LoveSolution

Dig the well of love. Find the spring of wisdom. Nourish the tree of peace.

Status Check: I’m Going Crazy

I don’t know what else to do but to keep writing and keep smokin’ these cigarettes and keep eatin’ these caffeine pills.

Greater awareness of my basic nature is what I crave.  I’ve taken various steps toward this end.  The general theme of my thoughts is that there is something growing inside of me that needs to be released.  Something inside that is screaming to be heard.  Between those screams, the thing is sitting patiently, waiting for the right person to be told to, and the right way to be expressed.  I wonder if the screaming will dull itself over time so that I will find myself capable of just living out the span of my life quietly, laboring humbly and finding love wherever I can.  Or perhaps the scream continues to grow until it can either be thrown forth out of my soul or until it consumes my spirit fully and prompts me to end my physical life before my body has reached its natural expiration date.

I am not afraid to die.  I am, perhaps, more afraid of living than dying, in some moments.  I should very much like to know what it is like to fully be separated from this body.  I believe that, given enough time, humanity could become technologically astute enough to allow transcendence from the physical form.  But the catch is that we would have to stop killing one another immediately in order for us to achieve this capacity.  I think that this is possible, but sometimes it seems very improbable.  I believe psychedelia can point a mind in the direction of transcendence, but I don’t believe that complete transcendence can be achieved fully through such brute-force mind hacking.  

I believe that self-denial in the physical realm is likely the best shot at transcendence during life, assuming the world will continue down its path toward destruction by violence.

It’s difficult to deny oneself when others expect or demand so much.  The state demands payment.  The creditors who coerced me in younger and dumber times demand payment.  People who say that they love me and only want what is best for me demand much of me as well.  I am made to fit into so many molds, none of which bring me satisfaction.  I feel as though I am, in some ways, expanding too rapidly to ever fit into any mold ever again.

I feel like a hostage when I am between walls.  I feel like a hostage a lot of the time.  I’m not unwilling to move forward.  I am even capable of seeing most of this as physical sacrifice that I ought to make quietly in order to subdue my ego.  But, sometimes, to suffer the inane chatter or the jealous, lusting and angry spirit of some folks is a burden that seems unbearable.  I miss solitude often.  I need to find communion with other people who are attempting to de-rail themselves from the destructive tracks of Western society and consumerism and tradition.  

I feel compelled to a monastic life.  I think I would enjoy being a monk.  Being quiet most of the time.  Reading.  Writing.  Working with my hands and meditating with people who are doing the same.  I would find the occasion to get better at fasting and at quieting my mind.  I would have a tiny room with some books and some paper and some pens and a picture of my family on the wall next to my little bed.  It wouldn’t matter what faith the monastery was associated with.  I would be happy exploring the monastic tradition of any faith.  

I sometimes believe that I’d enjoy a long sentence in a county jail, as well.  Time to sit and read and think.  To learn how to meditate.  I very much enjoy the company of criminals, as well.

I don’t know where I’m going.  I can’t tell if I am speeding up or slowing down.  I have tried, here and there, to mentally reverse my course, but have found it impossible.  I think it’s impossible both because, despite all this, I feel happier and more loving now than I have ever felt in my entire life, and because I think that once some things are known, they cannot be un-known.  

This, my friends, is a wild ride, if nothing else.  I guess I should just sit back and revel in the fact that I have no idea what could be coming around the next corner.  I know now that all of my knowledge is completely subject to revision at all times.  Nothing I know or think can be considered objectively real.  This makes each day novel.  I should be excited about that.

I am excited about that.

Love to all. 

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