Insignificant divinity

I am anxious… I know… not exactly news…
Do you know that the line between an extreme state of panic and complete serenity can be measured by the distance between your two nostrils? And the time it takes for both to join into a new state, the state which defines me, is the time it takes for the smoke exhaled from your two nostrils to become one stream of vapor that happens to not be very good for you?
While the relevance of your nose in the subject matter may, or may not, reveal itself at a later stage, what I am really talking about here is a realistic conception that is starting to take over my consciousness combined with the lack-there-of; I have become the personification of eternal life shoulder down inside a grave, the extreme doubled with couch vegetables, and the world fights all it’s wars within my head just as it takes care of it’s precious petunias.
My fingers have gone mute, but still you happen to be reading their labor, and like that, I will keep everything I tell you secret, a secret that I share with the whole world but you, just as I refrain from addressing anyone in the whole world except you.
If you are my forbidden fruit, then I intend to stay in heaven, yet heaven is a place where no one tells me what to do or what not to do.
I am anxious, that is the spring of my creation, the world needs not to understand, and my only job is to explain. You get to watch, you get to move, you get to lead and you get to sell your soul, I may not be the devil, but I sure have the cash!

Full

Take me far…
Out beyond the reach of rays and suns, to velvet colored night out by the factory in which they brew the wind, allow the rest of me to wait behind for all that is left behind, and sing with me the song to which our moon will rise, carried by the dreams of virgins and warriors, by the madness of poppies in the early spring, that madness that summons eternity in a day, and rides, Valliant and fearless, as was said, to rescue me…
The fences of sobriety are hanging by a thread, a hair, and the wind is cold and strong, yet warmth shines from within, why can't a beggar drag the whole world and be let in? there is no sense in waiting, my thoughts have long since departed to their final resting place, a window for the room, a view to watch the view, and you lay there, carried by the dreams of virgins and warriors, by the madness of poppies in the early spring, that madness that summons eternity in a day, and rides, Valliant and fearless, as was said, to rescue me…

Let the shrew go tame herself!

I dragged myself through the mire today, but at the end I got to the other side. I was reminded of the cruelty humans are capable of and the patience today, and at the end of the day, I am proud of myself for being able to remain myself.
Reasons are thrown in our path and signs of many colors with directions and instructions which we chose to follow or discard, at the end of the day we can not but accept that our motion has carried us to the place where we ended up whether we wanted to end up there or not. If we chose not to accept this we sleep with a heavy heart, and I don’t like sleeping with a heavy heart.
I had a big struggle in my head today between choice and the modern social epidemic that can be referred to as the illusion of choice, I told myself that I am a victim of a life more complicated because I have been driven to believe that I have numerous choices that are designed to keep me too busy from actually considering my real choices.
While I am perfectly aware of the existence of this epidemic, I need to stop bullshiting myself into believing that I am a victim of it; I know who I am, I know what I want and I don’t like neither McDonalds nor Burger King, in other words this crap don’t fly with me, what is happening is that sometimes I don’t get what I want, and it needs to be ok for me not to get what I want… hell! Maybe what I want is probably not good for me anyway!
Patience is always the key for deliverance and no battle is lost if one lives to fight another day, I realize that I’m throwing clichés around today, but the thing with over used phrases of wisdom is that they become over used because they are true, it is only in our rebellious childhood that we discard them as empty words, so, if you still discard such phrases you hear everyday as empty words there’s a good chance that you are still a child with little experience and less wisdom and my advice to you is another couple of cliché: get over yourself and wake up and smell the roses!
The most aggressive teacher is experience, another more subtle teacher is observation. While the majority of people learn the ways of life through experience (trial and error) only a few are capable of learning through observation because one can never learn from observing other people if one cant refrain from judgment, and humans are judgmental fuckers by nature, but imagine how much you can learn if you learn from both your mistakes and other people’s mistakes at the same time?
At the end of this rambling session I would like to add this: if you are not enjoying it then:
1- You shouldn’t be doing it.
2- No matter what you think, you always have the choice not to do it.
3- Life is not complicated; it’s you who’s the idiot!

A divine fistful!

"Oriental Poppies" by Georgia O'Keefe

For a moment, I was a child again, the surface of the water was clear yet reflected the picture of a boy I’d known a thousand years ago, and as if I hadn’t stood witness to the stepping on lonely flowers by the charging herds, I was a child again.
I’d fallen victim to sweet reflection again; I walked blind folded at the edge of the abyss, I ceased to believe a pin prick can hurt, I ceased to believe a flame would sear my smooth untarnished skin, I smiled to the passers by and would’ve followed the piper to his avail, I was diminished beneath that which is insignificant, yet the world was at my command!
For a moment I was a child again, a child whom I thought had been driven to the beckoning white light, his joy stormed through my senses like a volcano of rose petals and chocolate seashells, his anguish exploded through my bones like a million ants carrying an atomic bomb, for a moment I abandoned the middle and floated simultaneously through both extremes, and in that moment I prayed for a million years not to be freed.
I - the man - live to harvest the measured matter and time that music and love leave behind. I – the child – live in music and love, where time never matters and matter is as irrelevant as time. Will you allow me not to have grown for only a moment a day?

Silhouette

The satisfaction generated from dedicating one’s life for the pursuit of beauty in everything around could be ultimate, yet it may sometimes prove arduous hard work when one decides to inflict a certain view of beauty onto things rather than searching for a perspective from which to discover the beauty inherent in the subject, we are not here to create, we are here to observe and reflect.
The humility generated from dedicating one’s life for the pursuit of beauty in everything around could be ultimate as well; I laugh at the weaknesses and fragility that define me, my fears of my own limited perception - which ultimately translate into my inevitable mortality – are walls that surround my ability at maintaining a sense of ultimate satisfaction. And at times when I find a perspective of immaculate beauty, I recoil from allowing myself from enjoying it to the fullest, because in its’ existence I prove that I have reached my destination, so I simply say “hmmm” and I record the incident in my ledger and move for other pursuits. I wish I had the strength to fall onto my knees in front of one of the wonders of what life is and pray, just for one lifetime.
One of the happiest tunes that were ever written is What A Wonderful World known around the world by Louis Armstrong, this song makes me feel that the world is about to end because it has somehow reached a peak and it can not go any further.
I am so human it’s sick, well, it’s also pitifully wonderful because I am blessed with the ability to forget; and I guess I can’t complain much since I’m still waking up the next morning and the day before looses its’ ability to prove that it really did exist as overwhelmingly as it did when it did exist, and by choice, I am able to keep the memory of beauty, while my shortcomings become irrelevant as they find other more timely reasons to manifest themselves through!
This struggle is who I am I guess, it’s good to have an idea of who I am, but hey! It beats being afraid without having any fun!

The choice of Italian or Chinese for dinner!

It’s not new to me for people to tell me that I’m living my life irresponsibly, that my choices of work and living are extremely unstable and that I would not survive for long swimming against the social current, I don’t usually give those people the time of day, especially when I know them and know that although they are preaching their vision of a content and stable life they themselves are irrevocably miserable.
Things were slightly different today though; I had decided a couple of weeks ago that I would conduct an experiment in which I would allow myself to tolerate people more even when they are throwing their usual clichés at me, I have decided that I should always question my belief in my direction because if I didn’t I would end up making my choices blindly, nothing is definite in this life and a constant check up on my ideological state is a healthy thing, so I sat through a lecture from a certain someone who assured me that I am living in a dream world and that my choice to work in performing music in this part of the world is a sure way to become a social outcast and end up broke, alone and miserable.
I would be stupid to assume that our society is tolerant of people like me who chose what is considered a highly alternative way of life, music is not an extremely respectable field to work in and the local market for many reasons is simply too small to generate enough stable income to support someone who chooses to live my life style. All this considered, I need to go through this person’s conclusions of how my life would end up if I kept doing what I am doing now.
Will I become a social outcast? By a social outcast what was meant is simple: no one would allow their daughter to marry me! Here’s a question: me being who I am, do I want to marry someone who would resign her desire to be with me to the short sightedness and groundless beliefs of someone else especially if she gets to really know me?
Will I end up broke? It’s a possibility, yet I am a capable and young man, determined and working very hard, I don’t have inhibitions and always consider all my choices and know how to invest my talent in different directions, money has not proven a serious issue yet in my life and I’m content with what I have. So I believe that I have as much a chance to be financially sound as the next person even if I don’t come from a rich family.
Will I be alone? Loneliness? I am very used to loneliness no matter how many people surround me, it has always been the way and I really doubt it would change if became a lawyer or a journalist.
Will I end up miserable? I have made a choice to make a living doing what I enjoy most in my life, I wake up everyday with a renewed sense of motivation and excitement and go to work like a child goes to an amusement park! How many people can claim to be the same?
The truth is, I don’t really believe that I am swimming against the current, what I do makes so much sense to me that I almost firmly believe that it is almost everyone else who is swimming against the current and I am one of the few people who have lives that make sense to them!
I may be taking a risk, a big one at that, but hey! It is said that most men live their lives in silent desperation, I honestly don’t! I am truly content in most areas of my life especially those areas connected to what I do and who I am, so isn’t that an indication that I’m choosing the right path for myself? Why on earth should I seek my happiness and success through means that have proved to be disastrous failures so many times in front of my eyes?!

Here, now...

On the streets there are a million tales that we forget; showers of the moonless past evaporate before they touch the skin, they delve in their darkness for us not to see then flow backwards to an empty sea, as if they never were.
On the streets, not all silence is silent; listen, you’ll hear the wailing if no one is there, and the white glowing laughter from upturned treasures buried under the sidewalks, and when all is silent, I dare you to listen to your own silence, and hear it, I dare you not to scream.
On the streets, walking is irrelevant when movement is better felt through standing still, running means there is no where to go and when the journeys near their end, like pollen or a beckoning smile, that’s when they start all over again…

On the streets you’ll never know who I am till I swear never to tell you my inner most secret, yet you stay around to hear it knowing that you’ll never hear it, that’s when you’ll know who I am. Can you stay and listen for a word that will never come?