If you find no one to support you on the spiritual path, walk alone. If you see a wise person who steers you away from the wrong path, follow him. The company of the wise is joyful, like reunion with one's family. Therefore, live among the wise, who are understanding, patient, responsible and noble. Keep their company like the moon moving among the stars. -Buddha
"The unexamined life is not worth living."-Socrates
A most profound and obvious truth, no doubt, yet many, in their ignorance--- their 'willful ignorance,' no less--- fail to recognize it. That so many can live their lives so loosely, without meaningful contemplation is really disappointing. Worse still, because of it, I feel ostracized--- I simply cannot relate to those who live a life of short-sighted hedonism.
Often any reference of you when I sleep is horrible, tortuous,--- but just once you were made faithful, if only momentarily. Against the white wall your splendour infused my dream. An assured beauty unique to you; so pure and pretty. Urging me forward, naked with sweat, in the webbing of your fingers, thinly painted between your breasts. You spoke to me with your eyes, the shape of your body, the grace of your movement; Your meaning was heroic: Confession and Love. Slowly, you held your hand out to me and I touched your fingers to my face. I truly felt your love again. But then, as in reality, after your confession of love, you kept walking slowly into the darkness, away from me, in search of something 'better', with no explanation beyond the distance you forced between us. And I awoke, moved again by both your love and hate.
The Remorse of Orestes (1862)
by William Adolphe Bourguereau
"And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."
- Aeschylus
--- (disclaimer: written in anger, sorrow, jealousy and frustration after one of the worst night's of my life...still, I stand by what is said, even if the spirit in which it is said is uglier than I should allow--- venter's venting venting... no one reads this shit anyway...bah!) Truly, I feel haunted by the estrangement of my former love. Grim moments when I am jilted awake from my slumber; tormented by, dare I say, an almost psychic-connection made real through my years of loyalty (twinning). And in those dark hours when I try to sleep peacefully after an honest day of reflection and right effort; after exerting myself during the waking hours to maintain my mindful existence--at night I am repeatedly victimized. I am left helpless--- accosted in my dreams in repeated rejection, but there has been two such times where I might be so compelled as to reason that the actual dread that stirred me from nightmares of her engaging in loveless carnality--- what on my end manifests itself as physical pain and suffering, really is, in actual fact, something that solely occurs in unison with the empty, physical ecstasy she now partakes of so easily, with such undear confidence, blindness and nonchalance. Still, I'll take it. I take it all. It's 'positive' in the sense that I am always receiving information, I absorb each blow and each disappointing message. For each stab my heart receives it helps me realize the power I have, the integrity I retain by my own emotional might in feeling grief; my understanding of true beauty, of tragedy and respectfully appreciating loss. I mourn because I can, because I amcapable of mourning, I see it as a virtue. The inability to mourn, well, I see it as beyond shameful, but it's an ugly truth I'm getting used to. Such discourteous rejection paired and so mercilessly synchronized with the aforementioned "sex/stab" unison is but one more tool I plan to utilize. And so again, the truth, by 'psychic-connection' or 'dreadful anecdote', painstakingly removes the saintly beauty I created about her; that same self-sabotaging illusion that so wildly deceived me, well, she is weakening, indeed 'by the awful grace of God.'
It's true that all the men you knew were dealers
who said they were through with dealing
Every time you gave them shelter
I know that kind of man
It's hard to hold the hand of anyone
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender
who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.
And then sweeping up the jokers that he left behind
you find he did not leave you very much not even laughter
Like any dealer he was watching for the card
that is so high and wild
he'll never need to deal another
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger
He was just some Joseph looking for a manger.
And then leaning on your window sill
he'll say one day you caused his will
to weaken with your love and warmth and shelter
And then taking from his wallet
an old schedule of trains, he'll say
I told you when I came I was a stranger
I told you when I came I was a stranger.
But now another stranger seems
to want you to ignore his dreams
as though they were the burden of some other
O you've seen that man before
his golden arm dispatching cards
but now it's rusted from the elbows to the finger
And he wants to trade the game he plays for shelter
Yes he wants to trade the game he knows for shelter.
Ah you hate to watch another tired man
lay down his hand
like he was giving up the holy game of poker
And while he talks his dreams to sleep
you notice there's a highway
that is curling up like smoke above his shoulder
and suddenly you feel a littlt older
You tell him to come in sit down
but something makes you turn around
The door is open you can't close your shelter
You try the handle of the road
It opens do not be afraid
It's you my love, you who are the stranger
It's you my love, you who are the stranger.
Well, I've been waiting, I was sure
we'd meet between the trains we're waiting for
I think it's time to board another
Please understand, I never had a secret chart
to get me to the heart of this
or any other matter
When he talks like this
you don't know what he's after
When he speaks like this,
you don't know what he's after.
Let's meet tomorrow if you choose
upon the shore, beneath the bridge
that they are building on some endless river
Then he leaves the platform
for the sleeping car that's warm
You realize, he's only advertising one more shelter
And it comes to you, he never was a stranger
And you say ok the bridge or someplace later.
And leaning on your window sill ...
I told you when I came I was a stranger.
"An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind." - Buddha
Always looking for attention
Always needs to be mentioned
Who does she
Think she should be ?
The shrill cry through darkening air
Doesn't she know he's
Had such a busy day ?
Tell her ... sshhh
Somebody tell her ... sshhh
Oh, no way, no way, there's no movement
Oh, oh, hooray
Slowest ...
It was only a test
But she swam too far
Against the tide
She deserves all she gets
The sky became marked with stars
As an out-stretched arm slowly
Disappears
Hooray
Oh hooray
No, oh, oh, woh, there's no movement
No, oh, hooray
Oh, hooray
Please don't worry
There'll be no fuss
She was ... nobody's nothing
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
When he awoke
The sea was calm
And another day passes like a dream
There's no ... no way
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
(What's your name ?)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
consumption
The Sun is building then shadows wide, immediately falling, August city nearing sunset, looking up, the highest half still holds the light gazing down, the other force; cold reversal, geometry and movement, the shift and the chase, feeling the constant air, as weight, as degree, as silence, disruption. Recognizing the precision, the cobalt pressure It is inhaling me and with each hungry moment it grows, it takes back, it steals, breathing in every inch as it consumes, it consumes.
Traveling with friends to see old friends is always inspiring but especially when you see how well things are going in their lives. Goos' current situation, while possibly seeming more sentimentally satisfying due to my own personal turmoil, is undeniably sweet, and I mean that in the sappiest way possible, but I say it proudly and romantically and without any negative connotations. He has a beautiful daughter, a beautiful, thoughtful girlfriend and a glorious little house nestled away in a sunny mountain community. I am envious indeed. I told Goos how fortunate he is to have so many meaningful things in his life--- he wisely admitted that he felt incredibly rich.
I'm rich as well in certain ways, I mean, I have my health, I have passion and I have honest friends--- hopefully one day I can be so lucky as to find an ounce of the loyalty and the remarkable beauty that surrounds my good friend Goos.
(Wow! reads like a grade 7 paper...still, I mean every word, even if I shoulda put more time and effort into it.)
"Love is union with somebody, or something, outside oneself, under the condition of retaining the separateness and integrity of one's own self." -Erich Fromm
rjb: Most recently, I lost myself-- lost my own identity and longer still, my integrity. I was foolishly focusing all I had towards one who demonstratively renounced my love. Though, I don't really blame her, I'm sure she renounced me precisely because I lost myself, perhaps she renounced me because she lost herself as well. I don't think sacrificing the self (I mean, in an uncool, non-Ahimsa way) is the rule but it certainly is the norm in most relationships. It needn't be--- and I won't allow it to be again.
--- "One cannot be deeply responsive to the world without being saddened very often. " -Erich Fromm rjb: I'm convinced that the more sorrow one experiences in one's lifetime the more "thoughtful" (not to be confused with "intelligent") they become---if one allows oneself to appreciate the power of "legitimate suffering", without distractions and willful ignorance.
--- "To hope means to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime. " -Erich Fromm rjb: I feel hopeful for many things, mostly for sustaining self-improvement and I'm not willing to concede to the still-birth or non-acquisition of a more positive lifestyle and empowering attributes; I do however have many hopes that are beyond my own control, and I think these are the main ones Fromm is referring to. By his suggestion I am trying hard to feel a calmness (and surprisingly, succeeding) amidst all this chaos which allows me to fathom and very nearly expect greater loss and disappointment (with little fear). Losing faith is stinging but it needn't be defeating.
--- "What most people in our culture mean by being lovable is essentially a mixture between being popular and having sex appeal. " -Erich Fromm rjb: ...and I imagine all men will come to be repeatedly undone by sexual selection --- and perhaps too hopefully/cruelly I expect women also have the potential to be undone by their own "selections."
Yes, I have place; a strangely configured bachelor suite. Not much beyond a kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom (no living room). But it’s enough for me. It’s in a really nice neighborhood and close to my work, which is important, since there’s a trade-off ---its small size.
Riverdale is the name of the community. The view of the river valley in the back is spectacular. Peace like a River. My landlord told me that someone is moving out of a one bedroom soon and that I could switch to that one, should I choose to. Besides the fact that the apt is about $150-$200 cheaper than most apartments in Edmonton, the best part about it is I feel stronger just by acquiring my own place. I almost forgot what it feels like to accomplish something, even something as small as successfully getting a place--- it adds a little bit to my long-time battered ego. Working out on ten of the last twelve days obviously helps out a lot too. Small steps all, but essential I think.
My life is, on certain fronts, still a mess, but I feel like I can handle anything. I’ve already mentally prepared myself for all possible outcomes; short of death--- my mantra, Thomas Hardy’s: “If way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at the Worst” has helped me out immensely. If I could, I’d thank him for the supplied adage and for his unabashed recognition of the harmony in the dichotomy of Romance and Realism—and I hope he wouldn’t be offended if I purposely, for the time being, avoided rereading his masterpiece, 'Neutral Tones' ---at least until autumn.
-sever family trauma (can't specify) -lost my girlfriend of 7 years, a girl I was convinced would one day be my wife -lost my sweet dog, Newton -lost my home
now I'm living as a transient between some friend's places and my mom's until I get a place for July. For most of my waking hours I feel as though I've been repeatedly kicked in the stomach. Yes, yes, familiar heartache.
...then today, on my way to work-out I realize I lost my gym shoes. I can't work out. I need to for my own sanity! After I accepted the fact that I couldn't exercise, I decided to drive to work. I got into my truck and alas, it wouldn't start. I have to get it towed, again. I have to spend money that I don't have getting to a garage and then getting fleeced by the garage. (again--- I went through all of this less than 5 months ago, the truck part I mean)
Some solemnly categorize me as ‘conservative’ or ‘antisocial.’ Fuck, if one is going to insult at least let the abuse be so accurate as to be meaningful; have the courtesy to understand, or at the very least thoughtfully recognize, my flaws and ugliness. “Antisocial” is a cheap label, hollow, lost in its vagueness.
I enjoy friendship as much as anyone I know and I love my friends--- I see nothing wrong in being comfortable with the friends I have, they’re established, proven, time-worn; I see no need to recruit strangers to my cause; I feel no longing to affiliate myself with people whose sole value resides in the sheer quantity of pollution they can withstand.
My inner-circle is nearly sacred, not completely private, nor completely harmonious, but it is authentic, which is important. Popularity, on the other hand, when sought as the lone goal, is perhaps the vainest and most ignoble of conquests. Others must appreciate your sincere characteristics, your gifts and your conversation. Even if you’re not enjoyed, as trite as it sounds, you must somewhat enjoy the other. I feel better refusing such cheap glories; I’d rather not, so frequently, reduce my effect on others. I feel no need to distract my intentions and distort my attributes through regular bouts of deliriousness, scheduled mindlessness. It’s better to be brave enough to let honesty, frankness and admiration determine friendship --- and then, if it happens, in whichever direction, subsequent levels of popularity.
Having said all that, I don’t mean to suggest that new friends are worthless; of course any true friendship is a positive addition. I’m simply an advocate of earning friends and fostering friendship, well, mostly by the exchanging of ideas and the sharing of authentic experiences. I think that too often we mask our real value by lazily clinging to the routine of weekly loutishness and other time-honoured forms of personality distortion.
(fer P.D.H.--- making me think)
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I do not want her surrender, I need her eager, ambitious. Yet, effortlessly, mistakenly, I invoke her resignation; our defeat.
Often any reference of you when I sleep is horrible, tortuous,--- but just once you were made faithful, if only momentarily. Against the white wall your splendour infused my dream. An assured beauty unique to you; so pure and pretty. Urging me forward, naked with sweat, in the webbing of your fingers, thinly painted between your breasts. You spoke to me with your eyes, the shape of your body, the grace of your movement; Your meaning was heroic: Confession and Love. Slowly, you held your hand out to me and I touched your fingers to my face. I truly felt your love again. But then, as in reality, after your confession of love, you kept walking slowly into the darkness, away from me, in search of something 'better', with no explanation beyond the distance you forced between us. And I awoke, moved again by both your love and hate._-_The_Remorse_of_Orestes_(1862).jpg)
The Remorse of Orestes (1862)
Some solemnly categorize me as ‘conservative’ or ‘antisocial.’ Fuck, if one is going to insult at least let the abuse be so accurate as to be meaningful; have the courtesy to understand, or at the very least thoughtfully recognize, my flaws and ugliness. “Antisocial” is a cheap label, hollow, lost in its vagueness.
