“And woe behold, is todays mind but one bereft of even those most basic of ideas” said me now, not someone from an age past, only partly quotable in what the modern age has done to language. Basically I can’t really think of anything to write about…bereft of ideas as a wise man once said. Perhaps I should wait until later in the day when maybe the mind is more keen to do battle with the creative limits it’s own development has boxed it into. Exactly the reason for choosing this moment of struggle to put out a piece, the challenge of finding light in the darkness, the very creative representation of the Guru in translation. For do we not learn what is true in times of strife, when adversity forces us through the self-imposed limits of our ability to find solutions within ourself? The answers are forever within. Alone in life we embrace this struggle of discovery until we are left with nothing but the hollowed out carcass of illusionary past moments and past lives. The frame of conditions we believed were once the existence that held together the fragility of consciousness, of all that we could see and understand before our eyes now nothing but dust as it exposes itself in the light of truth. But what of truth in this great journey of understanding, for what if mine is yours and yours is mine, are not all universal the understandings we seek? Delving deeper into this morass of darkness and confusion that comes before the light, thrashing and screaming as we see only the untruth before our eyes in all it’s ugly vain glory. Until the moment of acceptance comes before our minds eye, will we forever miss the beauty in the darkness of our delusion. The acceptance that comes when we understand we can no longer blame this darkness for stopping us breathing, but our own inabilities to inhale the truth that now fills our lungs. In and out we breath, the oxygen of light that simply began with us pushing out from the shackles we accepted, that grew while we floundered but which now lay smashed upon the ground. The hammer of liberty breaking the bonds of ignorance held in place through such safe existence. Grown fat through illiterate teachings, shepherds of prosperity forcing us to regurgitate their own vomit. To discover the chains had no lock when all is too late and all is lost. For we learn it is easier to dig our own graves, stepping into the reassuring darkness. Better this murky existence than merely pushing ourselves in times of mental stupor.
Tag: nonsense
A
A funny thing Football is. There’s a part of me that views it as my dirty little secret when I’m trying to pretend I’m some kind of intellectual cultured traveller. This is less of a thing these days but undeniably I barely talked football when I ran around as a little hippy activist back in the day. Seemingly the worlds we move in through life change, or a better word may be evolve, and if we’re making the effort to live life not necessarily to the full, but realistically at atleast seventy to eighty percent then it’s not unreasonable to imagine we move throughout a few worlds within our lifetimes.
I wonder if it’s even possible to fully know the world you’re currently inhabiting. Maybe that’s also a ridiculous statement as its probably quite obvious sometimes, but more that if you’re experiencing life in a way in which you’re not thinking too much about who you are or your image within such a world then there’s a chance you just exist. It could be a case of embracing and being true to the moment or some such thing.
I just re-read that last paragraph and now might be a good time to mention I’m struggling with an horrendous hangover, rambling mindlessly without any kind of point in sight. In regards to my ability to write with a stinker of a hangover though I think I have improved from my last effort about a month ago when it took me about three days to write anything coherent again and even then coherent may be a little generous. That’s one of the things this blog is though, some self indulgent observations of course, but for a large chunk it was and still is about the experiment of writing for a year everyday and what that means in various real situations. This hangover while driving back to Scotland is very much then another real situation in which I attempt to write something you may actually want to read. Saying all that, it’s probably not the most interesting thing I’ll ever write.
I’m on the boat across the Irish Sea at the moment, just watched some film about bird watchers. It was alright but I can see why I’ve never heard of it before. The point being though that they found themselves in Alaska at one point and I remembered how much I want to sail around some crazy remote northern or southern areas. I nearly went on a trip last year to Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America with this crazy eighty old Alaskan. In the end I dropped out because his engine looked a long way from ever working and he talked too much. Antarctica, Alaska, the Arctic…all the best places seem to begin with an A
Observations and Misunderstandings 