Bhakta Priya's Blog
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A kind of clarity long missed
Sometimes its incredible how out of control the mind can become. I feel like I am a small particle that is being tossed back and forth by the whim of the winds. They are neutral, if not even callous to my cries to stop, to let me be. Other times it is difficult to ascertain if I have created this situation and the ensuing chaos is my own fault, or if I am the recipient of consequences that I could not control. I suspect that I have only myself to blame for everything that happens to me, whether it be from something I have done in this life, or previous lives,because I am on a continium, like an infinite line,and i am being propelled or pulled by motions created in the past. I am thus, a product of everything I have ever done, time out of mind. That is a curious thought. A serious thought. Did I know in my last life that what I had done would cause so much havoc in this one? How could I? We are to a degree innocent, or perhaps the more apt term would be: ignorant. I do not like that my youth causes me to make foolish decisions, I do not like that I seem destined to go through all the hard knocks that life has to offer because I can not usually make the right decision until I gain experience from messing up the first time. Even then, wisdom may elude me. It defeats me before I have even begun. I am relegated to f&%k up a lot of things, things that I may treasure so dearly. I guess I cannot hurry up this process of growing into myself. Its almost as if I have to be detached and let what will be, to be.
The usual cliches people speak of, for example being true to yourself and living your own life, never made sense to me before. I didn't know what they were talking about. But now I do, atleast somewhat more. What does it mean to be true to yourself? In this world it is so difficult to actually know who you are and what you want. We may be living a life we assumed we chose to live, but find out later on that we were the product of all kinds of self conditioning and have lived falsely. We will break our own hearts to discover what a trick we have played and how much time we may have wasted. It will hurt more than anything to realize we have been false, to ourselves and thus to others. To be conscious, deeply and clearly conscious of ourselves is an ability that takes a great deal of dedication and constant introspection. It is our most constant task, but if we can become self aware our lives will be all the more rich for it. I have come to understand, with not a little bit of grief, that the life I am living is maybe not the one I chose for myself. These are solemn days that greet me. To have the courage to live your own life, even at the cost of what everyone you hold dear may think, is harder than I ever imagined. It is easier to put down the feelings that surface and make one suspect they are not where they are supposed to be. If I just wait it out, if I just try to see it a different way, it will become better. That is what we can tell ourselves. Even if what I choose to do is not in line with everything I learned in all the years previous to this, even if it clashes with what I know to be true, maybe I have to do it. Maybe I am not ready for a different kind of life. It is my karma to go through something else first. I was put into a place that I was not yet ready to handle, but I have a taste of it that will stick with me when I must go a different way.It will one day call me back. This I know. When the world is handed to you on a plate, it is difficult to appreciate it. Atleast, it is my failing that I cannot. All my life I have had the most extraordinary things happen to me. I have lived a life that many people dream about, adventure, travel, unusual and wonderful circumstance. I have been rich in friends and love. I am surrounded by strong positive and dynamic people, I am engaged to marry one of them. I bear a charmed life. But it tears me to bits that I cannot appreciate it as I should. I am not content in paradise. Is this just a sign of my terrible self centeredness? Or does it mean I am not ready to be here, I do not deserve to be here until I can alter my perception? It is so damnably hard to know which it is. But small illuminations grace me. And with these few perceptions I can know that something must change. I must change before I can become a person deserving of the grace that has been given me. And I realize I am not allowing myself to be nourished by this life because I feel I do not deserve it. Sometimes I even resent it. I do not feel right living like this until I have learned by hard work and pain what it means to have such a beautiful life. I want to return truly knowing why I am here, why I am choosing this, and full of wonder to have found the truth.
Writing is no longer easy for me. That has been hard to live with. Writing was always something I was good at, it was my place, I could create whatever I liked with words, I could put myself on paper far more accurately than I could ever do so in person. Everything has changed this last year. Everything I thought about myself, everything I held to be infallibly true. Oh the beautiful torture of a world turned upside down! But what would we be with a static existence? If we always felt the same, and never grew as people? No one said change and growth was painless. It is the pain that makes it more obvious something is altering. I'm a little dense sometimes, I need sharp indications.
There are days when I can't bear the evil in this world. Or the destructive forces that reside within my own body. It is said, never underestimate the power of denial, but how can you blame someone for not seeing something because it was too close to themselves to recognize? All that is terrible and ugly in this world threatens to drown me and I lose all desire to be part of this grand play.It just seems so terribly terribly hopeless. The world is going to hell, slowly, piece by visible piece and I can only watch in stunned fascination. We must search so hard to find good people and good things. Why should it be this way? Has it always been this way? Is it only a symptom of the age we live in? Many old cultures, from India to the Aztecs spoke of different world ages dominated by different types of people and events. We are in the last one before what is supposed to be a great destruction. I don't doubt it. Probably not in my lifetime, but the seeds of decay are well in place. I do not wish to live the rest of my life in America partially for this reason. Economically, its a house of cards that I do not want to be involved in as it tumbles down with no insurance. Maybe I am unreasonably pessimistic but I think this world is not becoming a better place, in fact it is in a state of degeneration on all levels. And I do not see how it could ever be reversed unless most of the worlds population made major lifestyle and moral changes. But thats not going to happen. Its important to feel as if what you do could matter in some small way or else we all become nihilistic and lose any reason to live. But at the same time, is it right to fool ourselves that we do matter? I suppose I'm still uncertain on this point, but ultimately I feel we should act as if the universe were listening, we should seek beauty and truth, make music, live as selflessly as we can, we should act as if life were going to win. I want to believe that is how it should be. I believe strongly in the way of life I have been raised in, the idea of the god I worship and the constant struggle of birth, death, and rebirth in the cycle of karma, in which I am attempting to get out of. But certainly there are times when I wonder if I am no different from any other person who believes in a god. We could all be wrong. We could all be right. There is no way of actually proving it, so we must only go on a feeling. And that is what I do. Faith runs through everything that we do. I must have faith that I will wake up again tomorrow morning, or else I might be too paranoid to go to sleep.(for a silly example) We have faith in things we don't understand at all. They just happen on a daily basis and we don't really question it. That could be seen as the most powerful substance in this world that transcends any material obligation, or it could be seen as the most brittle. I think though, it is by faith that some of the most important achievements have been made in history. Sure, its not scientific, but the eternal soul knows things that the material mind does not.
I came across a video(www.meat.org) the other week online at a news site about the meat industry. Firstly I was surprised to see something that graphic regarding the abuse of animals on such a mainstream site. But that is good. Attention needs to be brought to this issue. People have no idea what is actually behind the things they eat. The short film is horrible in its reality, I could hardly bear to watch it, it made me cry to see fellow humans beating pigs on cement floors until they die because they were not growing fast enough, or throwing chickens into cages as if they were lumps of coal, with as much concern, or a cow with her throat slit pouring blood, still opening and closing her mouth, the man who had done this just idly standing around holding a bucket under her neck to catch the blood. And we wonder why mankind does the things it does to eachother. It is no mystery. Look at how we treat living things that are smaller or weaker than ourselves. Entities that clearly have feelings and consciousness. There is no humanity in a person who condones this kind of behavior. It is sickening. What does it tell you about yourself if you could not be moved by such mindless cruelty?
The other day there was a man passed out drunk in the bushes next to a grocery store I was walking into. I have never seen someone passed out in public before, I thought he may have been dead he was so still. But I got closer, and saw that he was indeed breathing and I was satisfied that I didn't need to call some authorities. You never know in Italy, maybe it was some mafia dealing. Thats not a problem up north so much, but in the South, everything is run by the mafia. Or so I'm told. It is normal to be visited by the men in black and pay your monthly dues, no matter your type of business. I had two reactions to this inebriated sot. Firstly I felt disgusted at how humans can waste their lives;how they can let themselves drop so low as to be passed out midday sunday in the bushes of a grocery store. Secondly, I had to laugh at the irony of it all because in typical Italian fashion the man was dressed to the nines and his shoes were expensive and impeccable.
Much to my chagrin cowboy boots are in la moda with a vengeance this spring/ summer. I think cowboy boots are one of the worst styles ever, and it looks even more retarded when your dressed in beautiful perfectly tailored clothes. People are so trendy here its boggling. How can you have the money to buy/ wear everything that comes in that season?
and now I have been outside in the evening:
I am so happy to be alive watching the color of spring change to the summer tones. To sit surrounded by grass so high no one can see me sitting there, unless they were to fly over. The golden wheaty heads of grass catch the evening sunlight, reflecting a brilliant white gold. The musky smell of earth, pollen and green things makes me light headed. There is stillness here. In the half shadows of the evening. Everything is soft and curved and drenched in twilight.
I lay on my back and watched the clouds slowly swirling, turning in some hapless pattern shaped by winds I cannot feel many miles above where I lie. For here, close the earth the air is still. It is only interrupted by the hum of insects, and the occasional snatches of indiscernable italian conversation echoing down the hill to me.
But shadows begin to form in the low places. The air is still full of the smell of sun warmed earthy things. I am blessed to breathe. To watch a tiny bug crawl up the stem of a flower. I wish I knew what that felt like.I must be careful where I lie lest I take more lives than I intended. I am surrounded by incandescent beauty, and yet with every breath I take, I am destroying countless small organisms. My sinuses are full of them. Yeck. What a way to ruin the romance of the moment. That and the bugs crawling up my pant legs. I wish I could live and not harm any other living thing. But I must. I do not kill animals but I am also a vegetable murderer..haha..it just doesn't sound so intense somehow.
God what a dark world it can be. You think you know someone, and that you can trust them. But you are being utterly deceived. It is a story I cannot relate here, but suffice to say last week was not an easy one. It was a roller coaster ride and I didn't realize how much it had affected me until last saturday I was riding my bicycle back from work with Dave and I started completely wigging out. Something inside me just cracked and everything that I had been holding in and back came tumbling out. I made no sense. I babbled about beavers and sang poems, I felt like I was made of air and had no balance.I curled up on the side of the road and sobbed and could feel nothing but the terrible dark vacuum of madness that I was hovering upon. It was burning cold but did not bring any clarity, only the empty and thoughtless desire to follow it wherever it went because in a way I had never felt so free. Even the colors of they day looked different, altered, tweaked, unnatural. I only hoped that I truly had not gone mad and that I was only having a nervous breakdown(or something like that)Something changed in those moments for I had touched an abyss. Nothing is the same when you have felt yourself truly fall apart, like a boat splintered into a thousand pieces from the storm and then quietly floating on the surface of the water. Rocking, lulled into a incongruous tranquility. That was me, I was trying to sink into whatever I was near, I leaned against a stone wall and could imagine my body forming itself to slowly fall back into its grainy surface until I had disappeared. It took days for me to feel normal again. I was fragile and wide eyed like any newborn creature, hiding in my room, trying to hold quietness within me, trying to find a place of stillness again that I did not tumble into.
How many times will my heart be broken today? all the trust I put into empty people begins to crumble catastrophically..magnificient destruction of my heart..new parts of it are found to hurt in all of the last hours..i curl up and weep, crying as honestly as any child whos hearts been broken for the first time. I am reduced to bone and tendon, wincing at the touch of sheets or kindly hands.i want only to sink into the earth, to be compacted and decompose..what makes love be so cruel and unbending? Can it be love at all then?I must cast away what keeps bringing me down. The negative influences, the people that don't respect me or aknowledge that I have real and valid feelings. I am not something that bends and then pretends to return to its usual shape..
this day is full of holes
echoing shapeless spaces
that we are all trying
not to fall into
it makes shadows
under our eyes
lines of our lips
silence haunts
the corners of the room
we try to hunt away
the shadows
we take out our brooms
to sweep it out the doors
To make some sense of it
in the light
But even the sun
can not shed the disorder
that hangs sticky and stale
nor the rose scent drifting
unconsciously inside
it is sickly sweet to our noses
a tactless intruder on our grief
Internal demons are all relative things. People can look at my life and say " you have nothing to suffer from, you have not experienced pain or evil. You have made very few mistakes, or done stupid things. What could you possibly have experienced that would cause you such grief?". That is a good question, and I have struggled so long trying to understand why darkness haunts my soul, and the days where I lie bruised in a delirium struggling to find a reason to even move. I had no reason right? My life was perfect, and therefore I was meant to be perfect by measure. It was that very condition that slowly ate away at me with its ascerbic assumptions. Every since I was a child I was told I was amazing, intelligent, impossibly talented at whatever I did, energetic and going great places. How could I possibly live up to that ideal that was created for me before I could even know myself? It was bound to end badly when I finally entered the real world, where I was no longer so special or so protected. I had to come off my cloud and discover that I was flawed, and most wonderfully human. It has been a long process trying to rewrite my own complicated definition of perfection. To learn compassion for myself, to not panic when I realize I am not the incredible person that I tried to create, as a child that wanted only to please everyone, and instead, that I am only a girl finding her way through this world. And that is enough. Just to exist is enough, in a way. Old habits die hard, I assumed that no one would like me if I wasn't some creature of perfection, if I wasn't everything I had always been. I assumed I couldn't like me. I became everything I never wanted to become, and hating myself every minute of the way, and now I"m slowly finding my way back again. Once you have fallen into such a place it is hard to forgive yourself. To trust yourself. Faith seems such a brittle thing now that you know you can betray yourself without a second thought. It is like recovering from an addiction, you can always relapse. Once you know a place, then you know how to get there again.
I have not shot myself up with heroin, I haven't stolen or harmed people I loved, senselessly. But just because my crimes are not as dark on paper can anyone say I feel them any less? In my own relative experience they are just as harmful, just as difficult to deal with. I may be wrong, but for now, that is what I say and what I believe, and it gives me the ability to justify that I feel something, and not feel guilty for it. Guilt is not a constructive emotion. It doesn't allow me to let go of anything, instead it keeps me from growing through it.
Anyone who thinks my life in Italy is all great food and beautiful vistas is greatly delusioned. I just choose not to detail the hardships. Anyone who has lived monastically,(which discludes exactly everyone I know but my brothers) as I could safely call it, could understand where I'm coming from. Do not judge what is beyond your understanding from lack of experience. I have given up my personal freedom, if one could call it freedom even, to live in an ashram(and mostly working) for at least the next year. I have dedicated myself to helping this place to get off the ground, in every capacity that I can. I can't go out dancing, I don't have friends to hang out with, I pretty much don't to anything I would really like to do.. Heck I maybe get one day off a week and I usually end up cleaning the bathroom and doing laundry. On the surface the work is not hard, although anyone who's had to crash course learn a language and have your language skill entirely coincide with the success rate of sales can attest to the kind of stress that leads to. I may not be doing schoolwork, or presentations, but I am at a very large crossroads right now in my life and everything that I do in the next months is incredibly important. I have got a lot of crap to work on, and if I can live out this situation, I can do anything. Living communally tries every ounce of patience and tolerance I have. I want to run away screaming oftentimes. But yet, I am still here. I am finding I have a great deal more forbearance than I ever imagined, and it is this experience and whether or not I can tolerate and learn to grow from it, that will really be a turning point in my life. I feel this quite deeply. It may not look like it from the outside but I am fighting for my life right now on more levels than one.
That is not to say that aspects of life here aren't extraordinary. I have never lived in a place so captivatingly beautiful. I have never been able to get up at 5 am, drive 15 minutes, hike for 30min and watch the sunrise on the snow covered alps. Dear gods, I never knew what beauty was until I lay in an alpine meadow surrounded by crocuses by the thousand, closer to the clouds than I had ever been, in air so clean it made me light headed. I was , for moments at a time, completely suffused with an otherworldly bliss. I was part of earth and sky and everything in between. I have never loved a place so much before,I have never felt so acutely the wonder of gods creation. What a being, to envision something like this, pools of mist on craggy peaks. Valleys so clearly formed by glaciers I can see them creeping in my mind, through an eternity. Deep dark lakes that on clear days reflect the miles high mountains that cradle its shores.
Ah. And little bit by bit I feel myself returning to where I have been so many months ago, a place I have wanted desperately. I had forgotten how to see small things, to even know that I loved to describe them. I didn't know how I felt about anything or anyone. It was this wretched lukewarm soup of existence and I was stuck in it. I feel a stranger returning to her home after many years. But its not been too long that I may no more be comfortable here, instead the pass of time has lent a certain richness to this place. I find it comfortably weathered.More what I want to be after all.You know what? Im gonna be okay. I am starting to truly believe that and thats a place I can actually start from. -
a piece of something past..
This is something I scribbled a good 6 weeks ago, but I lost it in the midst of transfering data from three different computers. So needless to say somethings may have changed. I also want to apologize for sounding so wretched when I spoke about moving to Italy. Sometimes I am the most unappreciative wretch and am unable to find any joy in one particular thing because im bummed about something else. For the first time in my life I finally set down some kind of roots in the US, and made some really good friends that I miss very much. Its not easy to uproot life as I know it and move to another country, probably for good. Its reallly kind of scary, but also very exciting, so I was reacting in that way to the whole thing. In any case, I'm over the moon about it now, and am madly learning Italian while here in India. Everything is going marvelously well and I know an incredible life awaits me there..
my grief colors the air
filaments of grey disorder
hanging, sticky webs
transparent and spare.
It has left me bare
translucent and limp
light cannot linger
in my languid care.
This is what I wear
a weary homesick soul
whose ragged edges
are slow to repair.
It has a taste this air
it is dank and bitter
and reeks
of stale despair.
Long held captive there
It has soiled
and soured
it lingers in my hair
It has a taste
this despair
spiced with old sorrow
it is a tasteless fare
I walked the streets last night, this time of year the darkness settles so soon, I always feel it must be much later than it really is. For some reason, (they call it global warming) it is Christmas and there is no snow. Not only no snow, but it is unusually warm outside considering the season. That too muddles my sense of time. There are far too many people out driving, the roads and stores are clogged with life. I am going grocery shopping.I cant even drive a cart without constantly apologizing or waiting or nodding with understanding at fellow shoppers looks of shared annoyance at the amounts of people everywhere. So many minds in one place can confuse me. If I don't shut myself out, the constant bombardment of other peoples feelings and the shadows of their thoughts make my own mind hurt and reel. I get dizzy. I curse the fact that I wore maroon knee high socks which peek out over my black boots. That small piece of color seems to draw an inordinate amount of attention, and their eyes go from my socks to my face. I wanted to be invisible today, but like most days that does not happen. Perhaps my intention makes me louder than if I simply did not think about it.
I also wonder if I could ever be a writer in such a place as this. As my present life. I find there is far too much noise, so many people, so many souls to wonder about, and to love. I remember when my world was a whole lot smaller than this. I could think very keenly about everyone I knew in the course of a day, everything I had said or done in regards to them. I could contain them in a sphere of thought. But now things slip away, people slip away, there is more I have touched, thought, and done than I can keep alive. Such is a life though, there is always things we cannot keep.Faces we swore we would love until there was no life left to love with, will slip from us softly and without a word. And that confuses me. Is there nothing lasting in this world? And why? What kind of hearts could forget such genuine feeling?We throw ourselves into what cannot last, most relationships we enter are doomed to failure, or a brevity that can either be a gift or the greatest tragedy we will know.
I have decided I will never understand love nor its complexities. My mind is too simple and to spare to comprehend the richness of it all. I want to find reasons for everything. I always have. Reason has ordered my world. It has made me who I am. But I could have been many other things as well, this I know.
This year has been a long and strange journey. I could never have imagined most of it, standing a year back and looking ahead. And that I am glad for. I surprised myself in these past many months, but have made a kind of peace with my shadows. It is curious to be able to accept how I am not the person I thought I was, but rather far more human, more common, and able to make mistakes. Ah..I have lived a life in terror of making mistakes, as if I could become whole without them.
To be honest, I am not happy, I have not been happy for a long while. There is far too much chaos within me to be at peace. Light is something I only catch in glimpses, and it breathes on me for a moment long enough to keep me going. It is stranger still to realize, or rather to finally accept honestly that I have done this to myself, I have set these waves in motion that now keep me from surfacing. I have sent myself down into this hell in order that I finally experience everything that I am, and not only what I choose to manifest. There exists in all of us the exact opposite of what we think we are. That is not an easy things to come to terms with. But it makes sense that we have to know this truly to become a balanced human being.
I often wonder why I say such things as I do in blogs, what am I hoping to achieve? I think I know why I write, and not just here, but whenever I write, its because I have to, its because my very life depends on it.
Never underestimate what you might mean to someone, no matter how briefly or inconsequentially you knew them. People dont make much sense, but they can love you for the most random thing. They may remember you for the way you listened to them when they were having a bad day. Your smile may stick with them till the day they die.They say a kiss can ruin a human life, but it is also true that it can make one.
School is finally done. I didn't realize how tense I was until I filled in the last bubble on a scantron last Thursday and a weight lifted off of me. But at the same time I terribly sad for I know now that I will not be back at ACC again as a student, and I truly love some parts and people in that place. I hate how just as you seem to get into a groove with your classes, and start to know your professors, then the semester ends. Of course im moving across the seas, atleast temporarily, but even if I wasn't I need to go somewhere else. Im learning bad habits at ACC, I dont really have to work to get A's, and I dont write nearly enough. I want to learn how to learn, and im not getting that where I am because nothing requires me to really work at it. Geology was the only class ive taken in my life that even resembled some kind of work, I feel as if I really did have to study a bit, and that was delightful. It was so much more satisfying to have an A- in that class that any other grade ive ever had.
One of the best things ive done all month is go hiking with part of a large family of homeschoolers I used to know. My friend and her boyfriend, along with three blonde Larson's all went up a mountain in Pawlet. We used to go up it often when i lived there, some years ago. The two youngest members of our party were 10 and 12, Mercy and Ari, respectively. They were bright and curious and excited by the smallest thing, like a pine tree growing out of a stump. They asked questions about trees and plants and people. There is something so exceptional about a childs mind, in its genuine quality and lack of wordly clutter. I could talk with kids all day long. Ari, who was 12, was just at the stage where he was discovering that he was clever, but had not yet lost the charm of it. When I first greeted him I said " you were a whole lot smaller last time I saw you", and he responded " and I remember you being a whole lot...bigger?". To which I laughed, it was true, I would have been a whole lot bigger last time he saw me. The air had a curious quality to it, grey and listless, and the sounds of our footsteps and voices echoed noisily. It would have been easy to think we had brought the only life to that place, but one only had to pause and look closely to find greenery still. Ferns mostly. I have never liked ferns, I find their scent sickly and cloying and when I have to walk through a patch of them I hold my breath. I have always maintained they are evil and have a sopophoric effect, much like poppies. This of course has never been proven, but sometimes that means nothing when personal feelings come into play. At the top of this small mountain is the most extraordinary view. You can nearly see 360 degrees, and for miles around. As the light was leaving fast, we didn't stay long and quickly headed down. The younguns were full of beans and started wildly running down the rocky and sometimes icy trail. It was infectious and soon we were all madly careening down the mountain, and its a mystery how no one turned an ankle or slipped and crashed into a tree. Actually our intrepid Ari did fly into a pile of brush only to be followed by my friend, but neither of them were hurt. It was marvelous, andI haven't felt that happy in while, hooting and hollering and leaping like goats down old stream beds and across fallen logs. I dont know what it is, but I always feel healed by being around children. Something of their unconscious joy rubs off on me perhaps. I remember being 12 and having no idea what pain was or what it meant to really think. My world and my emotions were far more simple than they are now. The richness of lifes experiences has rendered me a complex and dichotomous creature. But that too I am trying to accept with grace.
It is only my mother and I at home right now. Everyone else if flung across the globe. It is interesting to spend so much time with her, she is a far more diverse person than I ever allowed her to be. For many years she was just my mother, someone to tolerate, to talk to when it suited me, to ask advice of when again, it suited me. It struck me how horribly selfish and one sided I have been to her. How flippant.What did I even really know about her? Had I ever asked her how she really felt about something? Did I know why she married my father? Was she happy? What was her childhood like? And suddenly, in the random fashion I sometimes have, I began to question her thoroughly trying to put together the pieces of who she was. This is not to say I have ignored her, that would be incorrect, and perhaps I am much harsher in assessing my relationship with her than anyone else would be. But what a great diservice I have done to her, myself, and others that are so close to me, when I have not really tried to reach out to them before this time. Why is it that it can be so easy to mistreat those that are the closest to us? Why would I drive 3 hours to spend time with someone I barely know and be madly cheerful about it, but get in a stink when im asked to clean the house im living in and contributing dirt to? Its absurd. I cant even believe the wretch that I am sometimes. I look at myself and think " where did this foul monster come from? Who created this creature?" I can only imagine it was me, we create ourselves by our choices. I don't have to be a selfish cow, but I am. I choose to be annoyed or grumpy.
Sometimes I get so tired of living. Like right now, all it is, is work. There is no unconscious joy in me or whats around me. Just dull tolerance of the circumstances. This is not how life is supposed to be, this is not who I am supposed to be.I look back on the blogs I wrote while last in India, and I am stunned. Who was that incandescent creature that wrote those things? Was I truly so transparently joyful at some time? I must have been. I miss that person terribly, I miss being happy and whole and certain. I only hope that I may once again find stillness inside of me and be able to look upon myself and the world with a transcendent and deep appreciation. Happiness once filtered through me like afternoon light through a window, warming and luminous. There must be the ashes of that somewhere within me. I am determined to find it.
this is the sound of my unhappiness
deep seated, flowering, and whole
hear it as it dies.
cast away with all my shadowy companions
I am wretched to the core
My soul is sick with their presence
and can't take anymore
I refuse to live a life that chokes
and cries and acquiesces
to this disease.
They call it Apathy. -
Aus ein kleine zimmer(from a small room)
Current mood:
This is my memory of dust
gloomy
It left a stain, dank and regretful
Like the morning looking at lust
And you cant just pretend to brush
It off your list, off your fingers
Its smell will lightly linger.
And that is more than enough.
This is my chaos, my Shadow
He kisses whomever he desires
He does not know that he could
Destroy a human life with his fire
We are each guilty of devotion
He to his bare and carnal whim
And I to my listless reason
This is the sound of my unhappiness
gurgling, burbling, echoless
There is no sound in a vacuum
This is the shape of my emptiness
hefted in my hand, raw and crude
Artifice fills this plain cup
These are my insides in plain view
Who will know if I threw
them out into the lonely day or night?
I am empty and light
And though nothing is ever enough
it makes me feel allright. -
this is just to say
For those of you who may not know I am leaving this country on the 30th of this month to the effect of moving to Italy. I shall be living with my old man amongst other people I do not yet know. Exciting. Most likely. Scary. somewhat. I have to learn a whole other language, and I have to leave behind people that have become very dear to me. I always say im going away and not coming back but this time I really do mean it. My whole family has dispersed to Europe and I guess we are building our homes over there. Come visit me sometime..anyone who has about $700 extra lying around and would like to bunk around Prague first week of January or something like that let me know and ill hook you up..
I am doing things people dream of yet why do I still feel like im being carried by things I do not understand or necessarily feel myself..One day, I hope to have the courage to live my own life and the wisdom to understand the difference..