Charles Bukowski wrote, "Often the best parts of life were when you weren't doing anything at all, just mulling it over, chewing on it. I mean, say that you figure that everything is senseless, then it can't be quite senseless because you are aware that it is senseless and your awareness of sensselessness almost gives it sense." To carry on with the redundancy, this makes sense.
The past few days I have spent doing nothing along set guidelines. Even my professional life these days is not scheduled, where I come and go as I please. Yet I find myself feeling quite content. Only recently I was heartbroken, lost and clinicallly depressed; while I still suffer from each of these, I can think more clearly and am learning to cope with each burden seprately in its own right. The people which I surround myself with lately have helped tremendously. I used to see the world like Bukowski which was, to say it bluntly, not the most pleasant of viewpoints.
And how is it that I ever believed I'd seen the world in one clear way? Well, it's simply that I am foolish and naive. I, in all honesty, don't even know what it means to be 'worldly'. As it is here, a figure of speech, it probably means to be a rogue of sorts with no care for god. In this sense, pretaining to the people or laity' secular, not ecclesiastical, religious, et cetera. It doesn't even have anything to do with actually 'knowing' of the world. People have often said I speak and write as though I've experienced a lot, like I'm some worthy person of offering my opinion, and worse, them seeking it. These are people whom believe that I have the ability of stating my feelings clearly. While I am flattered by their assumptsion, I wonder why it is that this claim is made. So lately I've been taking a closer look at the dynamic. Based on that observation which my friends and colleagues make, I believe that I have somehow exposed myself and therefore, am projecting my shame and embarassment onto these people (and that includes you).
I look at writing like any other, often more illustrative, art form. Take for example, documentary photography. I guess that wehre photography is concerned, I've always thought that a photographer's goal was to leave those viewing her subject asking questions. The other goal would be for the photograppher to try and keep herself out of the photo and to let it play out like a narrative. Granted, it is the ultimate conclusiion that the artist behind the camera is, in fact, a part of her photo in tone alone; yet, at first the goal being very much evident.
Rhetoric is just one of those arts. It is the art of writing or speaking effectively. In a lot of ways when I write online, I can share this goal by leaving my identity behind. I can virtually disappear, had I choosen an alias. Unfortunately, it seems that those individuals reading this see past the cold feeling of plack text againgst the glow of a white screen and the emotionless fromat in which I write. I don't expect words to touch any person and I'd prefer that they don't. some people reading this haven't got a clue about me. They might not even know my name which is ideal to me (I realize this is impossible for those reading via facebook). I feel sometimes like it'd be much easier to live where no one knows my name or my story, instead they just had this, a raw jumble of words and a great hope for making sense of things much larger than the human mind.
Sometimes I watch old clips of Bruce Lee (something I first learned to do from my friend, Holly). I love his knoweldge to flow and let flow. "Be like water," he says. While I would love to know and understand the true weight of water, I am walking lightly upon a virtual tightrope. Conflicting emotions in the face of certain change are perhaps understandable from an on-looker's perspective and perhaps might be the reason those around me seem to proclaim I think and write logically. It's the sorting out of those emotions which is more difficult than undergoing the actual changes in my relationships; be it intimate, friendship or immediate to my family.
So while it all might seem clear as you sit on the opposite of this screen, and my hope is that this will; I sit and type what seems redundant and crazy. There is no sure way of knowing that a sound mind will be able to create that same stability with words on paper. Language and existance are questioning. That might be the bottom line and I struggle daily to accept this.
Choices are often the precursor of fears and always the initiator of free will. I'm working toward a lifestyle in which I act to exercise that very free will; directing my outward actions toward choices that will serve my destinyy (as the saying goes, "check yourself before you wreck yourself". Unfortunately, wondering the entire time if the drugs and past relationships have already 'wrecked' me). Fear must be controlled or transmuted if ti's truly personal growth that a person is after, but fear can be useful to showing exactly where she may need to go to achieve those very choices. I dance around subjects sometimes because I have A.D.D. and also because it's much simplier than facing them head on. So one might imagine my confusion when friends and strangers alike approach me, believing that any of this is logically in place.
The point is that I'm finally understanding that fear is not the only option; choice is. I think of how ridiculous it is that people actually believe I make sense because it's a jumble of a sorting process - everything I post here. It's my self-help, you could say, because I'm too frugel for buying pyschology books and too embarassed to check them out of the librray. I'm insane. Nonetheless, I believe that any person can be at peace, emotionally, the very instant she chooses to be. with awareness and a healthy dose of detachment, a person can exercise her right to choose which emotion serves her moment to moment. Now, THAT is a new feeling!
The past few days I have spent doing nothing along set guidelines. Even my professional life these days is not scheduled, where I come and go as I please. Yet I find myself feeling quite content. Only recently I was heartbroken, lost and clinicallly depressed; while I still suffer from each of these, I can think more clearly and am learning to cope with each burden seprately in its own right. The people which I surround myself with lately have helped tremendously. I used to see the world like Bukowski which was, to say it bluntly, not the most pleasant of viewpoints.
And how is it that I ever believed I'd seen the world in one clear way? Well, it's simply that I am foolish and naive. I, in all honesty, don't even know what it means to be 'worldly'. As it is here, a figure of speech, it probably means to be a rogue of sorts with no care for god. In this sense, pretaining to the people or laity' secular, not ecclesiastical, religious, et cetera. It doesn't even have anything to do with actually 'knowing' of the world. People have often said I speak and write as though I've experienced a lot, like I'm some worthy person of offering my opinion, and worse, them seeking it. These are people whom believe that I have the ability of stating my feelings clearly. While I am flattered by their assumptsion, I wonder why it is that this claim is made. So lately I've been taking a closer look at the dynamic. Based on that observation which my friends and colleagues make, I believe that I have somehow exposed myself and therefore, am projecting my shame and embarassment onto these people (and that includes you).
I look at writing like any other, often more illustrative, art form. Take for example, documentary photography. I guess that wehre photography is concerned, I've always thought that a photographer's goal was to leave those viewing her subject asking questions. The other goal would be for the photograppher to try and keep herself out of the photo and to let it play out like a narrative. Granted, it is the ultimate conclusiion that the artist behind the camera is, in fact, a part of her photo in tone alone; yet, at first the goal being very much evident.
Rhetoric is just one of those arts. It is the art of writing or speaking effectively. In a lot of ways when I write online, I can share this goal by leaving my identity behind. I can virtually disappear, had I choosen an alias. Unfortunately, it seems that those individuals reading this see past the cold feeling of plack text againgst the glow of a white screen and the emotionless fromat in which I write. I don't expect words to touch any person and I'd prefer that they don't. some people reading this haven't got a clue about me. They might not even know my name which is ideal to me (I realize this is impossible for those reading via facebook). I feel sometimes like it'd be much easier to live where no one knows my name or my story, instead they just had this, a raw jumble of words and a great hope for making sense of things much larger than the human mind.
Sometimes I watch old clips of Bruce Lee (something I first learned to do from my friend, Holly). I love his knoweldge to flow and let flow. "Be like water," he says. While I would love to know and understand the true weight of water, I am walking lightly upon a virtual tightrope. Conflicting emotions in the face of certain change are perhaps understandable from an on-looker's perspective and perhaps might be the reason those around me seem to proclaim I think and write logically. It's the sorting out of those emotions which is more difficult than undergoing the actual changes in my relationships; be it intimate, friendship or immediate to my family.
So while it all might seem clear as you sit on the opposite of this screen, and my hope is that this will; I sit and type what seems redundant and crazy. There is no sure way of knowing that a sound mind will be able to create that same stability with words on paper. Language and existance are questioning. That might be the bottom line and I struggle daily to accept this.
Choices are often the precursor of fears and always the initiator of free will. I'm working toward a lifestyle in which I act to exercise that very free will; directing my outward actions toward choices that will serve my destinyy (as the saying goes, "check yourself before you wreck yourself". Unfortunately, wondering the entire time if the drugs and past relationships have already 'wrecked' me). Fear must be controlled or transmuted if ti's truly personal growth that a person is after, but fear can be useful to showing exactly where she may need to go to achieve those very choices. I dance around subjects sometimes because I have A.D.D. and also because it's much simplier than facing them head on. So one might imagine my confusion when friends and strangers alike approach me, believing that any of this is logically in place.
The point is that I'm finally understanding that fear is not the only option; choice is. I think of how ridiculous it is that people actually believe I make sense because it's a jumble of a sorting process - everything I post here. It's my self-help, you could say, because I'm too frugel for buying pyschology books and too embarassed to check them out of the librray. I'm insane. Nonetheless, I believe that any person can be at peace, emotionally, the very instant she chooses to be. with awareness and a healthy dose of detachment, a person can exercise her right to choose which emotion serves her moment to moment. Now, THAT is a new feeling!
