The human spirit April 22nd 2023

The uncertainty of the day ahead wears on my energy. I need to round it all up and learn what is what as quickly as I can. I was born to sit under an oak and think, or sit at a desk in some old drab home looking out a window. I was made for quiet and solitude. But being made for it doesn’t mean I get to do it. I still have people that need things from me. I’ve got to pay the Naples rent, and I’ve got to keep the car payment paid. We need gas, and food, and all the other bills need paid. I need to keep these things afloat for the ones I love. Still the conflict runs rampant in my spirit. Being so sensitive to my source, or my home, or what it is I’m for, and being forced to live apart from that causes a chronic sadness.

      Today I will walk forward into the belly of the beast as I have done for so many years now. I will not do so kicking and screaming, but I will walk forward under my command. I will not become docile to life. Even though buried deep under the years of life. I will conceive of my direction, and I will strive for its revelation. And I will hold all within that conception. 

Being with myself

I’m hurting a bit. It’s seeing what is meaningful to me and being separate from it. It causes my soul to ache, and it depresses my heart. Yes, it is a longing, to be with what is right for me. And I could at once distract myself with sex, or video games. But, it’s this that runs below the surface as the cause. I love that woman. That is all. That is enough. She is sacred, and she can stay there. To undertake the practicalities of life at this moment seems so irrelevant. It would be like an ambulance with a dying woman in it stopping so the driver could inspect the paint job. What’s important is so obvious in that moment, the other things couldn’t matter less. I’ve been writing prolifically for about 10 years now. And the relationship has altered me in many ways. But it seems still strange that it is and has been confined to me alone. And that the outer world knows nothing of these connections. 

Honestly. Sensitive.

      I will play a character. And I will cultivate that character, creating the most useful person I can imagine. And he will be tough, tough enough to handle anything the world can throw at him. And then when it’s over, I will sit in quiet, honestly sensitive.

Out there.

      Life Is hard. At one time it was not. And still, when I’m in your arms it ceases to be. It’s not that work is hard and ceaseless, and that sleep is lacking. It’s that I will spend the day unloved and in danger. And everything I encounter will be hostile. Everything but the horizon, and the beginning of a moment alone. 

Darkness had gotten control of him

I saw him in the dust filled room sawing at the dry wall, his unmasked face and body caked in white dust. I thought “ my God” this man is barely alive. I wondered how anyone could disregard their health so much. I thought surely I am watching a man commit suicide. Only his death was not all at once but over time. Then he passed me in the hall way and looked at me for a moment with vacant eyes, I saw the white dust filling his nostrils. Certainly this man was aware that he was killing himself. It was in a way frightening, to be so close to a human state that has completely given up. I adjusted my mask, and moved on. 

4.10.23 Good morning life

Good morning my life. Good morning my friendly table. Good to see you distant illumination. Concrete Floor, your style is better than ever. Seat you are a beautiful color this morning. Clothes, even you have really outdone yourself. I am joyous just to sit and look at you. Oh dark woods and blacks, if I could surround myself with company like you always, how wonderful it would be. And lastly I am grateful for the height of your ceilings. How your openness allows me to breath. Be my constant companion will you not? You are just as I am. I can hardly believe that others, or someone else is just the same as I.

4.10.23 A daily war with the world 2

I have never been very fond of the presence of others, imposing, attempting to dominate, a constant war. I would very much prefer only the select few of my family ever gain access to my vision. And with this vast capacity for feeling, I have made my way in the world with a strong physical presence and an intellect to excel at skill. I have protected myself by the dominance of what the world values. I shall trick them into thinking I am like them, even skilled at being like them. And they will leave me alone, respect me. But I am none of these things, I am not a brute. I am finely tuned and must be guarded.

I have prayed for a savior to come and rescue me from the world. But no such savior arrived. So instead I have built and armor and wrapped my heart entirely. With the world I go to war, waging a battle to free myself from its snares. And I am reminded on this morning the purpose for these fights, to free the creativity and allow its life to come forth.

So I leave this soul now. I pick up the breast plate. I strap on the guards. I take uptake shield, and I grip the sword. I wage war with the world to make ready the path.

4.10.23 A daily war with the world

Today I will go into the world. And I will make myself as one of them. Though I can hardly believe that any are even like it. I will sit there and I will be totally out of place. And to survive I will work on my mind as I have worked on others in my time of influence. And I will get through. I will even get myself to feel at home. And I must. It is the only way I will endure and get through.

And then when the time has come and the place has let out, I will close the door to my car, and I will sigh for having made it another day. And then I will begin to shake the hypnosis off of me. And at some hour before the day has ended, and before I go once more. I will sit with my being, and truth will comfort me for a time.

4.1.23 The Building in the reflection

The building in the reflection is golden, auburn like the fall or an ale next to some spices. I can feel the truth of living in it’s appearance. The hum and unkempt sands tell me of its soul. It is not an album cover. It is Susan, or Joe, Or Falyn’s place, real, un needing of any fantastic makeup or posing. Already as beautiful as it could be.