Apr 10, 2012
Ear stretching truly is such a spiritual practice, among those who stretch for beauty. To deliberately and incrementally stretch, painfully tear, and gradually widen the lobes in bodily transformation is a high symbol of the mind over matter, rather succumbing to the subduction of the material over the immaterial. The stunning jewelry which we adorn our ears with are honorable tokens of this process, to remind us of our gradual paths in life revolving death and rebirth, our often painful times, and our own spiritual transformation. To otherwise suggest of this spiritual and dignified practice is silly and ignorant of the deeper extraction beyond its apparent vanity.
Feb 27, 2012
Materialism does not equate to sound comfort and security. In a more loving, spiritual point of view, materialism is an iPhone, a Macbook, a car, clothes, and beneficiary school payments, but things do not provide love from parents. Only affection and expressed, unconditional love can offer sound comfort and security. You can have everything in the world, and be grateful or ungrateful, but with no one to share your empire with, you've got nothing but a cheated human experience.
I don't find that friends have to make fun of each other to show the other person that they like them. Quite oppositely-- true, loving friends don't really do that. Only neurotic friends do that. I don't have to make fun of my friends to show them that I like them, no, it's actually proving to them that you have only been paying more attention to their faults. How is that uplifting? I actually find it quite debilitating and insulting.. even pestering. Some famous comedian once illuminated that jokes often stem from some degree of truth or rationality. I try to see the positive in people and bring it out. There's no room for negativity when there's something else occupying that space of manifestation. We all have the darkness and negatives within us, by why isolate them and expand them out of mockery? It does nobody any good. People are on their toes all the time, never to relax, and secretly humiliated. That's how animosity is created. The wisest people look before they leap...
Depression is the feeling that you've lost a significant part of you that you will never be able to get back. You're not dead. You don't want to be dead. You just want to be alive without the pain. Amen to that always. But don't regret what has happened. Things are meant to work out as they do. Let the world run its natural course. You can't take it back. No sense in crying over spilled milk. Let it sit there and you allow others to gawk and relish in your mistake. Clean it up, and you show class and dignity. I would rather clean the milk up. Most people either don't clean it up at all or bid others to do it for them. It's not what makes you fall that defines who you are, it's how you go about getting up that does. Remember that.
Class and dignity in hard times is all about preserving yourself in the most proper, uniform way. It's about doing what must logically and morally be done. It's about doing what's right because it's the right thing to do. It is preservation of moral character.
Depression is the feeling that you've lost a significant part of you that you will never be able to get back. You're not dead. You don't want to be dead. You just want to be alive without the pain. Amen to that always. But don't regret what has happened. Things are meant to work out as they do. Let the world run its natural course. You can't take it back. No sense in crying over spilled milk. Let it sit there and you allow others to gawk and relish in your mistake. Clean it up, and you show class and dignity. I would rather clean the milk up. Most people either don't clean it up at all or bid others to do it for them. It's not what makes you fall that defines who you are, it's how you go about getting up that does. Remember that.
Class and dignity in hard times is all about preserving yourself in the most proper, uniform way. It's about doing what must logically and morally be done. It's about doing what's right because it's the right thing to do. It is preservation of moral character.
Feb 19, 2012
Some thoughts
Don't ever let anyone tell you that your ideas are idiotic. There are people out there who will appreciate them more than those who are unable to.
All you really can do is move forward and accept that you're doing what you feel is right, and trust yourself at the very least, and know that you aren't entitled anything because you say you are. There is so much abundance in the universe and earth, you need only ask yourself to allow yourself to tap into it and give it to yourself, through hard work, giving without expectation of return, and spreading the wealth of your big heart. Believe that youve got this Earth-Human thing down, and know there are many angels and spirits lined up behind you to stand by you and protect who you are. Also, remember that sometimes the best resolve to a conflict is a mutual equipoise. You don't have to juggle your world for long, trust in your self, that you make the right decisions, and don't be timid in letting the towers crash, change is a good thing. A good relationship is built on learning to release by not throwing your stress at the other whether it be knowingly or unknown. Trust that in order to be the successful man you were meant to be, you must learn to give more love without the expectation to be rewarded for it because you were good. Do the hard work, put in your time; all have done it. Spread your love, you have so much to offer to the world.
I admire anyone who embraces the youth within. We don't have to age physically. We choose to by forgetting about youth and how to let go of all the energetic and psychological whack that we never let go and keep building up in our bodies.
There is love and then there is hatred. Learning to differentiate between the two is a life-long quest, but remember that love comes from a unique type of goodness-- the heart. It is true that hatred may reside here, but know that love can replace it with only your permission.
It is typical for an egotistical person to lack in responsibility for their actions. Show kindness and walk away to allow for hermetic introspection in both parties. The best thing that you can do for yourself is to disassociate from that person so there are no longer people around to blame, only their self.
Take the guesswork out of your life. Do the mental work to be more empathetic with those you regard as loved ones, even strangers alike. We are all similar, we are all one species, and we all deserve the respect of one's gentle nature and goodness in their heart.
Respect is not something you earn, nor is it something to keep from someone because you feel they have "earned it." Don't let any liar or trickster, power elite, or falsifier try to convince you of this. I shouldn't have to earn your respect, and you should not have to earn mine. Respect should be a given because you love that person. Respect is not a title to earn as if doing everything right to be good in the eyes of the Lord, Respect is a byproduct of Love.
The best revenge is no revenge at all but a simple success.
You bury yourself in anti-matter when you talk down about yourself to others. You can't be anti-matter in this world. When you do, you just become unseen forces that cater to the material world. Like the crew of a cast... choose to be in the spotlight or the sublight.
The third eye shuts to allow logic to come in. You must logically go over these emotions right now. The third eye shuts, thus you feel like the world crashes because instinctively, you aren't able to see that the world still beats even if it feels like yours is over. It's only a period of logic and reasoning.
All you really can do is move forward and accept that you're doing what you feel is right, and trust yourself at the very least, and know that you aren't entitled anything because you say you are. There is so much abundance in the universe and earth, you need only ask yourself to allow yourself to tap into it and give it to yourself, through hard work, giving without expectation of return, and spreading the wealth of your big heart. Believe that youve got this Earth-Human thing down, and know there are many angels and spirits lined up behind you to stand by you and protect who you are. Also, remember that sometimes the best resolve to a conflict is a mutual equipoise. You don't have to juggle your world for long, trust in your self, that you make the right decisions, and don't be timid in letting the towers crash, change is a good thing. A good relationship is built on learning to release by not throwing your stress at the other whether it be knowingly or unknown. Trust that in order to be the successful man you were meant to be, you must learn to give more love without the expectation to be rewarded for it because you were good. Do the hard work, put in your time; all have done it. Spread your love, you have so much to offer to the world.
I admire anyone who embraces the youth within. We don't have to age physically. We choose to by forgetting about youth and how to let go of all the energetic and psychological whack that we never let go and keep building up in our bodies.
There is love and then there is hatred. Learning to differentiate between the two is a life-long quest, but remember that love comes from a unique type of goodness-- the heart. It is true that hatred may reside here, but know that love can replace it with only your permission.
It is typical for an egotistical person to lack in responsibility for their actions. Show kindness and walk away to allow for hermetic introspection in both parties. The best thing that you can do for yourself is to disassociate from that person so there are no longer people around to blame, only their self.
Take the guesswork out of your life. Do the mental work to be more empathetic with those you regard as loved ones, even strangers alike. We are all similar, we are all one species, and we all deserve the respect of one's gentle nature and goodness in their heart.
Respect is not something you earn, nor is it something to keep from someone because you feel they have "earned it." Don't let any liar or trickster, power elite, or falsifier try to convince you of this. I shouldn't have to earn your respect, and you should not have to earn mine. Respect should be a given because you love that person. Respect is not a title to earn as if doing everything right to be good in the eyes of the Lord, Respect is a byproduct of Love.
The best revenge is no revenge at all but a simple success.
You bury yourself in anti-matter when you talk down about yourself to others. You can't be anti-matter in this world. When you do, you just become unseen forces that cater to the material world. Like the crew of a cast... choose to be in the spotlight or the sublight.
The third eye shuts to allow logic to come in. You must logically go over these emotions right now. The third eye shuts, thus you feel like the world crashes because instinctively, you aren't able to see that the world still beats even if it feels like yours is over. It's only a period of logic and reasoning.
Feb 15, 2012
What is the most hurtful thing anyone has ever done to you?
How do you make a difference in this world by sharing with it your weaknesses? Would your enemy truly take advantage of it, at that very world-pausing moment of deep, soul exchange? There you are, just handing over the very sacred key to your inner world of ego, a key that when held by any soul, could have immense, ultimate power over you. How do you lock eyes, and share a world of pain with that person in front of you? Which leads me to the very question at hand:
What is the most hurtful thing that someone or anyone has ever done to you?
I am the man I am today thanks to giving that key away, and not just giving one key, but giving an identical set to each person I meet, in some small way or another. It might not be conceptualized at that moment, but I hand it out upon first meeting. A long time ago, I was that one vulnerable child in early school. Yup, that was me--the easily-picked-on kid, the easily-made-fun-of kid, the byproduct of a failed, abusive marriage, a traumatized, problem child in the making, and children being the easily-influenced by their parents as examples and yet highly psychic young beings that they are.. took well to disposing a person who was easily-disposed to the world at large.
I went through life knowing scars on my emotional skin that children learned from their environments, parents, and thus, creating their behaviors and dispositions to me. Like grown society, child society acts as the successor of such a world. They respond and behave to a world based on their earliest understandings of the environment and its interactions. It is by instinct of our human brain to adapt to its surroundings and condition itself accordingly.
Children can be just as cruel as their predecessors, I learned. I lacked something called "love." I never felt it, perhaps even in my entire childhood, I never felt it. To this day, I fumble around for an idea of what love could mean to me. I discover many ideas, and come to many themes of thinking based on past experience and study of the interactions of all around. Within it all, I toss my hands in the air, and accept that no logic could provide me with a formal answer.
Like a broken knee that is never allowed to heal due to excessive walking, the world constructs a spirit of hurt-based essence. Like what was expressed before, children are the byprouct of their environments, as are all people. I am reminded of Tabula Rasa, but a more arcane, and significant expression comes to mind, one of a most simplest logic: "You are what you eat." And as so, if blue cloth was used to make a jacket, it wouldn't surely be introduced as an orange jacket.
The most hurtful thing a person could ever do to me is physically hurt me or make me feel that I don't matter, or have a place in this world--alienation. That is the most damaging thing a person could do to me.
The poets speak of love as a mystery. They have even denounced it as a proper noun in disguise. They have, within their own interpretations of what defines as accuracy, intelligently disguised the greatest weapon of all time. You see, love is a moment. Much like how matter is a moment. Would you say an atom has a past? A future? Religion has properly and intelligently disguised love.
I know of a most invexatious secret therein. Have you ever wondered what makes us tick? What keeps us going? What makes us get up when we fall? Why we're so resilient? Why love seems to be so controversial? Why no two people have the same definition of what love means to them?
Love is a moment.
Have you ever wondered why love and good conquers evil? Well love, like any label, was just a name to call something. Love is the very essence of that which creates, and by human logic, that which creates, had the ability therein to destroy by conception of duality. Love is the framework of the universe. We honor that connection through our interaction with other humans. It is in love, all things derived-- affection, intimacy, pleasure, companionship, etc.
Love goes much beyond just its simple associations. The poets were smart. Love is the strongest weapon known to this universe. It is a lifestyle, a motivation, a concept, a philosophy, a weapon, a story... It's just a word to encompass all things made in this universe.. the very essence of the conservation of energy. That is why the poets called this God's love... his benevolence. God is merely a metaphor. Silly humans and their artistic nature, drama was surely to become spirituality in the form of religion.
To love yourself, is to literally wield the strongest potential that you were made to possess. And by also giving another the key to your destruction allows you to finally conceive your world, and then go forth to manifest it without the dual burden of the Conservation of Energy.
When you hand your key away, you accept the hatred in your heart as being a part of you, but not the whole of you. By letting go of that dual aspect of you, you became the only conservation (as provided by duality) that would take its place: Love. Thus from that point on, you began rebuilding yourself.
By handing that key away, you're not allowing them to destruct you, they cannot destruct you because you are no longer a being that they can destroy. It is a fiction of the past. You are now a being of love--- A master of the universe.
What is the most hurtful thing that someone or anyone has ever done to you?
I am the man I am today thanks to giving that key away, and not just giving one key, but giving an identical set to each person I meet, in some small way or another. It might not be conceptualized at that moment, but I hand it out upon first meeting. A long time ago, I was that one vulnerable child in early school. Yup, that was me--the easily-picked-on kid, the easily-made-fun-of kid, the byproduct of a failed, abusive marriage, a traumatized, problem child in the making, and children being the easily-influenced by their parents as examples and yet highly psychic young beings that they are.. took well to disposing a person who was easily-disposed to the world at large.
I went through life knowing scars on my emotional skin that children learned from their environments, parents, and thus, creating their behaviors and dispositions to me. Like grown society, child society acts as the successor of such a world. They respond and behave to a world based on their earliest understandings of the environment and its interactions. It is by instinct of our human brain to adapt to its surroundings and condition itself accordingly.
Children can be just as cruel as their predecessors, I learned. I lacked something called "love." I never felt it, perhaps even in my entire childhood, I never felt it. To this day, I fumble around for an idea of what love could mean to me. I discover many ideas, and come to many themes of thinking based on past experience and study of the interactions of all around. Within it all, I toss my hands in the air, and accept that no logic could provide me with a formal answer.
Like a broken knee that is never allowed to heal due to excessive walking, the world constructs a spirit of hurt-based essence. Like what was expressed before, children are the byprouct of their environments, as are all people. I am reminded of Tabula Rasa, but a more arcane, and significant expression comes to mind, one of a most simplest logic: "You are what you eat." And as so, if blue cloth was used to make a jacket, it wouldn't surely be introduced as an orange jacket.
The most hurtful thing a person could ever do to me is physically hurt me or make me feel that I don't matter, or have a place in this world--alienation. That is the most damaging thing a person could do to me.
The poets speak of love as a mystery. They have even denounced it as a proper noun in disguise. They have, within their own interpretations of what defines as accuracy, intelligently disguised the greatest weapon of all time. You see, love is a moment. Much like how matter is a moment. Would you say an atom has a past? A future? Religion has properly and intelligently disguised love.
I know of a most invexatious secret therein. Have you ever wondered what makes us tick? What keeps us going? What makes us get up when we fall? Why we're so resilient? Why love seems to be so controversial? Why no two people have the same definition of what love means to them?
Love is a moment.
Have you ever wondered why love and good conquers evil? Well love, like any label, was just a name to call something. Love is the very essence of that which creates, and by human logic, that which creates, had the ability therein to destroy by conception of duality. Love is the framework of the universe. We honor that connection through our interaction with other humans. It is in love, all things derived-- affection, intimacy, pleasure, companionship, etc.
Love goes much beyond just its simple associations. The poets were smart. Love is the strongest weapon known to this universe. It is a lifestyle, a motivation, a concept, a philosophy, a weapon, a story... It's just a word to encompass all things made in this universe.. the very essence of the conservation of energy. That is why the poets called this God's love... his benevolence. God is merely a metaphor. Silly humans and their artistic nature, drama was surely to become spirituality in the form of religion.
To love yourself, is to literally wield the strongest potential that you were made to possess. And by also giving another the key to your destruction allows you to finally conceive your world, and then go forth to manifest it without the dual burden of the Conservation of Energy.
When you hand your key away, you accept the hatred in your heart as being a part of you, but not the whole of you. By letting go of that dual aspect of you, you became the only conservation (as provided by duality) that would take its place: Love. Thus from that point on, you began rebuilding yourself.
By handing that key away, you're not allowing them to destruct you, they cannot destruct you because you are no longer a being that they can destroy. It is a fiction of the past. You are now a being of love--- A master of the universe.
Dec 15, 2011
Make your own solid deodorant!
Tools:
Recipe:
Directions:
- Small spoon,
- Small mason jar or container,
- Small drinking glass,
- 3-4" Strainer,
- Small pot,
Recipe:
- 2 tbsp coconut oil
- 1 tbsp herbal infusion of (geranium leaves, cinnamon, basil, chamomile, mint)
- 3 tbsp baking soda
- 3 tbsp cornstarch
- 10-15 drops of pure lavender essential oil or pure tea tree essential oil.
Directions:
- Bring plant material on stove in water to boil then let steep 5 minutes; strain.
- Pour 1 tbsp of hot herbal infusion over 2 tbsp solid coconut oil to melt; mix together well in your drinking glass. Set aside.
- Equally mix in the mason jar or small container 3 tbsp of baking soda and 3 tbsp of cornstarch. For sensitive skin, reduce to: 2 tbsp baking soda, 4 tbsp cornstarch.
- Add in 10-15 drops of either lavender or tea tree pure essential oil
- Mix cornstarch, baking soda, and pure essential oil together well.
- Slowly stir in coconut oil and herbal infusion mixture. All of the liquid may not be needed, so do this in parts, but keep an eye on the deodorant formation. Too much water will make it runny, too little will make it powdery. Focus on the coconut oil, as it hardens the mixture at room temperature.
- Let the deodorant settle and form for 10-20 minutes, and enjoy when needed.
Dec 6, 2011
Self-deluded fools believe that they can trample me because I let go quickest, grudgery befalls the road more traveled than my own. I was a joke to many in high school, yet where now are these fools? Doped up and with ongoingly-abused children that they cannot afford, in jail, or rotting somewhere being nobody of notoriety. Some escaped through the "lines that have always meant to be read between," but they'll just be whispers that melded equally into the mediocrity of such a demanding and taxing society. Where will I be? Somewhere with those few wise ones who imperviously escaped the dramas of the yesteryears. I'll be avoiding, with them, all of that monotonous, disparaging, "hustle and bustle" world and supplementing it for one of my own fabrication. I don't need in my life any of these deformed oddities that dare call themselves Human, a title once honorably earned long ago by true patrons of earth, taunting me, jeering at me, judging me, and placing such a significance over this precedence that they cling to so unwantonly. These stagnant, cesspools of human desperation dwell around and believe that their immorality is such splendor, true euphoria, each bite of food they ingest, each product they consume, and each insult they spray like wild fire; such laughter filled within, a slaughter of their own reverence. See, I don't even laugh, for I have compassion, and I seek to lend a hand to those who will take it without the pride-complex. I harbor nothing but compassion, genuine concern for. While I'm dancing to the tune of my own telling, many are groveling in despair to the melodious elegy of their own lives. I seek a better resort of life for this peculiar, yet profound, existence of mine. I coexist with these unfortunate ones, poor of the wealth of wisdom, and I take compassion, no sympathy, compassion, and in the midst of all this emotional, mental, societal, spiritual, physical, and conceptual warfare, I remain consistently hopeful for a brighter future, and each attack, each convoy, each soldier that projects fear-laden hatred-based sin upon my walls, I deflect them all with that little inner voice who tells me that "I can," and I know that I can, because I say so, and any cackling baboon out there who believes that they're going to bring me to my maker has an arrogance as a strong as the very seams of my own observant skill. I am silent and hopeful, yet quick like a snake when in danger. Laugh at will, folks, for it truly is a divine comedy act, yet I sit behind the curtains in essence, lingering there like a plotting playwright, and I scribe away my brilliance. We each have the power to write out our own destiny. They call it "free will." So dear folks, you are free to will and be willed by, and simply just, I will be free.
--------------------
You all think that I'm defenseless, that I'm nice, that I'm ditsy, eccentric, and frilly because I'm open, happy, content, genuine, honest, and true? We all have a melting point, mine is set moderately high. Very infrequently do feeble-minded simpletons, like those who carry these prejudgments of me with them, get to see just how cruel, and heartless I can be. Unlike most of you twats, I don't carry the same baggage as you do, I let go the heavy BS in life, and unlike most of you lost souls, I know exactly who I am, and I'm doing far better on a spiritual level than you could ever hope to surmount to. Your insults don't affect me, nor does your mockery. So in the most elegant, layman way: Suck my ass.
--------------------
You all think that I'm defenseless, that I'm nice, that I'm ditsy, eccentric, and frilly because I'm open, happy, content, genuine, honest, and true? We all have a melting point, mine is set moderately high. Very infrequently do feeble-minded simpletons, like those who carry these prejudgments of me with them, get to see just how cruel, and heartless I can be. Unlike most of you twats, I don't carry the same baggage as you do, I let go the heavy BS in life, and unlike most of you lost souls, I know exactly who I am, and I'm doing far better on a spiritual level than you could ever hope to surmount to. Your insults don't affect me, nor does your mockery. So in the most elegant, layman way: Suck my ass.
Dec 1, 2011
Nov 17, 2011
A tenyu, Kom kutrün ik ejla né ateake sona.
Sometimes, you must die in order to live again.
Ha knive ba ya kete kiyiri.
Ha knive no kiyiri.
Han knive vi kiyiri.
Ha knive kizon yüme i fa'enta anab bagdi.
Han knive no ju kiyiri.
I bought it for you.
I will buy it.
I am buying it.
I have bought from that store before.
I will not buy it.
Sometimes, you must die in order to live again.
Ha knive ba ya kete kiyiri.
Ha knive no kiyiri.
Han knive vi kiyiri.
Ha knive kizon yüme i fa'enta anab bagdi.
Han knive no ju kiyiri.
I bought it for you.
I will buy it.
I am buying it.
I have bought from that store before.
I will not buy it.
Nov 15, 2011
Bound and Determined, Regardless
There's absolutely nothing to write at all. I wish that I wasn't so behind. It's as if I've jsut begun all over again. By midnight tomorrow, I'm supposed to have 25,000 words written, my current count being at 19,694. I have no idea what I'm going to write. I have no diea if anyone's going to like what I have to write. I desperately want my story to be heard and known by many, so they could dive into this world with me. I feel exactly like how a person would feel when they're under pressure, except, it's pressure that I'm putting on myself. I need to keep telling myself that this stupid novel is going to be written, and written well, but I feel as though each story I am writing is written in the same, dry manner. I can't seem to use any adjectives or adverbs. I love those, a lot.
I love how descriptive they are, how they bring an expression to a piece of work that nothing else could. These stories are all action to action, without much feeling, without that pizzazz to light it up or give it an ornamental flare. It seems dry, even though there is so much action going on. How does this person feel? Why was this action done? What did the action make people feel? Who is feeling it, and why? Is there some past event that would lead up to how a person could be affected by the action? What is the smell of the action? The taste?
I am lacking figurative language, and in my department, is the entire reason for this language, these people. Everything is descriptive, everything has a sight, a taste, a sound, a touch, a smell, a feeling. It is all connected to this universal underpinning, called Om. Perhaps I'm lacking the questions that I need to be asking myself. Perhaps I just need to jump up at scream at the world and tell it that I am Michael and I am NOT going to allow myself to be deluded by myself in the thinking that this has to be perfect or impressive.
This is MY story, my novel, my people, my language, my soul, my drive, and forbid thsoe people from my sight if they end up hating what I have created. This isn't for them, this is for me. A way to cosntruct myself, my beliefs, my ideas. With this novel, I want to change the world, but I feel that if I'm not feeling it, neither will my reader. If I am not crying with my character, then I am writing it wrong. I need to scratch it, given how much I wrote, and rewrite it, and add in the Who, the What, the When, the How, and the Why... to everything! All has a reaso nand a purpose. All stems back to an original action that led into a chain reaction of cause and effect.
I am wasting away each time I write because I know that I am trudging on, rather propsering. It all seems to oserious, too stiff, too unrelaxed, which is a flaw of my own personality. I keep worrying about the word count. I keep aiming for 60,000 words, my personal goal, but it's never going to happen if I don't let this novel flow to me. Right now, within the past 10 minutes, I have written all of this, simply because I'm flowing my mind, my attitude, my thoughts. How I do get that to happen with my novel?
Am I convincing myself that this is harder than it really has to be? So what if I make a mistake, it won't be perfect, it is only a rough draft. "But it has to make sense to me," I keep telling myself. Last year, it all amde sense to me, and I pulled that novel out of thin air. The words literally came to me. This time, I am under pressure because it is a novel of something that has been my greatest focus in life for half a decade. It's all here, inside my head, and it just needs to come out. I have lightning figners, I could type and type and type, so long as I had mental content inside to be pushed out onto paper.
Sometimes, these stories come to me, most times, I have to sit down and rack my brain to figure out how it all comes together. I'm lacking this liberal feleing, this relaxed state of mind. I am worrying myself about the goal. Forget the goal, seriously. I need to focus on the content of the word, not the word content. If I don't win, so what, I've written this wonderful peice of work that could still be finished. I compelted my goal last year without any hesitation, or problems. Perhaps I need to go back and think about what was going on for me when I wrote some of those stories. Perhaps I need a refresher on the extent of my writing abilities.
As it looks right now, I am lacking in adjectives, descriptions, tone, feleings, and emotions. I am lacking in beautiful figurative language, and I think I may have ah unch as to why. In my language, I haven't really developed much figurative language. With that, it all comes from culture and language. how can I create figurative language in Anikuwinér if the culture and language isn't complete? And so that is where I'm at right now. I am striving to push out htese stories to build some tpye of culture and create words and expressions of it, but I don't want to use English ones, because those wouldn't be correct ways to say it in Kunérian tongue.
But that's the issue, isn't it? Language is supposed to be universal, so an expression in English might mean the same, but use completely different words and anecdotal origins. Funny how that happens, huh? I think, from now on, I'm going to writei n my tone of voice, the one that is of an English lover, one who has a pretty strong command of his native language. I have been so consumed by the outside world and all of the dramas of my life and consumed by thinking more than I should, that I have been essentially blocking myself from writing.
Even now, I'm tired and I'd like to sleep. I keep telling myself, "Oh, I have 4-5 thousand words to write? I'll make that up eventually," but each night I'm telling myself that. It seems that I'm evading this novel. I am torn between myself about whether I should continue or not, and if it'll matter? I've done so much, and honestly, I've been so depressed and tired lately. I've even told myself today that I'm going to quit, and that I'm done. That saddens my ears and my heart, honestly, and it makes me want to cry, but how can I fight htose feelings? I've gotten to the point where I am questioning my initial reason for doing this.
I want it to be great, but will it? What if this is my only shot? What if I write these novels, and through time, people compare how poorly-written they were compared to my next books? Is that something an author has to cope with through the years? Do readers enjoy that fact that it is indicative of how human they are? Perhaps through an author's "eyes," the readers get to watc hthe author grow up, and transform into this exceptional author? I keep thinking in the mindset of a perfectionist, and it's not that way. It's highly unrealistic. I cna't write perfect first novels and continue on that way through te last novels I write. Life doesn't work that way.
I have so much in my head that I want top ush out into the world and say, "Hey! I'm here! Do you hear what I hear? This si what I've come to learn about life. Do you get this?" I want to be able to have everyone understand what I'm saying, and get it, and people adore me for being able ot organzie that thought. And this is truly another big thing that persists on worrying me, what if what I'm trying to convey isn't put out there? What if I write my stuff, and no one gets it but me? Should I point it out very obviously, or will that seem condescending? Should I write manuals and books about the book? What exactly is the best way to write and convey something? Spelling it out perfectly simple, or will that make me look simple?
There must be an unofficial line drawn somewhere, one that only the best, successful authors know. I don't want to write something so intelligent that no one gets it, or something so strange or abnormal, that no one gets it, or something too simple that it jades my attempts, and the readers are left thinking, "That could have been so much greater..." Where... where do I begin with the right novel? How do I get this novel kicking into gear like the last? I tried writing it a couple years ago, and I failed at 3,000 words. I've already written 50,000 words, so I know I can write novels. I think my issue is that I'm psychic myself out, or I'm setting myself up for failure with my ocmplicated emotions and thoughts.
I need to open up word, have a fully ready and relaxed mind, set the mood, and just go, without any distractions. I need to be able to drifti nto my inner planet, and start channeling the very om that sleeps within. It waits to be awaken once more, that primordial expressionistic energy feuling my soul, waiting to become a radiator that pours into my fingers, into the keyboard, and on the screen. These whirling thoughts dream to be record onto paper. Theyl ong for the day when others can grace them with their sight, when they can be shared.
I was meant to write, and before I could even begin, I will have changed my destiny completely. I must fight these pensive thoughts, and just go with it, and not look back. And kick myself every time I think a negative thought. They are thinknig the great "What if?" I never thought it before, but now I see that it is VERY negative thinking, and highly detrimental to my success. No more "What if" thinking. No more telling myself that I msut do this or that. I need to jsut do something, hope for the best, and stay strong in thinking that whatever I write will be the best thing I've ever written.
I will get this novel out. This will be finished. I am destined to write, to change the world through my eyes. I am destined to know great knowledge, feel great feelings, see great sights, and believe in great beliefs. I am destined to live. I am destined to bring the deep om abck to humanity. I am destined to write until I can no longer write. I want this more than anything... I would die to bring the world to my feet for a few moments, just to hear my story. Just to know it, and gain some great peace of mind from it. I was born to live an awful life so I could speak to those in mutual understanding who have also had an awful life.
Each person I meet, no matter how cruel, torturous, or evil their story is, I can relate, and make them feel easy. I can calm them with my non-judgment and positive demeanor. I have to get these words out. I find that any hour of the day, I have to write anything, but I sit not knowign what to write. So for the first time in a long time, I'm going to just write and write and write until I can no longer write, adn see if that cures my blockage. I'm going to see if that helps me in any bit. Because before hte night's over, I will have written so much that it could have counted to wards my word count. Even now, I believe that I've written about 2,000 words. I think to myself, "Wow, Michael. You really can write. There is no block, so what are you waitign for? What is truly going on here?"
I'd sit with myself and say, "I don't know. I want this to be easy. I want this to work out and just flwo through me. i want this all to be a fantasy world where magic is the all and everything is based on an easy world." I would laughed inside and I'd know that hard work will meet me everywhere in life, and the only success I'd get with that is unnoticed success. The type of success a mother would vouch for, yet no other would. Who truly would be satisfied on a soul leve with that type of motherly affection? It empowers you at a young age, but through maturity, you find that it was an illusion all along brought on by unconditional lvoe and ab iased opinion.
I am empowered, so thank you mother and father. Aside from that, I've learned great lessons in life, I've seen great things, known great people, experienced great thing, read of great things... and even ahead of me, there is so much more I've yet to experience that I am craving. I am highly inspired, highly creative, highly intelligent... and I must prove it to the world through my "eyes," my writer's eyes. I must share my story in the form of stories. I must change the world, and in doing so, change the fate of mankind and my wallet... LOL!
I have to keep writing, not soldiering on or trudging through, because this is a sinch; a peice of cake, as they say. This is easy to me. So why am I so stumped? What is going on here? I know all the answers to these questions.. and I think, even after all of this, I'm just going to put my big boy pants on, and write. Write until I can't anymore and it's day time. I'm going to write. I must. I will. I am.
I love how descriptive they are, how they bring an expression to a piece of work that nothing else could. These stories are all action to action, without much feeling, without that pizzazz to light it up or give it an ornamental flare. It seems dry, even though there is so much action going on. How does this person feel? Why was this action done? What did the action make people feel? Who is feeling it, and why? Is there some past event that would lead up to how a person could be affected by the action? What is the smell of the action? The taste?
I am lacking figurative language, and in my department, is the entire reason for this language, these people. Everything is descriptive, everything has a sight, a taste, a sound, a touch, a smell, a feeling. It is all connected to this universal underpinning, called Om. Perhaps I'm lacking the questions that I need to be asking myself. Perhaps I just need to jump up at scream at the world and tell it that I am Michael and I am NOT going to allow myself to be deluded by myself in the thinking that this has to be perfect or impressive.
This is MY story, my novel, my people, my language, my soul, my drive, and forbid thsoe people from my sight if they end up hating what I have created. This isn't for them, this is for me. A way to cosntruct myself, my beliefs, my ideas. With this novel, I want to change the world, but I feel that if I'm not feeling it, neither will my reader. If I am not crying with my character, then I am writing it wrong. I need to scratch it, given how much I wrote, and rewrite it, and add in the Who, the What, the When, the How, and the Why... to everything! All has a reaso nand a purpose. All stems back to an original action that led into a chain reaction of cause and effect.
I am wasting away each time I write because I know that I am trudging on, rather propsering. It all seems to oserious, too stiff, too unrelaxed, which is a flaw of my own personality. I keep worrying about the word count. I keep aiming for 60,000 words, my personal goal, but it's never going to happen if I don't let this novel flow to me. Right now, within the past 10 minutes, I have written all of this, simply because I'm flowing my mind, my attitude, my thoughts. How I do get that to happen with my novel?
Am I convincing myself that this is harder than it really has to be? So what if I make a mistake, it won't be perfect, it is only a rough draft. "But it has to make sense to me," I keep telling myself. Last year, it all amde sense to me, and I pulled that novel out of thin air. The words literally came to me. This time, I am under pressure because it is a novel of something that has been my greatest focus in life for half a decade. It's all here, inside my head, and it just needs to come out. I have lightning figners, I could type and type and type, so long as I had mental content inside to be pushed out onto paper.
Sometimes, these stories come to me, most times, I have to sit down and rack my brain to figure out how it all comes together. I'm lacking this liberal feleing, this relaxed state of mind. I am worrying myself about the goal. Forget the goal, seriously. I need to focus on the content of the word, not the word content. If I don't win, so what, I've written this wonderful peice of work that could still be finished. I compelted my goal last year without any hesitation, or problems. Perhaps I need to go back and think about what was going on for me when I wrote some of those stories. Perhaps I need a refresher on the extent of my writing abilities.
As it looks right now, I am lacking in adjectives, descriptions, tone, feleings, and emotions. I am lacking in beautiful figurative language, and I think I may have ah unch as to why. In my language, I haven't really developed much figurative language. With that, it all comes from culture and language. how can I create figurative language in Anikuwinér if the culture and language isn't complete? And so that is where I'm at right now. I am striving to push out htese stories to build some tpye of culture and create words and expressions of it, but I don't want to use English ones, because those wouldn't be correct ways to say it in Kunérian tongue.
But that's the issue, isn't it? Language is supposed to be universal, so an expression in English might mean the same, but use completely different words and anecdotal origins. Funny how that happens, huh? I think, from now on, I'm going to writei n my tone of voice, the one that is of an English lover, one who has a pretty strong command of his native language. I have been so consumed by the outside world and all of the dramas of my life and consumed by thinking more than I should, that I have been essentially blocking myself from writing.
Even now, I'm tired and I'd like to sleep. I keep telling myself, "Oh, I have 4-5 thousand words to write? I'll make that up eventually," but each night I'm telling myself that. It seems that I'm evading this novel. I am torn between myself about whether I should continue or not, and if it'll matter? I've done so much, and honestly, I've been so depressed and tired lately. I've even told myself today that I'm going to quit, and that I'm done. That saddens my ears and my heart, honestly, and it makes me want to cry, but how can I fight htose feelings? I've gotten to the point where I am questioning my initial reason for doing this.
I want it to be great, but will it? What if this is my only shot? What if I write these novels, and through time, people compare how poorly-written they were compared to my next books? Is that something an author has to cope with through the years? Do readers enjoy that fact that it is indicative of how human they are? Perhaps through an author's "eyes," the readers get to watc hthe author grow up, and transform into this exceptional author? I keep thinking in the mindset of a perfectionist, and it's not that way. It's highly unrealistic. I cna't write perfect first novels and continue on that way through te last novels I write. Life doesn't work that way.
I have so much in my head that I want top ush out into the world and say, "Hey! I'm here! Do you hear what I hear? This si what I've come to learn about life. Do you get this?" I want to be able to have everyone understand what I'm saying, and get it, and people adore me for being able ot organzie that thought. And this is truly another big thing that persists on worrying me, what if what I'm trying to convey isn't put out there? What if I write my stuff, and no one gets it but me? Should I point it out very obviously, or will that seem condescending? Should I write manuals and books about the book? What exactly is the best way to write and convey something? Spelling it out perfectly simple, or will that make me look simple?
There must be an unofficial line drawn somewhere, one that only the best, successful authors know. I don't want to write something so intelligent that no one gets it, or something so strange or abnormal, that no one gets it, or something too simple that it jades my attempts, and the readers are left thinking, "That could have been so much greater..." Where... where do I begin with the right novel? How do I get this novel kicking into gear like the last? I tried writing it a couple years ago, and I failed at 3,000 words. I've already written 50,000 words, so I know I can write novels. I think my issue is that I'm psychic myself out, or I'm setting myself up for failure with my ocmplicated emotions and thoughts.
I need to open up word, have a fully ready and relaxed mind, set the mood, and just go, without any distractions. I need to be able to drifti nto my inner planet, and start channeling the very om that sleeps within. It waits to be awaken once more, that primordial expressionistic energy feuling my soul, waiting to become a radiator that pours into my fingers, into the keyboard, and on the screen. These whirling thoughts dream to be record onto paper. Theyl ong for the day when others can grace them with their sight, when they can be shared.
I was meant to write, and before I could even begin, I will have changed my destiny completely. I must fight these pensive thoughts, and just go with it, and not look back. And kick myself every time I think a negative thought. They are thinknig the great "What if?" I never thought it before, but now I see that it is VERY negative thinking, and highly detrimental to my success. No more "What if" thinking. No more telling myself that I msut do this or that. I need to jsut do something, hope for the best, and stay strong in thinking that whatever I write will be the best thing I've ever written.
I will get this novel out. This will be finished. I am destined to write, to change the world through my eyes. I am destined to know great knowledge, feel great feelings, see great sights, and believe in great beliefs. I am destined to live. I am destined to bring the deep om abck to humanity. I am destined to write until I can no longer write. I want this more than anything... I would die to bring the world to my feet for a few moments, just to hear my story. Just to know it, and gain some great peace of mind from it. I was born to live an awful life so I could speak to those in mutual understanding who have also had an awful life.
Each person I meet, no matter how cruel, torturous, or evil their story is, I can relate, and make them feel easy. I can calm them with my non-judgment and positive demeanor. I have to get these words out. I find that any hour of the day, I have to write anything, but I sit not knowign what to write. So for the first time in a long time, I'm going to just write and write and write until I can no longer write, adn see if that cures my blockage. I'm going to see if that helps me in any bit. Because before hte night's over, I will have written so much that it could have counted to wards my word count. Even now, I believe that I've written about 2,000 words. I think to myself, "Wow, Michael. You really can write. There is no block, so what are you waitign for? What is truly going on here?"
I'd sit with myself and say, "I don't know. I want this to be easy. I want this to work out and just flwo through me. i want this all to be a fantasy world where magic is the all and everything is based on an easy world." I would laughed inside and I'd know that hard work will meet me everywhere in life, and the only success I'd get with that is unnoticed success. The type of success a mother would vouch for, yet no other would. Who truly would be satisfied on a soul leve with that type of motherly affection? It empowers you at a young age, but through maturity, you find that it was an illusion all along brought on by unconditional lvoe and ab iased opinion.
I am empowered, so thank you mother and father. Aside from that, I've learned great lessons in life, I've seen great things, known great people, experienced great thing, read of great things... and even ahead of me, there is so much more I've yet to experience that I am craving. I am highly inspired, highly creative, highly intelligent... and I must prove it to the world through my "eyes," my writer's eyes. I must share my story in the form of stories. I must change the world, and in doing so, change the fate of mankind and my wallet... LOL!
I have to keep writing, not soldiering on or trudging through, because this is a sinch; a peice of cake, as they say. This is easy to me. So why am I so stumped? What is going on here? I know all the answers to these questions.. and I think, even after all of this, I'm just going to put my big boy pants on, and write. Write until I can't anymore and it's day time. I'm going to write. I must. I will. I am.
Nov 14, 2011
At 19,694 words-- Posime li n'a kalemun na Kasét
YESSS! I've finally gotten to writing the ïtïmi'a of Zanguin, the mythology of the planet, Zanguin. It has been a long time in the making, and finally, for my beloved www.nanowrimo.org, I am finally writing the cultural, artistic, and expressionistic history of the Aniku. Here, below, if an excerpt of the séto'k of Kasét, the mytho-story of Kasét, god of messages and of language.
Posime li n'a kalemun na Kasét
( Kasét's discovery of the runes )
The gods and goddesses of the Olde World had always communicated telepathically, never in written form or orally. They figured that they were gods and they did not have to record history, they did not have to produce sound, they did not have to write mathematics, they did not have to send letters, or write to people because they were gods. They could send a faithful messenger who would produce telepathic communication thought for thought. A god could know any number of things by looking or solve any mathematical expression in their head. History seemed to be written down for them in a higher form of consciousness that seemed to merge together into Om.
The Aniku and the Umanla had no idea of what a writing system was, nor did they know what runes were. Before the time of the kalemun, mortal and immortal alike would use herbs, meditation, dance, and other forms to foresee and divine. Symbols which stood for parts of a word were foreign in thought, and pointless considering that the gods had their own language of communication, one of pure thought.
As the ages procured great dramas, one god simply could not take his thoughts from the world below. He saw great wars, triumphs, hardships, beginnings, ends, crying, laughing. It puzzled him how the Aniku could face so many obstacles, yet still get back up and try again. It left a soft spot in his heart that he knew no other god would understand. The Umanla had no hardships, everything was concise, logical, simple, open, and easy. As Kasét observed the Aniku, he felt sad that he couldn't speak like the Aniku.
As he watched below through the clouds, he saw the joy of language. One could produce a piece of words that stood for so much, yet with telepathy, all was known, nothing was hidden. One could create an artifact that would journey through time and its story would be lost, those who uncover it to create their own story, and tell it through the ages. It was illogical and untrue, but from that chaos, there was joy to be had. Communicating by thought all the time seemed boring and less whimsicle than the poetry of the Aniku.
The gods were often dry, prompt, concise, logical, and artless. There were never any dramas, never any fun to be had, without sound, there was no music, no laughter, no individualism, no secrets. He understood, as a god of his own nature, how chaotic and cumbersome all of that could be. Misunderstandings and truly epic dramas could unfold within the gods as he saw within the humans. Given his background in thought, he still wasn't convinced that any of that was truly a bad thing.
"The others would call this insane," Kasét thought. As he saw the Aniku painting, singing, speaking, expressing, he wanted to also do these things. He had to find a way to get them to understand so he became a mortal.
He could not go without secrets, nor could he wait long enough before the gods figured out his plan and tried to stop him. In order to remedy the potential situation, he split himself in two, one in god form, and one in mortal form. The other half would stay in the heavens as normal and have no prior knowledge of the plan while the other lived the life of a mortal.
Kasét meditated and mediated that night. During long hours, he discovered the Kalemun. Each letter would stand for a symbol. When the symbols were put in specific orders, it produced thoughts that could be roughly understood. He wrote down these symbols on parchment paper, and asked his twin to take the letter to Ipdénu. With this letter, he left a key that would help one to understand what the letter said, and he instructed his twin not to read this letter and put it away until many years had passed and word from Ïnünot came about a mortal in his image.
The twin did as so, and Kasét lived a long mortal life. When he finally came to Ipdénu, Ïnünot was highly confused. This mortal had no mortal soul, no mortal spirit, it was as if he were a god of some sort. He did not remember a thing about being a god or his plan. Ïnünot sent to the heavens to Kasét, the messenger of gods. Kasét did not invite the otehr gods, and kept it private, going straight to Ipdénu. When he came down, he greeted them all and presented his mortal twin the letter which he wrote long ago.
In this letter, it explained everything in illumination, as well as giving the mortal half the power to rejoin as one with his twin.
"I lived a long, long life as a mortal," Kasét explained. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, as well as immortal life. He was impressed that a god would take it upon himself to do so many great things in the name of understanding, yet he feared the fate of the gods. Before Kasét's experience as a mortal, gods were perfect beings. They were seen as that which embodies all that the imperfect Aniku did not. He explained to Kasét that perfection in nature was key, and that the very threads and seams of the world could be in danger.
At last, Kasét began to reconsider his tales, though it couldn't be rewritten now. He had already follwoed through with the plan, but he knew in the back of his heart, that there was something worth while in his plan.
"Lord of Ipdénu," Kasét began, "You have seen mortal upno mrotal come and go through your realm. you have learned by their stories and your observations what it is to be an Aniku, but it is far different, for I empathize with your observing. I, too, have observed and I know of their workings. But I have also done something great. I have lived as one, laughed as one, felt the pain of losing my mother, have birthed children, have soldiered onward even when the world seemed so dark, I have painted, I have sung, I have danced, I have gone to great lengths to protect my family.
"I have lived this mortal life, and I would do it again again and again. The Umanla, we are not like these mortals. We are perfect, but we are dry. We do not find enjoyment from these animated beings. We do our work and have no leisure. We have endless energy, but why must we never fall? If we never fall, how can we learn to appreciate how wonderful it is to be a part of Nagét'ha?"
"They are so various. Soem are smart, some are stupid. Some are wicked, some are humbly kind. Because of their spoken language, they have the option to share their thoughts, they are able to invest their own thoughts into objects, they are able to create whimsical stories.. they are able to live in such a dynamic, unique way. This language of theirs, it allows them truest, individual expressino which could mean many words to some, or little to others.
"One can speak the same thought expression to many denominations of their kind and it could mean different things to each. This very concept is foreign of an idea to us gods. Why do you think that is? Because language is a beating heart of its own. Language is its own life, and it cosntantly grows, evolves, and changes, much like Zanguin herself.
"Tell me good lord, how can we gods find deeper meaning out of this world while coexisting with these humans if we do not understand them? How can we be perfect if we do not conceive imperfection? That, in itself, is a contradiction."
Ïnünot listened intently to his monologue. He learned of his mortal story during passing, but from the telepathy of a god, it was different. It made much more sense as it was clearer and from the perspective of one who spoke the same language as he.
"I still worry, Kasét, that once they learn language and the Aniku way, once they learn what it's like to be imperfect, that it will taint them."
"Look upon me and you tell me if I am tainted, if I am lethargic, if I will not do work. Part of perfection is learning how to conquer imperfection. Isn't that why the Aniku come and go? Is that not why they live life after life to learn what it is like to be perfect?"
Ïnünot was impressed. He smiled at his passionate ramblings, and he felt that he could trust the fate of the Umanla in his hands. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, the whys and hows of it all, he knew very well what the dance of the cosmos had in its vaults. Hearing Kasét's story gave him hope that the gods would be able to handle the mortal tongue, simply for the fact that one stood before him who had firsthand experience. In a way, he was excited for this new fate.
"Mortal life is intended as an ultimate learning experience, one that teaches many stories that even gods cannot comprehend. We are all but a facet of Nagét'ha, so we must learn of each other in nondestructive ways. I have much to ponder, and much power to grant us with the voice of the living."
After long consideration, Ïnünot decided to help Kasét teach this language to the gods for he thought that they could benefit greatly from this learning experience, as well as influence the Aniku for all time. He knew that giving the gods a mortal tongue would mean that they were mortal in some aspects. They would need food and drink as the mortals did, and without these basic requirements, they would cease to be.
Given the fright and potential risk along the road, Ïnünot got to work. He thought of a plan that would give the gods vocal chords with which to speak. He went through Ipdénu, scrounging up bodies and pulling out the necessary components to produce the mortal form. He went to his chliptu, a large cauldron which things would be added to create magic, and added these parts togethe along with the leaves of a salad.
"Go to the heavens and prepare a feast in honor of my visit. Toss the salad with these leaves," he instructed.
Kasét went immediately to the heavens and put together a celebration for Ïnünot's surprise visit. Upon eating their salads, the gods were able to produce thought into oral communication. Many of them were highly confused, alarmed, and panicked. Kasét explained to them his story and many of them were won over by how beautiful his tale sounded. Some of them, now learning how to speak, set to Zanguin to study the Aniku. As they did this, they became more like them. They found themselves having personalities, dreams, goals, expressing themselves, lying, betraying, crying, laughing, just as the Aniku had done.
As a gift to the Aniku, Kasét went to Zanguin and left his runes with the children he bore from his mortal life. As time grew, they spread the runes and written language was slowly evolving. His children became know nas great scribes, who invented Mixamue with the help of Kasét. Now, the story of their foresight and divination comes from another séto'k, and the discovery of Wühimue is Güwümue is another séto'k.
Kasét is always remembered as the god of language and writing, as well as reveered for his great visionary thinking, his ability to empathize, and his ability to climb any mountain, no matter how dangerous. It was from Kasét that the link between god and mortal became, and it is by his doings that united them all and gave deep om to their somewhat disconnected existence.
Posime li n'a kalemun na Kasét
( Kasét's discovery of the runes )
The gods and goddesses of the Olde World had always communicated telepathically, never in written form or orally. They figured that they were gods and they did not have to record history, they did not have to produce sound, they did not have to write mathematics, they did not have to send letters, or write to people because they were gods. They could send a faithful messenger who would produce telepathic communication thought for thought. A god could know any number of things by looking or solve any mathematical expression in their head. History seemed to be written down for them in a higher form of consciousness that seemed to merge together into Om.
The Aniku and the Umanla had no idea of what a writing system was, nor did they know what runes were. Before the time of the kalemun, mortal and immortal alike would use herbs, meditation, dance, and other forms to foresee and divine. Symbols which stood for parts of a word were foreign in thought, and pointless considering that the gods had their own language of communication, one of pure thought.
As the ages procured great dramas, one god simply could not take his thoughts from the world below. He saw great wars, triumphs, hardships, beginnings, ends, crying, laughing. It puzzled him how the Aniku could face so many obstacles, yet still get back up and try again. It left a soft spot in his heart that he knew no other god would understand. The Umanla had no hardships, everything was concise, logical, simple, open, and easy. As Kasét observed the Aniku, he felt sad that he couldn't speak like the Aniku.
As he watched below through the clouds, he saw the joy of language. One could produce a piece of words that stood for so much, yet with telepathy, all was known, nothing was hidden. One could create an artifact that would journey through time and its story would be lost, those who uncover it to create their own story, and tell it through the ages. It was illogical and untrue, but from that chaos, there was joy to be had. Communicating by thought all the time seemed boring and less whimsicle than the poetry of the Aniku.
The gods were often dry, prompt, concise, logical, and artless. There were never any dramas, never any fun to be had, without sound, there was no music, no laughter, no individualism, no secrets. He understood, as a god of his own nature, how chaotic and cumbersome all of that could be. Misunderstandings and truly epic dramas could unfold within the gods as he saw within the humans. Given his background in thought, he still wasn't convinced that any of that was truly a bad thing.
"The others would call this insane," Kasét thought. As he saw the Aniku painting, singing, speaking, expressing, he wanted to also do these things. He had to find a way to get them to understand so he became a mortal.
He could not go without secrets, nor could he wait long enough before the gods figured out his plan and tried to stop him. In order to remedy the potential situation, he split himself in two, one in god form, and one in mortal form. The other half would stay in the heavens as normal and have no prior knowledge of the plan while the other lived the life of a mortal.
Kasét meditated and mediated that night. During long hours, he discovered the Kalemun. Each letter would stand for a symbol. When the symbols were put in specific orders, it produced thoughts that could be roughly understood. He wrote down these symbols on parchment paper, and asked his twin to take the letter to Ipdénu. With this letter, he left a key that would help one to understand what the letter said, and he instructed his twin not to read this letter and put it away until many years had passed and word from Ïnünot came about a mortal in his image.
The twin did as so, and Kasét lived a long mortal life. When he finally came to Ipdénu, Ïnünot was highly confused. This mortal had no mortal soul, no mortal spirit, it was as if he were a god of some sort. He did not remember a thing about being a god or his plan. Ïnünot sent to the heavens to Kasét, the messenger of gods. Kasét did not invite the otehr gods, and kept it private, going straight to Ipdénu. When he came down, he greeted them all and presented his mortal twin the letter which he wrote long ago.
In this letter, it explained everything in illumination, as well as giving the mortal half the power to rejoin as one with his twin.
"I lived a long, long life as a mortal," Kasét explained. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, as well as immortal life. He was impressed that a god would take it upon himself to do so many great things in the name of understanding, yet he feared the fate of the gods. Before Kasét's experience as a mortal, gods were perfect beings. They were seen as that which embodies all that the imperfect Aniku did not. He explained to Kasét that perfection in nature was key, and that the very threads and seams of the world could be in danger.
At last, Kasét began to reconsider his tales, though it couldn't be rewritten now. He had already follwoed through with the plan, but he knew in the back of his heart, that there was something worth while in his plan.
"Lord of Ipdénu," Kasét began, "You have seen mortal upno mrotal come and go through your realm. you have learned by their stories and your observations what it is to be an Aniku, but it is far different, for I empathize with your observing. I, too, have observed and I know of their workings. But I have also done something great. I have lived as one, laughed as one, felt the pain of losing my mother, have birthed children, have soldiered onward even when the world seemed so dark, I have painted, I have sung, I have danced, I have gone to great lengths to protect my family.
"I have lived this mortal life, and I would do it again again and again. The Umanla, we are not like these mortals. We are perfect, but we are dry. We do not find enjoyment from these animated beings. We do our work and have no leisure. We have endless energy, but why must we never fall? If we never fall, how can we learn to appreciate how wonderful it is to be a part of Nagét'ha?"
"They are so various. Soem are smart, some are stupid. Some are wicked, some are humbly kind. Because of their spoken language, they have the option to share their thoughts, they are able to invest their own thoughts into objects, they are able to create whimsical stories.. they are able to live in such a dynamic, unique way. This language of theirs, it allows them truest, individual expressino which could mean many words to some, or little to others.
"One can speak the same thought expression to many denominations of their kind and it could mean different things to each. This very concept is foreign of an idea to us gods. Why do you think that is? Because language is a beating heart of its own. Language is its own life, and it cosntantly grows, evolves, and changes, much like Zanguin herself.
"Tell me good lord, how can we gods find deeper meaning out of this world while coexisting with these humans if we do not understand them? How can we be perfect if we do not conceive imperfection? That, in itself, is a contradiction."
Ïnünot listened intently to his monologue. He learned of his mortal story during passing, but from the telepathy of a god, it was different. It made much more sense as it was clearer and from the perspective of one who spoke the same language as he.
"I still worry, Kasét, that once they learn language and the Aniku way, once they learn what it's like to be imperfect, that it will taint them."
"Look upon me and you tell me if I am tainted, if I am lethargic, if I will not do work. Part of perfection is learning how to conquer imperfection. Isn't that why the Aniku come and go? Is that not why they live life after life to learn what it is like to be perfect?"
Ïnünot was impressed. He smiled at his passionate ramblings, and he felt that he could trust the fate of the Umanla in his hands. Ïnünot knew very well what mortal life was like, the whys and hows of it all, he knew very well what the dance of the cosmos had in its vaults. Hearing Kasét's story gave him hope that the gods would be able to handle the mortal tongue, simply for the fact that one stood before him who had firsthand experience. In a way, he was excited for this new fate.
"Mortal life is intended as an ultimate learning experience, one that teaches many stories that even gods cannot comprehend. We are all but a facet of Nagét'ha, so we must learn of each other in nondestructive ways. I have much to ponder, and much power to grant us with the voice of the living."
After long consideration, Ïnünot decided to help Kasét teach this language to the gods for he thought that they could benefit greatly from this learning experience, as well as influence the Aniku for all time. He knew that giving the gods a mortal tongue would mean that they were mortal in some aspects. They would need food and drink as the mortals did, and without these basic requirements, they would cease to be.
Given the fright and potential risk along the road, Ïnünot got to work. He thought of a plan that would give the gods vocal chords with which to speak. He went through Ipdénu, scrounging up bodies and pulling out the necessary components to produce the mortal form. He went to his chliptu, a large cauldron which things would be added to create magic, and added these parts togethe along with the leaves of a salad.
"Go to the heavens and prepare a feast in honor of my visit. Toss the salad with these leaves," he instructed.
Kasét went immediately to the heavens and put together a celebration for Ïnünot's surprise visit. Upon eating their salads, the gods were able to produce thought into oral communication. Many of them were highly confused, alarmed, and panicked. Kasét explained to them his story and many of them were won over by how beautiful his tale sounded. Some of them, now learning how to speak, set to Zanguin to study the Aniku. As they did this, they became more like them. They found themselves having personalities, dreams, goals, expressing themselves, lying, betraying, crying, laughing, just as the Aniku had done.
As a gift to the Aniku, Kasét went to Zanguin and left his runes with the children he bore from his mortal life. As time grew, they spread the runes and written language was slowly evolving. His children became know nas great scribes, who invented Mixamue with the help of Kasét. Now, the story of their foresight and divination comes from another séto'k, and the discovery of Wühimue is Güwümue is another séto'k.
Kasét is always remembered as the god of language and writing, as well as reveered for his great visionary thinking, his ability to empathize, and his ability to climb any mountain, no matter how dangerous. It was from Kasét that the link between god and mortal became, and it is by his doings that united them all and gave deep om to their somewhat disconnected existence.
Sep 6, 2011
Bullies and Lower State beings
These people are trying to knock you down because they're unable to get to the high point where you are. When people grow up, when people discover themselves, when people learn to love, to live, to heal, when people learn and become respectable people, when people conquer their demons.. they reach a point to where they're so high, free in the sky from all of the dangers, evils, and hatreds..
So they become targets, so high up in that sky. The lower ones vibrating on lower-level frequencies, want to be up there with them, but since they're so high, they can't just mosey their way up there, because they need a driving force to elevate them. Think of gravity and potential energy. The ground state has no energy to go to the sky state, it needs to be elevated by some external force. The sky state has already been elevated, and is so happy to be there, that they don't often look down, only to look up and keep looking up, climbing higher and higher. The low state, is its jealousy, craves to be where that higher state of being is.. they want it so badly, that they'll do anything to have it. They try, and when they fail, they are angry and bitter.
Time goes on, and the ground state becomes ripe with envy and anger. They become lonely.. and want to be heard.. so they do anything that they can do to knock the high state down to where they are. "If I can't have it, neither can they." So they attempt, and when they succeed, they are happier than ever. The once high state is now back to its low state... maybe they'll elevate again.. maybe it will take some time to walk away and breathe, calm down, and they elevate again.
The reason these lower states try to knock you down to their state is because they cannot get to your state. They're unable to. They need to grow up, conquer demons, have a life meltdown, learn, revelations, soul searching... that external force that elevates them so high is them.. it's all within them, but they're so hateful, so envious, so lonely.. so focused on the external, that they forget about the internal.... them. So they envy, try to knock you down, and because of gravity, the higher you are, the more chance there is that you'll come down with a bigger crash. The bigger the crash, the happier they are. There reaches a point where you climb so high that you're no longer affected by the gravity.. and the ground state is no longer an issue.. a mere memory of the past... completely immersed within a new world... sometimes, I think I'm within that world.
Don't let lower states try to knock you down to ground state. You may not get back up... sometimes, we look down and we sympathize, we try to empathize, we want to bring them so high with us.. bring them up there.. because it is good.. but often times, the lower states can't handle it.. or are working through their own issues.. and we must look out for ourselves first and foremost. We cannot heal if we are where they are. We cannot heal if we are hurting, damaged, hateful...
I was once at the lower state.. many of us were... I know what these ones go through, and as a compassionate beings, I want to help them.. bring them high.. but it takes times, and I must also look out for myself. This is why you must allow others to initiate... you cannot attempt to help those who will not help themselves. You must attempt to help and learn to back out before you're consumed ad taken down with the ship. I used to be broken a lot.. kicked down, abused, mistreated.. much of the same things that these lower states try doing to others, simply because it has been done to them. They want to be high like others, but they can't, or won't try to do what it takes to get that elevating force.
From being so low and hateful, abused by many others... kicked around much like these low states, I became unbreakable.. which was the external force that elevated me. I looked around at my environment, the people, I knew that I wanted to be high, but I didn't know how to be.. I had been broken so many times, that I thought that I couldn't be broken anymore... I thought, "Lol, this is it? There's got to be more... but there isn't. These people, they hate me, it's obvious... but why? Did I really do anything?" I realized that I didn't.. that these people weren't going to love me, for whatever reason... and so I told myself that I would.. i'd become so high that they'd all be envious of me. They'd wished they never hurt me so much. That was all that it took: to peer deep inside of myself, look at my nature, accept who I am, how I feel... look deep, and I thought, "If no one's going to love me, then I will," and so I
After being so high for such a long time, I became settled.. loved it, but much was still missing. Sitting up there so high, I realized that my goal all along was silly It really was pointless... even laughable. I wanted to impress these people.. I wanted to show them.. I wanted to teach them how brilliant and amazing I was.. but it didn't even matter. It didn't matter anymore because I grew to a spot in that new world where I felt sorry for them.. and I understood that they were suffering so much.. even more than me! They were hurting so much deep inside.. and it pained me, even made me feel guilty...
After all of this, I truly am unbreakable, because sometimes I do fall, maybe not to rock bottom, but I fall... and it hurts, and I'm in trouble.. but that's the thing, I get right back up.. and I elevate again. I've been broken so many times that I can no longer be broken. From that notion, rose a new Michael many years ago, a Michael Unbreakable; one so strong, one emancipated from darkness, one with knowledge to guide the weak, one with wisdom to guide the world. We are all unbreakable, but how much do you have to be broken to achieve this state of euphoric living? I like to think that it takes love, the external force that elevated me.. This high vibration, it is an ancient state, a pure state, and untouchable state.. one that drives you to heal... and heal others.
That is where I'm at right now, using my high state to heal. That's what it's all about. True healers make it out of their hell holes, they emerge and heal with their experiences of suffering, pain, torture, difference, etc. They began from that ground state, and something elevated them.. whatever it was. As they elevate, they become targets... because they're so high and cast such a wide shadow upon many others. The ground state wants to be up there, but they need self-healing first, in order to be healed.
I've often seen lower states attempting to heal, and causing more harm than good. I've learned that those who still suffer cannot heal... those who never grew up cannot heal.... you cannot heal a world if your world isn't first healed.
People will try to knock you down.. and for their own "good" reasons, but don't let them, nor grace them with the time of day. Your crash is their pointless entertainment; your participation is your deserved consequence.
So they become targets, so high up in that sky. The lower ones vibrating on lower-level frequencies, want to be up there with them, but since they're so high, they can't just mosey their way up there, because they need a driving force to elevate them. Think of gravity and potential energy. The ground state has no energy to go to the sky state, it needs to be elevated by some external force. The sky state has already been elevated, and is so happy to be there, that they don't often look down, only to look up and keep looking up, climbing higher and higher. The low state, is its jealousy, craves to be where that higher state of being is.. they want it so badly, that they'll do anything to have it. They try, and when they fail, they are angry and bitter.
Time goes on, and the ground state becomes ripe with envy and anger. They become lonely.. and want to be heard.. so they do anything that they can do to knock the high state down to where they are. "If I can't have it, neither can they." So they attempt, and when they succeed, they are happier than ever. The once high state is now back to its low state... maybe they'll elevate again.. maybe it will take some time to walk away and breathe, calm down, and they elevate again.
The reason these lower states try to knock you down to their state is because they cannot get to your state. They're unable to. They need to grow up, conquer demons, have a life meltdown, learn, revelations, soul searching... that external force that elevates them so high is them.. it's all within them, but they're so hateful, so envious, so lonely.. so focused on the external, that they forget about the internal.... them. So they envy, try to knock you down, and because of gravity, the higher you are, the more chance there is that you'll come down with a bigger crash. The bigger the crash, the happier they are. There reaches a point where you climb so high that you're no longer affected by the gravity.. and the ground state is no longer an issue.. a mere memory of the past... completely immersed within a new world... sometimes, I think I'm within that world.
Don't let lower states try to knock you down to ground state. You may not get back up... sometimes, we look down and we sympathize, we try to empathize, we want to bring them so high with us.. bring them up there.. because it is good.. but often times, the lower states can't handle it.. or are working through their own issues.. and we must look out for ourselves first and foremost. We cannot heal if we are where they are. We cannot heal if we are hurting, damaged, hateful...
I was once at the lower state.. many of us were... I know what these ones go through, and as a compassionate beings, I want to help them.. bring them high.. but it takes times, and I must also look out for myself. This is why you must allow others to initiate... you cannot attempt to help those who will not help themselves. You must attempt to help and learn to back out before you're consumed ad taken down with the ship. I used to be broken a lot.. kicked down, abused, mistreated.. much of the same things that these lower states try doing to others, simply because it has been done to them. They want to be high like others, but they can't, or won't try to do what it takes to get that elevating force.
From being so low and hateful, abused by many others... kicked around much like these low states, I became unbreakable.. which was the external force that elevated me. I looked around at my environment, the people, I knew that I wanted to be high, but I didn't know how to be.. I had been broken so many times, that I thought that I couldn't be broken anymore... I thought, "Lol, this is it? There's got to be more... but there isn't. These people, they hate me, it's obvious... but why? Did I really do anything?" I realized that I didn't.. that these people weren't going to love me, for whatever reason... and so I told myself that I would.. i'd become so high that they'd all be envious of me. They'd wished they never hurt me so much. That was all that it took: to peer deep inside of myself, look at my nature, accept who I am, how I feel... look deep, and I thought, "If no one's going to love me, then I will," and so I
After being so high for such a long time, I became settled.. loved it, but much was still missing. Sitting up there so high, I realized that my goal all along was silly It really was pointless... even laughable. I wanted to impress these people.. I wanted to show them.. I wanted to teach them how brilliant and amazing I was.. but it didn't even matter. It didn't matter anymore because I grew to a spot in that new world where I felt sorry for them.. and I understood that they were suffering so much.. even more than me! They were hurting so much deep inside.. and it pained me, even made me feel guilty...
After all of this, I truly am unbreakable, because sometimes I do fall, maybe not to rock bottom, but I fall... and it hurts, and I'm in trouble.. but that's the thing, I get right back up.. and I elevate again. I've been broken so many times that I can no longer be broken. From that notion, rose a new Michael many years ago, a Michael Unbreakable; one so strong, one emancipated from darkness, one with knowledge to guide the weak, one with wisdom to guide the world. We are all unbreakable, but how much do you have to be broken to achieve this state of euphoric living? I like to think that it takes love, the external force that elevated me.. This high vibration, it is an ancient state, a pure state, and untouchable state.. one that drives you to heal... and heal others.
That is where I'm at right now, using my high state to heal. That's what it's all about. True healers make it out of their hell holes, they emerge and heal with their experiences of suffering, pain, torture, difference, etc. They began from that ground state, and something elevated them.. whatever it was. As they elevate, they become targets... because they're so high and cast such a wide shadow upon many others. The ground state wants to be up there, but they need self-healing first, in order to be healed.
I've often seen lower states attempting to heal, and causing more harm than good. I've learned that those who still suffer cannot heal... those who never grew up cannot heal.... you cannot heal a world if your world isn't first healed.
People will try to knock you down.. and for their own "good" reasons, but don't let them, nor grace them with the time of day. Your crash is their pointless entertainment; your participation is your deserved consequence.
Aug 31, 2011
love skeptics
ok.. this is called tough love, mainly because it's advise for the lazy, although caring folks:
1) you're loved. if you're not loved by those around you, you're loved by someone out there. it's love that fuels a fireman's innate desire to save ALL victims to the best of their human capabilities.
2) you're not alone, you're simply just.. not with anyone. yes, even those around you whom you know are supposed to love you, but you don't see it or feel it. They, too, probably love you, but don't know how to show that they do in the manner that you need to be shown in order for you to process their emotional intentions. when you get upset and feel alone, you're not unloved, you're just simply not feeling love. it's there.
3) those who make you suffer.. are probably suffering themselves. people whom are suffering inside tend to make others suffer, too, because they have no other way to feel better other than to inflict pain on others to distract the pain from them. they may love you, but they're suffering inside so much that they don't even have time to show their love for you.
4) it takes a strong catastrophe to wake people up. this is normal, and our bodies respond to these wake up calls because that's what they are.. they're triggers. when someone attempts suicide after years of abuse, and they fail... it brings light to the situation.. and brings them all closer. Sometimes people don't wake up, sometimes you are still lonely after the attempt, but that doesn't mean you go ahead and finish the deed. It doesn't take the end of your life to make a statement. Often, the biggest statement is walking away, or forcing up a smile..
5) what do you do when you can't walk away? the only thing you can do: defend your right to be loved... defend your right to love.. how do you do this? that could mean anything... well, you're right, it could mean anything, but you know what I've come to learn? Defending your right to be alive begins with loving yourself. everything else falls into place naturally.
6) love isn't definable. no two people have the same idea of what love this.. this gets tricky, but we all know that love makes us happy. We are a special race of sentient beings.. troubled with a physical, autonomous nervous system.. and a more complex emotional system which can override it often. why is it that we have these emotions? why do we need to be loved? well, it's the same reason that cows need to be social. it makes them happy. it produces endorphins which only could give them the fullest that life has to offer. we thrive on love because our physiology depends on it.. our physical health, our survival.. it depends on love, it depends on being loved, it depends on expressing love.
7) love is universal. love is understood between any animal on this planet. we all understand and process love. but why is it so universal? why is a smile understood over any language in the world? well, because smiling in primal. it is simple. smiling literally decreases stress and hormones, smiling lowers your heart rate, smiling is a form of love, and smiling makes your body feel better. I tell a person who doesn't think that love exists if they can smile.. if they can get any enjoyment out of anything.. even someone that they hate falling or a negative thing happening to them. they will tell me that they can at least smile.. and I get them thinking about it... I ask them how they feel when they smile... if those bad thoughts creep in.. if their mind is focusing on hatred... they say no, because it's not. It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile.
8) when the ones who love us hurt us.. its the only way they know how to express their love.. because they don't know how to love. when you grow up around violence, lack of love, lack of sharing emotions, when you grow up around abuse... you forget what love is, begin to think it doesn't exist. You grow cold and blame God because he made a person you know that should love you treat you like crap.. Well, they're going through their own problems too. After years of abuse from my dad, I have learned that he's loved me all along, even though he did abuse me. I've come to realize that he never meant to hurt me, but it just happened... and he had always regretted it. Even though it's painful, and I want to hate him, I can't, because I realize that he was trying his best, even though his best wasn't grand at all. It was his intention, rather his action, that made me realize he loved me. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love because they don't even realize that they're hurting them... until something crazy happens, or until the wake up call comes, if it does.
9) and you don't have to stick around to wait for that call. you don't have to sit and take the abuse until that person grows up... until they're taught... remove yourself, get away.. and find your strength. stand up and proclaim, "You will no longer hurt me. I love myself" and take yourself from that person.... if they loved you, they wouldn't be hurting you. If they do love you, and they just can't help but hurt you.. then leave, because it's not your place to be weighed down by someone like that. Life will teach them. If you can't leave... like with a parent abusing you.. there is help.. there are always people out there who want to help you, want to talk to you, want to love you... because there are good people out there... some people might think that there can't be any good in the world if their parents are so abusive and hateful... so non-loving...
10) People grow hateful, cynical, cold... cold because the world is cold to them.. they think that love doesn't exist because they don't see love within their own lives... they grow envious of those who display love.. those who claim to be touched by it. Well, I can assure you that you know love, in some way, shape, or form, love is present in you.. or you'd be dead.... and well, some people do die because like I said, love makes you well, love regulates the body to be healthy, alive, active.... hatred and negative emotions like depression and anxiety and fear--they deregulate the body... stress, hormones, bipolarism,, mood swings, elevated blood pressure, bad cholesterol, obesity.... these are all products of hatred. If love doesn't exist, why is it so prevalent and effective on our lives?
11) maybe you need to change your personal lifestyle... if not your environment. maybe it's the food you eat that's making you unable to feel love... eat better, drink more water, don't eat crappy food... if you're making your body crappy, how can you expect your body to treat your well back? How can your body process love and if you're not respecting and loving your body in return?
12) And the great observer: you see evil, peril, misfortune, plague, sickness, war, famine, drought, despair, disease, injustice, murder, violence, anger, hatred, corruption, crime, devastation, immortality, devilry, pain, weakness, fear, desolation, destruction, chaos, discord, discontent, poverty... you wonder, how can the world be good? how can we be a loving race, so fixed on love, and yet there exists so much bad in the world? If there is love.. why is there hate? and that is the question, dear skeptic, why is there hate, if there is love? And so we're tempted to look back into religion, moral ethics, and human constructs of good vs. evil. We're taught that love prevails over evil... but we know that reality, that isn't always the case.
People are waking up, and realizing that the old systems of the world of flawed, and full of corruption and decline. People are beginning to question, and I challenge all to stay with the inquisitiveness that they are beginning to wake up to. Question, for that is how the revolution happens. People are beginning to question even the sanctity and holiness of all that is love... and I challenge the argument, for that is a light bulb, a neurological connection that will take them on a path of discovery--and that, my friends, is how the world becomes a better place.. little thinkers running around like ants, doing their own things, discovering the world.
People always search for a definition of love, they always want to say that love is this or that... many say it doesn't exist, but I always say that
Love is the gravity of human cognizance.
1) you're loved. if you're not loved by those around you, you're loved by someone out there. it's love that fuels a fireman's innate desire to save ALL victims to the best of their human capabilities.
2) you're not alone, you're simply just.. not with anyone. yes, even those around you whom you know are supposed to love you, but you don't see it or feel it. They, too, probably love you, but don't know how to show that they do in the manner that you need to be shown in order for you to process their emotional intentions. when you get upset and feel alone, you're not unloved, you're just simply not feeling love. it's there.
3) those who make you suffer.. are probably suffering themselves. people whom are suffering inside tend to make others suffer, too, because they have no other way to feel better other than to inflict pain on others to distract the pain from them. they may love you, but they're suffering inside so much that they don't even have time to show their love for you.
4) it takes a strong catastrophe to wake people up. this is normal, and our bodies respond to these wake up calls because that's what they are.. they're triggers. when someone attempts suicide after years of abuse, and they fail... it brings light to the situation.. and brings them all closer. Sometimes people don't wake up, sometimes you are still lonely after the attempt, but that doesn't mean you go ahead and finish the deed. It doesn't take the end of your life to make a statement. Often, the biggest statement is walking away, or forcing up a smile..
5) what do you do when you can't walk away? the only thing you can do: defend your right to be loved... defend your right to love.. how do you do this? that could mean anything... well, you're right, it could mean anything, but you know what I've come to learn? Defending your right to be alive begins with loving yourself. everything else falls into place naturally.
6) love isn't definable. no two people have the same idea of what love this.. this gets tricky, but we all know that love makes us happy. We are a special race of sentient beings.. troubled with a physical, autonomous nervous system.. and a more complex emotional system which can override it often. why is it that we have these emotions? why do we need to be loved? well, it's the same reason that cows need to be social. it makes them happy. it produces endorphins which only could give them the fullest that life has to offer. we thrive on love because our physiology depends on it.. our physical health, our survival.. it depends on love, it depends on being loved, it depends on expressing love.
7) love is universal. love is understood between any animal on this planet. we all understand and process love. but why is it so universal? why is a smile understood over any language in the world? well, because smiling in primal. it is simple. smiling literally decreases stress and hormones, smiling lowers your heart rate, smiling is a form of love, and smiling makes your body feel better. I tell a person who doesn't think that love exists if they can smile.. if they can get any enjoyment out of anything.. even someone that they hate falling or a negative thing happening to them. they will tell me that they can at least smile.. and I get them thinking about it... I ask them how they feel when they smile... if those bad thoughts creep in.. if their mind is focusing on hatred... they say no, because it's not. It takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile.
8) when the ones who love us hurt us.. its the only way they know how to express their love.. because they don't know how to love. when you grow up around violence, lack of love, lack of sharing emotions, when you grow up around abuse... you forget what love is, begin to think it doesn't exist. You grow cold and blame God because he made a person you know that should love you treat you like crap.. Well, they're going through their own problems too. After years of abuse from my dad, I have learned that he's loved me all along, even though he did abuse me. I've come to realize that he never meant to hurt me, but it just happened... and he had always regretted it. Even though it's painful, and I want to hate him, I can't, because I realize that he was trying his best, even though his best wasn't grand at all. It was his intention, rather his action, that made me realize he loved me. Sometimes, people hurt the ones they love because they don't even realize that they're hurting them... until something crazy happens, or until the wake up call comes, if it does.
9) and you don't have to stick around to wait for that call. you don't have to sit and take the abuse until that person grows up... until they're taught... remove yourself, get away.. and find your strength. stand up and proclaim, "You will no longer hurt me. I love myself" and take yourself from that person.... if they loved you, they wouldn't be hurting you. If they do love you, and they just can't help but hurt you.. then leave, because it's not your place to be weighed down by someone like that. Life will teach them. If you can't leave... like with a parent abusing you.. there is help.. there are always people out there who want to help you, want to talk to you, want to love you... because there are good people out there... some people might think that there can't be any good in the world if their parents are so abusive and hateful... so non-loving...
10) People grow hateful, cynical, cold... cold because the world is cold to them.. they think that love doesn't exist because they don't see love within their own lives... they grow envious of those who display love.. those who claim to be touched by it. Well, I can assure you that you know love, in some way, shape, or form, love is present in you.. or you'd be dead.... and well, some people do die because like I said, love makes you well, love regulates the body to be healthy, alive, active.... hatred and negative emotions like depression and anxiety and fear--they deregulate the body... stress, hormones, bipolarism,, mood swings, elevated blood pressure, bad cholesterol, obesity.... these are all products of hatred. If love doesn't exist, why is it so prevalent and effective on our lives?
11) maybe you need to change your personal lifestyle... if not your environment. maybe it's the food you eat that's making you unable to feel love... eat better, drink more water, don't eat crappy food... if you're making your body crappy, how can you expect your body to treat your well back? How can your body process love and if you're not respecting and loving your body in return?
12) And the great observer: you see evil, peril, misfortune, plague, sickness, war, famine, drought, despair, disease, injustice, murder, violence, anger, hatred, corruption, crime, devastation, immortality, devilry, pain, weakness, fear, desolation, destruction, chaos, discord, discontent, poverty... you wonder, how can the world be good? how can we be a loving race, so fixed on love, and yet there exists so much bad in the world? If there is love.. why is there hate? and that is the question, dear skeptic, why is there hate, if there is love? And so we're tempted to look back into religion, moral ethics, and human constructs of good vs. evil. We're taught that love prevails over evil... but we know that reality, that isn't always the case.
People are waking up, and realizing that the old systems of the world of flawed, and full of corruption and decline. People are beginning to question, and I challenge all to stay with the inquisitiveness that they are beginning to wake up to. Question, for that is how the revolution happens. People are beginning to question even the sanctity and holiness of all that is love... and I challenge the argument, for that is a light bulb, a neurological connection that will take them on a path of discovery--and that, my friends, is how the world becomes a better place.. little thinkers running around like ants, doing their own things, discovering the world.
People always search for a definition of love, they always want to say that love is this or that... many say it doesn't exist, but I always say that
Love is the gravity of human cognizance.
Breathless
Can you hear me? I can't hear you.
Tears just want to fall, but not them all.
It's as if they need me to be strong.
For you, for me, for us all.
It's hard for me to choose,
Whether it was you or the booze,
But all I know for certain,
Is that you surely dropped the curtains.
They masked your eyes, took your sight.
Made them red with dark contrite.
The sins, they fled into your light.
Became your madness; seemed alright.
That grip you held upon my stem,
It blocked the veins, it had stopped them.
I couldn't feel, I couldn't breathe,
The motions there, the silent pleas.
There were no thoughts of anger,
Inside my heart, only to waver.
Its force, triumphed, began to scream.
But nothing came out the stem to be.
Tried and tried, to let it free.
But you processed no company.
It was you who was only there,
Twas like my heart beat had no share.
It beat like racing water down the falls.
It pounded like a drummer's calls.
The muscle's livelihood defalcated,
No wind to be had, far belated.
Twas your eyes were filled with rage,
And this vessel so encaged.
Flashes of grim fate to be.
If only I were freed.
You took those appendages and used them nay,
Used them in a dirty way.
Not like me, the one who commands,
The world in magic with his hands.
Mistust and anger, where to venture?
How can I ever move on to enter?
That world where we were once so sane?
A world now parched and filled with blame.
How can I not send you my anger?
How can I not see you a stranger?
You faltered when I couldn't stand.
Instead you became an ugly man.
You rose to power, and took me swift.
To the floor with no fast drift.
No motion, nor movement, fixed to me.
It was shortly after I couldn't breathe.
How did we become like this?
Was it fate that changed my bliss?
I thought it was destined, the stars said it all.
Tools and divination gave me the call.
But it was I who faltered, was it not so?
Did I make a mistake, needing to be showed?
Perhaps you were the tool to guide my soul.
To fix my obstinate, stubborn whole.
This vessel only tries so well,
To pave a path devoid of Hell.
No one knows but you so well,
How distraught I've made myself.
So were you a part of all her plans?
That mother earth possessed your hands?
And bid you cold against your will?
To shock me into a violent shrill?
To force me back to think on past.
Thoughts that I believed were gone.
Maybe I was digressing fast.
To be reminded that I must last.
I am a warrior of peace and love.
To spread the joy from below to above.
To be an example on this earth.
How I'd die a matyr for what it's worth.
Each memory of pain, each time I cry,
Each moment of shock, each time I'll try.
For that much anger, hatred, disconent, and dicord,
I'll use it to guide me; a powerful sword.
You did these things to me,
A love whom I didn't know,
It wasn't until it was over,
That I understood the foe.
The one behind the play,
The writer with a blow,
A mastermind of madness,
Music to behold.
Coming from you now,
Maybe I'd offer a chance,
For you to change what happened,
But disallowing an advance.
It wasn't I who could have done,
A deed so wicked that you'd be hung.
Rotting within your casted spell,
A blackened, prison, a tiny cell.
It wasn't I who wished for you,
To spend that time so askew.
But She proclaimed it be your fate,
For what had transpired on that date.
I've cried haphazardly, so much to flood,
The world I knew a quicksand mud.
Sinking deep into the wolves of blood.
I wish you'd nurture me, a dying bud.
Sleep it away, sleep off the days,
A worried mind of menancing frays.
But we cannot reverse,
As convenient as that'd be.
No denying the piercing screams,
When they're at your face,
Breaking your ears.
Reminding you of all your fears.
It seems that nothing is up to me,
No matter how I try to see.
You weigh so heavy upon my mind.
Even though I now know your kind.
But maybe I don't know it all yet,
Perhaps you've more, unreleased regret.
After all, we can't even speak.
But even if we could, it'd be so bleak.
So where does this leave me?
Battered and lonely?
Victimized and full of 'if only's?
But that won't change a single thing.
Because it's not even up to me.
Your future's in the means of He,
The one who makes the final decree.
So pray, my stranger, pray for us.
Pray this doesn't end a fuss.
You've done a lot, and so have I.
The burden here is sifting through the 'why.'
We've each some blame, perhaps mostly mine.
But I think it'd be different had there been no wine.
So don't touch it ever again, dear friend.
You'll not know what'll happen to you again.
Or another person, on another day,
I hope you learn from these adolescent ways.
I hope the best for you, my friend.
I meant what I wrote in that letter when.
When I said that I loved you dear,
That I'll always miss you, think of you, every year.
No day will pass by without me thinking of you,
We shared something majestic, something new.
It was unique, even though we had our friction.
Often times, I'd wish we were fiction.
I did wish that we were so,
Not even real, an imaginary flow.
That I'd wake up with piercing screaming.
Merely sleeping, only dreaming.
Yes, it got so bad, that I wanted to run.
I wanted to forget what we had begun.
I desired most to find another,
Someone I'd be comfortable calling a lover.
But you had something, something that I needed.
But not anything that I wanted.
Tell me, dear, the dilemma here.
What would you choose, in my shoes?
Or would you not choose, and take the days?
Precisely as they'd come, day, night, day, night.
And move individually without trying to fight.
But the emotions coming through in our poisoned fights.
It never had to get this horrific,
To where you fell from all that was terrific.
I held you so high, even though I didn't show it.
I had my way of expressing how I loved you, but you didn't know it.
I did hold you high, regardless of your guess.
I'm truly saddened that you couldn't see my best.
But that wasn't what I was trying to convey.
I was trying to teach you brilliant ways.
I wanted you to learn, to become bigger than me.
So I could take a break, and let you be in the lead.
But that could never happen, maybe I never gave you a try.
But something made me think that it wasn't worth the time.
But you'd never allow my teaching to become real.
Instead you saw hatred and didn't think I could feel.
Your emotions, and sense that you were upset.
But honestly, dear, it was all in your head.
I did love you, even though this just became clear,
After our eyes met, on that destructive night of fear.
But I've paid inside, shed tears that left wounds.
I regret a good quantity of my actions and moods.
Gosh, I just don't even know!
Where this is going, what else I could expose.
I want to be speaking to you right now without silence.
If only you'd break your noted compliance.
But it makes me feel better, just laying it out here.
Getting the steam out, so I don't freak out.
I have a long time to compose myself.
Maybe by then, I'll have moved on.
Everything still stands as it does with pride.
Those four conditions you must abide.
I love you, my dear, but you've given me fear.
I don't know if I can trust you, for however many years.
I want to, I want to believe.
That it wasn't you, that it was the booze.
I'll only know when I get to talk to you again.
Until then, I'll send you healing zen.
I know I have issues, that even I need to resolve.
I'm maybe not ready to take you on at all.
Maybe I have my own growing up to do,
There is so much for me to change, too.
So this isn't all about you,
It's also about me.
And what I have to offer,
To this staggering tree.
I admit to never giving you a try,
Never letting things go the way opposite of mine.
Maybe when time heals us, we can give it a go.
And I can sit back, and enjoy all that is your show.
And our hearts will merge as a line,
A perfect puzzle so aligned.
From differing pieces, almost like a tale,
Of epic proprotions, so much to hail.
But this won't come an easy task.
You must with me take off the mask.
So when we do, we see each person.
For who they are, no pain to worsen.
We must live openly, without fear,
You will not be judged, humiliated, or jeered.
If I love you, and you love me too,
You'll have to share them, however few.
The fight is over, we now a divide.
An unbreakable line which cannot be tried.
Patience to us, may we wait the cold storm,
Our lives forever changed, may we soon become warm.
Jul 27, 2011
Friend comes over.
Gets drunk.
Pees on my bed somehow.
Goes to sit on it at some point.
Tells me there is water.
Says he has no idea how it got there.
I use paper towel to soak it up, smell it, and prove it is urine.
He sticks to water theory.
I gain in impatience.
Says, "I don't know how it got there," then tries to actively create an alibi.
Fails miserably; still sticks with his ideas.
Says, "I'm not even that drunk."
Story of my night.
Gets drunk.
Pees on my bed somehow.
Goes to sit on it at some point.
Tells me there is water.
Says he has no idea how it got there.
I use paper towel to soak it up, smell it, and prove it is urine.
He sticks to water theory.
I gain in impatience.
Says, "I don't know how it got there," then tries to actively create an alibi.
Fails miserably; still sticks with his ideas.
Says, "I'm not even that drunk."
Story of my night.
Jun 28, 2011
The Mystery
The Internet is a safe house for those in trouble, suffering from their daily lives, an escape away from reality. You can keep things away from the knowledge centers of others in an instant and you can share tidbits of your life so fluidly, whether truthful or not. For me, it has been a haven and source of knowledge, intelligence, intuitiveness, ingenuity, education, learning, wisdom, and much, much more. I have met many people through the invention of the Internet, many whom without having been in my life, I'd be lost, deprived of the fruits of life, and a wreckage.
The Internet is a weapon. It is either for you to protect yourself, or for you to forge your own way where the way is not clear or friendly. It is a weapon to the enemies of success and ignorance, and a weapon for that which you hold so dear to you.
I have used this weapon valiantly, and I have used it ingloriously. I have many memories of mistakes hidden in the alcoves of the Internet, and many long-forgotten friends and enemies. It is because of this modern invention that I became the person that I am to this day. I have lied, I have sinned, I have defied social standards, I have done the unthinkable and searched that which should never be searched, I have been involved with intensely with dramas, and ultimately, I have grown up and been given many chances at success. It is because of the Internet that I am glorious, sensible, proud, and beautiful soul.
I got to grow up in a world not of the physical reality, but of an electronic, cyber one. I got to experience life in a physically safe, stable manner, where I was not subject to the physical harm of the real world. Through role playing, games, and forums, I was able to do this. I was able to learn lessons at such a fast rate that not even my parents have learned yet, and they're well within their years.
I was given access to knowledge, Internet articles, religion, culture, spirituality, higher thinking...
I became a beautiful soul that attracted wonderful people.. people who would eventually save, and uplift me from the dangers, toils, and perils of my innate world, as well as the one I had to deal with beyond my Internet home and lifestyle.
Growing up on the Internet has been a blessing, even after all of the horrible and despicable things that I have had to endure.
I met a lot of wise, moronic, fun, obnoxious, naive, foolish, helpful, harmful, saintly, prudent, vapid, jaded, knowledgeable, and blissful people. I have experienced all that life has possibly been able to throw at me at a social level. I may not have been able to get out of the theorizing conservatory and experience that which I intimately theorized, but now in my adulthood, I have been, and i am experiencing the bounties of my theory and logic.
I grew up from evil, hatred, bullying, harm, suffering, a want to die, and inner pity. I learned that the suffering given to me are from those who are suffering far more than me. I have learned how to be humble, how to be compassionate, I have learned what true love is from strangers to my heart.. people accepting me for the aura aura and glow of my soul. I have learned the true testaments and ways of the limitless human expression.
Somehow, within all of the hatred of the world, I have learned to be a being full of love, understanding, joy, science, theory, insight,art, culture, expression, compassion, empathy, esoteric knowledge, and true bliss.
I have, through the many people that I have met in my journey in this world both physical and cyber, become a very blessed and gifted person. I have been gifted wit the ability to reflect with selflessness, and to admit that which is to be admitted, to share that which should be shared, and to restrain that which should be kept back. I have learned a spiritual discipline that has been handed down in humanity since times that we can no longer remember the beginning of.
I am a grateful being, so young and full of wisdom, love, and expression. For these qualities, I am humbled to share, and I eagerly hope to instill and inspire in others' lifestyles for many eons to come. I have learned because of the power of communication and sharing, that i have a story, just like evry human, and that story has meaning because I have spoken it into existence as such. I have learned to pridefully admit that I will not die in vain, nor will anyone who wants success. We all have a beacon of light waiting to be lit by a runner from afar.
We all can shine, and I hope that every day, one can share their lights with me so that we may create a beacon so heavy, so dense, so vibrant, so illuminating, so empowering, that the world would fabricate a paradise for all. I have learned from many great people in history, such as the Dalai Lama and his many other reincarnations, about compassion. I have learned from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that we all can aspire to have dreams that will be fulfilled. I have learned from Jesus that we all should hold our tongues' judgment and embrace in human solidarity. I have learned from the Buddha that all people can achieve inner peace and greatness with discipline and guidance. I have learned from myself that I am beautiful and that I have the power to carve my path. I have learned from ordinary men and women who wake up very early each morning to put on bright smiles and teach the youth, and to inspire them to be great just like they are, and even better.
I have been blessed to experience the life that I have. I have been humbled by the dirtiness of gardening. I have been humbled by bullying because I know that bullies are those who are seeking love too. I have been humbled by the winds, the trees, the brooks, the conifers, the deciduous, the fish, the mosquitoes, the hills, the forces of nature, the poignant emotions of a broken heart.. I have been humbled by the erosion of the physical body because of time. I have been knocked from a high place into a low place, and with my inner strength, pushed right back up with a new sense of rebirth and understanding.
I have become a beautiful person, from true Hell and back again, a being who represents life in all of its mysterious ways and never gives up even when his body keeps going and his mind has shut down long ago.. with that strange, inner spirit that keeps him pushing each day.. not a clue as to where its heart originates.
I am a part of the mystery of life as well as those few kind spirits who are reading my expansion.
I have hopes, desires, dreams, wants, fears, and wishes like every man, woman, and child. I have a humanity that will never abide by the tests of time. No matter how shaky the bridge may get, I somehow make my way by drudging through. We are all like this, and united, we are a bumpy, cold, loving, caring, messy, clean, contradiction of imperfect perfection. We are a contraption of something vastly more infinite than we can perceive with our sometimes-near-perfect logic and rhetoric.
The Mystery keeps me enticed, no matter how invigorating or peeving it may get. I only hope that those whom I have been chanced by in my time will learn from what I have expounded on in this expansion, and come to trust me, love me, and invite me into their personal lives no matter how meek or ambivalent the weather may be in their fragile, yet significant worlds.
Love is not a feeling that one can merely speak or communicate; it is not said or stated, nor engraved or acted out. Love is a rhythm of life that only one can resonate with in such a way that another so close to them can harmonize with in purely undefinable expression of the soul. Love is a life force that all should behold. It is a basic human right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
