And from that Spot a Circle Grew
Don't know what I'm writing about today. My sleep dep is on the loose. Working till 7:30 Monday night I was unwilling to hand my life over to work & thus stayed up to unwind, relax, etc. ya know the personal time. Naturally, I always have to wake up at 4:30 on Wednesdays & now I'm a bit of a wreck. Worth it.
I should stop reading Amy's blogs for awhile. Each time she talks about love not working out or how people that she's loved let her down I get depressed & hurt in a personal place. I never wanted to hurt her. I can see how it feels like I lied in a sense. That we're not together is certainly not a condemnation of her. In a rosy paradise, love would be a warm breeze that lifts us & only places our feet on the heights of constructive action. Maybe it's all constructive action in the end. What I'm trying to say is, love is never enough. Chemistry is an elusive abstraction that sometimes achieves wondrous form. The chemical half-life of chemistry between two people is a mystery for the ages. To expect me to rise from my ashes & become as social as Amy is ludicrous. Space & silence are worth so much more than their weight. Economy of expression spares us from the extraneous fat that muddles our lives into part of the machinery that is destroying the planet. This supposed fear I have resembles a healthy skepticism much of the time. What am I talking about? What for? Am I helping this other which is self? My indulgences of escapism take on a cast of sharpening my sense for detail & shape. What I'm trying to say is my evasiveness facilitates my ability to love the way I do, deeply. Drastic change is a strange demand & if it's not a demand is still a perverse hope if the circumstances aren't explored & elucidated.
Yes, I didn't visit her as much as she wanted nor did I call as much. The times visited me I spent so much of my money that my ability to visit her was constantly hampered. This reality is clear to me. At first, she didn't even voice this frustration. She kept coming to Portland & I wasn't exactly beating down the doors to visit the Tri Cities. Whatever, I need to just let go. I love her but we didn't manage to communicate in a way that was healthy enough for us to remain in love the way two lovers should be in love IMO. This life can be so frustration but irritation is growth as long as the will responds.
Nietzsche didn't just die a lonely failure but reached depths beyond speaking. The glass empty view is too concise & condemns the other truths in orbit. Nietzsche could have been more & in some ways he was. That he didn't fully integrate his concept of the Superman & find a measure of peace in the neverending fight is a sad note on the end of a valliant struggle. Let us remember how nobly he struggled. The veins in his forehead surged with passionate blood that strove for truth. How many countless souls have walked into their graves with scant glances as to where they were going? How many of our ancestors chose the tidy attitude of the day & refused to earn the hard-fought convictions of their own hearts? How many today ... This world plunges it's savior science & glorious democracy into unspeakable hypocricies of which we must speak.
Love is not an idea but a practice particular to each person. My practice of acceptance is apparent to me & maddening to many people I've been worth. The word & the deed are married in me. The eternal moment makes my voice carry the conviction of truth. A reprisal of doubt makes my moment change. Am I not like any other man? Seeking happiness in the form that will enable whom I love to feel a greater sense of fulfillment? That I'm not with Amy is not merely selfish. She needs something I cannot give her. If we had what each other needs how happy the sun would be. Even when the clouds veil we would live forever aware of its smiling presence.
Enough of that. The complicated nature is too much for my foggy brain. I'm going to watch more of my beloved Miyazaki & let him transport my sleep towards the type of vision I want to have next time. No more dulling my brain with drink, or poisioning my body with gross sugars, cluttering my before sleep thoughts with sports radio commercials. This time my vision won't seem apocalyptic. This time the clouds will shift & the galaxies will fit into a new tapestry waving to some magical purpose. That element is always there but needs to be tapped. The illusion of being able to prevent natural catastrophe via personal animism is pure hubris. Being a vessel for sacred patterns is an established norm. Vitamins, body work, nasal spray for improved sleep, tea for a cozy glow, a return to prayer without the dogmatic bullshit, & the rough as a way to smooth the road for the holy.
I should stop reading Amy's blogs for awhile. Each time she talks about love not working out or how people that she's loved let her down I get depressed & hurt in a personal place. I never wanted to hurt her. I can see how it feels like I lied in a sense. That we're not together is certainly not a condemnation of her. In a rosy paradise, love would be a warm breeze that lifts us & only places our feet on the heights of constructive action. Maybe it's all constructive action in the end. What I'm trying to say is, love is never enough. Chemistry is an elusive abstraction that sometimes achieves wondrous form. The chemical half-life of chemistry between two people is a mystery for the ages. To expect me to rise from my ashes & become as social as Amy is ludicrous. Space & silence are worth so much more than their weight. Economy of expression spares us from the extraneous fat that muddles our lives into part of the machinery that is destroying the planet. This supposed fear I have resembles a healthy skepticism much of the time. What am I talking about? What for? Am I helping this other which is self? My indulgences of escapism take on a cast of sharpening my sense for detail & shape. What I'm trying to say is my evasiveness facilitates my ability to love the way I do, deeply. Drastic change is a strange demand & if it's not a demand is still a perverse hope if the circumstances aren't explored & elucidated.
Yes, I didn't visit her as much as she wanted nor did I call as much. The times visited me I spent so much of my money that my ability to visit her was constantly hampered. This reality is clear to me. At first, she didn't even voice this frustration. She kept coming to Portland & I wasn't exactly beating down the doors to visit the Tri Cities. Whatever, I need to just let go. I love her but we didn't manage to communicate in a way that was healthy enough for us to remain in love the way two lovers should be in love IMO. This life can be so frustration but irritation is growth as long as the will responds.
Nietzsche didn't just die a lonely failure but reached depths beyond speaking. The glass empty view is too concise & condemns the other truths in orbit. Nietzsche could have been more & in some ways he was. That he didn't fully integrate his concept of the Superman & find a measure of peace in the neverending fight is a sad note on the end of a valliant struggle. Let us remember how nobly he struggled. The veins in his forehead surged with passionate blood that strove for truth. How many countless souls have walked into their graves with scant glances as to where they were going? How many of our ancestors chose the tidy attitude of the day & refused to earn the hard-fought convictions of their own hearts? How many today ... This world plunges it's savior science & glorious democracy into unspeakable hypocricies of which we must speak.
Love is not an idea but a practice particular to each person. My practice of acceptance is apparent to me & maddening to many people I've been worth. The word & the deed are married in me. The eternal moment makes my voice carry the conviction of truth. A reprisal of doubt makes my moment change. Am I not like any other man? Seeking happiness in the form that will enable whom I love to feel a greater sense of fulfillment? That I'm not with Amy is not merely selfish. She needs something I cannot give her. If we had what each other needs how happy the sun would be. Even when the clouds veil we would live forever aware of its smiling presence.
Enough of that. The complicated nature is too much for my foggy brain. I'm going to watch more of my beloved Miyazaki & let him transport my sleep towards the type of vision I want to have next time. No more dulling my brain with drink, or poisioning my body with gross sugars, cluttering my before sleep thoughts with sports radio commercials. This time my vision won't seem apocalyptic. This time the clouds will shift & the galaxies will fit into a new tapestry waving to some magical purpose. That element is always there but needs to be tapped. The illusion of being able to prevent natural catastrophe via personal animism is pure hubris. Being a vessel for sacred patterns is an established norm. Vitamins, body work, nasal spray for improved sleep, tea for a cozy glow, a return to prayer without the dogmatic bullshit, & the rough as a way to smooth the road for the holy.
posted by Jason @ 5:07 PM
3 Comments:
At 11:24 AM,
Amos said…
No worries about my blogs Jason.
Believe it or not, they've had little to nothing to do with you for some time-- bruises heal, and you gave me relatively few. Body and soul heal best when we make healthy decisions, and leaving was one of those for me -- it was a pain that passed easily with the last signs of winter here in the vineyards.
I'm glad that you're reading them; your input and ear is always appreciated--
As far as Nietzsche is concerned, I refuse to believe that "weight" means seriousness, turmoil or pain alone. I believe authentic Joy has a weight of balance, and that its strength and validity is forgotten in the shadows of morose moods of humans who feel as though they bare a burden of understanding that belongs to the enlightened few. To those folks, this breed of philosophers and intellectuals, I say: "get over yourselves,” which doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate where such persons take the progression of documented thought. I simply believe in balancing it out, and dread most of all: living or dying in a morose sense of embracing futility. (Besides, the Nietzsche bit was a briefly invoked reference twisted to meet the needs of the mood of a piece)
Poem, short story, rant, none are composed with you in mind actually.
My waves of thought are tethered, not bound and gagged, to my own experience, nor are they limited to the scope of a particular romantic encounter.
If you see yourself in them, it is superimposed by your own interpretation, which I find slightly flattering actually. It means that my assembly of words was open enough to let you breathe life into it rather than insist on it retaining only my own rigid mortality.
(and for the record: my social nature is not frivolous – just because we come at the world and human beings at a slightly different angle doesn’t mean that my interactions are any less authentic, valid or valuable.)
Do what you please and be well, Jason, but I want you to know that I value your reading of the playful bits and pieces of writing that make up my blog.
-Amos
At 11:25 AM,
Amos said…
No worries about my blogs Jason.
Believe it or not, they've had little to nothing to do with you for some time-- bruises heal, and you gave me relatively few. Body and soul heal best when we make healthy decisions, and leaving was one of those for me -- it was a pain that passed easily with the last signs of winter here in the vineyards.
I'm glad that you're reading them; your input and ear is always appreciated--
As far as Nietzsche is concerned, I refuse to believe that "weight" means seriousness, turmoil or pain alone. I believe authentic Joy has a weight of balance, and that its strength and validity is forgotten in the shadows of morose moods of humans who feel as though they bare a burden of understanding that belongs to the enlightened few. To those folks, this breed of philosophers and intellectuals, I say: "get over yourselves,” which doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate where such persons take the progression of documented thought. I simply believe in balancing it out, and dread most of all: living or dying in a morose sense of embracing futility. (Besides, the Nietzsche bit was a briefly invoked reference twisted to meet the needs of the mood of a piece)
Poem, short story, rant, none are composed with you in mind actually.
My waves of thought are tethered, not bound and gagged, to my own experience, nor are they limited to the scope of a particular romantic encounter.
If you see yourself in them, it is superimposed by your own interpretation, which I find slightly flattering actually. It means that my assembly of words was open enough to let you breathe life into it rather than insist on it retaining only my own rigid mortality.
(and for the record: my social nature is not frivolous – just because we come at the world and human beings at a slightly different angle doesn’t mean that my interactions are any less authentic, valid or valuable.)
Do what you please and be well, Jason, but I want you to know that I value your reading of the playful bits and pieces of writing that make up my blog.
-Amos
At 10:54 AM,
Amos said…
first, it said that I didn't leave a comment, now it says I left two and won't let me delete one! crazy blogspot!
sending smiles,
Amos
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