(no subject)
Serenity is something we can find only in our minds.
It does not exist.
If you are ever COMPLETELY happy, you are either dead or delusional. Happiness in its purest form cannot exist on this earth: the joys we feel are amplified by the remembrences of sufferings we have endured. Love is made more precious when we see what it would be like to lose it. Sleep is more treasured when we are troubled and it becomes more difficult to doze off soundly. If we did not have these strange maladies in our lives, everyday joys that we find would be nothing more than unnoticed trivialities.
Sometimes, I feel like my life fucking sucks. Others, I feel like nothing can stop me. Neither lasts for long. Rather, a modus of relatively mediocre stability dominates, pierced occasionally by an intrusion from either side of the spectrum. There are, of course, exceptions. Being around certain people can make me feel one way or the other, but on the whole, that is how my life proceeds.
I've been realizing lately just how deep love can go (and no, I don't just mean love for a partner/spouse). When your life is shit, when you have to try harder than you ever had, summon all your strength just to pray to a God you can't see, whose word you are taking on blind faith that He will save you,who you often want to believe is absent, and yet you still pray. . . still keep hope, still scream, cry, still wonder what He has in mind. . . and find that at the end of your sufferings, you know Him better than before, you know what love is.
My journal entries lately have been less about things going on in my life and more about me. . . if that makes any sense. I guess they are more general but also more introspective as I realize some of the problems that persist in me. For instance, I find that I am increasingly consumed by physical exhaustion as a result of my mental state.
I'm not sane. I'm not crazy. I don't even think I'm floating somewhere in-between. I just feel tired, sad, angry, delusional, and psychic. I know it's bull-shit. It's just hard to escape from it. Sometimes it seems like there is so much suffering in the world that it smothers me. And I don't just mean in my life: it's as if the wieght of the world is placed upon me the more I realize the implications of statistics and news. I'm taking a class in murder, and I'm realizing that about 6 / 100,000 people in the US is murdered every year. Doesn't seem like a lot until you expand the social network of those six people. Each of those people has a family, a history, a past, and also a future--a future that was robbed from them. Each person who suffers at the hands of this one person's death passes that grief onto his or her friends (who are admittedly somewhat less troubled, but who pass this exaspiration onto others). Thus, suffering continues.
I suppose, to be fair, that I should say all good events are passed on in a pay-it-forward sort of way. But really, they're not. We complain about the bad and fail to acknowledge the good to the same degree. In that sense, sadness is perpetuated--it echoes through society. Goodness is muffled, drowned out, and exhausted. THAT is what is wrong with the world.
So appreciate the things people do for you in your life and make sure to tell people about them. Maybe hope isn't so far. It'll start small, but it could end big. If you feel moved to, tell someone else to read this journal entry and pass on the message (probably in a less wordy form). Take happiness in the good you can do. And do it often.
--Mike
It does not exist.
If you are ever COMPLETELY happy, you are either dead or delusional. Happiness in its purest form cannot exist on this earth: the joys we feel are amplified by the remembrences of sufferings we have endured. Love is made more precious when we see what it would be like to lose it. Sleep is more treasured when we are troubled and it becomes more difficult to doze off soundly. If we did not have these strange maladies in our lives, everyday joys that we find would be nothing more than unnoticed trivialities.
Sometimes, I feel like my life fucking sucks. Others, I feel like nothing can stop me. Neither lasts for long. Rather, a modus of relatively mediocre stability dominates, pierced occasionally by an intrusion from either side of the spectrum. There are, of course, exceptions. Being around certain people can make me feel one way or the other, but on the whole, that is how my life proceeds.
I've been realizing lately just how deep love can go (and no, I don't just mean love for a partner/spouse). When your life is shit, when you have to try harder than you ever had, summon all your strength just to pray to a God you can't see, whose word you are taking on blind faith that He will save you,who you often want to believe is absent, and yet you still pray. . . still keep hope, still scream, cry, still wonder what He has in mind. . . and find that at the end of your sufferings, you know Him better than before, you know what love is.
My journal entries lately have been less about things going on in my life and more about me. . . if that makes any sense. I guess they are more general but also more introspective as I realize some of the problems that persist in me. For instance, I find that I am increasingly consumed by physical exhaustion as a result of my mental state.
I'm not sane. I'm not crazy. I don't even think I'm floating somewhere in-between. I just feel tired, sad, angry, delusional, and psychic. I know it's bull-shit. It's just hard to escape from it. Sometimes it seems like there is so much suffering in the world that it smothers me. And I don't just mean in my life: it's as if the wieght of the world is placed upon me the more I realize the implications of statistics and news. I'm taking a class in murder, and I'm realizing that about 6 / 100,000 people in the US is murdered every year. Doesn't seem like a lot until you expand the social network of those six people. Each of those people has a family, a history, a past, and also a future--a future that was robbed from them. Each person who suffers at the hands of this one person's death passes that grief onto his or her friends (who are admittedly somewhat less troubled, but who pass this exaspiration onto others). Thus, suffering continues.
I suppose, to be fair, that I should say all good events are passed on in a pay-it-forward sort of way. But really, they're not. We complain about the bad and fail to acknowledge the good to the same degree. In that sense, sadness is perpetuated--it echoes through society. Goodness is muffled, drowned out, and exhausted. THAT is what is wrong with the world.
So appreciate the things people do for you in your life and make sure to tell people about them. Maybe hope isn't so far. It'll start small, but it could end big. If you feel moved to, tell someone else to read this journal entry and pass on the message (probably in a less wordy form). Take happiness in the good you can do. And do it often.
--Mike