Posts Tagged With: life

Surrender to the Mystery

It’s hard when you live away from your home

Not the home where you’ve grown

But the one your heart knows

The places we’re born, some remain until death

 

But I know I will travel ‘til I find my rest

Expand all limits ‘til the final test

I don’t wanna catch the thing that I know lyin’

So I’ll chase that old dragon ‘til the end of crimes

For it’s not what you get at the end of your line

Nor the bait or the hooks or the length of the time

 

Most men know a relief from their defeat

And the bittersweet peace at the end of a feast

But that hunger will awake with the crow & the sun

As sure a some black hole is calling for everyone

 

Now I watch & wait & let the world come to me

I’ve got rot in my teeth and an ache in my knees

I ain’t crazy ‘cus I live with what I cannot see

And it takes all that I’ve got just to live peacefully

 

Beyond yesterday’s answer lies a deeper mystery

A body doesn’t have to move in order to be free

I surrender to the mystery so I can be free

I’ll surrender to the mystery so I can be free

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Who is Society?

Who is society? (A Subjective Coalescence with the Living Object of Society)

 

While contemplating the concept of society, I often forget to consider myself a member. Society is a living, breathing, and constantly changing aggregate of economies and entities. Forgetting this, I envision myself as an observer, somewhere high above the petri dish of humanity. In doing so, I sterilize all learning with the immature habit of disconnected reflection. I avoid the dust of the world so as not to get my hands dirty.

I don’t want to take responsibility for the ill effects of industrialization & globalization. Dirt is inevitable. I’ll effortlessly purchase throwaway cell phones, receive goods in plastic containers, burn fossil fuels for travel, & spend US Dollars.

In avoiding major sources of societal expansion, my sense of pride tells me I am making a difference. Through this feeling of pride, there arises an idea: I’m not like them. I am not better or worse but I am certainly different from them. This type of thinking brings separation with it. Embracing separation from our environment denies a fundamental law: nothing exists separately.

This very idea of the rugged individual, I believe, is responsible for a dangerous disconnect. The individualist diverges their identity with the organized human form, creating a dualistic separation of organism and environment. This dualism leads to avoidance of the tough issues of life, mainly ethical & philosophical.

“I love man not the less, but nature more.” Lord Byron

Industrialized humanity has abandoned wild nature in favor of human nature. Human nature is a part of nature. I consider it to be inhibited, suppressed, in denial. Extending this to myself, I realize that I too, am those things. In me grows a resistance to accept the ultimate nature of society as it is, here & now. Living in a world of potentials and ideals, I sometimes miss the pragmatic counterweight of realism.

I feel a restless spite toward civilized humanity; at odds with some greater human entity. Denying benefits in favor of losses, focusing on ugliness rather than beauty, giving in to self-loathing before recognizing self-approval. If I am to take responsibility for my membership within “this”, how am I to feel? Rejecting society, living on the fringes is only an avoidance of the real problem: how do we cope with ourselves?

Through quiet acceptance, a door beyond intellect opens. Emotional states become unreliable. Just as thoughts, feelings are mere relative responses, not to be confused with ultimate nature. Soon the thought might arise: I am society.

All these things I am, in an ever-expanding fashion as all forms consistently dissolve into space. I am ultimately inexpressible. I feel myself filled with life, I feel myself decay. I see it everywhere, inside and out.

All mammals arising from the womb of a beautiful female, we share these experiences. I am not separate from life function & the cessation of life function and neither are you. We share this and we are this.

None of these ideas belong to anyone, as much as character doesn’t belong to anyone. They are collective reflections of influences, both inward & outward. They are gifts from society, just as much as our biological makeup is a gift from nature.

As a member of humanity & its greater idea of society, we are inseparable from the discoveries & failings of our members. We are able to share (or deny) these discoveries just as we contribute to the overall catalogue of evolution & decay.

We are these ideas. We are this ignorance. We are these inventions. We are this destruction. We are society.

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” R. Buckminster Fuller

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Green Mountain, Grey Mountain

Sparrows & jays eat scraps of seed, competing for little. 
So much space to contemplate, gazing through the chilly blue expanse, ducking & curling around fiery autumn hills.

Between birches & berry brambles, a voice calls & comforts me, 

pulling homeward and bound to nowhere. 

I’d like to sit here all day and count leaves.

Family trees, friend trees, lover trees, enemy trees,falling bodies enrich fallow gardens.

Icy winds rip through, 

leaves everything bare;

Nothing stands past death.
Smiling near while some are far,

Gladly talking, taking time to notice 

one another.

If I missed you, I miss you, 

We’ll use a leaf as a tissue.
Sappy as the sweet shit that flows through maple trees, 

cool as a spring trickle 

whispering soft & serene, 

selling us peace at the cost of time.

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“In case no one told you today, you are a marvellous piece of the universe and this planet needs you on it.” -Some NewAgey Meme

“Needs” is a bit of a strong word… but you get the sentiment.
As a speck of dust on some park block of the universe,
I acknowledge being here,
co-dependently arisen.
bench and sitter share opposite ends of the same moment
as bum & bottle are one
panhandlers trade jokes for smokes
currency is punchline
man holding newspaper
sipping free trade coffee
eyes gaze on printed words.

words invented by man and for man
paper is milled down south
coffee is carried from overseas
the evolution of plants in our hands;
whose instructions do we receive to carry this on?
from plant? from man? who’s the boss here?
the subtle nature of collaborative chemistry
overlapping, interpenetrating
caffeine sparks the brain,
communicating molecules
stimulating desire
most countries who export it
can’t afford to drink it;
coffee & desire
If we can’t find reason to give thanks,
we can find reason to give love
‘cus life is painful enough without sharing some healing
if you could alleviate the troubles of a stranger,
knowing it wouldn’t save you,
would you?
clinging to agony begets more blood
not all bliss
and not all pain,
We are GI Joes & Barbie Dolls
left out in the rain
soon the kids’ll come home
strap bottle rockets to our backs
say “reach for the sky”
and fire us toward the sun
I am smiling ‘cus I know
this wild universe takes care of its own
*little bang*
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Anti-Apathy #67:

It’s not that I don’t care. I care.
But I don’t really care much about not caring.
And I don’t care about caring, either.
I try to exercise an acceptable level of caring
so you don’t care too much about me not caring.

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Not a Virus

Whispering love upon the wind
no mouth calls upon deaf ears
I find myself here, under broken moons
talking too much, speaking too soon
wondering where they all go
after wandering astray?
am I my brothers keeper
or is he just my CEO?
Higher reasoning doesn’t sell much anymore
everyone wants gritty contentment
and salary assurance, freedom from fear
love makes for a nice soundtrack
sipping bourbon, sipping scotch
she fades away into complacency
‘cus nobody wants to watch their roses wilt
I can’t forget what I don’t understand
no turn goes unstoned while I’m here
roll these papers up and toss ’em to the fire
hoping some will get the smoke they need
and others will find the peace to bleed
open eyes see open wounds,
I am the air on your blood
I am contagious

but not a virus

i’m sorry, too

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A Quest for Social Workers & Nomadic Recognition

I am a home-less recovering opiate addict.
I have been clean from heroin for over a year.
I have been living a nomadic lifestyle for the last 4 years.
I reject the rental institution for all its needless bureaucracy & inevitable entanglement. Paying rent and contributing to the degradation of our natural habitat (Earth) is something I try to avoid at no cost.
I hold no resentments against those who choose to live indoors. I simply choose not to. I prefer waking up outside; I become easily depressed with long periods of separation from nature. As a part of my healing process, I live a nomadic lifestyle. It helps to keep me honest & clean.
I’ve had a small handful of rehabilitation counselors who acknowledge this as a valid lifestyle choice. Most of them did not take me seriously, and would deny my right to live unencumbered, attempting to sell me false notions of security.
Unfortunately, contemporary western society does not observe the nomadic way of life, even though it has been a part of the human tradition for thousands of years.
American nomads are viewed & treated like homeless riff-raff in every city or town we pass through. People are wary of us even though I am always my way to the woods. I seek to bother no one. I have no desire to stay & clutter city streets. The city has nothing to offer me anymore. I see it as orchestrated rubble. Perhaps the general outline of fear comes from the mere representation that we create, that their lives are no more concrete or solidified than ours, their happiness no less whimsical than ours.
Yet I still feel the presence of fear, judgement, and overall separation.
Because I am living out of a backpack, I must be damaged or psychotic.
Because I sleep outside I must be running from something or someone.
Because I wander the world, I must have no home.
These ideas are broken. Let’s fix them together.
I am reaching out to all activists and social workers. Can help others like myself in finding acknowledgement for this alternative style of living?
I strongly feel that it needs to be recognized and supported for those who choose not to be domesticated.
I do no harm, but I take no shit.
Nomads need representation. We are not victims to society, we are boldly walking our own path. I’ll live while alive and I’ll die while dead.
Thank you.
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Burn Me Now

This life wants a poem, the kind that will fly
seen somewhere printed on starry parchment skies
“the ride is never enough!”, Jon lies & cries
desiring a cast of who, what, where, and why

feeling bored & lonely, accosted by no one,
the blues sound good & the drama is fun
it creates a sense of time spinning by the sun,
when all he wants to know is, “when can I be done?”

I attach & detach, transforming through time
a few lines to indulge, enjoyed like cheap wine
when the movie is over, the tape has to rewind
so I roll the credits to see who plays you & I

falling like leaves, this & that go
things dissolve, dispersed to & fro
the curtain is ashes; there is no show
after all is said, who is left to know?

the whole of life is blooming just as a flower
but poor Jon is wilting, he’s dead by the hour!
So weep not for me, for me is a coward
and always cheer for I, because I am power.

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What? (Asking questions out loud & answering them) {in progress]

What is life?

A dialogue between the immutable and the transmutable.

if reality is a song heard on multiple sensory levels, life is the dance between time & space

Life: a pithy, cyclical joke (the snake is laughing with a mouthful of its own tail)

life requires a healthy resistance of death

begins & often ends in blood

Evolution gives way to awareness, awareness grows into self-awareness, and conscious awareness is born.
A search for physical meaning, (an ultimate theory), continues.

Life is, with & without you or I.

What is American society?

a battle between acceptance & rejection; between progress & destruction, between enlightenment & ignorance

the decision is handed down: choose the distraction you favor most & make it a career
(hopefully it’s something meaningful & helpful)
or else fall beneath layers of debt and continuum rejection, in some convoluted search for personal freedom
(the game was rigged)
we face opposition either way,
between commerce & competition, passive retaliation & all-out renunciation,
there are no easy roads.

Where does this inner sense of anxiety come from???
Leftover conditioning, organism-level cognitive dissonance, individual-level chemical imbalance… to name a few.
This conditioning prevails among our institutions; if they don’t fit in, rule ’em out.
This helps to keep us focused upon the original line of commerce-based continuity: progressive material expansion at all costs
(as if no deviation from the plot exists, we get the story beat into or heads and we are expected to fulfill its conclusion)
If our grandfathers are shaking their heads, I am also shaking mine.
The insidious arrogance in which this nation was founded!
*sigh of contempt*
good grief, what disgrace we dearly deserve for our Earthly dishonor.
We’ve been lead into ignorance by a manipulative prose (legal & religious language), decidedly so,
even our agriculture is wandering into the same confusingly specialized territory!
How simple a concept, HUMAN GOVERNMENT, yet it still eludes the layman after so many civilized years.
Before long, FARMING, may suffer a similar fate of ideological/methodological decay.

a choice comes suddenly: to be or not to be; to work or not to work

opt in or opt out…
does one meet the expectations of society
even though the society denies the ultimate existence of One?

(Well, is it one or One?
What is the difference?
Capital letters.)

do I get a job to feed the machine against my own will,
accepting the guilt and responsibility for keeping this moving?
(Our government & institutions are not much different than A.I. at this point;
human perspective has been largely sacrificed to further a human machine)

or do I exist on the fringes, self-aware and freed to my own way, evolution’s way, or God’s way?

does it make sense to continue driving the car at night, even though the headlights are broken and it’s almost out of gas?
Do my hyperbolic, one-sided questions satisfy the rebel within you?
Is that all this is,
All this angst I feel?
Is it simple teenage rebellion, lingering still after a decade?
Is it just a passing faze, or is it real passion?

“Loyalty to your country always.
Loyalty to your government when it deserves it.” -Mark Twain

Why do I feel the need to ask these questions out loud?

If there a little of you inside me, and a little of me in you?
Where does our consciousness overlap?
Beyond my own head…
the concept of me, of “other”, starts within your mind.
Convince me I exist.

Categories: Ailments & Cures, Essays | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

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