3 of Poetry

"I must create a system of be enslaved by another mans'. I will not reason and compare: my business is to create."

That about sums it up; thank you, Mr. Blake.

For what seems like a long time now, I've been wanting to do this writing thing. For real. It is, however, all too easy for me to overlook the fact that I am already doing it. I am a writer and it's what I do, regardless of what I do or do not have published or in print.

But I have something to say. A lot, actually, and I want to reach a wider audience because I don't know why. Why the hell not, really.

It's something I'm guided by, driven by... I haven't made much of it but this blog and actively putting my stuff out there has been such an immense personal step for me, and the fact that people come up to me and mention how they "read my blog" touches me so deeply my eyes are moist just thinking about it.

It's a labor of love, and the best I can hope for is that someone can feel it when they read it, the way my favorites make me feel it when I read them. Thank you, Henry Miller.

I have big things in mind but, as with all important things in my life, time must be taken for the seed to reach its full germination, when it is strong enough to grow on its own. When that time comes, I just know.

Part of my confliction is my relationship with work: I enjoy staying busy and feeling I have a purpose, and of course making money to be able to live but so often that's all we have time for. We get up, go to work, come home for a little then go back again. Writing is as natural for me as breathing but it always has to contend for a time slot with the rest of my societal obligations. As much as I would love to just spend weeks or months at a time living the Walden life, it is simply not practical at this point. In this society, though I am gaining much optimism and hope for the future I want as I get further into 'Off The Grid'.

I only wish to create meaningful things that others can relate to but getting it going in any kind of direction is tough when you're as neurotic and hyper-critical as I am but I write every day (pretty much), and part of being a writer (part of being anything) is that it never sleeps. Day in, day out I'm observing, taking note, refining, studying and solidifying my own unique version of life; one day it will be a great read ;)

finding independence in a dependent society

Admittedly, I'm not yet ready to go off the grid. I suppose this needs a little backstory: I'm currently reading a book called 'Off the Grid', which in my interpretation is essentially the quest for true indepependence in living free from resource wastefulness, society and "The Man"; it also echoes another closely-held book in my collection, which is 'Walden', by Henry David Thoreau. 

Off the Grid is something of a modern-day interpretation but it is also something else on its own. It is nothing but inspiring, especially to one such as me, who lives on the mental fringes of rebellion and spiritual nomadism nearly every day. But in the tangible realm, things are not so simple to pull off; it takes careful planning and ingenuity. None of which I lack, just not in the needed proportions at present.

One day, it would be nice to at least have a second home, a refuge of sorts, that exists free of "the grid" and the greed of what society is becoming. The dream is of self-sustainability, self-reliance; to have there be small pockets of sustainable communities nation-wide, sharing, trading, co-existing. After all, we're all in this together.

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.