What would happen if everything was stripped off of you. Your job, your studies, your friends, your family, your hobbies, your heart, your head...but not your soul.
Could you cope?
Would you be capable of facing the ravine you were born with, that you never used or even considered?
What the fuck would you do with it?
Since it's all that you have left, take a look...
Once you saw the greyness and shallowness of the soul you kept for so long in the dark, would you regret insulting your best friend, rejecting your father, or saying those horrible things to your mother?
Would you regret leaving the girl or guy you once could donate your entire life to?
Would you think back to the crossroads you once stalled upon, and regret taking the one that led you to the emptiness of the moment you were going through?
I've seen emptiness. A canyon filled with lives made up of vacancies.
And I'm still sane.
Life protects you from facing the gorge that disembowls your inner warmth. Whatever is hidden in your soul, that baby that still lives inside, screaming for attention, is flunked by all the social conventions and desires of power everyone of us follows and craves.
Thinking about it, I can say I'm starting to see more and more of nothing.
As summer approaches again, and soon I will be left without the structure and the routine I'm strapped to now, I realise how weak we all are.
I'm happy at the moment. People are surrounding me in every direction. I'm part of the audience. I'm in there.
Soon, with no school, and no friends close-by, and that dreadful word that separates you from your usual life ("holiday"), I will witness the inevitable, grinding feeling of emptiness inside.
While everyone is enjoying hot summer, I'll still be here. On holiday, sure, but everything will have disappeared. I'll think too much, and start regretting.
Everyone sees summer as the happy season, where everything is fine. I think it's the most depressing time of the year.
When I'm left at home, inbetween a holiday, with all my friends and my family out there, enjoying it, I feel like I'm missing out. Everything good, bright, fun and enjoyable is happening somewhere else.
It's unbearable.
I hate reconsidering my life. It drives me closer to cancelling out everything good just in the hope of making it better. I'm just so happy with what I have now, that I don't want a divide like summer to come, break it up, and ruin it.
But it's inevitable. Maybe it will turn out OK, but there's still a maybe.
I love everything I have now, but I'm on the edge of crossroads, and if I stall, I'll end up taking the wrong path...and it will lead me even further down the path I am trying to get away from now: the path to moments of emptiness.
Moments where you can't help but think about all the things that you've done, all the things you could have done, all the things that must be done, and all the things left out of the audience.
Moments where you feel small.
Moments like this.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Monday, 24 May 2010
Back again with some words to feed you.
So here I am back at square one. Well no, it's more like square minus 547596546541. At the moment, my life is a soothing gondola ride. I'm not searching for that missing piece right now, even though it's still missing.
I was when I wrote that article about the inert around 3 weeks ago.
But right now, as I see the end of another school year approach, and as I feel summer come back to life, I still see grey. I'm not depressed, but after spending time with other people and joking around, I still come home and put a few ideas on paper (less dramatically on word documents).
I'm trying to write new articles, to put up on this site anything that comes to mind, but like before, everything comes easier in poem form.
And so a poem was born out of the grey I see.
I write a lot, articles, songs, poems...the lot! I don't share much of it. I share some of my songs with my band mates, and, if we're lucky, it becomes part of our musical catalogue.
But apart from that, I like to keep my ideas for myself...and for all you faceless, anonymous beings that are reading these very words and the many thousand words I have written before.
I feel like sharing this poem because I didn't think about it while writing it. It just came pouring out. It was only after re-reading it days later, that I became proud of it.
It's pretty vague to be honest. I'm not the kind of poet that expresses a distinct feeling or experience.
That's too easy.
I prefer writing down words that go with what I'm feeling, and then let the reader interpret it to go with what he is feeling.
And remember, this isn't the product of a depression. I'm a happy person. I love my family and all my friends. This is just something that crossed my wild mind, and that I want to share with you.
So here it is:
Common Existence
I feel the stone in my soul, the shouting doesn’t stop
Twilight shines on rotten roses as rough hands die
Will they communicate, find what’s wrong? I think not
But I can see the strings controlling the puppets,
From where I lie.
Cleansing something that won’t be admitted strikes me
As full moon fever keeps me aware of the pain
Standing up costs faith for the prey, but I won’t flee
But laws of nature say, even if I try to soothe the sting,
I’ll only leave a stain.
So why try? The wolf has howled and left the mice to die
I will wait ‘til the next full moon to sing my song
Defying the kings and queens, making the aces cry
Black and white will know a steady gradient,
When they realize they’re wrong.
So for now, I stay down, don’t say much, just look sad.
I stay down, let it flame, let it bleed, let it die.
Watch them whine, drown the sound, let them bite, I stay down.
A common existence, I’d shut it down, if I could
But I stay down, keep cover on the floor, I stay down.
I was when I wrote that article about the inert around 3 weeks ago.
But right now, as I see the end of another school year approach, and as I feel summer come back to life, I still see grey. I'm not depressed, but after spending time with other people and joking around, I still come home and put a few ideas on paper (less dramatically on word documents).
I'm trying to write new articles, to put up on this site anything that comes to mind, but like before, everything comes easier in poem form.
And so a poem was born out of the grey I see.
I write a lot, articles, songs, poems...the lot! I don't share much of it. I share some of my songs with my band mates, and, if we're lucky, it becomes part of our musical catalogue.
But apart from that, I like to keep my ideas for myself...and for all you faceless, anonymous beings that are reading these very words and the many thousand words I have written before.
I feel like sharing this poem because I didn't think about it while writing it. It just came pouring out. It was only after re-reading it days later, that I became proud of it.
It's pretty vague to be honest. I'm not the kind of poet that expresses a distinct feeling or experience.
That's too easy.
I prefer writing down words that go with what I'm feeling, and then let the reader interpret it to go with what he is feeling.
And remember, this isn't the product of a depression. I'm a happy person. I love my family and all my friends. This is just something that crossed my wild mind, and that I want to share with you.
So here it is:
Common Existence
I feel the stone in my soul, the shouting doesn’t stop
Twilight shines on rotten roses as rough hands die
Will they communicate, find what’s wrong? I think not
But I can see the strings controlling the puppets,
From where I lie.
Cleansing something that won’t be admitted strikes me
As full moon fever keeps me aware of the pain
Standing up costs faith for the prey, but I won’t flee
But laws of nature say, even if I try to soothe the sting,
I’ll only leave a stain.
So why try? The wolf has howled and left the mice to die
I will wait ‘til the next full moon to sing my song
Defying the kings and queens, making the aces cry
Black and white will know a steady gradient,
When they realize they’re wrong.
So for now, I stay down, don’t say much, just look sad.
I stay down, let it flame, let it bleed, let it die.
Watch them whine, drown the sound, let them bite, I stay down.
A common existence, I’d shut it down, if I could
But I stay down, keep cover on the floor, I stay down.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
The leaders, the inert, and the free.
We all dream of something blissful. The complete height of whatever you're looking for. Whatever seems to matter. Whatever you want to matter to you. We all dream of becoming one with your passion, in what you believe in most.
Music can do that for example.
And no, I'm not talking about all the shit that's played over the mainstream radio. The simplicity of radio songs is sickening.
The average human being, I'm sorry to say, will not have a passion. Will not believe in something deep. He'll see the world in black and white. He won't see the truth: that everything is grey. He won't know that only you can spread your colour over it. "Good", "bad", "evil", "nice" are purely relative phrases meant to turn life in to a tally chart.
But life isn't a simple choice between right and wrong.
Simple people are too numerous. They're the ones who will listen to music that doesn't deserve to be music, like Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kesha and other bullshit. That's not music. It's not from the heart. They don't live for it. They live with it. They gather their money, puke every night after Vodka number 59.
Rock isn't like that.
Rap isn't like that.
Rock is a spiritual, passionate, musical masterpiece. When you rock out to bands with passionate lyrics. You become one with what you crave, and it's not a naïve song that can give you that. No. Rock dwells deeper in the absurdity and sadness of human nature. It dwells in all those fucked up things that traverse your head, except for they express it with beautiful music.
Some lyrics of rock songs are so deep that they make tears well in your eyes. The truthfulness and reality in them is striking. They unplug you from the matrix of radio/party songs. People have lived for rock. People have written all the crazy experiences they've gone through. The anger. The pain. The grief, but also the happiness. And they have put it into something beautiful, although it can be aggressive, but still beautiful.
Listening to bands that sing from the heart (I won't list any because there are too many) deserve to be listened to. It doesn't compare to the mainstream, ignorant crap that's played to the mainstream, close minded population.
Rap plays the same role as rock. It expresses all the pain and anger gone through an individual, and it's put into rhyming poems that are stringed into a rhythmic, intense, musical voyage. And I'm not talking about Top 40 rap. Fuck that. I'm talking about real rap, just like real rock, from the heart.
I praise that music. It fills me. Keeps me up when I'm feeling down, and down when I'm feeling up. It keeps me balanced.
Because life is all about balance.
Depression will hardly get anyone anywhere, but light-heartedness is just as unhealthy. The unwavering knowledge of being on earth, trying to find a sense of purpose through all forms of art, is what truly matters. That is what truly defines a mature being.
It's a never ending chase with purpose. We will never seize our sense of purpose. If we did, we could all just drift away in meaningless crap, and be happy for nothing.
But since our sense of purpose is unatainable, the people who flee in front of that chase, will drift too far into crap, in complete inertia.
It's a shame that so many people are stupid. But if everyone was chasing a sense of purpose, then we would have found it, and we could all live happily ever after...or more like happily never after.
People will try to escape the chase with purpose with religion and other spiritual rituals. It's cowardly, since the people at the head of those spiritual compounds are bastardly enough to take advantage of them.
In fact, everyone is being used. Used by the uncontrolable need of staying with the closed cluster that is the mainstream. Used by the need of escaping the unquestionable truth. It's easy.
Only the people who have passion are free.
(As a side note, I just realised I could also be conditioned into telling you this. But at least I was conditioned meaningfully and truthfully.)
Everything easy is meaningless. That's why we chase our sense of purpose...endlessly.
Only the people who truly see the thousand shades of grey, and not black and white, are the real people here. They can think on their own. They know what living means. Trying to grab at every spot of happiness, while keeping a track on infinite perception and purpose.
Too many people aren't like that. They'll use the stupid argument that it isn't simple. Rock and rap aren't simple, but they're meaningful. Meaning is hard to admit..hard to grasp, but it's the start on the path to purpose. It's the beginning of the journey you must take to discover your true essence. The fuel that keeps you going in this world. Your sense of purpose. And it's not by making a trip to spiritually and religiously symbolic places that you will find meaning and purpose.
It's by going to places where free people have been, and have made a difference.
Or even better, going where no one else has been before.
Meaning is hard to find.
People have gone mad trying to find their true purpose. Religion only helps to blind other people from that. Politics accomplish that same diabolical mission. All these "easy" life conditioners leave most of the globe inhabitants motionless, used, and left to drift into infinite inertia.
Music can do that for example.
And no, I'm not talking about all the shit that's played over the mainstream radio. The simplicity of radio songs is sickening.
The average human being, I'm sorry to say, will not have a passion. Will not believe in something deep. He'll see the world in black and white. He won't see the truth: that everything is grey. He won't know that only you can spread your colour over it. "Good", "bad", "evil", "nice" are purely relative phrases meant to turn life in to a tally chart.
But life isn't a simple choice between right and wrong.
Simple people are too numerous. They're the ones who will listen to music that doesn't deserve to be music, like Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Kesha and other bullshit. That's not music. It's not from the heart. They don't live for it. They live with it. They gather their money, puke every night after Vodka number 59.
Rock isn't like that.
Rap isn't like that.
Rock is a spiritual, passionate, musical masterpiece. When you rock out to bands with passionate lyrics. You become one with what you crave, and it's not a naïve song that can give you that. No. Rock dwells deeper in the absurdity and sadness of human nature. It dwells in all those fucked up things that traverse your head, except for they express it with beautiful music.
Some lyrics of rock songs are so deep that they make tears well in your eyes. The truthfulness and reality in them is striking. They unplug you from the matrix of radio/party songs. People have lived for rock. People have written all the crazy experiences they've gone through. The anger. The pain. The grief, but also the happiness. And they have put it into something beautiful, although it can be aggressive, but still beautiful.
Listening to bands that sing from the heart (I won't list any because there are too many) deserve to be listened to. It doesn't compare to the mainstream, ignorant crap that's played to the mainstream, close minded population.
Rap plays the same role as rock. It expresses all the pain and anger gone through an individual, and it's put into rhyming poems that are stringed into a rhythmic, intense, musical voyage. And I'm not talking about Top 40 rap. Fuck that. I'm talking about real rap, just like real rock, from the heart.
I praise that music. It fills me. Keeps me up when I'm feeling down, and down when I'm feeling up. It keeps me balanced.
Because life is all about balance.
Depression will hardly get anyone anywhere, but light-heartedness is just as unhealthy. The unwavering knowledge of being on earth, trying to find a sense of purpose through all forms of art, is what truly matters. That is what truly defines a mature being.
It's a never ending chase with purpose. We will never seize our sense of purpose. If we did, we could all just drift away in meaningless crap, and be happy for nothing.
But since our sense of purpose is unatainable, the people who flee in front of that chase, will drift too far into crap, in complete inertia.
It's a shame that so many people are stupid. But if everyone was chasing a sense of purpose, then we would have found it, and we could all live happily ever after...or more like happily never after.
People will try to escape the chase with purpose with religion and other spiritual rituals. It's cowardly, since the people at the head of those spiritual compounds are bastardly enough to take advantage of them.
In fact, everyone is being used. Used by the uncontrolable need of staying with the closed cluster that is the mainstream. Used by the need of escaping the unquestionable truth. It's easy.
Only the people who have passion are free.
(As a side note, I just realised I could also be conditioned into telling you this. But at least I was conditioned meaningfully and truthfully.)
Everything easy is meaningless. That's why we chase our sense of purpose...endlessly.
Only the people who truly see the thousand shades of grey, and not black and white, are the real people here. They can think on their own. They know what living means. Trying to grab at every spot of happiness, while keeping a track on infinite perception and purpose.
Too many people aren't like that. They'll use the stupid argument that it isn't simple. Rock and rap aren't simple, but they're meaningful. Meaning is hard to admit..hard to grasp, but it's the start on the path to purpose. It's the beginning of the journey you must take to discover your true essence. The fuel that keeps you going in this world. Your sense of purpose. And it's not by making a trip to spiritually and religiously symbolic places that you will find meaning and purpose.
It's by going to places where free people have been, and have made a difference.
Or even better, going where no one else has been before.
Meaning is hard to find.
People have gone mad trying to find their true purpose. Religion only helps to blind other people from that. Politics accomplish that same diabolical mission. All these "easy" life conditioners leave most of the globe inhabitants motionless, used, and left to drift into infinite inertia.
Friday, 7 May 2010
Reconsideration.
I started this to be more truthful with something or someone. Am I doing it?
Fuck.
All the fancy words make it nice to read. I'm just putting some mascara on the truth. Whatever fucking truth is out there. Or in there. My head. My goddamn head.
Just speak whatever's in there. It won't hurt the internet's feelings...
I'm doing it wrong. It's good I know. It's nice to read. It's deep. It's solemn, but the unquestionable and undeniable truth. Wait is it?
You dickhead.
I'm too afraid I won't live up to myself. I am myself. I'll live up to whatever is alive. Whatever gives the experience of living some meaning.
What the hell am I supposed to live up to?
Not what makes me happy. The world teaches you that.
So what is it?
I'm not writing it down.
Not here. Not yet.
Now it's time for raw words. Whatever's there. Fancy words make up the dressing. That comes later.
If I make this blog into a journal. I will not fucking put this in. No. There's all the real articles I wrote for that. Fuck it.
I'll be better.
I sincerely hope that for changing your ways, 26th time is the charm.
Fuck.
All the fancy words make it nice to read. I'm just putting some mascara on the truth. Whatever fucking truth is out there. Or in there. My head. My goddamn head.
Just speak whatever's in there. It won't hurt the internet's feelings...
I'm doing it wrong. It's good I know. It's nice to read. It's deep. It's solemn, but the unquestionable and undeniable truth. Wait is it?
You dickhead.
I'm too afraid I won't live up to myself. I am myself. I'll live up to whatever is alive. Whatever gives the experience of living some meaning.
What the hell am I supposed to live up to?
Not what makes me happy. The world teaches you that.
So what is it?
I'm not writing it down.
Not here. Not yet.
Now it's time for raw words. Whatever's there. Fancy words make up the dressing. That comes later.
If I make this blog into a journal. I will not fucking put this in. No. There's all the real articles I wrote for that. Fuck it.
I'll be better.
I sincerely hope that for changing your ways, 26th time is the charm.
Thursday, 6 May 2010
There's a freight train coming my way.
Note: I'm sorry I can't write as many articles as I used to. I've had a lot to deal with lately, and even though my mind is foaming with ideas, I can't bring myself around to calmly writing a decent article. This is the best I can give you now.
I don't do this often. Actually I've never done it. Today's article is going to be a poem. A poem I wrote. It draws it's inspiration from the pain and anger I felt after I found out my girlfriend did something wrong, she betrayed me, and now I realise she is probably only attached to me for the physical part of our relationship. It was just a freight train coming my way, but it still takes me aback. It pins me down on the railroad tracks as the train approaches...
I usually think teenage love and everything around it is pretty shallow.
It applies to me now, to the teenager I am. I still think it's shallow, but it itches, aches, hurts. I was going to write a full length article about it, but it came easier in poem form.
I've written articles about trust, time and how it affects people, happiness...the world in general. And now, those articles couldn't feel more real. Every word of it now stares at me in expectancy. That reality struck me harder than I thought.
It threw me back, and I had to re-evaluate my ideas on life, and put my entire persona back in the shadow of doubt just to come out with this mysterious (yet the subject and message are both easy to capture) poem that I present to you now:
Timber
Next time maybe she will think
Before close is to become closest
She never smokes or even drinks
But her jewelry wants some more
So cross out the gold miner’s eyes
He won’t deceive her but he’ll try
Because the guilt claws at his core
He will scratch it ‘til it’s deepest
And shun the reason ‘til the sky
Low before, will glow bright again
Songbirds cry in the dawn
Until the forest is clear
She won’t know when
To foresee her fall
She’s speechless, mute
He’s burned alive
Next time maybe she will think
Before closing off the closest
Now she shakes, ever regretting
But the dearest, never suspecting
Will never realize what she’s done
Because the love is there but gone
Next time maybe she will think
Before shutting off her own bliss
But now the stars will stare at her
And she will cringe because she knows
When the screaming trees collapse
The mute can not shout: "timber".
I don't do this often. Actually I've never done it. Today's article is going to be a poem. A poem I wrote. It draws it's inspiration from the pain and anger I felt after I found out my girlfriend did something wrong, she betrayed me, and now I realise she is probably only attached to me for the physical part of our relationship. It was just a freight train coming my way, but it still takes me aback. It pins me down on the railroad tracks as the train approaches...
I usually think teenage love and everything around it is pretty shallow.
It applies to me now, to the teenager I am. I still think it's shallow, but it itches, aches, hurts. I was going to write a full length article about it, but it came easier in poem form.
I've written articles about trust, time and how it affects people, happiness...the world in general. And now, those articles couldn't feel more real. Every word of it now stares at me in expectancy. That reality struck me harder than I thought.
It threw me back, and I had to re-evaluate my ideas on life, and put my entire persona back in the shadow of doubt just to come out with this mysterious (yet the subject and message are both easy to capture) poem that I present to you now:
Timber
Next time maybe she will think
Before close is to become closest
She never smokes or even drinks
But her jewelry wants some more
So cross out the gold miner’s eyes
He won’t deceive her but he’ll try
Because the guilt claws at his core
He will scratch it ‘til it’s deepest
And shun the reason ‘til the sky
Low before, will glow bright again
Songbirds cry in the dawn
Until the forest is clear
She won’t know when
To foresee her fall
She’s speechless, mute
He’s burned alive
Next time maybe she will think
Before closing off the closest
Now she shakes, ever regretting
But the dearest, never suspecting
Will never realize what she’s done
Because the love is there but gone
Next time maybe she will think
Before shutting off her own bliss
But now the stars will stare at her
And she will cringe because she knows
When the screaming trees collapse
The mute can not shout: "timber".
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Throwing microwaves at nutritionists.
Well, I just got back from a journey to Madrid. I was stuck there because of the intrepid volcano ash filling the sky. I don't think I have ever been that frustrated, that close to implode, and it made me wonder...
What would happen if we couldn't keep things to ourselves? What would happen if all those random words that cross everyone's head would just dive out in to the wild, reaking havoc on their way? What would the world be like if we just spoke what we felt?
I wish I knew.
Every day, I come home thinking I should've said something out loud, and wishing I hadn't said other things out loud. I always beg myself to consider my life with this blog and with the people I'm closest to, but my life is private property.
But wait.
Let's all spill the beans about everything that crossed our minds while trying to deal with the spaces between while trying to keep up with the ever-moving stampede of social cohesion.
Those feelings, that you can't put your finger on. Those feelings that make your conscience say "It's something like..." over and over again, but breaking up and watching the words rot away every time. Those feelings that haunt you, but only make sense when you just consider "knowing" them.
Pure and simple.
There's no need for words.
And those feelings, bitches that don't leave you alone unless you deal with them, treat them with some dignity and consideration, before letting them go as a different person (most of which most people don't do), are just a back-row light shining through your mind flawlessly reflecting the truth, but not reflecting it loud enough for you to realise and change, however perfect your ways may seem.
Just loud enough for you to feel...those fucking feelings.
People who ignore them shrug it off during their lives and get hit in the face once they've reached the final frontier and they're lying on their death bed.
It's those feelings that drove people like Galileo or Giordano Bruno to shout out what they thought. They, for example, thought the earth moved around the sun, and not the opposite, as the church "encouraged" people to believe.
Sometimes people feel those feelings and have that urgent need to burst, for the bettering of themselves and, they hope, for the bettering of the people around. But some people don't like that progress. Those people that will deny complete truth just to stay by the side of something that has made humans fight, hurt, kill, and love (albeit love in hypocrisy):
Faith.
Faith is a scary word. You can barely confront anyone about faith. Unless you have the same faith as them. It's already an awkward and socially sour situation when you don't believe in faith, and it's even worse when you have an "opposed" faith...or as the way things go, "rival" faith.
Because faith creates the need to compete, to prove (in whatever mischevous way) a point that is obscured and only exposed as far as it conveniences "faithful" people.
Faith made the church burn these innocent men at the stake. These men who had just seen the truth, on the top of a mountain, and had pushed through the thornbushes of lies and cliffs of monumental denial, to reach it. All they wanted was to climb down, and call an appeal to reason.
Only reason is also a scary word, and reason doesn't convenience everyone. Because reason has nothing to do with happiness, and even less with power. That's what the human being needs: power with enough happiness, however cheesy, to survive. For children it's easy, they're happy no matter what...until the turbulence of adolescence arrives and the darkness of reason grows.
We're tiny, ever so tiny, compared to reason. Some truth, hiding in our skies, that don't bear an open-minded limit...
And so after seeing all that the confrontations between religion and reason, between the people that clame that religion is reason and the people who clame that reason is simply reason, we decided to make religious and political views a taboo. Because that's the way that we solve problems, we don't extinguish them. We are that powerless in front of human destruction that we just shut the problems down and put them to sleep until another fateful day when they will reak havoc again.
"We are not prisoners of fate, only prisoners of our own minds" as Ben Franklin said. If we silence all of life's problems and conform with fake happiness, we will end up with a world like Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World". But here's my problem, and everybody's:
Now that I'm home, after all the twisted thougths that crawled over me, jumped onto me and stared me in the eyes while maddening boredom overcame me, I'm still glad to finally be in the small circle of comfort that surrounds me in the tiny space I occupy in life. So I feel I shouldn't disturb the massive monsters we have created, because I am powerless.
But I still feel that tiny shadow of guilt shining through the back row window, that's forcing me to write this article. I'm hitting those monsters in the face, like throwing spiders at an arachnophobe and throwing microwaves with pre-heated meat in them to a nutritionist.
But that guilt isn't strong enough. I'm just me and this motherfucking blog.
Because I, like everyone, am scared of reason and faith.
And the truth.
What would happen if we couldn't keep things to ourselves? What would happen if all those random words that cross everyone's head would just dive out in to the wild, reaking havoc on their way? What would the world be like if we just spoke what we felt?
I wish I knew.
Every day, I come home thinking I should've said something out loud, and wishing I hadn't said other things out loud. I always beg myself to consider my life with this blog and with the people I'm closest to, but my life is private property.
But wait.
Let's all spill the beans about everything that crossed our minds while trying to deal with the spaces between while trying to keep up with the ever-moving stampede of social cohesion.
Those feelings, that you can't put your finger on. Those feelings that make your conscience say "It's something like..." over and over again, but breaking up and watching the words rot away every time. Those feelings that haunt you, but only make sense when you just consider "knowing" them.
Pure and simple.
There's no need for words.
And those feelings, bitches that don't leave you alone unless you deal with them, treat them with some dignity and consideration, before letting them go as a different person (most of which most people don't do), are just a back-row light shining through your mind flawlessly reflecting the truth, but not reflecting it loud enough for you to realise and change, however perfect your ways may seem.
Just loud enough for you to feel...those fucking feelings.
People who ignore them shrug it off during their lives and get hit in the face once they've reached the final frontier and they're lying on their death bed.
It's those feelings that drove people like Galileo or Giordano Bruno to shout out what they thought. They, for example, thought the earth moved around the sun, and not the opposite, as the church "encouraged" people to believe.
Sometimes people feel those feelings and have that urgent need to burst, for the bettering of themselves and, they hope, for the bettering of the people around. But some people don't like that progress. Those people that will deny complete truth just to stay by the side of something that has made humans fight, hurt, kill, and love (albeit love in hypocrisy):
Faith.
Faith is a scary word. You can barely confront anyone about faith. Unless you have the same faith as them. It's already an awkward and socially sour situation when you don't believe in faith, and it's even worse when you have an "opposed" faith...or as the way things go, "rival" faith.
Because faith creates the need to compete, to prove (in whatever mischevous way) a point that is obscured and only exposed as far as it conveniences "faithful" people.
Faith made the church burn these innocent men at the stake. These men who had just seen the truth, on the top of a mountain, and had pushed through the thornbushes of lies and cliffs of monumental denial, to reach it. All they wanted was to climb down, and call an appeal to reason.
Only reason is also a scary word, and reason doesn't convenience everyone. Because reason has nothing to do with happiness, and even less with power. That's what the human being needs: power with enough happiness, however cheesy, to survive. For children it's easy, they're happy no matter what...until the turbulence of adolescence arrives and the darkness of reason grows.
We're tiny, ever so tiny, compared to reason. Some truth, hiding in our skies, that don't bear an open-minded limit...
And so after seeing all that the confrontations between religion and reason, between the people that clame that religion is reason and the people who clame that reason is simply reason, we decided to make religious and political views a taboo. Because that's the way that we solve problems, we don't extinguish them. We are that powerless in front of human destruction that we just shut the problems down and put them to sleep until another fateful day when they will reak havoc again.
"We are not prisoners of fate, only prisoners of our own minds" as Ben Franklin said. If we silence all of life's problems and conform with fake happiness, we will end up with a world like Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World". But here's my problem, and everybody's:
Now that I'm home, after all the twisted thougths that crawled over me, jumped onto me and stared me in the eyes while maddening boredom overcame me, I'm still glad to finally be in the small circle of comfort that surrounds me in the tiny space I occupy in life. So I feel I shouldn't disturb the massive monsters we have created, because I am powerless.
But I still feel that tiny shadow of guilt shining through the back row window, that's forcing me to write this article. I'm hitting those monsters in the face, like throwing spiders at an arachnophobe and throwing microwaves with pre-heated meat in them to a nutritionist.
But that guilt isn't strong enough. I'm just me and this motherfucking blog.
Because I, like everyone, am scared of reason and faith.
And the truth.
Sunday, 4 April 2010
On the other side of the looking glass.
I've been doing this blog for what?...2 weeks now. At first, it was supposed to be a backdoor occupation to liberate what ever was going on in my mind about people around me. Things that have happened to me. Things that have happened to other people.
But it turned into a journal, documenting my point of view on the world. How small I am compared to it. How big I am compared to it.
It's funny, really. I didn't really see the change coming. Maybe I'm just deflecting on to subjects of the world because I don't want to talk about my personal life.
It's funny, really. Because there's nothing special or embarassing about my personal life. Maybe I deflect everything on to the world because I'm a part of it. I've shown you what I think of parts of us, humans. And parts of the world. Like time, sleep, happiness, style, trust, and differences and spaces between us.
This is the first article that I'm gonna finish in one go. Because I'm finding out that the rhythm is slowing down.
2 weeks ago I was really into this. Updating with a lengthy article every night.
And the next day I would turn back to my everyday life. Become that person I am everyday. He scares me. I don't even know who's me sometimes.
But I can tell you this: when I started writing articles about glitches of society, problems we all face, and strange emotions we uncontrollably feel, (and I feel strongly about everything I write down here), I became as honest as it gets.
And since I've started this blog, even though I'm sure not many people read it, things have got better.
I've started to realise that all this weight. This...anonymous roadblock inside of me, was being held up by all the points I supported, and everything I needed to shout out about this completely fucked world we live in.
But I can't say it's completely fucked up. I've never known anything else. No one's ever known anything else. And, even though not many people admit it, we should be happy with what we have.
And no, it isn't what "God" or anyone not on earth gave us.
We're here. Now. And it could be worse. Because we see worse, on the television, in books, on the radio, in school, everywhere. But we haven't really seen better, we can sense it, and it comes out to us in short periods called happiness.
But it's never truly come to us.
I've started to realise that, ever since I published "Happy accidents and peaceful riots.", my article about happiness a few days back.
The change seems quick. But I didn't see it coming.
I've written many articles. Things I never dreamed I would ever write about. And during that process. I changed. I was releasing everything through the words that are born here.
And here I am. Rambling on about what I've done since the creation of this blog. I'm happy with everything I've written. And it differs considerably from my first two articles, "This is pointless." and "Looking around."
Simply because since then, I've wanted to expose the world.
How different it looks at different times. Different days.
Some days, the rooms are so small. And you feel caged, unable to think or speak freely. On other days, the rooms are to large. And you feel marooned.
You can never win.
So now, I take life lightly. I take out all the twisted thoughts and worries on this blog. And I'm better.
So now, as I document things I see and the way they see me, remember that there's someone behind the looking glass.
Me.
The world isn't stable. If the world's in God's hands, then God's hands must be very shaky. I'm just here, rambling on what comes down on me. The raindrops of sadness, the overcast of doubt, the snow of redemption, and the sunshine that gives me a short period of that thing that keeps us all in place.
Unconditional happiness.
But it turned into a journal, documenting my point of view on the world. How small I am compared to it. How big I am compared to it.
It's funny, really. I didn't really see the change coming. Maybe I'm just deflecting on to subjects of the world because I don't want to talk about my personal life.
It's funny, really. Because there's nothing special or embarassing about my personal life. Maybe I deflect everything on to the world because I'm a part of it. I've shown you what I think of parts of us, humans. And parts of the world. Like time, sleep, happiness, style, trust, and differences and spaces between us.
This is the first article that I'm gonna finish in one go. Because I'm finding out that the rhythm is slowing down.
2 weeks ago I was really into this. Updating with a lengthy article every night.
And the next day I would turn back to my everyday life. Become that person I am everyday. He scares me. I don't even know who's me sometimes.
But I can tell you this: when I started writing articles about glitches of society, problems we all face, and strange emotions we uncontrollably feel, (and I feel strongly about everything I write down here), I became as honest as it gets.
And since I've started this blog, even though I'm sure not many people read it, things have got better.
I've started to realise that all this weight. This...anonymous roadblock inside of me, was being held up by all the points I supported, and everything I needed to shout out about this completely fucked world we live in.
But I can't say it's completely fucked up. I've never known anything else. No one's ever known anything else. And, even though not many people admit it, we should be happy with what we have.
And no, it isn't what "God" or anyone not on earth gave us.
We're here. Now. And it could be worse. Because we see worse, on the television, in books, on the radio, in school, everywhere. But we haven't really seen better, we can sense it, and it comes out to us in short periods called happiness.
But it's never truly come to us.
I've started to realise that, ever since I published "Happy accidents and peaceful riots.", my article about happiness a few days back.
The change seems quick. But I didn't see it coming.
I've written many articles. Things I never dreamed I would ever write about. And during that process. I changed. I was releasing everything through the words that are born here.
And here I am. Rambling on about what I've done since the creation of this blog. I'm happy with everything I've written. And it differs considerably from my first two articles, "This is pointless." and "Looking around."
Simply because since then, I've wanted to expose the world.
How different it looks at different times. Different days.
Some days, the rooms are so small. And you feel caged, unable to think or speak freely. On other days, the rooms are to large. And you feel marooned.
You can never win.
So now, I take life lightly. I take out all the twisted thoughts and worries on this blog. And I'm better.
So now, as I document things I see and the way they see me, remember that there's someone behind the looking glass.
Me.
The world isn't stable. If the world's in God's hands, then God's hands must be very shaky. I'm just here, rambling on what comes down on me. The raindrops of sadness, the overcast of doubt, the snow of redemption, and the sunshine that gives me a short period of that thing that keeps us all in place.
Unconditional happiness.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)