Its time to turn the knob down to "reflect"
I feel the stillness and quiet of the present. I have been awash in literature and spiritual deepthinking contextualized conceptualized gobbledygoop.
Life is the pursuit of pleasure. The past will hold a mirror up to your regret and the future is planting your seeds on the path before the clearing. Pleasure exists in the present. This is no secret and unfolds in many forms to many sects cultures and anyone. I'm not so anxious these days just contemplative. I've written a book. I want to put together a manuscript.
I want to travel.
Knowledge is a currency, something you pocket and save: it accumulates. Wisdom is learning as a direct result of experience. You can be knowledgeable and unwise. So I shed my knowledge and start down the path to wisdom. How little we know. This goes beyond words and I cannot say more about it.
When you open yourself up to what you can be, truly, you shed the unneccesary particles of social constriction. This means little to most but everyone will feel this tinge this craving to stop in the middle of one thought and remain there until the noise of a crowded room only amplifies your own concentration on nothing and nothing at all. Silence, in fact, is golden.
What else...
The law of magnetism. Think. Attract. Attain. What you dwell on, you recieve.
What is a poem? What makes a poem good? What the hell are these people talking about when they write? I feel very alone in the dark-room of my writing and I'm beginning to wonder if I write only to read it later and identify with what it means. I will write and write and commune with the experience of poetry until I die. My favorite poet is a persian tent-maker from the 1600's. who will I be to someone in 400 years? And as this consumes me I keep my focus on being the oasis among contemporary poets. I might die unknown and that has finally become a settlement no-less my goal.
"Here lies a man who's name was writ in water"
It might say. If you see me around these days I won't say much.
I try to keep contemplative.
I admire many of you for what you do.
Life is the pursuit of pleasure. The past will hold a mirror up to your regret and the future is planting your seeds on the path before the clearing. Pleasure exists in the present. This is no secret and unfolds in many forms to many sects cultures and anyone. I'm not so anxious these days just contemplative. I've written a book. I want to put together a manuscript.
I want to travel.
Knowledge is a currency, something you pocket and save: it accumulates. Wisdom is learning as a direct result of experience. You can be knowledgeable and unwise. So I shed my knowledge and start down the path to wisdom. How little we know. This goes beyond words and I cannot say more about it.
When you open yourself up to what you can be, truly, you shed the unneccesary particles of social constriction. This means little to most but everyone will feel this tinge this craving to stop in the middle of one thought and remain there until the noise of a crowded room only amplifies your own concentration on nothing and nothing at all. Silence, in fact, is golden.
What else...
The law of magnetism. Think. Attract. Attain. What you dwell on, you recieve.
What is a poem? What makes a poem good? What the hell are these people talking about when they write? I feel very alone in the dark-room of my writing and I'm beginning to wonder if I write only to read it later and identify with what it means. I will write and write and commune with the experience of poetry until I die. My favorite poet is a persian tent-maker from the 1600's. who will I be to someone in 400 years? And as this consumes me I keep my focus on being the oasis among contemporary poets. I might die unknown and that has finally become a settlement no-less my goal.
"Here lies a man who's name was writ in water"
It might say. If you see me around these days I won't say much.
I try to keep contemplative.
I admire many of you for what you do.