2011 is well underway. Almost half done, actually.
A new year. A relatively clean slate. A new chance.
At least, that's what we've been led to believe. In reality, all this talk of new opportunities is a thinly veiled mind control technique designed to make one forget about the past. Hmm. Not that bad, in a way. Of course, there are those who would argue that time means nothing. It's another social construct designed to dehumanize us all. And by that same token, holidays and other dates we've established to commemorate events are included in the meaninglessness of it all. But if we were to abolish our system of dates then the dates we should always keep in mind would vanish into the dust. Hmm. A set of golden handcuffs? Maybe.
Regardless, one cannot deny that 2011 is a new year. More often than not, a new year represents new opportunities. New people, new tasks, new challenges. More often than not, one finds that they cannot shake off the trappings of a year now gone. Still got some monkeys on your back and a horde of demons still waiting to be dealt with. You know the kind. People who vow to exercise and get into better shape. They try so hard the first month or so and then vanish into a sea of fried foods and inertia.
Then, there are more pressing matters that for some reason or another never get resolved. It seems strange that these types of things get ranked lower on the scale of priority but it's probably because there's more stress and pain in existential matters than in the petty ones.
In the past, I've made lists of things I wanted to do in the new year. I never did any of them. Or I did them for a few weeks then forgot about it and repeated the habits I wanted to avoid in the first place. I never really gave them much thought probably because I was a kid or just naïve. Probably both.
This time around that cycle has repeated itself. But not out laziness but because of a general sense of apathy. I really don't care about certain things anymore. Which is actually a big problem and a wonderful paradox. I want to care about something but nothing really registers with me these days. Chalk that up to a lack of motivation which is the cause of many problems. A deficiency in motivation is a deficiency in many other things.
If things go well, the remainder of the year will give me a reason to give a damn. Or more of a damn.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go roll some dice.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Neil Young asked a good question.
What if your world should fall apart?
That's a good question, Neil Young.
There is no doubt that at some point or another, something affects you so profoundly that you become very attached to it. But when that goes away, it hurts. It hurts so goddamn much. And the wound only festers even more as you ask questions like "Why?" and "How?" with desperation in your voice. Shutting your eyes tightly, to try to shut away the sights of the world.
It hurts because as the inevitable conclusion has been reached, you realize that what ever you got attached to is gone. Right before your eyes, that belief that whatever you experienced would last forever or for a very long time is gone. Gone is what you held so near and cherished so much that it caused you some kind of peaceful pain, if that makes any sort of sense.
What you were attached to goes beyond just "attachment". It crosses into some inexplicable zone that transcends and defies obvious or even thoughtful explanations. Mind-boggle City. It's a mysterious maze with endless twists and turns with thorns everywhere and exits that drop you off the face of the Earth. Or leave you at the entrance. Or leave you in a comfortable chair with Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto lounging nearby between songs. Because of this, there is no one-size-fits-all answer. The answer changes from person to person.
What if your world should fall apart?
Everything's going to fall apart at some point. Everything.
Why? Because try as you might, nothing will last forever. But that's not a bad thing.
The safety net that you gaze upon so lovingly will burn up and leave just a pile of ashes. This is temporary. From the ashes a phoenix might rise. Or some other metaphor that involves sweeping the failures of the past away like the following:
Your free fall that is not interrupted by anything and the impact upon crashing, and broken bones, all that stuff... just temporary. You'll stand up again and realize your world has fallen apart. You'll be bummed out at first but not for a while.
You'll think about everything prior, during, and after. It will blur into itself. And produce more questions. A wheel that will eventually stop turning somehow.
The person eager to get back on track, sometimes in a premature haste, will be the first to say something like, "deal with it" and "move on." While that is sound advice, it disregards the time it takes to heal and repair the self. Returning to some place unprepared is never the best move on anyone's part. So being quick to move on while admirable in some vein, is ultimately foolhardy and ill-advised.
Another more meditative person will say something like, "These things happen." The problem is that the more meditative person tends to meditate too much and will let their world keep falling apart. Not a good move either.
So what would I do?
In my perpetual search for that fabled balance, I will try to bring the polar opposites together. This doesn't always work but it beats eating undercooked meat or burnt ashy toast. At least, that's how I see it. Everyone's different. My method may not work for others and admittedly, it barely works for me.
The key thing to keep in mind is that nothing will last forever, or as long as you want it to. Your world will inevitably fall apart at some point in some way. Everything really is quite temporary and dwelling on them won't do much.
What if your world should fall apart? Let it. It'll end up rebuilding itself somehow at some point. What can you expect from the reconstruction?
If there's anything to pull from this post in regards to the title question, it's probably this:
If your world should fall apart, rebuild. You'll figure something out somehow.
That's a good question, Neil Young.
There is no doubt that at some point or another, something affects you so profoundly that you become very attached to it. But when that goes away, it hurts. It hurts so goddamn much. And the wound only festers even more as you ask questions like "Why?" and "How?" with desperation in your voice. Shutting your eyes tightly, to try to shut away the sights of the world.
It hurts because as the inevitable conclusion has been reached, you realize that what ever you got attached to is gone. Right before your eyes, that belief that whatever you experienced would last forever or for a very long time is gone. Gone is what you held so near and cherished so much that it caused you some kind of peaceful pain, if that makes any sort of sense.
What you were attached to goes beyond just "attachment". It crosses into some inexplicable zone that transcends and defies obvious or even thoughtful explanations. Mind-boggle City. It's a mysterious maze with endless twists and turns with thorns everywhere and exits that drop you off the face of the Earth. Or leave you at the entrance. Or leave you in a comfortable chair with Stan Getz and Astrud Gilberto lounging nearby between songs. Because of this, there is no one-size-fits-all answer. The answer changes from person to person.
What if your world should fall apart?
Everything's going to fall apart at some point. Everything.
Why? Because try as you might, nothing will last forever. But that's not a bad thing.
The safety net that you gaze upon so lovingly will burn up and leave just a pile of ashes. This is temporary. From the ashes a phoenix might rise. Or some other metaphor that involves sweeping the failures of the past away like the following:
Your free fall that is not interrupted by anything and the impact upon crashing, and broken bones, all that stuff... just temporary. You'll stand up again and realize your world has fallen apart. You'll be bummed out at first but not for a while.
You'll think about everything prior, during, and after. It will blur into itself. And produce more questions. A wheel that will eventually stop turning somehow.
The person eager to get back on track, sometimes in a premature haste, will be the first to say something like, "deal with it" and "move on." While that is sound advice, it disregards the time it takes to heal and repair the self. Returning to some place unprepared is never the best move on anyone's part. So being quick to move on while admirable in some vein, is ultimately foolhardy and ill-advised.
Another more meditative person will say something like, "These things happen." The problem is that the more meditative person tends to meditate too much and will let their world keep falling apart. Not a good move either.
So what would I do?
In my perpetual search for that fabled balance, I will try to bring the polar opposites together. This doesn't always work but it beats eating undercooked meat or burnt ashy toast. At least, that's how I see it. Everyone's different. My method may not work for others and admittedly, it barely works for me.
The key thing to keep in mind is that nothing will last forever, or as long as you want it to. Your world will inevitably fall apart at some point in some way. Everything really is quite temporary and dwelling on them won't do much.
What if your world should fall apart? Let it. It'll end up rebuilding itself somehow at some point. What can you expect from the reconstruction?
If there's anything to pull from this post in regards to the title question, it's probably this:
If your world should fall apart, rebuild. You'll figure something out somehow.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Percy
I'm convinced this is a circular universe, if it even has a recognizable shape. You know, given that the universe is so goddamn vast that it would take a million lifetimes at the speed of traveling at the speed of light to see half of it. Regardless of how vast this universe is, it isn't much of a stretch to imagine that it has some circular design. I can't exactly say the same for existence but just this universe. Maybe another universe is a straight line and nothing ever really returns to normal but everything seems to here.
Lie down, get up, become exhausted, lie down again. Whereas in another universe, it could be: lie down, get up, become exhausted, float to the sky / jump into the ocean. Or some other path.
Though the course may change sometime, rivers always lead to the sea. This only applies to our universe, even with chaos theory in practice. You know, the theory that states that no outcome is ever alike? That things are always different and such?
It's always strange: the path of a boomerang. Depending on how you see it, it's distance growing, the ever powerful circle strengthening its grip in the tasks of the universe, or it's going to hit you if you don't duck or something. A boomerang might not fly back to you in another universe but in this one it will.
Then as it was, then again it will be.
Lie down, get up, become exhausted, lie down again. Whereas in another universe, it could be: lie down, get up, become exhausted, float to the sky / jump into the ocean. Or some other path.
Though the course may change sometime, rivers always lead to the sea. This only applies to our universe, even with chaos theory in practice. You know, the theory that states that no outcome is ever alike? That things are always different and such?
It's always strange: the path of a boomerang. Depending on how you see it, it's distance growing, the ever powerful circle strengthening its grip in the tasks of the universe, or it's going to hit you if you don't duck or something. A boomerang might not fly back to you in another universe but in this one it will.
Then as it was, then again it will be.
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