrets, my most embarrassing moments my most hateful actions or those of the ones I hold dear enough to harbor theirs for them, how to take strength from and use the emotion stirred up by them for the good. How odd to despise and fear knowledge of deeds or the memory of, instead of taking council from and growing because of every experience lived or listened to. Fear truly is the mind killer. Curiosity and courage and a little collaboration can open worlds of lessons to be learned.
At the end of all, I did not find the snowboard gear I was originally seeking. I did however unwittingly blunder into the middle of something I was searching for much more arduously if more subtly than at first intended.