Sometimes I just want to sit quietly in the woods and cry for humanity.
Where to begin. That’s always the question isn’t it? Sitting down to write immediately constipates the writing. Unlike the times in the shower when thoughts come so freely and easily, or that surreal state between the first rays of conscious thought and full “get-out-of-bed-and-stumble-to-the-bathroom” wakefulness, writing when faced with the actual possibility of recording is suddenly stifled.
What causes this block? Maybe it’s the act of writing itself. Perhaps if an invention existed that could record thoughts and play them back, even if only for the originator, the flow of thought could be separated from the recording of. The two seem to require such different mindsets altogether. I suppose it is the hallmark of a great writer to be able to effectively and accurately capture those musings in some form, however neanderthal the technology, but I am no great writer.
I simply want to get things out, and there is some part of me that will not rest until it knows that a record of these things exist somewhere outside my head. Only having the thoughts does not seem to quell the desire, for they resurface again and again. Yet once the thought is out there, somewhere in “the wild” outside my own head, then it is laid to rest.
Of course no time passes before another and another thought swell up from the murky depths of consciousness, subconsciousness, and memory, demanding to be set free lest its threat of perpetual nagging be fulfilled.
Every day I feel wiser than the day before. I remember my actions, thoughts, and feelings from the previous day and think, “I’m beyond that now.” I remember who I was, and am glad that I became who I am now. Sometimes I even look forward to who I will be tomorrow, but I know it’s best to take it one day at a time.
When I think about all the days that have been and gone and those yet to come, it feels like I’m surging through life at breakneck speed. The acceleration is pressing me back into my self as I rush headlong to a destination I know nothing of, including when I’ll get there. Then I remind myself that it’s the journey that is life, and that this moment right now is the only thing that’s truly real. And in that moment I find peace, and happiness.
Trying to change those around you will result in change, but probably not the one you were hoping for.
Under the veils of cultural and genetic specifics, we are all basically the same. Our fears, needs, and desires at a fundamental level are identical. The manifestations of our motivators and how we fulfill them may differ, but in the end we all want the same things.
Peel away the layers of those around you. They may look very different from your own, but beneath them all you will find the same heart.
radiant in the summer sun
speckled blue, a bit undone
golden shining braided locks
your smile hiding deeper thoughts
shadows of the railing
play across your thighs
as the sinking fire
twinkles in your eyes
distant houses, and a view
of the girl I once knew
breathing now so far away
yet right before me, every day
Am I the most important thing in my world?
Are you the most important thing in yours?
So far away
Who can say
If that is how our lives will stay?
I don’t know how
I got here now
But come what may
I hope and pray
That we will meet again some day.
Why are we at odds with nature? Why is it that that which we create inevitably destroys it?
Is this the yin and the yang? Necessarily and inextricably intertwined, yet also determined to destroy each other?
Yes nature too works against us. Erosion, decay, aging, and sickness are all nature’s destruction of us and our creations. Can there ever be true harmony?
Even without our presence here, is life harmonious or simply more balanced?
There is a food web that contains everything. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten. Does this apply for a virus?
Everything needs to consume somehow to live. Consume and excrete, that is the primary natural law.
Even in the solar system consume energy, create waste byproduct is the primal law. Yet overall there is conservation of matter in which it is neither created nor destroyed. And matter is, in some quantity, equal to energy.
So overall there is conservation of energy as well. Everything excretes and consumes, yet overall there is balance.
So too must it be like for our race, our world, and our lives.
Whatever we consume we must put back in some way.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.Paul McCartney