The Urge to Walk Forward

When one watches a babies first steps on weak little legs, the fall, the struggle, the natural urge to continue using their bodies in ways they never have before, the internal-cowardice of some adults seem confusing. To naturally seek destructive comforts and stagnation, seems a degradation of humanity. Even  though those "stuck" in these places are never happy, it seems as though they lost the hope that they can push the imposed :"laws" they place on their lives in order to find happiness.

I fear contentment, even as I feel stuck. Its common enough this day and age. I don't know which walls to push, which doors to open to seek that fulfillment of the empty cavity I seem to have within me. I keep trying, but I tire. The older I get the more the doors on my choices seem to close on me, and that helpless rage growls in the back of my heart. It is easy for me to give in, to "rest" in the comfort of monotony, but it is unnatural, and always leads to another day of that  familiar emptiness.

 I must remind myself to "push" like the smallest toddler. It is humbling. But sometimes I am granted short boosts of youthful energy for the effort, and I feel that joy of pursuing a new adventure. Even if it only lasts a moment.

Continuing on by Clearing the Air

It has been quite some time since I have posted anything new. Not unexpected really, I am a terribly fickle person when I devote myself to such tasks with no clear achievable goal. I don't like that about myself, I'm too selfish, morose, fainthearted, and a thousand other things. As long as it comes to tearing myself down, I am an analytical mastermind.

Which makes it difficult to progress in things like this blog, or my life, as my feet always seem to wander down the boggy path of self-loathing. So bear with me as I attempt to continually throw out the natural-born harsh internal-criticism I possess, to continue down the path of this blog.

There will be bad days, there will be good days, there may be other prolonged periods of silence, but the central reason for this blog hasn't changed, and that is to change and improve myself, and for my own general psychological health (debatable). I know selfish right? Let me be narcissistic here for a moment, and just say MEEEEEEEEEEE!

Good. Sometimes the air has to be cleared. So to any who still might happen along this blog be prepared for it to have semi-regular updates once more. If someone happens to be entertained, or find it interesting, good! If not, good! It doesn't really matter either way. Personal battles are just that, personal.     (inner-voice: so he says on a public medium.... wait did I just refer to myself as a "he" in my own head?)

Here I have to shut myself up, and say that using this blog is a lot like having the illusion of a crowd listening in, and I am in my own head FAR too much! Though, perhaps its unkind to essentially call potential readers 'illusions.' But I consider it like the 'fourth wall' on a theater stage, as far as the actors are concerned the audience shouldn't exist. (inner-voice: Then why do you address them.)

WAHHH! Before, or maybe while, any might think it I am not insane. I'm just that insanely analytical. So if you catch me saying one thing, and then it immediately seems like the opposite is true. Let me just say right now that I might not know whats true myself, so I can be a terrible hypocrite and liar. (inner-voice: more self-sabotage. Ironic-YAY!) 

But in a way that is also what I'm trying to find out. This is the best way I know to get all my thoughts in order. (inner-voice: If I can even call it 'order.' Hmmm, back to 'I' huh?) Before I ramble any further I'm going to end it here, so.... Good luck to me, and my apologies to the existent/non-existent person who may read such a thing as this.

Giving Voice to a Tide of Despair

The bells in the stillness
ring in my ears,
and I feel it.
Tonight I can't hold it back
the night that so often rescues me,
seems determined
to drag up screeching demons,
flowing out, from old black wounds.

This frightful rage.
This raging fear.
My heart and hands cannot find
a thing to do,
as my will is being eaten.

Like a starving dog,
who gnaws at its own rib bones
with broken sounds in the grinding teeth.

This abscess poisons my very core,
till my every thought tastes rotten
and even screaming cannot save my dying voice.

For I have not the strength to put weight to my curses.
This impotent, exhausted despair has tied me to the floor
and becomes the home that absorbs me into darkness.
 Even then the pain, I know, is nothing.

Time always brings out more
And I feel terror to be so broken,
that I might abandon my last hope
to the flames. Unlocking the gates of Hell,
and finding the Devil Madness smiling,
as the sound of bells in the stillness
are silenced, by the howls torn from my soul.

A Thank You to Storytellers

Its amazing the power a good story has to remind you of the things you hold deep in your heart to be precious, bringing up old dreams that you are not willing to let go. As a young man I have a lot of regrets. It is impossible to live your life without a few I think, experience and hindsight being the beginnings of wisdom, it feels however I have obtained too many.

I have been a coward too many times, and in too many places where opportunities might have been found. It is a hard thing to admit, and as I get older the more mired I feel in all those wrong choices that brought me where I am today. But there are times, I find a piece of a story that can move the foundation of my heart, and make me believe again that as long as I draw breath, I can swim past the sea of regret and find the courage to change things.

Its why I started this blog really. One instance, of a small change in pursuit of a better tomorrow for myself. This determination can be traced back to my love of a good story. Whether you find them in books, on the stage, on television, or over the internet, they remind you of the truth's that people so often lose, as they make their way through the world.

True, many stories tell of ideals that are hard if not impossible to make in reality. Dreams are never easy things to make real and often become an illusion, but stories of love, and redemption, of someone reaching out for the impossible, remind us of hope. It is the hope we all start out with as children, that very real belief that anything is possible in our universe.

But somewhere along the way most of us lose it. Our dreams don't turn out the way we wanted them to be. Many shy away from the work it takes to achieve those dreams hoping for an easier way, others still work for them and fail, still others are pulled away to other pursuits through circumstance. They are left feeling incomplete, many convince themselves that it was "just how the world is" and tragically laugh off their wishes as foolish.

I don't know if I will ever be able to achieve what I want. The world is a harsh place, I know sometimes things just don't come together. And to be honest, I can't be completely sure I know what I want. But to lose that hope is the most sorrowful thing I can think of to do. Settling in a life you feel isn't right for you, just because you've failed to make it change 1,000, 1,000,000 times before, giving up, is the most unnatural tragedy.

Because that is my biggest regret, and a mistake I made many times. I didn't try for something I wanted, but accepted defeat. Even if I die a failure, I don't want it to be because I did nothing. Then I think I really would have failed in the truest sense.

So, I have to thank all of those people who write their stories out there. Whether they are fictional, real, ridiculous, or serious, if they move the heart they can remind a person of the things they have forgotten. And more importantly give a person back something they lost sight of. Leaving a  legacy that will continue beyond their own life, even if they don't see it.

The Common Feeling of Disconnection

A friend brought up an interesting point tonight. Although we are both extremely similar in most cases, this includes various problems and alike we suffer  though, we each feel quite alone in our lives as we walk down similar paths. Though we both should feel connected to one another by our mirrored experiences, there is a profound sense of 'disconnect' with ourselves, and the rest of the world.

I do not mean to insinuate that this is a unique perspective. Rather, I think it is a very human condition. Each person, I believe, in their various lives seek that idea of a harmonious connection. Either through relationships, religion, or general exploration, there is a driving force in all mankind that pushes us to seek a 'complete' form of existence.

As it is, in some sense, we all feel small and alone. That is why, I believe, some people fear to be alone, or in quiet places. When given time to reflect, the enormity of existence, and the fragility of our place in it, life can be overwhelming. I am not saying that is what people think about in exact terms, but it comes out about the same. It is difficult to overcome that sense of 'separation' we have as single living entities, though it is what we desire.

We all value individuality, but when faced by the loneliness of its nature, people try to conform into a similar environment with one another to cope. This of course, is not a solution. As my friend and I discussed, even when traveling towards the same destination, one will always feel he is on a separate road. The best solution I have at the moment, is to look for the 'small moments.'

The connection that we seek does exist, that's what I believe, but its like gossamer lace, and hard to comprehend. It exists in those brief windows, those moments in the present where nothing else seems to exist but the now. To stay continually in that state is what a Buddhist would call 'enlightenment,' though I am not Buddhist, nor anywhere near what one would call enlightened, the moments do come upon me sometimes and sudden, and so I understand its value. It is what, I think, has kept me in the realm of sanity for some time.

The constant disconnectedness that I have felt, has never eased when my mind was either in the past or in the future, but when I managed to live in the present, to let myself 'be' for awhile I found a sort of peace. I believe God is in those moments, and it helps to lift a little weight off my shoulders. In this lonely universe, those moments are to me, are the most precious. I only hope my friend can feel them too.

Walking, I asked Time to stop in the allure of the Moon

The moon is thin tonight.
She hides her face, but teases me with cheek.
Deftly hiding what I seek, beneath her blackened veil.

I don't mind her games
tugging on the ocean of my thoughts,
just her little playful plots
 that make me miss that sweet and sliver smile.

For awhile I contend myself
in the pattern of the stars.
Whose tongues shout far across time and night
the story of Light
in the passions of gods and men.

But then, I look again to see the moon
and think its too soon for day to break upon our shell of sky.
That gold sword's edge cuts along my heart,and I can't help but morn
in the blood of Night, that paints
 the tale of new days.

I don't blame the rays that shut the blue doors of Time,
but hide my memories
in the tides of my heart,
where her face is still clear

And I wait for night to draw near,
so I may see her face
though she teases me with cheek.

Structure and purpose of this work

Let me begin by saying to any who happen across this blog by happenstance, that the words that I write are neither meant for public entertainment, nor are they written with any prospective audience in mind. Rather, I intend to use this blog as a form of personal therapy, expressing random thoughts and ideas solely for the ease of my own spirit.

I am a lonely sort, who doesn't express himself much and I have a difficult time connecting to the general populace. That is not too rare these days, sadly enough. As to why I write in a blog rather that privately on Notepad or some other program, the thought that my words might be seen by another and understood to some degree, provides me with a small measure of satisfaction.

I do not mean to be contradict my original statement that I am not writing this for the general public, I am merely providing  conscious mind the illusion of the connection that I lack by creating the possibility of exposure. This is hardly an original reason, as I suspect there are many bloggers out there who do what they do in order to create that very same feeling that 'someone' out there may look upon their words and ideas and find value in them. It is a very human desire, and not one in which I find any reason for shame.

In this blog anything might be found, from a small personal poem, to a long discourse on the relationship between the structure of native languages and how they may have effect on
 a person's thought process. Of course, this may all turn out to be a haphazard mess, as I do not know what I will write from one day to the next.

Whatever I do, it will help to organize my scattered mind somewhat, and be overall beneficial for the state of my sanity, and overall life. Anyway, now that I have expressed to my satisfaction the purpose of this whole thing, I suppose I should end this here.

To those who have actually managed to read this far, and maybe want to look into this work some more, thank-you for your quiet support. The possibility of that connection gives me a small hope, that one day I might feel a little less 'disconnected' from other human beings, and that alone is more than enough for me.