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| february 2007 |
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| To Remember... | 1:38am tuesday, 27th february |
I begin to remember what it was like to be in love. It comes and goes, at any rate, the recall of distant feelings that were once so present in me. Of course, in me, they were more like obsessions, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s not like there’s an object for it to focus on, these days, but perhaps this is just the world telling me that maybe I am ready again to be with someone. I remember, too, when I was going with my last girlfriend in ’04, that really, I was still closed off then. There were layers of armor I wouldn’t let her past, and maybe that was why it ended badly like it did. Who knows what tomorrow brings? One may find, of course, that we will be totally unprepared for what comes, but there is that small chance that what we plan for happens. Strange to think that we have learned enough of the world for such things to pass.
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| Coming True | 1:47am friday, 23rd february |
What do you do when you realize that your dreams are coming true? Let me tell you, it can be a frightening thing. I’m finally beginning to start my own business, going to do for money what I’ve been working at as a hobby for over 5 years now. I’ve become a company in the eyes of New York State, and I’ve even got business cards printed. But it is to rush headlong into the unknown this feels like, sometimes. Mostly, I’m calm, cool, and collected, dealing with whatever comes as it comes. Really, it’s going quite well. Perhaps the only thing I fear is fear itself, and this would be a good thing — but truly, switching lanes into the one with no posted speed limit is a heady thing. The rush can be terrifying, dizzying, frantic — and incredibly fulfilling. I guess there’s only one thing you can do: charge!
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| fathom | 3:59am monday, 19th february |
there are some rhythms in the world that cannot be captured
colors no human eye can discern, out of a mix of rainbows
love we cannot fathom, profound and silent in its moving
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| Wisdom | 2:05am thursday, 15th february |
If what they do does not make you destitute, or in some way derail your life: if all they can do is take your money, then they cannot take a thing away from you that you do not give them: for all of what you truly possess, what is truly yours — your soul, your humanity — this is yours, and only yours, to keep or waste, by what you decide to be and do when you are wronged. This is the love of God, that He made it so that the material things are only as valuable as how much you have decided your treasure is to be these things; where your treasure is, there your heart shall be also, the good book says. When you decide that you will not be one iota less kind to someone else because of something evil done unto you, this is treasure indeed. Gold cannot buy such graces, and sometimes, we lose a little material to gain meaning we might never have received had we not so lost.
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| In the Dreaming 6 | 4:12am sunday, 11th february |
In the dreaming, I folded my soul into a neat package, and mailed it to God.
In the dreaming, fire lit my senses, and I could see through all walls.
In the dreaming, I repented of sins I didn’t commit, and saved a soul elsewhere.
In the dreaming, I breathed night upon the fields, to slumber heavenly.
In the dreaming, water flowed through the sky, a river to the moon.
In the dreaming, I flew and thought nothing of it, as natural as walking.
In the dreaming, I heard the music that had no name, spoke without words.
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| Halospace | 1:32am wednesday, 7th february |
How instantaneously they would open up, portals to other times, other places — the past, the future, beyond. I remember the apartment I had back when where a lot of this happened. People, spirits, angels, visited me from “out there” in halospace, the plane where our imaginations have form, or something to that effect. Travelers looking for the best of all possible worlds (“Try this one!” I told them), contact with Elijah somehow supposed at the helm of Yeshua ben Miriam (I think you know him as Jesus — this was way before I believed, and there is much of a backstory I could get into here)... I looked once into the face of Jim Morrison as we passed by one another in the dreaming, a caricature that he told me I also was represented like unto when he looked into my face... and strange to think none of it happened, for there was much I felt, much I experienced from that realm. Light and darkness shining from the ether.
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| Process Life | 1:51am saturday, 3rd february |
In my soul, I have drunk of sorrow, the blue coolness that seeped through all my chest; I have tasted the emptinesses that were sharp, and those that were dull, the black tastes of those nothings. I cannot say that these were friends of mine, but I might feel that I know them well, and kept company with me in their own way — however much sensations themselves can be said to be alive. As I continue with this process life, I find that I have stopped asking why, and didn’t notice the absence, for the effect was the same whether I placed the question before me or no, that the cosmos would only answer if I myself wrote it in the ether. In fact, most of the questions now that I ask I know only my eyes will ever see, the only one who will ever care that such seeking existed.
I do not know what I expect, anymore. Things happen, I realize things, but I feel like the chapters of my life are merely copied and pasted, altering the small details of time and other minor attributes of placement; there is nothing new under the sun anymore. Is this what it is like to get old? Is this what dying is like? I know I am only half serious, but that half is deadly. I know in my heart that I prefer meaning to any pleasure, but I will search out whatever pleasures I can and take the meaning only if it happens along. This is the unreliable narrator that I am in my life; I cannot trust me. In my soul, there is a tragedy that will never be written, for the words cannot reach it. But it is there, staring at the darkness and the light, wondering that “why” it will never ask.
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