I woke up a little scattered and neurotic today, instantly flying off into my OCD-like tendencies of neat-freakiness and bringing about order to chaos. I'm still unsure as to whether these drives come out of a need to control, or if they are actually somewhat benevolent in their intentions i.e. de-cluttering and organizing a messy room. Whatever they are, they're here to stay so I just make the best of it.
No yoga to speak of yet but it's coming, I wanted to get this out first. As I've mentioned before, I consider writing to be an incredibly useful and powerful tool, and I hold it in as high regard as meditation; though they have their differences, the end result is the same: clarity of mind and focus. Sometimes there's just a lot of stuff that gets in the way, puts up blockades from the more important stuff, what we should be focusing on and what is most important. What that is to each person may be different but only subtly; we all just want to live our life and be happy, to spend it the way we want with the people that brighten our days.
But the creative fire isn't always firing on high in men and I'm conflicted as to whether it is still as beneficial to write on those days where it just seems hitting the keys or pushing a pen around the paper is a form of torture. My guess is that doing a little is always better than not doing anything, so I write anyway but my creative ego rages against me and then the inner critic comes out, telling me that 'it's crap' and why would anyone want to read this stuff when I don't even like writing it?
Some days are just like that; they can't all be zingers. There's days where we're ready and willing to set the world on fire (as in chock full of inspiration), and others where we could care less if it ended (as in severely lacking even the motivation to get out of bed).
I've only recently come to accept this inner critic and conflict as all being one in the same within me, and that it's as much a part of me as the more positive attributes. So I deal. It's not always easy or fun but letting my fear of coming off sounding contrived or allowing anything less then the extremely high standard I hold my creative workings to escape my fingertips, I just write and let it go. I get it out and who knows, maybe someone else is feeling the exact same way I am on one of those shitty days, and they just needed to know their feeling is validated by sharing it with someone else.
And if not, at least I feel better; I get my stuff out of the way so I can try to help others with theirs. That's what we're here to do, so lets stop carrying around all this extra shit and get it off our chests so we can keep that slate clean. Then everyone benefits.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Friday, August 30, 2013
monsters inside us
Sometimes there's so much to say the words can't come out fast enough. Other times, not a single syllable comes to mind. I enjoy both of these moments thoroughly but especially the latter; the chatter gets a little overbearing sometimes, though I feel I have no room to complain, as no one can fully understand what it must be like to live each day as a schizophrenic.
It's funny how some monsters are made naturally while others are "manufactured", as in man-made: spoiled, ruined, broken.. whatever. Nature takes care of her own, and she generally has to run her course, so it basically is what it is. These are the poor souls we're compelled by some inherent compassion to care for and attempt to heal, to fix. But Nature is cruel, and we soon learn that we cannot go against her; we must simply accept her decision and do the best we can to ensure the least amount of suffering for the tormented soul.
Those that have been created are not natural, and our inherent tendency is of aversion, to avoid them altogether and at all costs. For most, compassion stops where behavior begins and the cycle of abuse renews itself, with the abused becoming the abuser. Manipulation of the emotions and all other manner of negative human behavior become commonplace, and creates new cracks in the caregivers psyches; one becomes cynical, or if the caregiver was already, the bitterness mutates into contempt, hatred. Soon, both parties line up on the battlefield with deception as their sword; trick or be tricked. Tolerate but never trust.
As taxing as their presence may be, the monsters we love to hate can teach us an awful lot about ourselves. It's often said in yoga that the pose you struggle the most with is the one you need the most. The same could be said for how we deal with challenging people. Now, philosophy is all well in good in the classroom but often times impractical on the street, and I'm certainly not saying I am the most patient person (you would be surprised at how short of a fuse I have) but it's important to at least keep that thought ringing in the back of our minds somewhere, to keep our eyes, ears and hearts open to what's going on inside us while we're caught up in what's going on outside of us.
That's where it all comes together.
8.30.13
Nearly another month down, I just can't believe it. I must be getting old, or am just becoming more aware of the impermanence of time and how fast it really does travel. At times I wish I could go back to the blissful ignorance of my youth but not when I look around at all that is wrong with the world and I wonder, was it always like this? Did I just never notice? I don't want to waste anymore precious time being stuck with my eyes wide shut (movie reference, whaaaaat?! bonus points if you're familiar with it).
No 4:30 a.m. yoga to speak of but nonetheless it's been a productive morning, and is shaping up to be a very productive day in general. Got my finances squared away, did some cooking, that kind of thing. Some days it's like this: you see the day so clearly, and know exactly how to make it happen through careful scheduling and, most importantly, presence. A focus on the present moment prevents one from getting lost or sidetracked, burning off your retinas staring at Facebook all day. It happens. But not today.
As the purpose of this particular blog is mainly to act as a sort of levee system for my influx of neuroses, I won't include many activities of daily living, i.e. cooking, recipes, life events.. All that will come at a later time.
There's things in the works, works in the works, etc. A new blog will be coming, and another new blog will be coming as well, making two new blogs (for the record, I never doubted your math skills, I just make things confusing), one being a collaborative effort between my girlfriend Rachel and I, so stay tuned. Same bat time, same bat channel.
Good things are on the horizon and each day gets me a little closer to realizing who I am. That tends to happen when you stop fighting against yourself all the time and just let things happen on their own. Do what you love, love the things you enjoy to do and the rest will iron itself out in time. Trust in that but don't put a time limit on it or constrain yourself too much in any way because that just stresses you out and that's not what we're trying to be all about, are we?
It continues to be a long, strange trip..
No 4:30 a.m. yoga to speak of but nonetheless it's been a productive morning, and is shaping up to be a very productive day in general. Got my finances squared away, did some cooking, that kind of thing. Some days it's like this: you see the day so clearly, and know exactly how to make it happen through careful scheduling and, most importantly, presence. A focus on the present moment prevents one from getting lost or sidetracked, burning off your retinas staring at Facebook all day. It happens. But not today.
As the purpose of this particular blog is mainly to act as a sort of levee system for my influx of neuroses, I won't include many activities of daily living, i.e. cooking, recipes, life events.. All that will come at a later time.
There's things in the works, works in the works, etc. A new blog will be coming, and another new blog will be coming as well, making two new blogs (for the record, I never doubted your math skills, I just make things confusing), one being a collaborative effort between my girlfriend Rachel and I, so stay tuned. Same bat time, same bat channel.
Good things are on the horizon and each day gets me a little closer to realizing who I am. That tends to happen when you stop fighting against yourself all the time and just let things happen on their own. Do what you love, love the things you enjoy to do and the rest will iron itself out in time. Trust in that but don't put a time limit on it or constrain yourself too much in any way because that just stresses you out and that's not what we're trying to be all about, are we?
It continues to be a long, strange trip..
Thursday, August 29, 2013
until the quiet comes
Flylo on the Hi-Fi, lights down low.. it's a good way to end the day.
Alas, the world is still ending, and will be for quite some time yet. I read these things on natural (or man-made) disasters and feel this sense of immediacy, as I'm sure most people do. After all, it's never a big deal until something terrible happens, then all this shit needed to get done like yesterday. It's a vicious cycle; there's hope, though.
Uncertainty is the new certainty.
Correction: it's the only certainty.
Nothing is guaranteed in life and even as desperate as it all seems, it's unlikely any of us will wake up tomorrow to find out that the world has come to its end. It will give several death rattles, and shake its little fatalistic maracas like there's no tomorrow. You picked up on that, right? Nudge nudge. Cheap humor makes the world go 'round..
..so, laugh love cry mate feed kill repeat. Play some guitar, turn your stereo up and raise the finger in the middle to the apocalypse in our minds, because the real one isn't here yet.
There's still time.
Alas, the world is still ending, and will be for quite some time yet. I read these things on natural (or man-made) disasters and feel this sense of immediacy, as I'm sure most people do. After all, it's never a big deal until something terrible happens, then all this shit needed to get done like yesterday. It's a vicious cycle; there's hope, though.
Uncertainty is the new certainty.
Correction: it's the only certainty.
Nothing is guaranteed in life and even as desperate as it all seems, it's unlikely any of us will wake up tomorrow to find out that the world has come to its end. It will give several death rattles, and shake its little fatalistic maracas like there's no tomorrow. You picked up on that, right? Nudge nudge. Cheap humor makes the world go 'round..
..so, laugh love cry mate feed kill repeat. Play some guitar, turn your stereo up and raise the finger in the middle to the apocalypse in our minds, because the real one isn't here yet.
There's still time.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Health Addict
Hi. I'm Shane, and I'm a health addict.
Wouldn't that be funny to hear someone say in a support group? I don't but then I am one, so... And it really wouldn't surprise me to find out they have such a thing for people like me.
For the record, I'm in recovery; have been over the past few years. I've grown stronger in every way and my psychological attitude regarding what health means to me has been refined and is much more in harmony with the rest of me.
For a long time, or a few years at least, I got a little lost once I started heading down the "healthy" road. I had no tour guides, no real guidance period. As with all things, I jumped right in head first. And it hurt. A lot. My obsessive-compulsive tendencies came out full bore and I contribute my sudden acquisition of eczema to my increased stress levels during this time, something I still struggle with from time to time. The eczema, and the stress.
My question is: what do you eat? It seems everyone has an opinion but not one single person is completely correct. Still, they just can't seem to get on board with each other and I know I'm not the only person it confuses the shit out of. It took me a lot of hard experimentation to find what I knew, or at least understood all along: to eat simply is best.
Regardless of what "diet" you subscribe to, whether you're vegan, vegetarian, lacto-ovo, paleo, raw.. whatever, I think we can all agree that the best food is the most natural food, and not in the marketing definition of "All-Natural"; it's been proven that such terms mean absolutely nothing, and do not guarantee the purity of the product.
For some things, we're at the whim of a (hopefully) reputable and trustworthy company who possesses the same values as we do, which is healthy, natural food the way nature intended. Genetically Modified Organisms are real. Preservatives are real. Pink Slime is real. And none of it is good. For us, or the planet.
I eat meat, always have, always will. My family hunts, and my father harvests, dresses, butchers and processes the deer himself from start to finish; the very definition of clean meat. Yes, it's red but I'll take my chances just by knowing where it comes from and whose hands it passes through. However, no plan is fool-proof and the fact that said deer eat corn from fields whose crops likely come from Monsanto seed that has been Genetically Modified is a hard lesson in futility, but not surrender.
You can't control everything, and despite all our best efforts, our world is polluted. There's better options out there but the one and only way to ensure you're getting the best possible product is to buy the best possible product and make everything else yourself. Yeah, I know. It's the 21st century. People are busy with school and a full-time job and kids and a mortgage so who has time to cook? i really can't answer that, though I wish I could. I know what works for me but you have to find what works for you.
As for me, I'll continue to search the depths and report back here with my findings.
Wouldn't that be funny to hear someone say in a support group? I don't but then I am one, so... And it really wouldn't surprise me to find out they have such a thing for people like me.
For the record, I'm in recovery; have been over the past few years. I've grown stronger in every way and my psychological attitude regarding what health means to me has been refined and is much more in harmony with the rest of me.
For a long time, or a few years at least, I got a little lost once I started heading down the "healthy" road. I had no tour guides, no real guidance period. As with all things, I jumped right in head first. And it hurt. A lot. My obsessive-compulsive tendencies came out full bore and I contribute my sudden acquisition of eczema to my increased stress levels during this time, something I still struggle with from time to time. The eczema, and the stress.
My question is: what do you eat? It seems everyone has an opinion but not one single person is completely correct. Still, they just can't seem to get on board with each other and I know I'm not the only person it confuses the shit out of. It took me a lot of hard experimentation to find what I knew, or at least understood all along: to eat simply is best.
Regardless of what "diet" you subscribe to, whether you're vegan, vegetarian, lacto-ovo, paleo, raw.. whatever, I think we can all agree that the best food is the most natural food, and not in the marketing definition of "All-Natural"; it's been proven that such terms mean absolutely nothing, and do not guarantee the purity of the product.
For some things, we're at the whim of a (hopefully) reputable and trustworthy company who possesses the same values as we do, which is healthy, natural food the way nature intended. Genetically Modified Organisms are real. Preservatives are real. Pink Slime is real. And none of it is good. For us, or the planet.
I eat meat, always have, always will. My family hunts, and my father harvests, dresses, butchers and processes the deer himself from start to finish; the very definition of clean meat. Yes, it's red but I'll take my chances just by knowing where it comes from and whose hands it passes through. However, no plan is fool-proof and the fact that said deer eat corn from fields whose crops likely come from Monsanto seed that has been Genetically Modified is a hard lesson in futility, but not surrender.
You can't control everything, and despite all our best efforts, our world is polluted. There's better options out there but the one and only way to ensure you're getting the best possible product is to buy the best possible product and make everything else yourself. Yeah, I know. It's the 21st century. People are busy with school and a full-time job and kids and a mortgage so who has time to cook? i really can't answer that, though I wish I could. I know what works for me but you have to find what works for you.
As for me, I'll continue to search the depths and report back here with my findings.
4:30 A.M. yoga thoughts
It's not a typo. I am actually awake at this ungodly hour practicing yoga, and generally just shaking the dust from my bones before I start the day.
It's not easy but it's what I need.
To rise early before everyone else is empowering, and one can benefit greatly from the stillness of early morning. It's actually my favorite time of the day, un-constrained by the chaos each day brings; the calm before the storm.
The discipline takes time but it's not for everyone; there's always something to be learned about yourself, no matter what time of day. Every moment is a chance to go deeper, to breathe into the pain and discomfort, to relax and let it go. And you don't have to be twisted like a pretzel, it can happen all on its own.
Do the poses, or don't. Just keep breathing and the rest will work itself out.
It's not easy but it's what I need.
To rise early before everyone else is empowering, and one can benefit greatly from the stillness of early morning. It's actually my favorite time of the day, un-constrained by the chaos each day brings; the calm before the storm.
The discipline takes time but it's not for everyone; there's always something to be learned about yourself, no matter what time of day. Every moment is a chance to go deeper, to breathe into the pain and discomfort, to relax and let it go. And you don't have to be twisted like a pretzel, it can happen all on its own.
Do the poses, or don't. Just keep breathing and the rest will work itself out.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
drink your bliss
I wish drinking was like meditation: I could sit there, glass in hand, just gazing out with soft eyes at the life that surrounds me.
Most times I do.
More times than not I don't.
I stare hard at the glass, and feel as if the liquid inside of it needed to be somewhere yesterday. I drink with a purpose.
Thanks, social anxiety.
But sometimes, it's just that good. One tasty craft beer deserves another, after all; like potato chips or Pringles, you can't have just one.
Maybe next time I should bring my cushion and sit lotus on the floor..
Most times I do.
More times than not I don't.
I stare hard at the glass, and feel as if the liquid inside of it needed to be somewhere yesterday. I drink with a purpose.
Thanks, social anxiety.
But sometimes, it's just that good. One tasty craft beer deserves another, after all; like potato chips or Pringles, you can't have just one.
Maybe next time I should bring my cushion and sit lotus on the floor..
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Living with Demons, part 2: Acceptance/Identification (Know your enemy)
The second part in an undetermined number amount series associated with the "demons" that live within us all, this time the talk shifts to simple acceptance and identification of said demons i.e. why you do the (negative or hurtful) things you do.
Of course, I can only speak on my own behalf, as everyone has their own unique brand of dark side; some pitch black and others just going on dusk. Myself, I find myself somewhere in between and only occasionally dipping into one extreme or the other but in most cases, it's usually pretty consistent.
My worst enemies are jealousy and rage, it seems.. Control issues, yes; in some ways. I'm not a dictator, and do not mandate who a person can or cannot see, but sometimes just seeing my significant other just talking to someone I don't know can throw me into an internal frenzy. It takes a little temporry disconnection and a lot of willpower to force the demon back down.
The interesting part is that the demons usually play well together, and appear to be great fans of teamwork, so, will work together diligently to achieve their goal, whatever that may be. Nothing good, I can assure you. So. The pang of jealousy strikes and only moments later, rage washes over me and my nerves are shot almost instantly, but, you'll never even know it unless I told you.
I'm either blessed or cursed with this very stoic affect most of the time, and don't easily let on that something's bothering me. if you know me very well, or more likely I've told you about how I act in certain situations, you'll be able to pick up that I get quiet and really go inside myself. Conversations will be short, not in a callous way but I'm just not there, and preoccupied with something else. That's also when I make myself very scarce.
See, I've spent enough time with the demons to know that it takes a lot of energy and my full concentration to quiet them down, and external stimulation from people or anything, is definitely best avoided. Some are quite the converse, however, and do best with distraction to deal with their troubles; just which type you are is up to you to know and/or decide. Every situation is different though, and there may be times when my more introverted side needs to take a break and let some noise in to blast them the hell out. Knowing what works best when only comes with careful self-observation and, dare I say, meditation (which, I do not necessarily mean as sitting cross-legged on a cushion for hours a day - I simply mean to say time spent in reflection, be it on a walk, at your desk or whatever).
Acceptance comes into play because otherwise you're just continuing to make excuses for your negative habits or behavior rather than making real, positive changes in it. So, as long as that cycle continues of denial, you can best be sure you'll pick up a few more demons along the way; they like to party, these guys..
But just because you have demons does not mean that YOU are a demon. No. I won't get into my own ideations regarding the religious influence such things but lets just say ease up on yourself a little, if that is your belief. You're human, it's ok to not be perfect; in fact, it's better than ok. Demons are a part of us, and you can free yourself from their influence but never live completely free from them. If we did that, we would cease to be ourselves and soon wouldn't recognize ourselves.
Acceptance is very powerful, and liberating in and of itself; alcoholics do it all the time. You know, "Hi, I'm ______, and I'm an alcoholic". Know your enemy, name it; learn to contain, not suppress. Learn to live with these demons and let yourself see that you don't have to continue to be a slave to them; they can live on inside of us without causing direct emotional (or otherwise) harm, it just takes practice and patience. But first you have to accept it.
After that comes identifying both your demon and what it causes you to do, how it causes you to act. Do you drink, smoke, fuck it away, break something or hurt someone, or hurt yourself? All these manifestations need to be studied and carefully considered to start building a case file on your demon; it's the only way to best them with lasting success.
It's not a fun process, and no one ever said it was easy but persevere and soon you'll begin to notice yourself living out your days free of their clutches; just be aware that this is a very critical and especially vulnerable stage for a person.. You have grown wise to the demons who constantly tricked you, and drug you back down with them. Now you're standing on your own, all alone, and that can be a scary thing. It's not uncommon to go running back to the safety of the darkness.
"Out of a fear of the unknown, people prefer suffering that is familiar" - Thich Nhat Hanh
And it's true. You'll fall off the wagon many times, just keep getting back on it until you're strong enough to hold on by yourself. It'll happen in its own time, as long as you want it to. And that is another crucial point: there is no point in undergoing this journey if you cannot muster the willpower to face the darkness and stare directly into it. It's good to be scared but cowardice will only feed the demons and make them stronger. So, if you're not strong enough or mentally prepared to commit to it, then don't do it at all. Or seek professional help. Every case is different. Know thyself.
The way I see it, there is never truly a mastery over the demons, as that in itself would entail just another manifestation of some deep-seeded control issue; Instead, seek solidarity with the devils, and learn to harness their energy for what is beneficial, to you and to others. You will find that the demons are not as scary as originally thought, and that they have their own place in your psyche; they have a purpose.
If we don't challenge ourselves to go deeper, we stagnate and erode away under years of neglect and abuse, originally aimed at gaining "control"; Think of the ultimate goal as gaining understanding instead, of yourself and of the demons that drive you. Then you can begin to open yourself up to the possibilities and potential inside you and attract that positive change you desire.
Of course, I can only speak on my own behalf, as everyone has their own unique brand of dark side; some pitch black and others just going on dusk. Myself, I find myself somewhere in between and only occasionally dipping into one extreme or the other but in most cases, it's usually pretty consistent.
My worst enemies are jealousy and rage, it seems.. Control issues, yes; in some ways. I'm not a dictator, and do not mandate who a person can or cannot see, but sometimes just seeing my significant other just talking to someone I don't know can throw me into an internal frenzy. It takes a little temporry disconnection and a lot of willpower to force the demon back down.
The interesting part is that the demons usually play well together, and appear to be great fans of teamwork, so, will work together diligently to achieve their goal, whatever that may be. Nothing good, I can assure you. So. The pang of jealousy strikes and only moments later, rage washes over me and my nerves are shot almost instantly, but, you'll never even know it unless I told you.
I'm either blessed or cursed with this very stoic affect most of the time, and don't easily let on that something's bothering me. if you know me very well, or more likely I've told you about how I act in certain situations, you'll be able to pick up that I get quiet and really go inside myself. Conversations will be short, not in a callous way but I'm just not there, and preoccupied with something else. That's also when I make myself very scarce.
See, I've spent enough time with the demons to know that it takes a lot of energy and my full concentration to quiet them down, and external stimulation from people or anything, is definitely best avoided. Some are quite the converse, however, and do best with distraction to deal with their troubles; just which type you are is up to you to know and/or decide. Every situation is different though, and there may be times when my more introverted side needs to take a break and let some noise in to blast them the hell out. Knowing what works best when only comes with careful self-observation and, dare I say, meditation (which, I do not necessarily mean as sitting cross-legged on a cushion for hours a day - I simply mean to say time spent in reflection, be it on a walk, at your desk or whatever).
Acceptance comes into play because otherwise you're just continuing to make excuses for your negative habits or behavior rather than making real, positive changes in it. So, as long as that cycle continues of denial, you can best be sure you'll pick up a few more demons along the way; they like to party, these guys..
But just because you have demons does not mean that YOU are a demon. No. I won't get into my own ideations regarding the religious influence such things but lets just say ease up on yourself a little, if that is your belief. You're human, it's ok to not be perfect; in fact, it's better than ok. Demons are a part of us, and you can free yourself from their influence but never live completely free from them. If we did that, we would cease to be ourselves and soon wouldn't recognize ourselves.
Acceptance is very powerful, and liberating in and of itself; alcoholics do it all the time. You know, "Hi, I'm ______, and I'm an alcoholic". Know your enemy, name it; learn to contain, not suppress. Learn to live with these demons and let yourself see that you don't have to continue to be a slave to them; they can live on inside of us without causing direct emotional (or otherwise) harm, it just takes practice and patience. But first you have to accept it.
After that comes identifying both your demon and what it causes you to do, how it causes you to act. Do you drink, smoke, fuck it away, break something or hurt someone, or hurt yourself? All these manifestations need to be studied and carefully considered to start building a case file on your demon; it's the only way to best them with lasting success.
It's not a fun process, and no one ever said it was easy but persevere and soon you'll begin to notice yourself living out your days free of their clutches; just be aware that this is a very critical and especially vulnerable stage for a person.. You have grown wise to the demons who constantly tricked you, and drug you back down with them. Now you're standing on your own, all alone, and that can be a scary thing. It's not uncommon to go running back to the safety of the darkness.
"Out of a fear of the unknown, people prefer suffering that is familiar" - Thich Nhat Hanh
And it's true. You'll fall off the wagon many times, just keep getting back on it until you're strong enough to hold on by yourself. It'll happen in its own time, as long as you want it to. And that is another crucial point: there is no point in undergoing this journey if you cannot muster the willpower to face the darkness and stare directly into it. It's good to be scared but cowardice will only feed the demons and make them stronger. So, if you're not strong enough or mentally prepared to commit to it, then don't do it at all. Or seek professional help. Every case is different. Know thyself.
The way I see it, there is never truly a mastery over the demons, as that in itself would entail just another manifestation of some deep-seeded control issue; Instead, seek solidarity with the devils, and learn to harness their energy for what is beneficial, to you and to others. You will find that the demons are not as scary as originally thought, and that they have their own place in your psyche; they have a purpose.
If we don't challenge ourselves to go deeper, we stagnate and erode away under years of neglect and abuse, originally aimed at gaining "control"; Think of the ultimate goal as gaining understanding instead, of yourself and of the demons that drive you. Then you can begin to open yourself up to the possibilities and potential inside you and attract that positive change you desire.
Saturday, August 24, 2013
More or less..
I call now to the witness stand my own inner aspirations, because there seems to be quite a lot of inner conflict going on these days...
The trouble comes from feeling the need to do more versus needing the feeling of doing less i.e. relaxation. Real relaxation, not just sitting my ass in a chair for five minutes, I mean no phone, no computer, no nothing. I need space and nature and a total disconnect before re-connecting again. This argument comes on the coattails of questioning my own yoga practice and how it balances out with my many other fitness aspirations, and furthermore, what those even are.
I like obstacle runs. Spartans, Tough Mudders, trail runs or just regular old mud runs; I like that challenge, and I like to feel challenged and pull through something I didn't think I could. Part of it is just primal, the other part largely ego-driven, I'm sure but nevertheless, it's important to stay active and in good overall physical health, right?
Well, yes. And no.
You see, keeping a challenging physical routine going is not bad in and of itself. What's perceived internally as being negative is the stress and pressure I pile on top of myself every day to do something, anything, because if I don't I must surely be a failure and am going to be overweight tomorrow. Yes, it's sickening.
I'm 29, 5'8 and 151 pounds, so I don't have much to pinch and thanks to my diligence in the past I have a fairly sculpted physique; I'm not chiseled out of stone but I look and feel good. I have run a Tough Mudder, a Spartan Sprint this year, a bunch of other 7+ mile trail runs in winter and other foot races of varying lengths. I'd say I'm in pretty decent shape.
But it's never enough. I want more and be harder and faster and stronger but all the while the cortisol builds and my nerves are constantly frazzled. I thought exercise was supposed to help decrease stress?
So this got me to thinking: What am I doing? And more importantly, why?
I'm still not quite sure of that answer but in the meantime, I've convinced myself that I'm not a super-athlete, nor do I wish to be, and it's ok to take a day off. It's probably more than ok, actually. You know, go meditate for ten minutes to clear your headspace, have a nice dinner with your family and enjoy a beer dammit, because you earned it.
Less is more, and it's a continuous struggle to completely assimilate the teachings of that lesson but it's getting there; like all things, it's a work in progress. Cheers, friends.
The trouble comes from feeling the need to do more versus needing the feeling of doing less i.e. relaxation. Real relaxation, not just sitting my ass in a chair for five minutes, I mean no phone, no computer, no nothing. I need space and nature and a total disconnect before re-connecting again. This argument comes on the coattails of questioning my own yoga practice and how it balances out with my many other fitness aspirations, and furthermore, what those even are.
I like obstacle runs. Spartans, Tough Mudders, trail runs or just regular old mud runs; I like that challenge, and I like to feel challenged and pull through something I didn't think I could. Part of it is just primal, the other part largely ego-driven, I'm sure but nevertheless, it's important to stay active and in good overall physical health, right?
Well, yes. And no.
You see, keeping a challenging physical routine going is not bad in and of itself. What's perceived internally as being negative is the stress and pressure I pile on top of myself every day to do something, anything, because if I don't I must surely be a failure and am going to be overweight tomorrow. Yes, it's sickening.
I'm 29, 5'8 and 151 pounds, so I don't have much to pinch and thanks to my diligence in the past I have a fairly sculpted physique; I'm not chiseled out of stone but I look and feel good. I have run a Tough Mudder, a Spartan Sprint this year, a bunch of other 7+ mile trail runs in winter and other foot races of varying lengths. I'd say I'm in pretty decent shape.
But it's never enough. I want more and be harder and faster and stronger but all the while the cortisol builds and my nerves are constantly frazzled. I thought exercise was supposed to help decrease stress?
So this got me to thinking: What am I doing? And more importantly, why?
I'm still not quite sure of that answer but in the meantime, I've convinced myself that I'm not a super-athlete, nor do I wish to be, and it's ok to take a day off. It's probably more than ok, actually. You know, go meditate for ten minutes to clear your headspace, have a nice dinner with your family and enjoy a beer dammit, because you earned it.
Less is more, and it's a continuous struggle to completely assimilate the teachings of that lesson but it's getting there; like all things, it's a work in progress. Cheers, friends.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Out to pasture
I've never been one to keep up with the times, because for one I think it's extremely depressing and watching the news almost always leaves me in a miserable fury; it seems futile to even get upset about things because it's so common to be told "there's nothing you can do" anyway. Yes and No. You see, that answer actually infuriates me more because all I hear is laziness and that they've given up. Sure, let's just let "them" continue to keep taking it all away from us; they know that we know (or think, anyhow) that there's not a damn thing we can do about it anyway.
Well they're wrong. And we're wrong, you're wrong and I'm wrong, if we all buy into that hopeless existence. There is always something that can be done. Clearly the seeds of revolution are sown deep in me but as much as I'd love to see the townsfolk marching down the street with pitchforks and primitive torches, intent on overthrowing some corrupt shit at whatever cost, it's just not appealing to me, and frankly, it solves nothing save for some really extreme cases of second and third-world poverty, government corruption, etc.
We don't need a bloodbath here in America, but we do have a need for people to start waking the fuck up. Rub the dirt from your eyes and look out there and see what's going on, and do something about it however small, instead of going home to your lazy boy and 700 channels of cable you don't even watch 15 of. And you can only watch one at a time, so give me a fucking break, people.
We're spoiled brats is what it comes down to, and as long as we have our material comforts and the capitalist machine keeps bombarding our brainwaves with messages to BUY! SALE! FREE LAYAWAY! and everything else, we're kept like the pleasant little docile cattle we are. No one wants an unruly cash cow, now do they? They get turned into hamburger real quick. Same thing happens when you go against the popular flow but it's not so bad, and that's the only way there will ever be any change made in this country, if we all stick together and hit them where it hurts: their wallets.
I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of a boycott, yes? Or an hour where everyone ideally turns out all lights and off with all electronics to save the Earth an immense amount of energy production and distribution by-products. They all sounds great but sadly, they seldom ever work. Why? No one cares. Sure, some do but generally we're all too busy playing on our phones or computers with every light on in the house (especially in rooms no one is even in), with five tv's on and three radios... ugh. Would it kill you to light a fuckin' candle and go without any sort of electronic for ONE HOUR OUT OF THE ENTIRE YEAR? Probably not.
Yes, I'm cynical. No, I don't like the idea of humanity very much. I am however, still cursed with this deep love and respect and eternal hopefulness that we can live up to our ideals, despite everything. It's just going to take a lot of work on everyone's parts, and there needs to be a collective awakening to get the ball rolling successfully, otherwise it looks like we're gonna soon be taxed for our lung capacity and fined for sticking your tongue out and tasting the rain. Someone owns the rights to that already, you know.
it's just sad, really sad. All over the world, people are starving and dying and generally going through personal hells every day that we can't even begin to fathom. Shame on al of us for turning on the news and saying "ooh" and "oh my god, that's horrible", because we don't have one iota of a clue as to what it's like to struggle through life, and we can always turn the news off; it ends there fore us but for others, it never stops. We get raped financially, yeah, but it's our own fault for letting it come to that in the first place. Somewhere, someone along the line just started getting lazy and settling for second best because they were comfortable, then everyone else followed suit. Well, comfort is a double-edged sword, my friends so choose the comfort you desire wisely.
I have no answers, and I offer no solutions. I know what I believe in, and I know that my money buys power, ultimately. My money that I earn goes towards ideas and industries I believe in, that can ultimately help all human beings out. Decide what matters to you, and then come to understand how that may or may not affect others. Are you supporting a hardworking, local or small business who focuses on quality or are you just stuffing the fat pockets of some multi-billionaire who doesn't give two shits about you. You're a statistic. Worse yet, a demographic; you're not even a human being anymore.
Wake up. Claim your humanity. Hit 'em where it hurts.
Well they're wrong. And we're wrong, you're wrong and I'm wrong, if we all buy into that hopeless existence. There is always something that can be done. Clearly the seeds of revolution are sown deep in me but as much as I'd love to see the townsfolk marching down the street with pitchforks and primitive torches, intent on overthrowing some corrupt shit at whatever cost, it's just not appealing to me, and frankly, it solves nothing save for some really extreme cases of second and third-world poverty, government corruption, etc.
We don't need a bloodbath here in America, but we do have a need for people to start waking the fuck up. Rub the dirt from your eyes and look out there and see what's going on, and do something about it however small, instead of going home to your lazy boy and 700 channels of cable you don't even watch 15 of. And you can only watch one at a time, so give me a fucking break, people.
We're spoiled brats is what it comes down to, and as long as we have our material comforts and the capitalist machine keeps bombarding our brainwaves with messages to BUY! SALE! FREE LAYAWAY! and everything else, we're kept like the pleasant little docile cattle we are. No one wants an unruly cash cow, now do they? They get turned into hamburger real quick. Same thing happens when you go against the popular flow but it's not so bad, and that's the only way there will ever be any change made in this country, if we all stick together and hit them where it hurts: their wallets.
I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of a boycott, yes? Or an hour where everyone ideally turns out all lights and off with all electronics to save the Earth an immense amount of energy production and distribution by-products. They all sounds great but sadly, they seldom ever work. Why? No one cares. Sure, some do but generally we're all too busy playing on our phones or computers with every light on in the house (especially in rooms no one is even in), with five tv's on and three radios... ugh. Would it kill you to light a fuckin' candle and go without any sort of electronic for ONE HOUR OUT OF THE ENTIRE YEAR? Probably not.
Yes, I'm cynical. No, I don't like the idea of humanity very much. I am however, still cursed with this deep love and respect and eternal hopefulness that we can live up to our ideals, despite everything. It's just going to take a lot of work on everyone's parts, and there needs to be a collective awakening to get the ball rolling successfully, otherwise it looks like we're gonna soon be taxed for our lung capacity and fined for sticking your tongue out and tasting the rain. Someone owns the rights to that already, you know.
it's just sad, really sad. All over the world, people are starving and dying and generally going through personal hells every day that we can't even begin to fathom. Shame on al of us for turning on the news and saying "ooh" and "oh my god, that's horrible", because we don't have one iota of a clue as to what it's like to struggle through life, and we can always turn the news off; it ends there fore us but for others, it never stops. We get raped financially, yeah, but it's our own fault for letting it come to that in the first place. Somewhere, someone along the line just started getting lazy and settling for second best because they were comfortable, then everyone else followed suit. Well, comfort is a double-edged sword, my friends so choose the comfort you desire wisely.
I have no answers, and I offer no solutions. I know what I believe in, and I know that my money buys power, ultimately. My money that I earn goes towards ideas and industries I believe in, that can ultimately help all human beings out. Decide what matters to you, and then come to understand how that may or may not affect others. Are you supporting a hardworking, local or small business who focuses on quality or are you just stuffing the fat pockets of some multi-billionaire who doesn't give two shits about you. You're a statistic. Worse yet, a demographic; you're not even a human being anymore.
Wake up. Claim your humanity. Hit 'em where it hurts.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
8.21.13
Wow guys, 1,023 page views as of this morning; this is truly amazing, and it's all thanks to you. Seriously. So far, this is just beyond my wildest dreams, and I am truly grateful that others can enjoy reading my stuff, and maybe even relate.
I have no grand scheme, no get rich quick scheme or any other reason in particular as to why I write; it's something I need to do, it's a pressure release valve in a way. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, so that is what makes it so special for me, it also took a lot of encouragement from a lot of amazing people in my life to finally convince me I'm worth a damn and I have a talent that should not be wasted.
The words just come to me, but it's not always so easy to write. I still give in to that nagging little voice inside me who says I'm not good enough, or my shit sucks but I've gotten much better at just letting him talk now, and paying it no further mind. I still have no clear idea of where I want my writing to take me but it is figuring itself out as it goes, every day and so I will let it progress on its own naturally, organically.
I don't want to make up stories. I feel like there's enough fantasy out there already, that we all need that healthy dose of reality (be it harsh or not) to keep things in check, to keep it "real". That being said, however, I still enjoy losing myself in a well-told story, it's just not me at this point and so until that day comes or does not come, that distinction will be let up to those better capable to tell them. I come from a background rooted more in philosophy and the realm of the spirit, so I want nothing more than to have a discussion, ultimately with myself.
Yes, writing for me is a very selfish practice that ultimately benefits others as well, in some way. I'm ok with that. I want to be happy and I want that for others too. There's so much pain and confusion in the world already, I certainly don't want to contribute to it; I just want to try and show you that it doesn't always have to be pretty to be beautiful. Beauty is in the balance struck by opposing forces, at least to my mind.
Sometimes stories come together on their own but most of the time, I just want to have an internal conversation with the heart and mind; cut right through to the core of the matter. The practice of writing allows me to be direct and focused intellectually in a way like no other, so I can effectively get what I'm trying to say across without the emotions or ego getting in the way; It's one soul talking to another.
This experience has exceeded the little expectations I had going into it, so it validates my practice and the need to continue doing so. It's just funny how it took me so long to find my path when it was right under my feet the whole time. Life is like that, though; you notice things when you stop looking so hard for them. The rest happens on its own, when you're ready.
Thanks for reading friends. Y'all come back now, ya hear?..
Yours truly,
Shane
I have no grand scheme, no get rich quick scheme or any other reason in particular as to why I write; it's something I need to do, it's a pressure release valve in a way. It's taken me a long time to get to this point, so that is what makes it so special for me, it also took a lot of encouragement from a lot of amazing people in my life to finally convince me I'm worth a damn and I have a talent that should not be wasted.
The words just come to me, but it's not always so easy to write. I still give in to that nagging little voice inside me who says I'm not good enough, or my shit sucks but I've gotten much better at just letting him talk now, and paying it no further mind. I still have no clear idea of where I want my writing to take me but it is figuring itself out as it goes, every day and so I will let it progress on its own naturally, organically.
I don't want to make up stories. I feel like there's enough fantasy out there already, that we all need that healthy dose of reality (be it harsh or not) to keep things in check, to keep it "real". That being said, however, I still enjoy losing myself in a well-told story, it's just not me at this point and so until that day comes or does not come, that distinction will be let up to those better capable to tell them. I come from a background rooted more in philosophy and the realm of the spirit, so I want nothing more than to have a discussion, ultimately with myself.
Yes, writing for me is a very selfish practice that ultimately benefits others as well, in some way. I'm ok with that. I want to be happy and I want that for others too. There's so much pain and confusion in the world already, I certainly don't want to contribute to it; I just want to try and show you that it doesn't always have to be pretty to be beautiful. Beauty is in the balance struck by opposing forces, at least to my mind.
Sometimes stories come together on their own but most of the time, I just want to have an internal conversation with the heart and mind; cut right through to the core of the matter. The practice of writing allows me to be direct and focused intellectually in a way like no other, so I can effectively get what I'm trying to say across without the emotions or ego getting in the way; It's one soul talking to another.
This experience has exceeded the little expectations I had going into it, so it validates my practice and the need to continue doing so. It's just funny how it took me so long to find my path when it was right under my feet the whole time. Life is like that, though; you notice things when you stop looking so hard for them. The rest happens on its own, when you're ready.
Thanks for reading friends. Y'all come back now, ya hear?..
Yours truly,
Shane
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Living with Demons, part 1: Seance/ Inherent darkness
I feel that we're maladjusted in our modernized Western world to deal with issues of the soul, and especially to safely live with our own darker natures, which I will from here on in refer to as "demons". We all have them: Those tendencies, the "crazy moments" when we lose or shit for a few minutes. For some, the demons come to surface all on their own. For others, a catalyst is needed; a seance must be performed to bring them to light. I consider drinking (alcohol) to be one such seance; it goes across the board for any drug, though.
I've had plenty of my own encounters with the demons who reside within me, and plenty of bad experiences at my own seances; all my friends have. When people come together to be friends, especially like my own, I consider it to be because our demons play well with each other, and this could be perceived as either good or bad. It is what it is of course, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Therapy can help, or any other method of getting deeper in touch with yourself (of course if you know me, you know I'm going to say yoga) but the fact of the matter that our culture seems to neglect to realize, understand or accept is that these demons are as much a part of us as the angels.
I am not a religious person, mind you, so don't take these references out of context; it's simply the best and easiest way for me to describe the light and dark elements at play within all of us. It has nothing to do with God or the Devil, and neither your personal beliefs or mine mean a pinch of shit in the matter, frankly, because they will bring us up or tear us down solely dependent on our level of understanding of them and the respect we give them. Or don't give them.
I have a friend. I had a friend, rather, who died recently. Many of you reading this know him. There has been much speculation as to the ultimate motive and cause behind his accident that I'm not going to get into, mainly because no one was there; no one knows what was going on in his head or the reason his car left the road that led to him no longer being with us. One thing is for sure, though: If he was drinking in his typical fashion, then the demons came out to play, and they got the upper hand.
It could be any of us, and has almost been me a few times, driving home when I should not have been, just fueled by alcohol and rage at nothing in particular but directed at myself, driving like an asshole. I crashed twice now like that and finally learned my lesson. It's just too short, life, and I like myself much more now than I did then. I just didn't know myself, who I was or where I wanted to go in this life; still don't but I've come to better accept this. Now if I'm going to have a seance, I make sure it's in a place I'm willing to spend the night at, and sleep those demons off.
But not everyone is so lucky.
It really doesn't matter what story you tell yourself to give you inner peace at the end of the day because ultimately what it comes down to is, if you play with fire, you're going to get burnt. Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later. Shit happens, but it can be avoided.
This is not a case against drugs or alcohol, and I still firmly believe that there are certain natural substances that have amazing capabilities for opening up avenues in us we had never dreamed of, provided they are used with proper knowledge, positive intention and respect; every increase of consciousness has its price.
If anything, I blame our "spiritual leaders". All these fat cats stuffing their greedy pockets with everyone's green, selling them salvation from themselves when these people are no role models themselves. The fact that you're a man of god does not automatically wash you clean of your demons, they just evolve and adapt and come out in other ways, more subtle ways. But these religions teach nothing of how to live with our demons, they don't tell us that we're just an interplay of light and darkness and that no matter what you do, you just are who you are.
I don't feel I've been led anywhere, nor would I want to be. We all have our paths we follow in this life, so your best bet is to find a sage person who has walked a similar one before you, to guide you along. Looking in the wrong places for such guidance only leads to more resentment, and confusion. It's a slippery slope, and I don't believe man is inherently anything; we all come up around certain influences which begin to shape our understanding of and interaction with the world around us, these eventually get roots and deepen into philosophies and constitutions, and before you know it we're set in our ways, be it perceivably "good" or "bad".
Some people are just more at home in the darkness than others, and sometimes that darkness will swallow a person whole.
This is just the first of a few parts of a subject very near and dear to me, so check back later for more. As always, thanks for reading,
Shane
I've had plenty of my own encounters with the demons who reside within me, and plenty of bad experiences at my own seances; all my friends have. When people come together to be friends, especially like my own, I consider it to be because our demons play well with each other, and this could be perceived as either good or bad. It is what it is of course, and there's nothing we can do about it.
Therapy can help, or any other method of getting deeper in touch with yourself (of course if you know me, you know I'm going to say yoga) but the fact of the matter that our culture seems to neglect to realize, understand or accept is that these demons are as much a part of us as the angels.
I am not a religious person, mind you, so don't take these references out of context; it's simply the best and easiest way for me to describe the light and dark elements at play within all of us. It has nothing to do with God or the Devil, and neither your personal beliefs or mine mean a pinch of shit in the matter, frankly, because they will bring us up or tear us down solely dependent on our level of understanding of them and the respect we give them. Or don't give them.
I have a friend. I had a friend, rather, who died recently. Many of you reading this know him. There has been much speculation as to the ultimate motive and cause behind his accident that I'm not going to get into, mainly because no one was there; no one knows what was going on in his head or the reason his car left the road that led to him no longer being with us. One thing is for sure, though: If he was drinking in his typical fashion, then the demons came out to play, and they got the upper hand.
It could be any of us, and has almost been me a few times, driving home when I should not have been, just fueled by alcohol and rage at nothing in particular but directed at myself, driving like an asshole. I crashed twice now like that and finally learned my lesson. It's just too short, life, and I like myself much more now than I did then. I just didn't know myself, who I was or where I wanted to go in this life; still don't but I've come to better accept this. Now if I'm going to have a seance, I make sure it's in a place I'm willing to spend the night at, and sleep those demons off.
But not everyone is so lucky.
It really doesn't matter what story you tell yourself to give you inner peace at the end of the day because ultimately what it comes down to is, if you play with fire, you're going to get burnt. Everyone's luck runs out sooner or later. Shit happens, but it can be avoided.
This is not a case against drugs or alcohol, and I still firmly believe that there are certain natural substances that have amazing capabilities for opening up avenues in us we had never dreamed of, provided they are used with proper knowledge, positive intention and respect; every increase of consciousness has its price.
If anything, I blame our "spiritual leaders". All these fat cats stuffing their greedy pockets with everyone's green, selling them salvation from themselves when these people are no role models themselves. The fact that you're a man of god does not automatically wash you clean of your demons, they just evolve and adapt and come out in other ways, more subtle ways. But these religions teach nothing of how to live with our demons, they don't tell us that we're just an interplay of light and darkness and that no matter what you do, you just are who you are.
I don't feel I've been led anywhere, nor would I want to be. We all have our paths we follow in this life, so your best bet is to find a sage person who has walked a similar one before you, to guide you along. Looking in the wrong places for such guidance only leads to more resentment, and confusion. It's a slippery slope, and I don't believe man is inherently anything; we all come up around certain influences which begin to shape our understanding of and interaction with the world around us, these eventually get roots and deepen into philosophies and constitutions, and before you know it we're set in our ways, be it perceivably "good" or "bad".
Some people are just more at home in the darkness than others, and sometimes that darkness will swallow a person whole.
This is just the first of a few parts of a subject very near and dear to me, so check back later for more. As always, thanks for reading,
Shane
Monday, August 19, 2013
Pathetic poetic politics
Poetry is not about rhyming, it's about the rhythm of the soul shining forth in small, concentrated bursts; it's the best and worst of us, but that we all share.
It's a well trained eye fixed on the beauty in everything it sees, even in ugliness or disgust.
It's strength and weakness, mixed with uncertainty.
It's life, and it's our story to tell.
8.19.13
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Eat a Peach.
Ok. Admittedly, I've never been a huge Grateful Dead fan; I respect the adoration and devotion of their fans but I never really "got" the whole thing. I still don't know that I do but without straining my mind on it, I've come up with that it's just a lifestyle more than anything, the festival life/ roadie life/ hippie life. Doing the tour circuit along with the band, following them wherever they may go.
That's a portion of them, the rest just like some chill ass music to take drugs to, not that I have anything against that; I mean, it's better to drop acid at a Dead show (or any other side band affiliated with them) than, say, The Acacia Strain (even though I like them too). There's certainly something to be said for any band who has maintained such a devoted following, and of generally positive things. Sure, there's lots of "drug" use there but people just want to escape for a few hours to a place of magic and wonder. Can you blame them?
Coming fresh off a weekend music festival high up on Montage Mountain in Scranton, my faith in humanity and life itself has once again been salvaged and restored, for the most part; there's always a handful of assholes but that's just life. The whole thing was beautiful, though. My girlfriend Rachel might disagree (haha) with me on that because not everyone's idea of fun consists of trudging up a ski slope to your tent site but for me it gives me camping wood, plus the view was to die for. And let's not even talk about the sunsets. Yes, be jealous. Then get yourself a ticket and go next year!
Anyways, there was a lot of initial anxiety regarding not being able to camp with your vehicle, as I'm accustomed to, and having to grab your gear, head to a shuttle pick up area, load up then be taken to the camping area. The first trip was disorienting and exhausting but we managed to be broadsided by the kindness of strangers, thanks to our neighbor, Bob. I forget what Bob does or where he came from but for a few hours we co-existed as if we've known each other for years. It's that random kindness from people you don't know but who are there for all the same reasons you are that really make me go all soft inside. It's a beautiful thing.
Now, Bob isn't perfect. No one is. He was a little clingy, got belligerently drunk and nearly inflicted permanently disfiguring oil burns on all of us by his drunken clumsiness around a camp cooker but we survived, and the fact of the matter is he went along back with us on our second trip to the truck to grab more gear. Had we not met him, it would have taken three trips back and forth, easily. The man even fed me beers until I got my own, so he's ok in my book.
Rachel and I walked around with Bob the first night, got drunk and just wandered, eventually losing him but ending up laying on a blanket gazing up at the clouds on a beautiful mountain night with The Allman Brothers Band as our soundtrack, hoopers and trippers surrounding us, the landscape awash in grooving bodies and lit up by glow sticks and the air perfumed by marijuana and patchouli. Definitely a good night.
Eventually, we ended up back at the tent, just what time it was exactly was irrelevant at that point, and that's the beauty of festivals. Shit, camping in general or just spending time in nature does the same but couple that with three days of music and no reason to be anywhere soon and you're living, my friend. You're living.
It doesn't take long for your biological clock to reset itself. Maybe you go to bed early, maybe you stay up late but get up earlier. Do whatever your body feels like without having to strap yourself to a schedule. In that respect, I definitely get the whole vibe of these bands and their fans, that culture. And it is a culture, for sure. Me, personally, I feel very much at home in it, for the most part. I dig the earthy/artsy/eco things in life, and I like to live simply as much as I can, but there's always a part of me that's either ready or at least accepting of the fact that the dream can't last forever; at some point reality has to come back in to play.
We got to spend one more whole day of just resting, relaxing and exploring on Saturday, which entailed checking out Karl Denson's Tiny Universe's whole set, along with jamming out to Citizens Band Radio later, who just tore it up in that southern boogie style and capped the night off with round two of The Allman Brothers, who opened up with my favorite tune, "You Don't Love Me". Don't let the title fool you, though: I was definitely feeling the love all weekend long :)
Our weekend came to an end that night, as we sat together in our tent with the "door" open, letting the cool night air in, just taking in the sights and sounds, and eventually turning in, cuddled up together in the chilly night air. The weather was perfect, as was the company the time was spent with.
We didn't stay for any of the bands Sunday, as I'm ready to get back home and unpack and relax before getting slammed back into the vocational doldrums Monday. I would have liked to see The Black Crowes but there's always another time; I'd say we did pretty damn good with what we did do, as so often it's easy to do too much at a festival like that. Bonnaroo especially, since there's so many good bands that you want to see but you just can't do it all. Times like that you just have to take a minute and breathe, remember that this is supposed to be your relaxing vacation, not work with more schedules and having to be somewhere at a certain time. If you do, fine. If not, even better. It often goes that the best show you see is the one you never planned on by a band you never even heard of.
It's a little depressing seeing everyone suck back into themselves, packing up and going back to their own individual planes of existence in their corner of the world. You go back to being total strangers but you'll be back, and there will be a whole other completely new and different, yet similar, brand of experiences with people you never knew you knew.
This makes two festivals for me this year, and as much as I'd love to make it three, it just may not be feasible. I have to be careful not to spoil it for myself though, as these things can be an addiction of their own, and sooner or later it loses the appeal for me. I never want it to because for a few days, I get to live off the grid. I can turn my phone off once I get there (after making the appropriate calls to loved ones ensuring your safety) and not worry about it until it's over. I can feel like a human being, I can feel like myself and not have to answer to anyone or put on a front to appease my employer.
Until next time,
See you there.
-Shane
8.18.13
That's a portion of them, the rest just like some chill ass music to take drugs to, not that I have anything against that; I mean, it's better to drop acid at a Dead show (or any other side band affiliated with them) than, say, The Acacia Strain (even though I like them too). There's certainly something to be said for any band who has maintained such a devoted following, and of generally positive things. Sure, there's lots of "drug" use there but people just want to escape for a few hours to a place of magic and wonder. Can you blame them?
Coming fresh off a weekend music festival high up on Montage Mountain in Scranton, my faith in humanity and life itself has once again been salvaged and restored, for the most part; there's always a handful of assholes but that's just life. The whole thing was beautiful, though. My girlfriend Rachel might disagree (haha) with me on that because not everyone's idea of fun consists of trudging up a ski slope to your tent site but for me it gives me camping wood, plus the view was to die for. And let's not even talk about the sunsets. Yes, be jealous. Then get yourself a ticket and go next year!
Anyways, there was a lot of initial anxiety regarding not being able to camp with your vehicle, as I'm accustomed to, and having to grab your gear, head to a shuttle pick up area, load up then be taken to the camping area. The first trip was disorienting and exhausting but we managed to be broadsided by the kindness of strangers, thanks to our neighbor, Bob. I forget what Bob does or where he came from but for a few hours we co-existed as if we've known each other for years. It's that random kindness from people you don't know but who are there for all the same reasons you are that really make me go all soft inside. It's a beautiful thing.
Now, Bob isn't perfect. No one is. He was a little clingy, got belligerently drunk and nearly inflicted permanently disfiguring oil burns on all of us by his drunken clumsiness around a camp cooker but we survived, and the fact of the matter is he went along back with us on our second trip to the truck to grab more gear. Had we not met him, it would have taken three trips back and forth, easily. The man even fed me beers until I got my own, so he's ok in my book.
Rachel and I walked around with Bob the first night, got drunk and just wandered, eventually losing him but ending up laying on a blanket gazing up at the clouds on a beautiful mountain night with The Allman Brothers Band as our soundtrack, hoopers and trippers surrounding us, the landscape awash in grooving bodies and lit up by glow sticks and the air perfumed by marijuana and patchouli. Definitely a good night.
Eventually, we ended up back at the tent, just what time it was exactly was irrelevant at that point, and that's the beauty of festivals. Shit, camping in general or just spending time in nature does the same but couple that with three days of music and no reason to be anywhere soon and you're living, my friend. You're living.
It doesn't take long for your biological clock to reset itself. Maybe you go to bed early, maybe you stay up late but get up earlier. Do whatever your body feels like without having to strap yourself to a schedule. In that respect, I definitely get the whole vibe of these bands and their fans, that culture. And it is a culture, for sure. Me, personally, I feel very much at home in it, for the most part. I dig the earthy/artsy/eco things in life, and I like to live simply as much as I can, but there's always a part of me that's either ready or at least accepting of the fact that the dream can't last forever; at some point reality has to come back in to play.
We got to spend one more whole day of just resting, relaxing and exploring on Saturday, which entailed checking out Karl Denson's Tiny Universe's whole set, along with jamming out to Citizens Band Radio later, who just tore it up in that southern boogie style and capped the night off with round two of The Allman Brothers, who opened up with my favorite tune, "You Don't Love Me". Don't let the title fool you, though: I was definitely feeling the love all weekend long :)
Our weekend came to an end that night, as we sat together in our tent with the "door" open, letting the cool night air in, just taking in the sights and sounds, and eventually turning in, cuddled up together in the chilly night air. The weather was perfect, as was the company the time was spent with.
We didn't stay for any of the bands Sunday, as I'm ready to get back home and unpack and relax before getting slammed back into the vocational doldrums Monday. I would have liked to see The Black Crowes but there's always another time; I'd say we did pretty damn good with what we did do, as so often it's easy to do too much at a festival like that. Bonnaroo especially, since there's so many good bands that you want to see but you just can't do it all. Times like that you just have to take a minute and breathe, remember that this is supposed to be your relaxing vacation, not work with more schedules and having to be somewhere at a certain time. If you do, fine. If not, even better. It often goes that the best show you see is the one you never planned on by a band you never even heard of.
It's a little depressing seeing everyone suck back into themselves, packing up and going back to their own individual planes of existence in their corner of the world. You go back to being total strangers but you'll be back, and there will be a whole other completely new and different, yet similar, brand of experiences with people you never knew you knew.
This makes two festivals for me this year, and as much as I'd love to make it three, it just may not be feasible. I have to be careful not to spoil it for myself though, as these things can be an addiction of their own, and sooner or later it loses the appeal for me. I never want it to because for a few days, I get to live off the grid. I can turn my phone off once I get there (after making the appropriate calls to loved ones ensuring your safety) and not worry about it until it's over. I can feel like a human being, I can feel like myself and not have to answer to anyone or put on a front to appease my employer.
Until next time,
See you there.
-Shane
8.18.13
Thursday, August 15, 2013
8.15.13 / The Road Ahead
Vacation starts now, officially. Three days of sunshine and music with lovely company in Scranton, PA. Never been. I will be in a few short hours, though.
Sleeping in a tent with the creatures of the night serenading you brings a person back to center almost immediately; it's been proven. Camping, nature in general gives our biological clocks a bit of a "reset", for all those late nights and early mornings and months and years of chronic sleep deprivation. Worse, lack of quality sleep. No fluorescents, no air conditioning, no alarms. Just cool mountain air and you. Who wouldn't love that?
If you've never been camping, it's seriously something to experience and regardless of whether you love or hate it, depending on your level of prissiness, you cannot deny that it is a powerful (and empowering) experience. But, I realize not all of us are as comfortable with not having a guaranteed hot shower and sleeping on the ground, so just get your ass out on a hike, at least, and go take a shower at home later :P
It really makes me a lot of sad and angry to see all our precious farm land and otherwise be swallowed up for the sake of developing cheap, shitty and certainly not eco-friendly or conscious houses that all look the fucking same anyway. It makes me sad for our future generations and it makes me angry at our ignorance, or greed. Money talks, bullshit walks. i guess our natural resources get to steppin', even though they are what keep us fed, sheltered and alive.
What happens when there's no more land left to build on? Will we ever see that day? I hope not in my lifetime, anyhow but it's not looking good. Not to sound completely cynical but there are a lot of good ideas out there and people doing the right things, not just what is profitable but even they are largely in the minority. Even with all the little things we can do in a day's time to do our part we're all still standing in the shadow of some thing or some one omnipotent, and I don't mean in a religious sense.
What can we do? Just enjoy what we can, while we can and keep doing our part. Continue to think freely and with the big picture in mind, make wise choices. Use dish towels and wash and re-wash instead of going through truckloads of paper towels, you know the deal: REDUCE, RE-USE, RECYCLE. I know how granola that sounds but I really don't care, because regardless of your spiritual views: WE ALL SHARE THIS EARTH. It feeds us, clothes us and keeps us alive.
Just be a little nicer to it, ok?
Thanks,
Shane
Sleeping in a tent with the creatures of the night serenading you brings a person back to center almost immediately; it's been proven. Camping, nature in general gives our biological clocks a bit of a "reset", for all those late nights and early mornings and months and years of chronic sleep deprivation. Worse, lack of quality sleep. No fluorescents, no air conditioning, no alarms. Just cool mountain air and you. Who wouldn't love that?
If you've never been camping, it's seriously something to experience and regardless of whether you love or hate it, depending on your level of prissiness, you cannot deny that it is a powerful (and empowering) experience. But, I realize not all of us are as comfortable with not having a guaranteed hot shower and sleeping on the ground, so just get your ass out on a hike, at least, and go take a shower at home later :P
It really makes me a lot of sad and angry to see all our precious farm land and otherwise be swallowed up for the sake of developing cheap, shitty and certainly not eco-friendly or conscious houses that all look the fucking same anyway. It makes me sad for our future generations and it makes me angry at our ignorance, or greed. Money talks, bullshit walks. i guess our natural resources get to steppin', even though they are what keep us fed, sheltered and alive.
What happens when there's no more land left to build on? Will we ever see that day? I hope not in my lifetime, anyhow but it's not looking good. Not to sound completely cynical but there are a lot of good ideas out there and people doing the right things, not just what is profitable but even they are largely in the minority. Even with all the little things we can do in a day's time to do our part we're all still standing in the shadow of some thing or some one omnipotent, and I don't mean in a religious sense.
What can we do? Just enjoy what we can, while we can and keep doing our part. Continue to think freely and with the big picture in mind, make wise choices. Use dish towels and wash and re-wash instead of going through truckloads of paper towels, you know the deal: REDUCE, RE-USE, RECYCLE. I know how granola that sounds but I really don't care, because regardless of your spiritual views: WE ALL SHARE THIS EARTH. It feeds us, clothes us and keeps us alive.
Just be a little nicer to it, ok?
Thanks,
Shane
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
In the meantime..
Man, are these days getting shorter or am I just piling on more things to do in a day's time? I'm happy to have been keeping a fairly consistent post schedule, and can only hope to continue to improve. I also want to take a moment to thank all those of you who have stopped by or continue to stop by to see what my brain cooks up next; it is really wonderful to have my stuff be read and I really can't tell you how much it means to me, even if you hate it. Thanks.
Now, I've had a busy week here with no signs of slowing until next weekend. I'm going to have to finish packing for Peach Music Festival at Montage Mountain in Scranton (PA), which I'm going to with my lovely girlfriend, Rachel, who also happens to be the reason anyone is reading this right now. The idea to blog itself did not come from her but the support and gentle push to really start did, and she helped me set up Letters of Love, Letters of Life. With her continued support and inspiration (and amazing cooking), I hope to go farther than I ever could have dreamed of going just on my own. There is definitely something to be said about surrounding yourself with the right people in your life.
Thanks so much, again, for stopping by and reading a piece or two, giving my words a chance to be heard. New site in the works! Check back later for more details!!
But in the meantime...
"I think you should just keep writing. Don’t force it of course, and like you’ve said and I agree the best writing comes in bursts of strong energy when necessary. However I think you should try not to be as concerned with the style of your writing and whether or not it is yours or not and just let it flow, because I think it is doing something for you that you may not be aware of yet. Something like I said, therapeutic.."
-Thank you, Jane.
Always a true inspiration!
Now, I've had a busy week here with no signs of slowing until next weekend. I'm going to have to finish packing for Peach Music Festival at Montage Mountain in Scranton (PA), which I'm going to with my lovely girlfriend, Rachel, who also happens to be the reason anyone is reading this right now. The idea to blog itself did not come from her but the support and gentle push to really start did, and she helped me set up Letters of Love, Letters of Life. With her continued support and inspiration (and amazing cooking), I hope to go farther than I ever could have dreamed of going just on my own. There is definitely something to be said about surrounding yourself with the right people in your life.
Thanks so much, again, for stopping by and reading a piece or two, giving my words a chance to be heard. New site in the works! Check back later for more details!!
But in the meantime...
"I think you should just keep writing. Don’t force it of course, and like you’ve said and I agree the best writing comes in bursts of strong energy when necessary. However I think you should try not to be as concerned with the style of your writing and whether or not it is yours or not and just let it flow, because I think it is doing something for you that you may not be aware of yet. Something like I said, therapeutic.."
-Thank you, Jane.
Always a true inspiration!
Note to self
Note to self:
-Shane 8.14.13
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
short thoughts.
Ed. Note: Just a smattering of random shit that's come out of my brain at some point, splattered on notes and scribbled outside of the lines. Enjoy the insanity :)
Frequency-
I don't think of them as emotions so much as rogue frequencies I've picked up, either from someone else or some thing, some place; I am but a terminal for their velocity.
On Creativity-
to walk the path between chaos and cohesion is not an easy feat. of course, it's wonderful to be original and bursting with raw talent, yet you want people to be able to read and connect to it, otherwise the whole thing was in vain and you're left stroking the flaccid ego in your hand; not an enjoyable or fruitful experience.
it is my belief that art and creativity are best when they're at their rawest and most emotionally pure form, though that's not always such a marketable trait. when it is, you put yourself at risk of falling into a pretentious pit of despair.
I cannot speak for anyone but myself when I say that this is not really where you want to be. ideas are great, and i love brilliance, especially when it teeters on the verge of lunacy but one has to be ready to accept their own martyrdom when embarking on this path. I respect it but the more practical, logical and reasonable side of me rejects it as immature horse shit; having to prove something to someone, anyone but mostly yourself. I still struggle with it, that's probably why I've not completed anything yet.
/
there's a television on that no one is watching. a light on that illuminates no sentient life forms..
/
car sex is a way of life.
come, be a sex nomad..
/
WWIII should be the least of anyone's concerns, especially considering we've been in the trenches for years already; it's just that the battlefield looks a little different this time. Its internalized, fought in the hearts and minds of the millions of dead and dying souls in this once great nation, world even.
You can dress it up any way you like, put any positive spin to it that will help you sleep at night but the fact remains that we're fucked. Those in power and those with money have had us by the balls and throats as long as anyone can probably remember, and we've given in. Revolutions are too time-consuming and tiresome, dangerous even, so let's continue to over-indulge in slow poisons to numb the pain we all see too clearly but refuse to accept. It's painted on everyone's face like a mask of death.
Be careful with dreams and fantasies and do not for one second underestimate the inherent evil in man. True, for all those born with evil in their hearts are just as many as their opposition but these numbers do not have the same totalitarian control over the masses. Most of these numbers have given themselves up to fairy tale and prophecies, waiting for someone else to come and save us all from the wretchedness. I'm here to tell you that you're wrong. No one is coming, it's just us.
/
far, far away I would love to live outside the boundaries of this infernal death machine, this rat race march of lemmings off unspeakable fucking cliffs to impale ourselves on the spires of greed.
/
if only there was a way to genetically pre-determine whether or not someone was bound to become an asshole we could promote sterilization at an early age, before they're any the wiser.
/
It’s an unfortunate circumstance as the result of a bad temper but I’m a firm believer that sometimes you just need to break shit. Material items are just that, and can be replaced. In fact, it’s probably good to destroy something that’s only meaningful because you attached meaning to it to relieve yourself of one less crutch. Dependence is not sexy in regards to anything, but especially to inanimate objects.
Was it always like this? Or is it just more apparent now? Imagine the Earth being stricken with a massive solar flare, knocking out the power grid across the nation, or even world, then imagine the reaction. Needless to say, people would freak; myself included, but how would that be any different from day to day life? It’s no mystery that we, as human beings, can be the most unruly creatures on the planet, but only blind optimism would try and tell you otherwise; another matter entirely.
Regardless of how bad it could ever get, what would be worse is if we still felt this aversion to being comfortable within ourselves as if it’s a sin; it is to some, I suppose, but it’s best not to take anyone’s word to be the absolute unless it’s your own, and not just the result of some kind of influence or promise you’ll only cash in on after you’re dead.
/
Was it always like this? Or is it just more apparent now? Imagine the Earth being stricken with a massive solar flare, knocking out the power grid across the nation, or even world, then imagine the reaction. Needless to say, people would freak; myself included, but how would that be any different from day to day life? It’s no mystery that we, as human beings, can be the most unruly creatures on the planet, but only blind optimism would try and tell you otherwise; another matter entirely.
Regardless of how bad it could ever get, what would be worse is if we still felt this aversion to being comfortable within ourselves as if it’s a sin; it is to some, I suppose, but it’s best not to take anyone’s word to be the absolute unless it’s your own, and not just the result of some kind of influence or promise you’ll only cash in on after you’re dead.
/
"You're still alive, huh?"
She wasn't thrilled. I was, but thought I caught the faint glimmer of a smirk in her eyes.
"At least you still have a sense of humor"
"Yeah", she said.
The conversation was red hot.
I hadn't seen her in about two years, the last time being in a picture she sent me of her sugar daddy and her; cuddling in bed, taken by the reflection of the mirrors on his ceiling. That was an interesting day. I thought of our bodily fluids combining; we might as well have had sex together, him and I; we have been the whole time anyway.
When i think of cheating, I think first of the deception and second of the bodily horror; just which one is worse I'm not exactly sure, as both are equally appalling. I thought of David Cronenberg. Blood, semen, fecal matter from shopping cart handles.. I thought about the bacteria that collects on your dick if you don't wash your hands BEFORE taking a piss: all these things just hanging out in a warm little incubator that we both penetrated, probably within hours of each other. He knew about this the whole time.
I wanted to tell her she was a bitch, that I hated her more than the smell of vomit but I didn't. I wanted to drive two hours to stalk her house, looking for two shadows eating each other so I could get really inflamed and the bile would creep up and I'd use the combination she gave me to the front door lock box and creep up the stairs and burst in the door saying, "A-HA!", and proceed to kicking the dick off the guy and the shit right out of him, then I'd drag her by her hair and throw her out the window or down a flight of stairs and I'd sit there and smoke a cigarette because I quit so I can have one and I think I fucking deserved it.
I didn't do any of that. I think of Hollywood's influence on my mental state.
Hold on, back up here a minute: she started it. Real mature, I know, but the truth is often stranger than fiction anyway so let's build a bridge here quickly and I'll get on with it. Better? Good.
It was the worst thing to happen to me since the last worst thing that happened to me, which was actually a girl, too…
I think it was Facebook but I don't remember; all that matters is that she found my best friend whose name isn't important because you don't know him anyway. Well, it was the day he and I were leaving for Tennessee for a music festival. She shows up, lookin' all good with her nice hair and her nice nails and tan legs and short shorts and large fake breasts and, wait a minute... She has breasts? When did that happen? It's not important because I figured she was there for for him, but she wasn't. Gulp. It usually doesn't take long to get awkward between three high school friends when the girl your best friend had a crush on all through high school but never did anything about takes a shining to you right in front of said friend. Not that it was that obvious, but it was that obvious. She hid it well though, considering we had actually been corresponding for about a week before that via email; at the time, I just felt sorry for her. Towards the end, I just wanted to help her put herself out of my misery.
Weeks go by with daily text messages and e-mails that were getting increasingly more intimate and personal, and it was unknown to all but us. The thing about a dirty little secret is it's incredibly sexy. It's also very dangerous. Maybe that's why people cheat but hell if I know; I was always the sap on the receiving end of that particular misfortune.
She was a Gemini sun/Scorpio moon and her eyes were abysses I just couldn't help but dive headfirst into. Miles Davis had the same configuration; the two became one in my mind, it was my personal soundtrack for emotional demise. I thought of Bird.
It's always been the weird little things that caught my greatest attention.
Don't sweat the small stuff.
Right.
…and it's all small stuff.
Exactly.
8.13.13 (13 13..) 5:33 a.m.
Lucky 13 strikes twice today, and so far it's a scattered start. Where is that clarity I felt yesterday? The sense of divine inspiration and driving purpose? Well, it's still there but it got temporary muddled by distractions.
You see this, this right here, is where it all comes into practice, all this bs I blabber on about every day about mindfulness and yoga and the like.. There is absolutely nothing different about this morning in comparison to yesterday. I may not have been so eager to get out of bed, because listening to a distant storm is pretty right-on in the wee hours before one needs to drag their corpse pose out of bed.
But, I did it. And at the same time too. Still have time to sip tea and write (blog), still got my stuff done I needed to; it FEELS different, though. Each day has a new feel to it, a new taste and texture and this one is no different but just what that is that is so different is anyone's guess. It's subtle, I know that much. Or, it could all just be a shift in perception; doesn't matter either way because the more you try and understand it, the less you do.
Focus. Power through the mind chaos, you'll find clarity on the other side or, if you don't, at least you didn't just let yourself get stuck there and lost in your thoughts, not knowing which way to go. And this is just how it goes, ladies and gents: some days you have the talker on, some days you don't. Daily life is ever-changing in our hearts and minds, some days just find us a little lost.
There's tools at your disposal that help one center the mind, body and spirit and concentrate it on one direction, but you can make it through just fine without it; just keep that cool and never let yourself lose that awareness, of your breath and your actions/reactions. All you need is awareness.
If you're lost or confused this day as I am, or any other, just accept it; put on your favorite song and crank it. Just ride the wave back into shore. It'll bring you back to yourself eventually.
It's not all sunshine and lollipops, and that is one huge misconception of the whole practice (of yoga/meditation), largely put on by our unrealistic societal expectations in seeking that "magic bullet" that is going to solve all our problems and make us happy and light and chipper every single day for the rest of our lives. YAY! Barf.
It's also clever marketing. But it's false, and I'm telling you here not to buy in. Some days are just fucked, and while an ancient yogi would never tell it to you like that, this is the 21st century, and it's time to get real about things.
On a scattered note, I need to get going or MY day is going to be fucked.
Have a good one, and if you're not, just make the best of it, ok? ;)
Monday, August 12, 2013
8.12.13 20:28
Same day, same place, different times, different space; head, that is. It seems a lot of my writing recently has been in the form of blog posts or scribbled notes, but not quite as much pen to paper contact as I'd like, not much journaling, either. I'm indifferent to it at this point but after reading Walden, by Henry David Thoreau the past few days, i can't help but wonder what that great American would think of this modern day.
I mean, I honestly feel I'm about as rooted in classical literature as one could be, living in this day and age. I really think I was born two centuries late, as I'm much more at home in the 19th than this one. But that's not to say I completely abhor the modern world: I am more attached to my cell phone than I care to be, and would be lost without my MacBook Pro I'm writing you on now combined with WiFi.. and don't even TALK about how I'd get along without internet access.
The whole of it is very bittersweet for me, and maybe for more than just myself, however, there seems to be a noticeable gap between our beliefs and our behavior, or at least just mine. In other words, I talk a lot of shit but at the end of the day, I still go home to my first world little house on the prarie existence, enjoying the finest things life has to offer. Do I feel guilty of this? Sure. But I'm also not gonna lie that I don't enjoy it.
My guilt and feelings of discontent are philosophical, lacking a specific texture of emotion and it feels hollow sometimes. I feel guilty but would I give it all up willingly? It's doubtful, unless it was a catastrophic world event and shit was really starting to go down; then survival instinct kicks in and you act accordingly.
I think about Christopher McCandless often, and especially now that I'm reading Walden, one of the many books he read before taking his journey. In case you don't know who the hell I'm talking about, look up Into The Wild.
I envy Chris for what he did, for the courage and determination it must take to be a true soul rebel and go against the whole of society, to burn it all and leave no trace of yourself. You become a ghost, you cease to exist in exchange for the ability to truly live free, the way ( I can only surmise) we used to.
It was stupid and careless and selfish, yes. He met a lot of kindred spirits along the way but died alone with slow poison flowing through his veins. Just another stupid kid. Or was he? I think he did what we all think of doing, wish we could actually pull off and do ourselves but that idea quickly gets dashed to pieces by what we call reality: Our job, our mortgage, etc.
He took soul searching to the extreme, and I respect him for that but there is always a better way, and maybe not an easier way but a more practical one.
Dislike it as I may, the real world is what we're stuck in, and it's what we have to deal with and make the best of. We do it every day, and maybe do not give ourselves enough credit. Some go home to escape it through their favorite tv show, some through drink or drugs, some through sweat and some through the mind. Whatever the means, the end is all the same, so, I guess that it once again all comes down to balance; that's all it ever is, a delicate balance and a power play between our hearts and our minds, our hopes and our fears and our setbacks and aspirations.
The way out is through. Winston Churchill said "If you're going through hell, keep going", and that's about the long and short of it. What else can we do? I think a part of us all wants to return to a more natural state, my part wanting to have that homestead outside of the reach of humanity and its eternal ignorance and technology, let come what may and if I die, at least I first lived. But I'm not there, nor am I ready to be, and it's just not practical at this point. It is not impossible though; nothing is, and one day I hope that we all get to taste our own little slice of heaven on this mortal soil but until then, I guess you're stuck reading the words that I type and I'm stuck typing them, wishing for paper.
I mean, I honestly feel I'm about as rooted in classical literature as one could be, living in this day and age. I really think I was born two centuries late, as I'm much more at home in the 19th than this one. But that's not to say I completely abhor the modern world: I am more attached to my cell phone than I care to be, and would be lost without my MacBook Pro I'm writing you on now combined with WiFi.. and don't even TALK about how I'd get along without internet access.
The whole of it is very bittersweet for me, and maybe for more than just myself, however, there seems to be a noticeable gap between our beliefs and our behavior, or at least just mine. In other words, I talk a lot of shit but at the end of the day, I still go home to my first world little house on the prarie existence, enjoying the finest things life has to offer. Do I feel guilty of this? Sure. But I'm also not gonna lie that I don't enjoy it.
My guilt and feelings of discontent are philosophical, lacking a specific texture of emotion and it feels hollow sometimes. I feel guilty but would I give it all up willingly? It's doubtful, unless it was a catastrophic world event and shit was really starting to go down; then survival instinct kicks in and you act accordingly.
I think about Christopher McCandless often, and especially now that I'm reading Walden, one of the many books he read before taking his journey. In case you don't know who the hell I'm talking about, look up Into The Wild.
I envy Chris for what he did, for the courage and determination it must take to be a true soul rebel and go against the whole of society, to burn it all and leave no trace of yourself. You become a ghost, you cease to exist in exchange for the ability to truly live free, the way ( I can only surmise) we used to.
It was stupid and careless and selfish, yes. He met a lot of kindred spirits along the way but died alone with slow poison flowing through his veins. Just another stupid kid. Or was he? I think he did what we all think of doing, wish we could actually pull off and do ourselves but that idea quickly gets dashed to pieces by what we call reality: Our job, our mortgage, etc.
He took soul searching to the extreme, and I respect him for that but there is always a better way, and maybe not an easier way but a more practical one.
Dislike it as I may, the real world is what we're stuck in, and it's what we have to deal with and make the best of. We do it every day, and maybe do not give ourselves enough credit. Some go home to escape it through their favorite tv show, some through drink or drugs, some through sweat and some through the mind. Whatever the means, the end is all the same, so, I guess that it once again all comes down to balance; that's all it ever is, a delicate balance and a power play between our hearts and our minds, our hopes and our fears and our setbacks and aspirations.
The way out is through. Winston Churchill said "If you're going through hell, keep going", and that's about the long and short of it. What else can we do? I think a part of us all wants to return to a more natural state, my part wanting to have that homestead outside of the reach of humanity and its eternal ignorance and technology, let come what may and if I die, at least I first lived. But I'm not there, nor am I ready to be, and it's just not practical at this point. It is not impossible though; nothing is, and one day I hope that we all get to taste our own little slice of heaven on this mortal soil but until then, I guess you're stuck reading the words that I type and I'm stuck typing them, wishing for paper.
8.12.13 5:45 a.m.
A morning spent with all the usual drudgery: alarm at 4:30, waking to turn that off, grabbing my phone and laying back down after I set the timer for 15 minutes, then awakening again to re-set it. It goes on like this all morning, usually until around 5:30, when I finally roll out of bed. Most mornings it works for me, others I can never seem to get ahead.
I'm really not a morning person, suspect I never will be but I think it has to do more with the fact that my body is just not always ready to wake up so early; I make it wake up that early, so that I can do what I want and need to do in the mornings before work. Then, waking up early leads to the inevitable afternoon crash, which leads sometimes to a nap which leads to not being tired at the designated bed-time. It's a vicious cycle. Couple that with my insane desire to practice yoga this early and you have a recipe for failure, or at least grumpiness.
But grumpiness is not what yoga is about; it's really counter-productive, actually. So now I'm starting to ease up off myself a little for not being totally ok with killing myself to get up super early and practice pre-sunrise yoga like all the sages of yesteryear. Maybe it just doesn't work for me. This morning gave me some insight into all this: I woke the same as I always do, at 4:30. Proceeded with the alarm symphony but only set one this time, and woke up, for good, at quarter to five, nearly 45 minutes ahead of schedule.
I got up, sat there for a bit and did some neck rolls, got my lungs used to me controlling their breathing patterns again and did some other stretches that felt necessary. Tied my hair back, cleaned the sleep from my eyes and went to the kitchen for the rest of my routine: hot water pot set to boil, let the pup out, get lunch and breakfast ready, feed the pup, make tea, shower, leave.
Well, I had 15 extra minutes doing all this, so I decided to write. This might not seem like a big deal but it is immense, believe me. The morning is my favorite and most reflective time, and just being awake in it, alone, with only my thoughts and stillness, it is the perfect atmosphere for meditation, be it formal or informal. This morning I chose the informal route, and just considered the peace I felt within me and the rest of the slumbering world around me and soaked all that up. This is what it's all about, really. Postures, breathing, all that is just a means to an end. I got right to the core of it this morning, and I didn't even try to, and that's the key.
The practice isn't lost on me, though; I'll come home and do my practice as usual but these 15 minutes I took to go into myself will set the tone and carry with me throughout the day today. I feel refreshed, and awake. I feel alive. Time to join the rest of humanity.
Good Morning.
I'm really not a morning person, suspect I never will be but I think it has to do more with the fact that my body is just not always ready to wake up so early; I make it wake up that early, so that I can do what I want and need to do in the mornings before work. Then, waking up early leads to the inevitable afternoon crash, which leads sometimes to a nap which leads to not being tired at the designated bed-time. It's a vicious cycle. Couple that with my insane desire to practice yoga this early and you have a recipe for failure, or at least grumpiness.
But grumpiness is not what yoga is about; it's really counter-productive, actually. So now I'm starting to ease up off myself a little for not being totally ok with killing myself to get up super early and practice pre-sunrise yoga like all the sages of yesteryear. Maybe it just doesn't work for me. This morning gave me some insight into all this: I woke the same as I always do, at 4:30. Proceeded with the alarm symphony but only set one this time, and woke up, for good, at quarter to five, nearly 45 minutes ahead of schedule.
I got up, sat there for a bit and did some neck rolls, got my lungs used to me controlling their breathing patterns again and did some other stretches that felt necessary. Tied my hair back, cleaned the sleep from my eyes and went to the kitchen for the rest of my routine: hot water pot set to boil, let the pup out, get lunch and breakfast ready, feed the pup, make tea, shower, leave.
Well, I had 15 extra minutes doing all this, so I decided to write. This might not seem like a big deal but it is immense, believe me. The morning is my favorite and most reflective time, and just being awake in it, alone, with only my thoughts and stillness, it is the perfect atmosphere for meditation, be it formal or informal. This morning I chose the informal route, and just considered the peace I felt within me and the rest of the slumbering world around me and soaked all that up. This is what it's all about, really. Postures, breathing, all that is just a means to an end. I got right to the core of it this morning, and I didn't even try to, and that's the key.
The practice isn't lost on me, though; I'll come home and do my practice as usual but these 15 minutes I took to go into myself will set the tone and carry with me throughout the day today. I feel refreshed, and awake. I feel alive. Time to join the rest of humanity.
Good Morning.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
cookie.
You want to be something you’re not. There’s always more you can do, a look you could pull off better if only you worked a little harder and spent a little more money on this or that; then you’d be complete.
Reality tells you that some people just have good genetics. It also tells you most others have no life outside of the gym and have to count calories every single second of the day, to fit into their designer clothes and earn a paycheck. Reality goes even further to say that your time of external beauty is finite, and the window is shrinking every day.
I don’t know when I started easing up on the reins a little bit but I’m pretty sure it was around the time that I started practicing yoga. Don’t worry, this isn’t a ‘this is why you should practice yoga’ thing, there’s already plenty of them and better written ones to get you on your way if that’s what you so desire; I’m simply relating a story. When I say you I mean I, but you may be able to relate.
So I like to run now. I picked up this habit trying to kick cigarettes, and it was effective. In many ways, I went from one addiction to another. I never knew I loved running and the freedom it gives one, not to mention the personal sense of accomplishment upon completing races.
Two years ago, I started with a mile or two now I’m doing a race nearly every month, with two half-marathons and two Spartan races on deck, a Tough Mudder, five trail runs of varying lengths but none below 7 miles and I can’t believe this is still the same person who used to enjoy Chicken McNuggets and appeared to be allergic to anything green.
By all outward appearances, one would think that I’m pretty healthy, pretty accomplished and driven. All of these are true but I still have some nasty habits I’m trying to kick. Like my ego and trying to control everything. You research prana and pranayama extensively and you work on your control issues by controlling your breathing. It’s funny, you can laugh. No one can say anything to me I haven’t already thought myself, and I’m painfully aware of my own contradictions so take your best shot. I probably still won’t be mad. Impressed, rather, for you noticing something I overlooked.
Before I got on the yoga tip, I did what many other spiritually and philosophically-attuned young individuals do and I experimented with psychedelics; Mushrooms, to be exact. I’m not here to go over the finer points of their usefulness or go off the deep end of drugged out euphoria though, so let me just say that they made me aware of certain things.It might be more accurate to say it allowed me to become aware of certain things, like my own negative aspects i.e. the things you really don’t like about yourself and try to cover up or control through some other means or validation. Me? I’m a little obsessive about my health so even when I did smoke, I still exercised regular and ate whole foods.
It’s a little humorous, in a darkly kind of cynical way, that I never saw the forest for the trees. All these healthy things I was doing for myself just became an addiction of their own. When does health food become unhealthy? When you begin to stress yourself out over whether or not you should eat something and you begin to dread eating because you’re so confused as to what’s even good for you anymore.
You take other people’s opinions in account over your own. Your opinions are now a reflection of their own and you don’t know who you are or what you even believe in.
I think this is a common problem, especially among the more neurotic of us, the chronic worry-warts and do-goods. It’s ok. What is not, however, is letting our own bad behaviors keep beating ourselves over the head. Awareness is the start but to really start feeling a difference you need to lighten up a little. Know and accept that there’s a lot of f’d up things in the world that you won’t be able to do much about.
People suck most days. Again, can’t change this but we can learn to live with it better when we let ourselves realize that maybe the whole world is just having a bad day and how does that affect us? There are obvious exceptions; I mean, I don’t know how calm the Buddha would be if he were actively taking a nose dive in a plane about to kiss the ground at terminal velocity but supposedly he would be ok with it. I’m not there yet, nor do I think 90% of us ever will be, realistically speaking.
For now, let’s just start with accepting the little things about us we may not like but are a part of us, regardless and see where it goes from there. The note in my fortune cookie reads: “You cannot run away from yourself, you’re always right behind you.”
That’s one smart cookie.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
What's it all about?
So if you've been following me or my blog, you've no doubt heard me throw the word yoga and meditation around a lot, maybe even spiritual or spirituality. What, though, do these words mean?
I'd wager that most everyone's initial thoughts are some skinny Indian dude contorted like a pretzel with weird paint on his head, or a Buddhist monk sitting in lotus position chanting OM. Well, you pretty much nailed it but most times that's where our western understanding of these esoteric practices end. When you begin to dig deeper, you begin to realize that you know nothing at all about it. The purpose of this post is not to delve into the rich history of the practice but instead just clear the air on why one might choose to practice, so as to shake off that "cultish" vibe it's seemed to acquire over the years.
I got into the game late; just less than three years ago but yoga had caught my attention and curiosity long before that. Like most, I thought it was weird and cult-like and I didn't really understand it - but I've always had a penchant for pursuing a level of understanding in that which I do not. So, I waited and watched, and one day it seemed right to pick up a mat and some videos and give it a try.
At that point in my life, I was fresh off quitting smoking and looking to get my body back in peak physical condition, so it started as exercise, and nothing more. I didn't like or fully understand the chanting and prayer and to this day still find it slightly distasteful (I mean, I wasn't born in India and I can't read Sanskrit, much less pronunciate it properly so it seems a bit contrived to me) but I would still put my hands in prayer and just bow to that silence and inner peace I was filled with; It's a very rare thing. For anyone, I imagine.
I continued in this way, following the same Shiva Rea video for months, just getting the basics down, as well as the P90x yoga video, which I was drawn to for it's intense level of athleticism and strength. Shiva is great but I'm a bit too dark and moody to stomach all her flowery prose all the time; it got a little cloying. However, she is a marvelous teacher with a deep knowledge and understanding of the subject and so I respect her for that.
This eventually led me to find my one true love: Ashtanga. One thing you do need to know about yoga is it doesn't matter what school of thought or "style" you practice, the end goal or result is always the same: enlightenment, a complete union of mind, body and soul and all that snazzy shit. Yeah, it gets pretty deep, and I know that's why so many either don't know where to start or just get overwhelmed and do more mental harm than good to themselves. One thing is for sure though, whether you believe in the mumbo jumbo or not: it's a very powerful practice, and if you're just doing it for the physical aspect, then you will see gains in every part of your life, not just muscle tone-wise.
It doesn't matter that I'm diving deeper into the classic texts, trying to get a handle on my understanding of it, it doesn't matter how much anyone knows or who has on the hottest new yoga pants because when we come to the mat, were all equal. We're all dirty and ugly and flawed inside but we go there because we want to cleanse ourselves, purify ourselves. We want to try and be ok with ourselves, and it won't always be easy but it will always be good, even if it doesn't seem so right away.
Don't let the charlatans and snake oil peddlers fool or sell you, because chances are they know less about it than you do. The practice is not equatable to status in life; it gives you no advantage over anyone else whatsoever. It does, however, give you a greater understanding of yourself and so this affects the way in which you interact with the world in many different subtle or not-so-subtle ways. It's not just postures, it's practicing to be a better person, a better human being. Most importantly, it's for all of us, regardless of race or creed.
So my friends, I invite you to indulge your curiosity, if there is such a curiosity, and pick up a mat or don't, and try some yoga. Try different things until you find a style or teacher or method that resonates with you and begin your own practice of being a better person; just be patient with yourself because nothing happens overnight and there's a lot of material out there to sift through.
Go out and dig deep my friends, find the hidden gems that others missed; give your own meaning to your yoga practice, or, just practice being a better person without the contortions.
Friday, August 9, 2013
An Office Worker pt.2
6.
Slave or not isn’t really relevant anyway. THEY always find a way to get to you in the end, THEY being the little voice(s) inside your own head…
There was only ever one voice I heard tell me that I'm not good enough, and it was my own. No one ever told me not to reach for the stars, to find my own happiness or live this life the way I truly need to to let me be me; if they did, I never heard a word of it because I was too busy listening to my own self tell me these things.
To some, I imagine this may seem a bit woe-is-me; that's fine. You can think that if you want, I don't blame you. If I didn't know me I might think the same. But I do know me very well, so if that is how it sounds then thats just how it sounds, but to me it's very different.
Perhaps you don't have this problem and were blessed with high self-esteem and decisiveness, perhaps you're not so introverted and neurotic as to fly into a wild sort of thought paralysis over very simple things.
These tangents I go off on mean nothing, but I feel them so viscerally; I feel the anguish, the emotional turmoil I create in myself over what? Speculation, on my part. I can't say with any certainty that anyone in my life would react to the news of me leaving with shame or disgust the way I envision it. I am my own worst enemy, truly, and it's this constant inertia that contributes to my intense melancholia. Each day I'm becoming more of what I hate about the world. I’m a job with benefits, financial security but none of it means a damn thing. I'm ungrateful in my first world kind of way.
I am, however, not as selfish as I once thought. I hurt so because every day I give more of myself away; to my parents, to my friends, to the people I work with and for. I kill a little bit more of myself by modeling myself to the image I think they desire. It's not me. It never was. This is not something you can hide, deny or run from for any length of time. You can't run away from yourself; you're always right behind you.
So this is me now, and I'm learning this, but nothing ever gets any easier; not that I want it to, though. I just want the peace of mind and trust of my own heart so that I can live guilt-free in my own image.
7.
My own image consists of sexual tension and intelligent emotional reserve. Cougars like me. I like me too, what a pity. It looks so easy in the movies, with the partner of choice already on their back, legs spread, anticipating. It takes a lot of work to get to that point, work I am not as good at as I would like. Saves on trips to the clinic, however.
It’s not all that bad being sexually frustrated; some esoteric practices will even tell you how abstaining from releasing the sexual current will do all sorts of nifty and beneficial things for you. I believe most of them but they’re really just full of shit and need to get laid themselves. Too many headstands leech all that semen into the brain…
Watching porn on my phone just to stay awake.. Nodding.. Feeling the flow of currents I’ve been instructed to suppress. Time for a headstand.
Ineffective technique results in an awkward boner while inverted. ‘This is therapeutic’, I think..
This is what happens when you realize you will never live up to your ideals. Options present themselves and avenues open up, almost magically. Try door number 2.. Oops! Just excuse her, she’s breast-feeding. But she’s.. Doing… a….. Headstand? America’s got talent, sure enough; if you need more proof, there’s a television show, must be true then.
8.
Is any of it supposed to make sense? Who came along and decided to start making things orderly anyhow.. These fucking fascists are trying to kill my creativity, leaving me late and locked in back here with a dangerously flatulent mentally ill man. Nudity is the least of anyone’s concerns.
Normally I carry around my fancy little notebook but this creature is different; it prefers chaos to order, pocket-mangled pieces of printer paper to 90g Clairefontaine, gel to fountain pens. It’s raw, there’s something even slightly devious in it, like lusting someone hard imagination-style when you’re sitting right next to them in a crowded room. It’s ok, we all do it; consider it a compliment. You know what they say, great minds fuck each other. Or if they don’t, they really should.
Boredom. Lability.
I can’t even sit down right, I’m so loaded with bullshit ideas filling this drunk head of mine, even though I haven’t had a drink in days. I’m afraid my spine might break under the pressure, snapped clean in twice or thrice by the weight of ideas sloshing around up there, best to remain standing and at full attention.
I’m asexual now, that tends to happen over long periods of not getting it on. It’ll pass.
Finally the ideas let me rest my ass for a little and I sink back in my chair, smoking a mental cigarette. Great minds fuck each other..
9.
Lunch is over now, so it’s time to drag my carcass all the way back across the hall, resemble someone who is actually doing something other than nothing. I don’t know if anything ever gets done, really; it just seems that way, playing a part in some grand conspiracy straight out of the X-Files.
“The case of the disappearing work”.
-Did you do it? I did it. No you didn’t. I did it. Where is it? It’s right.. Shit. You didn’t do it. I didn’t do it.
-If you didn’t do it, someone else must have done it. Nah, just let it for tomorrow. I might be dead tomorrow. You’re dead today so what does it matter? I’ll let it for tomorrow.
Tomorrow: “Fuckin bastards always leave this shit piled up here for me. Sick of it!”
Another day of more of the same: dodging authority, escaping responsibility. It’s not that I’m opposed to any of these things, it’s just that I don’t give two shits enough to go out of my way to do it for a system that doesn’t give two shits for me. Unfortunately, most people have adopted this mindset and so no one wants to give a shit about the no shit-givers. The beatings will continue until morale improves, a sign once said. When you put it like that, the beatings will never stop.
10.
Finally made it through the day and out the door. It’s good to see everyone else sharing the same enthusiasm as me for leaving. Some stay and slowly commit themselves for eight more hours at a time, securing their failing health and mental status. It’s pretty bad when you have to go to work to escape your home life. Just saying. I really do feel bad.
Me, I just go from one plane of tedium to another, different one. Most people do, I guess. Sure, there’s lots of motion and goings on but for the most part it’s just the second wave of animated boredom. It only really hits you when you stop to think about it but it’s not so bad, at least there’s more enjoyable sources of entertainment at home; we can console or kill ourselves in any manner or speed with many methods available and easy payment options, to boot. It’s win-win.
Me, I choose to drive myself slowly insane by degrees of creativity. Sometimes I listen to angry music and give myself miniature concussions by chronic head-banging, sometimes I listen to nothing but the rats gnawing away at my own grey/gray matter. Most times, though, it’s a combination of the two.
I’m allergic to television, seem to have picked up the condition sometime during young adulthood, though watching other people travel enthralls me. I like to fill my head with knowledge of places I’ll probably never see anyway, but that’s depressing. I don’t really need to go there anyway because my heart and mind have been there, tasted the food and the culture; a part of me is there already. To travel in the physical sense seems a tad redundant, not that redundancy has ever stopped me from doing anything.
After feeding my travel tapeworm, I lock myself away in my room and thoughts for a few hours before bed; reading, writing, recounting, discounting.
Things start shutting down, gears grinding to a halt..
I fill my lungs with some form of contentment and let my dreams sort out the rest.
Goodnight.
An Office Worker pt. 1
1.
By the time my alarm screeched, my uncle was dead. Well, he wasn’t really dead, I found out later, but it sure seemed that way; I’ve always had strange dreams, so to call them weird is redundant. What else is new? Mornings have never been a favorite, and there's always a bit of grumbling and a lot of negative internal monologue on the drive in to work. “What grand conspiracy is this, and whose ingeniously devious idea is it?” I wonder; it's disappointing I hadn’t thought of it myself.
2.
The phone rings, something about the tone on the other end of the line makes me want to curl up and die but it's probably just the fact that it's a Monday and I'm not sleeping in bed. I think of Office Space. I think of Fight Club. Then I stop thinking. This, I feel, is a sorely overlooked talent in people, that by all outward appearances you can have a conversation with someone but they’re not hearing a word of it; they’re off snowboarding and probably having sex or whatever it is that goes on inside a person’s head when they space out but it’s usually better to remain in the dark about such things. You can read subtle body language and recognize cues in the voice, seemingly placed there purposely so that the other person can feel validated that their words are being followed and assimilated. A primate could do it. That’s where I come in.
With the aid of my opposable thumbs, I place the receiver back on its base, record and report the information given me and proceed back to my corner to hide; or think I can, anyhow. It gets me through the day to imagine a cloaking device shielding my work area, keeping me safe from prying eyes. I think of Predator.
How come we don’t have cloaking technology yet? Or do we? I’m sure it’s confidential. I don’t work for the government, though: I work for the crazies. The patients are here, too. I know it’s not PC to say such things but whatever appropriate catch phrase they’re using these days escapes me at the moment. Mentally ill seems accurate, or handicapped; that’s how I feel walking out of here so I’ll go with that.
The thing about working in a psychiatric facility is that the lines of sanity blur and soon enough, you're milling around rather dumbly in another world that doesn't exist outside of your own mind. There's a good chance you have a touch of it already, for even considering working in such a place. It goes to say that the staff is more looped than the patients but this creates an interesting dynamic; It’s funny, but it hurts to keep laughing at it. Would it kill a person to just act fucking normal for once? Normal. Right. Whatever that is.
My name is not an incredibly important fact; I exist, like everyone else, even if I do try to deny this fact most days. You can only rationalize denial for so long; after that, you can't help but notice it gets a little ridiculous (not that I haven't tried, though). I am employee #676433, for short; aka Shane. Lol. Jk. It's a very abbreviated society we live in, there's never enough time to form even words anymore, and that makes me feel rather indifferent. Whatever is going on out there affects me in only an abstract way and in a detached manner; it seems irrelevant, certainly doesn't seem real. People give such strange looks when you inform them of your unwillingness to stay up on current events, like you're some kind of fucking alien or ignoramus. Well, I'm not but reserve the right to think this of you by your desire to "stay in the loop", and if in doing so it doesn't leave you bitter or filled with hatred, I commend you.
3.
It's necessary to live two lives; one for business and one for everything else. People need their vices, please don't take it away from them; office life is bad enough, they shouldn't have to be subjected to dealing with shit without the help of some kind of slow poison.
You're stuck in a cage with the best and worst in people for eight hours a day, five days a week and sometimes on weekends. You have no say.
You have even less to say due to the knowledge of its uselessness; to call it desperation is an understatement.
Some days you just want to hurt people, but you don't. And you won't, though some do and you always seem appalled at learning of workplace violence, as if you're somehow above it. Fantasy can be its own slow poison. Whatever gets you through the day without a body count and/or criminal charges.
4.
There's a fire in your belly; don't just do something, stand there. It's ok, someone else will know what to do so you rely on that faint glimmer of hope to carry you through all this. Another day, dripping with hope and reeking of aspirations to reach the stars, crushed yet again under the oppressive foot of the demigod you call your boss. And it's never just one, is it? There seems to be an endless line of command, people controlling the people in control. Everybody's looking for something but there's nothing to be found; not where they're looking, anyhow.
Authority only makes you look silly. It means nothing. Treat me like a human being and you will have my respect, despite our differences. The best one in power is the one who doesn't have the power, at all. You're swimming with sharks every day, and there's blood in the water. Your blood. Swim faster. Better yet, stop moving and let your self sink to the bottom, this way you're forgotten and excused from daily living.
5.
So you're wondering, "if you hate your job so much, then quit. get a new one.". I don't hate it, quite the contrary. I hate the realization of the futility of my existence that it imposes on me every day, and that's just not something you can escape. It's all made up like bad fiction, this work "ethic". Sure, I have morals too. And responsibilities and obligations and everything else we made up and strapped to ourselves as some unquestionable law, but the whole thing is just funny to me. It seems more like voluntary slavery. Worse, obligatory. And this is our life.
It's expected of us to show up and possess superhuman abilities to summon smiles and ooze jolliness through our pores like some bloated toad. This all seems real, but every once in a while we're faced with something that slaps us square in the mouth with a glove and challenges us to a duel: to look inside ourselves and find the missing link, to understand that this is not all that there is, that there is something out there and within us that makes sense, and that is what we must do. But then comfort sets in, and suddenly, slowly, the image gets further out of reach and then you're 72 and your health is failing because you ate shitty food and drank shitty drinks and were just not nice to yourself. When you retire, all the ones who don't care about you, never did, and some who really do will come congratulate you and wish you well on your way. On the drive home you have a massive heart attack and the car you're not capable of steering anymore causes an accident, permanently disfiguring someone else you never even met, whose life you also just ruined and inherited all your bad karma. It's fucked up the way things happen.
It's a job, it's not your life; it's not even real, no matter how long you hold your breath or cross your fingers. Somewhere, someone is creating their life right now; drafting their own great spiritual architecture in their own image. They're not a slave and neither are you.
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