let me theorize for a moment here. i had a dream the other night that was oddly coraline-esque, in the sense that i was struggling with some dominant monster in the house that i grew up in. i don't remember a lot of the details; i wish i had written closer to the actual event but i haven't been finding the time lately, and it just struck me upside the head with its oddity. i do remember that i was in my parents' bedroom, though as characteristic in dreams it was not so much the same in furnishings, or size, just in relative location and perhaps general shape. this is an energy-center of a house for children, so i can understand why my mind would choose it as a setting of some sort. i'm sure that i also branched, at some point, into my own childhood room, which was just across the hallway...an easy jaunt even if progress was hindered by battle, or whatever~
i'm not really sure where i intend to go with this prelude...it strikes me as, not necessarily unusual, but quite curious that so many of my dreams happen in or around my old house. you would think that my mind would be engaging nightly with newer problems, newer ideas, and setting them appropriately in my new surroundings...but perhaps these are too volatile, in my lack of knowledge of them, to paint adequate pictures for a backdrop. i'm fairly certain that my themes, the ideas that my dreams are really digging their fingers into, hashing out, are more intelligent than they used to be...that they deal with different issues as they develop, as i come across them in my actual experience. but they come as ghosts in my old haunts, which, for my part, was unexpected.
so, the parents' bedroom was unique, usually not a typical setting. there are other places which recur with more frequency...namely the backyard. we had a good-sized backyard at my house in the springs, and i suppose that i spent a good deal of time in it. in the dreams, however, it is permeated with a sense of mystery, of vagueness and enormous, almost incomprehensible, size. i wonder about myself as a child, and in the wonderment i find this charmed recurrence of earlier self. it makes me wonder about the most basic sensations in life....that of the security of the home; the focus of life for everyone that you know. the comfort found inside those walls, and how that is imbued upon a childish mind....what the outside would have meant to me, then. i imagine myself, done up in blue one-piece winnie-the-pooh pajamas, gazing in rapt bewilderment out the glass doors in our main entryway, trying to decipher the strange wilderness, the unexplored depths of our backyard. what does a two-year old think of a tree? of grass and flowers? do they have the same positive valence that we would attribute to them now? part of me thinks that they would be frightening totems (head on pole) of the outside world, of complete loss of control.
of course, to a child, unknowns behave in different ways than they do to us now. our adult selves build up apprehensions based upon our past experiences; they fortify us from the outside world with snowglobe-like bricks, each teeming with motion and memory, each distorting the outside world more and more as we look through them, sometimes not even being able to see past the memories themselves. children become apprehensive, fearful, but only after their base comforts have already been stripped from them. a child misses his mother only once she is gone, not before; a child does not fear being lost until it actually arises. we tangle with these scenarios before they exist, and in that we lose something valuable in our interface with the world - we begin to focus more and more, and ultimately we see less and less.
so here i am, standing with my hands and nose pressed against the glass separating my child self from his house's backyard. squirrels scamper by, and i do not understand them. i wonder what sensations they call to my heart.
if i had to guess (since the time i am describing is before memory), and i am going to infer from my dreams now, i would venture to say that i felt fear. not a gripping terror, but an ambiguous shadow floating just beyond my perception, darkening. i say this, because in my dreams i find this same darkness to it. it has apparently been chosen as the place where i work out most of my unconscious struggles. i wish i had a running count of the number of dreams and/or nightmares which at some point trample through that backyard, which in reality has not a trace of ominousness to it but, who can say what a mind will twist anything into at the end of the day~ different sections of that backyard are honeycombed off in my mind; each attributed with memories and characteristics, properties which are real to me but which never belonged.
additionally, as if that weren't enough, i have an amplification of this wilderness....i have my family's cabin, secluded deep in the woods of kenosha pass. this was the spot for family vacations, an inexpensive spot to get away from it all, and i'm certain that it is tethered to numerous memories for everyone who goes there so it is a logical place to return to. i have spent time at this cabin as far back as i can remember, and always it has been a holy temple to me, an observation of the depths of nature and a retreat from the world as i knew it. this cabin is a fantastic place; perhaps you, reader, will be taken there one day~ but it has also developed, for me, as an extremely psychologically-powerful token. i go to this cabin, in my dreams, in my unconscious mind, when apparently there are mountains of rubble in my head that need to be worked through. almost always this cabin appears to me as a fractured house of the most haunted and haunting capacity possible. always there are deep-seated ghosts, literally; always it is overrun with the raw power of nature, crowned with black, spindly insects, the wardens of what deeper unsettled spirits lie slumbering there. the woods around this cabin host my deepest dreams, my deepest indications of what being 'lost', or pursued by the night, feels like. always it is an incredible adventure just to get to this place, rarely by car as would be expected; typically i must forge my way through snowfields and packs of savage animals, cross extreme conditions and distances in pursuit of something i do not know, at least not consciously. i am never sure what the motivation for returning to this place is, but always there is something drawing me towards it.
i do not know why these nature spots have become the seats for my subconscious psyche. all i can say is that they are bottled with unspeakable things; they reflect a different side of the world, as if i had stood in the middle of them and used the mirror from A Link to the Past. things do not make sense there, and everything is darkened. i thought it notable, towards the goal of figuring myself out a little better...and it always helps me to sort out my thoughts more clearly, this 'writing'.
shhh! listen:
royksopp - "royksopp forever"
April 9, 2009
April 2, 2009
today
"friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... it has no survival value; rather is one of those things that give value to survival."
~ C. S. Lewis
how good to have friends, people that we can merge ourselves with; the refraction of perspectives gives telescopic sight. what we can bounce off of a friend is a concept, a notion of ourselves that we have gathered, and we present it freely...a concept which is taken, and puttied, and molded in another mind, mirrored, until we really begin to get a better idea of what we meant in the first place. they can show us things, they can take us farther...obliterating our boundaries and creating impressions of some unexplored territory to the east. they will notice different things, they will append our own selves until we begin to merge the lines and become confused. and then they position us, they help us to see where we fit within this larger picture. they bring our artisan selves, our works and spirit, to places that we have not physically or emotionally been to. places that we shall not know for some time, but which could alter our way of looking at life.
my friends are powerful forces. for them i would burn my books, my money, my car, my apartment. i would sacrifice these things to do real good for them. time is never 'spent' with them; it is savored thoroughly. it is crafted and shared. to spend time is the function of a job, lathing away wafer-thin slices of us so as to preserve the rest (for what else is the remainder intended?) and in the space with our friends, in nurturing environments, we grow back to our former selves. we relearn skills, we reconstruct our memories which had been partially-stripped. we are the children of our freely-chosen experiences.
so damn, it's great to be here. my people build me up, when i am down; they recall the shapes that i am missing at any given time (which takes a fair bit of analysis and knowledge of myself on their part), conjure them from our shared spaces, energies, and present them to me swathed in new packaging. or forgotten packaging, which is the best sort. i could only hope to do them this same service when it is needed. there is responsibility inherent in knowing someone (if they can be said to be 'known'), that we must keep vigil over them for when they are in a time of need. we all need, at some point. being close, that is really something to be proud of....not independence, which callously walls the heart against hope.
i hope some of that made sense.
"treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being."
~ Goethe
~ C. S. Lewis
how good to have friends, people that we can merge ourselves with; the refraction of perspectives gives telescopic sight. what we can bounce off of a friend is a concept, a notion of ourselves that we have gathered, and we present it freely...a concept which is taken, and puttied, and molded in another mind, mirrored, until we really begin to get a better idea of what we meant in the first place. they can show us things, they can take us farther...obliterating our boundaries and creating impressions of some unexplored territory to the east. they will notice different things, they will append our own selves until we begin to merge the lines and become confused. and then they position us, they help us to see where we fit within this larger picture. they bring our artisan selves, our works and spirit, to places that we have not physically or emotionally been to. places that we shall not know for some time, but which could alter our way of looking at life.
my friends are powerful forces. for them i would burn my books, my money, my car, my apartment. i would sacrifice these things to do real good for them. time is never 'spent' with them; it is savored thoroughly. it is crafted and shared. to spend time is the function of a job, lathing away wafer-thin slices of us so as to preserve the rest (for what else is the remainder intended?) and in the space with our friends, in nurturing environments, we grow back to our former selves. we relearn skills, we reconstruct our memories which had been partially-stripped. we are the children of our freely-chosen experiences.
so damn, it's great to be here. my people build me up, when i am down; they recall the shapes that i am missing at any given time (which takes a fair bit of analysis and knowledge of myself on their part), conjure them from our shared spaces, energies, and present them to me swathed in new packaging. or forgotten packaging, which is the best sort. i could only hope to do them this same service when it is needed. there is responsibility inherent in knowing someone (if they can be said to be 'known'), that we must keep vigil over them for when they are in a time of need. we all need, at some point. being close, that is really something to be proud of....not independence, which callously walls the heart against hope.
i hope some of that made sense.
"treat people as if they were what they ought to be and you help them to become what they are capable of being."
~ Goethe
March 17, 2009
happy patties
it might seem, by all outward appearances, that i am slacking largely. i haven't posted anything on here for something like a fortnight. but even so, it doesn't mean i haven't been writing.....instead i am trying to work on *gasp* projects, bigger things, which is nice because usually i can't screw up the courage to embark on something larger than what i typically write on here. explosions of thought. perhaps you will find them here as they are developing, or as they emerge from whatever sort of chrysalis they might happen to be in. that i cannot say for sure. but,
isn't that exciting?
i think it is.
isn't that exciting?
i think it is.
February 28, 2009
dreamcatcher
i had an interesting experience last night....i started hovering over the precipice of sleep, but not actually tumbling into it. i had an exhausting day, and laid down at probably two in the morning, but for whatever reason wouldn't completely drop off. my mind sunk into a sleep-like state; i was able to clearly "see" things that i was thinking about, literally visualizing things in sharp lines and shapes. i wasn't able to control it necessarily. sometimes it would be an eruption of colors, and sometimes it would be a clear landscape, a play with players, a created world.
i remember when i was smaller, say elementary age, i used to have a particular skill. i was able to visualize drawings on a page, before they were actually there, and from that impression i would basically just trace out what my mind had already splashed onto the paper. i'm not sure at this point what to make of that, or where it has gone. i'm not sure if i lack the degree of creativity that i had then, or if my mind is so partitioned and full of varied information that i don't have the caches left to accommodate such lucid imaginings. maybe my mind clings to this solid-state world that we have, since it is more constant in ways than the imaginary, and it keeps my arm steeled against nonsensical interruptions. at any rate, it is a skill that i miss. lately when i draw or paint, or write for that matter, i don't really have any idea where it will end up....i have no means with which to reign things in. usually i will make a first stroke, and then a second, somewhat geometrically or in a unique formation, and then i will treat it sort of like cloud-watching....letting my mind pick out a picture that it could be a piece, it could be a keystone of. then that leap of faith is what it ends up becoming. now, this is a great modus operandi for a lot of different reasons...i've learned a lot from it and it has a lot of real-world implications that are useful in my everyday life, the more and more comfortable with it i become. i'm not sure i want to change it, for the time being, because i think it to be a valuable cultivation, a little precious crop of my own that i can work on to my ends. but, especially in the wake of my experience last night, i kind of miss the vivacity and forthrightness that my creative mind used to exhibit.
last night, like i said, i wasn't able to sleep for awhile. my mind somehow gave itself up to this, and instead it chose to drift in a liminal state...dreaming without sleeping, but not like day-dreaming. much more potent. the interesting part of it all was the degree of control which i had. i could nudge it, i could guide it. it was similar to a lucid dream (in which you acknowledge that you're asleep and dreaming), but without the comical side effects that usually arise from having the predominant sectors of logic in your brain completely switched off. a unique and psychedelic experience, but arising organically. it was a combination of mental functions which, for me, is very rare. i suppose i'm saying that i think there is something interesting to be learned from it, or ways to harness it for a positive result.
as i lay there, eyes closed, i was thinking from time to time of running for a pen. clearly this would have disrupted the stream of the moment, so i didn't~ but even so, i think (although not verifiably) that, had i been aware that the situation was going to happen, i could have had a pen in my hand and a pad of paper on the bed and been able to capture what was going on in some decipherable form or another (words, pictures). i know that i was awake enough to process the ideas, and could have transmitted them had i the means, even keeping my eyes closed. the feeling was loosely that of a bout of sleep paralysis (for those that have experienced it), but i know i could move slightly without risk of shattering it. instead of focusing on how i couldn't fully interact with the tangible world, i focused instead on how i could interact with the intangible one. i wish there were a better way to photograph what's going on in our minds than drawing and writing, but there really isn't, so i suppose it's fortunate that these are mediums which i am comfortable expressing myself through. *take care not to end sentence with preposition, blar. i think this skill, if i can develop it, would be a huge resource for me to draw from. it becomes so hard throughout the day to catch your mind on the hop, and to really express your good ideas when they come to you...this could be a door of perception that is worth throwing open. i can't think of the window i would have to close to accommodate it~
what is a more genuine expression of your mind than a dream? a whole world, rich landscapes, personalities and societies, architectures, all constructed out of nothing but the raw impressions the real world has left you with, and how you own unique mind twists and bends them. signs, representations. i would guarantee, even without a smidge of research to back me up, that dreams are one of the foremost inspirations for painters....i have had so many dreams that have been the richest, most explosive color schemes i have ever 'experienced' (if one can admit that reality of them). finnegan's wake, one of the most revered works of fiction that exists, is allegedly the lucid documentation of a dream. i think that they are powerful, that they can give us insights into the utmost potential of humanity and vision; new eyes to see the daylight with.
i'm so excited for the rest of this year~
i remember when i was smaller, say elementary age, i used to have a particular skill. i was able to visualize drawings on a page, before they were actually there, and from that impression i would basically just trace out what my mind had already splashed onto the paper. i'm not sure at this point what to make of that, or where it has gone. i'm not sure if i lack the degree of creativity that i had then, or if my mind is so partitioned and full of varied information that i don't have the caches left to accommodate such lucid imaginings. maybe my mind clings to this solid-state world that we have, since it is more constant in ways than the imaginary, and it keeps my arm steeled against nonsensical interruptions. at any rate, it is a skill that i miss. lately when i draw or paint, or write for that matter, i don't really have any idea where it will end up....i have no means with which to reign things in. usually i will make a first stroke, and then a second, somewhat geometrically or in a unique formation, and then i will treat it sort of like cloud-watching....letting my mind pick out a picture that it could be a piece, it could be a keystone of. then that leap of faith is what it ends up becoming. now, this is a great modus operandi for a lot of different reasons...i've learned a lot from it and it has a lot of real-world implications that are useful in my everyday life, the more and more comfortable with it i become. i'm not sure i want to change it, for the time being, because i think it to be a valuable cultivation, a little precious crop of my own that i can work on to my ends. but, especially in the wake of my experience last night, i kind of miss the vivacity and forthrightness that my creative mind used to exhibit.
last night, like i said, i wasn't able to sleep for awhile. my mind somehow gave itself up to this, and instead it chose to drift in a liminal state...dreaming without sleeping, but not like day-dreaming. much more potent. the interesting part of it all was the degree of control which i had. i could nudge it, i could guide it. it was similar to a lucid dream (in which you acknowledge that you're asleep and dreaming), but without the comical side effects that usually arise from having the predominant sectors of logic in your brain completely switched off. a unique and psychedelic experience, but arising organically. it was a combination of mental functions which, for me, is very rare. i suppose i'm saying that i think there is something interesting to be learned from it, or ways to harness it for a positive result.
as i lay there, eyes closed, i was thinking from time to time of running for a pen. clearly this would have disrupted the stream of the moment, so i didn't~ but even so, i think (although not verifiably) that, had i been aware that the situation was going to happen, i could have had a pen in my hand and a pad of paper on the bed and been able to capture what was going on in some decipherable form or another (words, pictures). i know that i was awake enough to process the ideas, and could have transmitted them had i the means, even keeping my eyes closed. the feeling was loosely that of a bout of sleep paralysis (for those that have experienced it), but i know i could move slightly without risk of shattering it. instead of focusing on how i couldn't fully interact with the tangible world, i focused instead on how i could interact with the intangible one. i wish there were a better way to photograph what's going on in our minds than drawing and writing, but there really isn't, so i suppose it's fortunate that these are mediums which i am comfortable expressing myself through. *take care not to end sentence with preposition, blar. i think this skill, if i can develop it, would be a huge resource for me to draw from. it becomes so hard throughout the day to catch your mind on the hop, and to really express your good ideas when they come to you...this could be a door of perception that is worth throwing open. i can't think of the window i would have to close to accommodate it~
what is a more genuine expression of your mind than a dream? a whole world, rich landscapes, personalities and societies, architectures, all constructed out of nothing but the raw impressions the real world has left you with, and how you own unique mind twists and bends them. signs, representations. i would guarantee, even without a smidge of research to back me up, that dreams are one of the foremost inspirations for painters....i have had so many dreams that have been the richest, most explosive color schemes i have ever 'experienced' (if one can admit that reality of them). finnegan's wake, one of the most revered works of fiction that exists, is allegedly the lucid documentation of a dream. i think that they are powerful, that they can give us insights into the utmost potential of humanity and vision; new eyes to see the daylight with.
i'm so excited for the rest of this year~
February 22, 2009
phantom limb
i kind of like the grey weather in portland. everything feels sort of muted, volume turned a little lower than usual, and it creates an odd harmony between all things. it acts in many ways like a thick colorado snowfall, which muffles sounds and tends to hang miniature weights upon any activity to be undertaken...but the greyness isn't so apparent a sensory change; you can't hear the karr-onchh of snow underfoot, sharp like glass shattering because there are no other sounds to vie for your ears' attention. i suppose that the mists here feel like some sort of oppression, something distinct which drapes off of your body like cobwebs. and it doesn't sound to a lot of people, especially when phrased as such, like a good thing....but i enjoy the directness of it. i like that it has no pretenses about being anything else. it's just, there, and it lends this tangibility to other sorts of oppressions, the kinds of sludges that we wade through every day in our lives and in our minds...it makes me feel as through i can assign this same 'thing-ness' to those (baggages), and that i can, now fully recognizing them for what they are, snap them over my knees like small twigs to be thrown down as kindling in my fire.
for some reason, this helps me to sort out my personality. i feel like i have a much healthier mindstate in portland, as opposed to other places lived, as though i am getting better and more rigorous in my gold-panning techniques (properly, being able to cut through the pitfalls that seem to be more and more dominant in everyday life, giving some lift to my feet and gaining golden perspective from a higher place). once in a philosophy class, we learned about an an idea of predator-creation, to coin a phrase. we have evolved to stay on our toes, as it were; to create situations which will keep up on guard, so that we won't be caught unawares when danger sneaks in peripherally. this worked out pretty well for us when we had wildcats and bears to contend with, but our current situation, as a society of evolved minds, has distanced us from most of our original concerns for safety. our instincts, however, those finely-tuned mental reflexes forged like clockwork over countless generations, remain. and now, caught in this modern situation, they force themselves into application and find all manner of new predators to conjure out of what should be minor troubles....social anxieties, insecurities, distant concerns about death and uncertain futures.
the problem with these apprehensions is that they are weaved thinly....not thick, easy to pluck strings, but rather numerous and minute, corded with great intricacy such that they gain an unparalleled fibrous strength and depth. these concerns are almost impossible, most of the time, to recognize as something separate from yourself....they come, sprouting to the surface, and they feel like 'you'. almost completely unrecognizable as something separate. you don't realize when they happen, but they darken like rainclouds and the world seems like it has always been this way, forever tinged with dejection and uncertainty. it is really, truly, very hard to break out of this cycle of thinking.
perhaps it is that i'm having a much more mindful year than any previous, taking opportunities to enrich my mind and my spirit, but i'm starting to pick up on these problem thoughts. indirectly, to be sure....i couldn't describe to you what i feel when i begin to acknowledge them. perhaps a subtle humming, like a struck tuning fork, a low-frequency from beyond a thin wall. perhaps meditating has helped me to pick up on a wider band of feelings, enabled me to stretch out the spectrum of emotions further so that i can chart my being with more accuracy. i can't say for sure. but i know that, being swathed in the clouds of this city, i feel a bit of that same logic, as if it has helped me somehow. helped me to locate the barnacles to scrape off of my hull when i have a moment to rest in port; filtered my possibilities into a better representation of what i would hope myself to be.
i don't see the weather here as a negative thing. i start to see it as recursive, mirroring myself in an outward reflection. and the funny thing is, i'm not saying that i am getting gloomier; quite the opposite really. the more i spend time in the shadows, the more i find myself able to bathe in the light, to preserve it, like a firefly in a bottle sitting on my shelves when i need it (or a photograph of one, if you want to get all buddhist about it~). and the more i can appreciate it, when it is actually present.
for some reason, this helps me to sort out my personality. i feel like i have a much healthier mindstate in portland, as opposed to other places lived, as though i am getting better and more rigorous in my gold-panning techniques (properly, being able to cut through the pitfalls that seem to be more and more dominant in everyday life, giving some lift to my feet and gaining golden perspective from a higher place). once in a philosophy class, we learned about an an idea of predator-creation, to coin a phrase. we have evolved to stay on our toes, as it were; to create situations which will keep up on guard, so that we won't be caught unawares when danger sneaks in peripherally. this worked out pretty well for us when we had wildcats and bears to contend with, but our current situation, as a society of evolved minds, has distanced us from most of our original concerns for safety. our instincts, however, those finely-tuned mental reflexes forged like clockwork over countless generations, remain. and now, caught in this modern situation, they force themselves into application and find all manner of new predators to conjure out of what should be minor troubles....social anxieties, insecurities, distant concerns about death and uncertain futures.
the problem with these apprehensions is that they are weaved thinly....not thick, easy to pluck strings, but rather numerous and minute, corded with great intricacy such that they gain an unparalleled fibrous strength and depth. these concerns are almost impossible, most of the time, to recognize as something separate from yourself....they come, sprouting to the surface, and they feel like 'you'. almost completely unrecognizable as something separate. you don't realize when they happen, but they darken like rainclouds and the world seems like it has always been this way, forever tinged with dejection and uncertainty. it is really, truly, very hard to break out of this cycle of thinking.
perhaps it is that i'm having a much more mindful year than any previous, taking opportunities to enrich my mind and my spirit, but i'm starting to pick up on these problem thoughts. indirectly, to be sure....i couldn't describe to you what i feel when i begin to acknowledge them. perhaps a subtle humming, like a struck tuning fork, a low-frequency from beyond a thin wall. perhaps meditating has helped me to pick up on a wider band of feelings, enabled me to stretch out the spectrum of emotions further so that i can chart my being with more accuracy. i can't say for sure. but i know that, being swathed in the clouds of this city, i feel a bit of that same logic, as if it has helped me somehow. helped me to locate the barnacles to scrape off of my hull when i have a moment to rest in port; filtered my possibilities into a better representation of what i would hope myself to be.
i don't see the weather here as a negative thing. i start to see it as recursive, mirroring myself in an outward reflection. and the funny thing is, i'm not saying that i am getting gloomier; quite the opposite really. the more i spend time in the shadows, the more i find myself able to bathe in the light, to preserve it, like a firefly in a bottle sitting on my shelves when i need it (or a photograph of one, if you want to get all buddhist about it~). and the more i can appreciate it, when it is actually present.
February 15, 2009
you're actually engaged.
you and your friend approached me, reading over drinks, and we started talking about books. you asked me what i was reading so i flashed the cover, to which you replied that you had heard of him and read some of his other stuff. i'm certain that you hadn't, but these sorts of tale-spinnings are to be expected in our context. when you brushed your hand through your rigorously-conditioned hair, there was a distinct flicker on the only finger upon which flickers are to be dully noted; now placing your hand on the table it was clearly created by a smallish stone on a golden band.
"oh," i thought.
we continued our conversation for twenty minutes or so, you cooing and low-cut, and when i next looked down i was surprised to find that your ring had somehow managed to find its way off of your finger, vanished to an undisclosed location. there was a little red imprint around your finger where it used to be, and there was honey in your eyes when you looked at me. i hope it wasn't too much effort to pull it off without drawing any attention, because that was the last bit of my attention that you will be drawing from.
for:
http://youwillnotbedatingme.blogspot.com
February 3, 2009
perfect, whether to fly?
ah, it feel so good to be able to power through a regular-sized book, one that doesn't have the density of a neutron star. i was questioning my english-major status for awhile on account of the mazes that pynchon has been dangling a carrot in front of me all the way through, but i set that one aside and picked up a few breathers, and now i feel like i can come back to it sometime soon. what a relief. this is what i love so much about life outside of the constructs of college....you get to make your own directions, and give up on things when you want to, and pick up different things when you catch sparks touching them. its a bit of a black hole at the same time though, and you really have to begin to get a grasp upon yourself and what your driving motivations are. i could easily see one small distraction spiraling into months and months of absent-minded debauchery without real direction. what's curious, though, is that even that sort of approach has its definite benefits....you never know what you will stumble into in a tempest, or what might stumble into you, and you might pinpoint something spasmodically instead of via the typical slow-n-steady routes...likely even a lot of interesting things that would have lain long away from your intended paths. there are ups and downs to that of course. but at a certain point perhaps you have to relinquish control to your body and spirit, and let them guide you unguarded. you have to know that you will still get somewhere, that you will still learn something, and you have to think that your ambitions will find their way towards what "you" would intend, even if the route is circuitous. it is kind of like surfing around on wikipedia for hours and hours....it seems in ways like a sinkhole, but you learn quite a bit....and you likely wouldn't have clicked onto that next progression unless you had at least a slight inkling towards it, consciously or unconsciously nudging you self-ward.
the world's a brilliantly complex state of affairs. it seems like one misstep in it can ruin or take a life; conversely, it can create an opportunity or conjure an idea. every moment of every day, we are confronted with choices we can make, that we usually don't even consider. perhaps you would call those blinders that we put on, 'personality'. it's interesting to hear that word in a negative context, isn't it? but how could we function without some semblance of ourselves? we would completely dissolve into the world and its vast machinery if nothing compelled us to some constancy. there are literally 360 degrees that we can travel in, from any set stance, and once we've taken a step, there our 360 options are again, but they have changed slightly. for ridiculousness' sake we'll leave out non-horizontal travel~ but we situate and we follow paths, wearing down the tracks of our own memory with repetition, like the stairs of hellems. it sort of digs little ditches for our feet, you see, but one supposes that it makes life more intelligible so it remains the standard. you really don't get a fair picture of it if you're already enmeshed...but travel a little, and you really begin to acknowledge what a difference time and place, and the tiniest choices that we make in our lives, have on the whole tapestry.
the sad part about acknowledging this is that you realize, at some point or another, that newness is really what makes the world inspiring, what makes existence creative. people complain as they get older; they complain about the acceleration of their years, and about how those throttling years are no longer 'golden' (a precious metal reference...i doubt that people would admit it, but they may literally feel that the later years are less valuable to them, overall, than those forged of gold). it's all in the paths that we run, or dig ourselves deeper into; it's all in the timing and the actual use of our time. you can say that newness fades because we collect experiences....that there is only so much to do and that it is inevitable that we pass beyond these vivacious times. i just think that, at this juncture, i would respectfully disagree. the choice to work an eight-hour day, a forty-hour week, is not a societal norm in many places. when we do this we are shackling ourselves, or willing it to be done to us by others~ workplaces are efficient; they are well-oiled machines and they tend to treat us like mathematical functions, like specific applications or gears in a project that is ongoing, never-ending and ever-growing in the ideal of the market. we work so that we can live, so that we can have money to explore or dig ourselves deeper if we choose...but we are under the impression that money is life and that we are being sold the means to life~ it's right at our fingertips, no work necessary, but our entire country, our entire world has been designed to make it seem like an absolute necessity, as though one cannot do without it. i have a lot of deep-seated issues with all this, but clearly i'm still in it playing the game. it definitely burns deep down in me sometimes.
and now we pass the time in this manner, and now our days become more and more clustered...our experiences more and more similar to one another, our days adrift and unchanging. i think this is the reason that people report life as 'accelerating'; i think that when you act as a single function, if that is what is expected of you, you spend long portions of time doing the exact. same. thing. every day, every week, year out. when we're youthful, when we're in college or high school or what have you, our moments are constantly fluctuating. new knowledge, new people, new places, new things to do, new music to listen to, new ambitions and hopes. jobs have a way of crushing ambitions, relegating us to the present, and cramming us into it in a way that it is surprising to me so many people put up with. we no longer have the *time* to do different things, to be new selves; if we were able to then it would compromise our current positions~ so our days become more selfsame, and we snowball along with them, rolling up layer upon layer of habit and similarity and convention to block us from experiencing the changes that are, in the end, so essential to the living spirit and to keeping life crisp and new.
i would like for people to put a more genuine effort into finding jobs which they will really enjoy and be rewarded by. i would like for myself to do this as well. i'm working on it, sort of, although not really in an amending-the-current-situation sort of way....i'm trying to explore, and find something which really inspires me to devote my energies to it. all this i'm doing on the side, and trying to stay active about it. in the meantime we do what we have to, i suppose; i'm just tired of seeing people work jobs that they have no affinity for, that they continue on it because it is the path of least resistance on account of their own digging into it. we can literally be worth whatever we put the effort into being worth; all of us.
mind is burnt. matches out~
the world's a brilliantly complex state of affairs. it seems like one misstep in it can ruin or take a life; conversely, it can create an opportunity or conjure an idea. every moment of every day, we are confronted with choices we can make, that we usually don't even consider. perhaps you would call those blinders that we put on, 'personality'. it's interesting to hear that word in a negative context, isn't it? but how could we function without some semblance of ourselves? we would completely dissolve into the world and its vast machinery if nothing compelled us to some constancy. there are literally 360 degrees that we can travel in, from any set stance, and once we've taken a step, there our 360 options are again, but they have changed slightly. for ridiculousness' sake we'll leave out non-horizontal travel~ but we situate and we follow paths, wearing down the tracks of our own memory with repetition, like the stairs of hellems. it sort of digs little ditches for our feet, you see, but one supposes that it makes life more intelligible so it remains the standard. you really don't get a fair picture of it if you're already enmeshed...but travel a little, and you really begin to acknowledge what a difference time and place, and the tiniest choices that we make in our lives, have on the whole tapestry.
the sad part about acknowledging this is that you realize, at some point or another, that newness is really what makes the world inspiring, what makes existence creative. people complain as they get older; they complain about the acceleration of their years, and about how those throttling years are no longer 'golden' (a precious metal reference...i doubt that people would admit it, but they may literally feel that the later years are less valuable to them, overall, than those forged of gold). it's all in the paths that we run, or dig ourselves deeper into; it's all in the timing and the actual use of our time. you can say that newness fades because we collect experiences....that there is only so much to do and that it is inevitable that we pass beyond these vivacious times. i just think that, at this juncture, i would respectfully disagree. the choice to work an eight-hour day, a forty-hour week, is not a societal norm in many places. when we do this we are shackling ourselves, or willing it to be done to us by others~ workplaces are efficient; they are well-oiled machines and they tend to treat us like mathematical functions, like specific applications or gears in a project that is ongoing, never-ending and ever-growing in the ideal of the market. we work so that we can live, so that we can have money to explore or dig ourselves deeper if we choose...but we are under the impression that money is life and that we are being sold the means to life~ it's right at our fingertips, no work necessary, but our entire country, our entire world has been designed to make it seem like an absolute necessity, as though one cannot do without it. i have a lot of deep-seated issues with all this, but clearly i'm still in it playing the game. it definitely burns deep down in me sometimes.
and now we pass the time in this manner, and now our days become more and more clustered...our experiences more and more similar to one another, our days adrift and unchanging. i think this is the reason that people report life as 'accelerating'; i think that when you act as a single function, if that is what is expected of you, you spend long portions of time doing the exact. same. thing. every day, every week, year out. when we're youthful, when we're in college or high school or what have you, our moments are constantly fluctuating. new knowledge, new people, new places, new things to do, new music to listen to, new ambitions and hopes. jobs have a way of crushing ambitions, relegating us to the present, and cramming us into it in a way that it is surprising to me so many people put up with. we no longer have the *time* to do different things, to be new selves; if we were able to then it would compromise our current positions~ so our days become more selfsame, and we snowball along with them, rolling up layer upon layer of habit and similarity and convention to block us from experiencing the changes that are, in the end, so essential to the living spirit and to keeping life crisp and new.
i would like for people to put a more genuine effort into finding jobs which they will really enjoy and be rewarded by. i would like for myself to do this as well. i'm working on it, sort of, although not really in an amending-the-current-situation sort of way....i'm trying to explore, and find something which really inspires me to devote my energies to it. all this i'm doing on the side, and trying to stay active about it. in the meantime we do what we have to, i suppose; i'm just tired of seeing people work jobs that they have no affinity for, that they continue on it because it is the path of least resistance on account of their own digging into it. we can literally be worth whatever we put the effort into being worth; all of us.
mind is burnt. matches out~
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