Archive for October, 2011

Young Journeys

October 24, 2011

I remember the exact moment I found the emptiness of all form and being. I was twelve and I had just looked up at my father and my dog, Radar. We were in the basement of my parent’s home. I saw them with exact clarity, without meaning or emotion. They were empty forms.

That moment was the product of a journey that I began a year before. I had realized that I experienced joy at things that I thought and felt were wrong. I chose to change myself. I would only express joy at that which I thought was actually good. These actions brought my attention to the nature of goodness and rightness. I had always felt them and tried to follow that feeling and knowing, but in the process of trying to pin them down they began to run through my fingers like sand. I was eventually brought to ultimate cases. I saw before me the perfect world that I might create by the destruction of the imperfect and flawed Christopher and his replacement by a perfect automaton who’s every action and thought might bring it into being. I was repulsed, both by that painless and perfect world and by the spiritless function I would become in trying to create it. Until that time in my life I had been symbolized by a blue sword with a fire and and edge that would only harm evil. When I could no longer find what goodness was I broke that sword. I found a new way. If I could not find goodness then I would find truth. I had seen the illusory nature of my emotions and self projections. I sought to end their influence over my being and my perceptions. That Journey brought me to that moment in my parent’s basement that is etched into my memory.

In the moment I looked at my father and my dog and felt nothing I realized that something had changed. I turned within myself and looked out into an endless void that contained all form devoid of meaning. I perceived its infinite nature and that it itself was devoid of truth. I turned from the void and looked back to where I had come. I saw the spectrum of all meaningful being in color, light, emotion, joy and pain. I realized that everything that I could ever care for lay behind me and that truth and beauty were held inside the fleeting fabric of meaning. My journey would be into the fold and weave of their infinite dimension and development, their subtlety and their refinement. Within this realization was another simpler lesson, that brute force, applied to consciousness or anything else, would only ever yield an extreme.

“And he rose from the endless sea to unleash the world upon itself.”

Image and Quote from Tyrus Peace’s phenomenal Not-Included.

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All I Have to Say About Occupy Wall St.

October 22, 2011

I don’t have anything I can add. I’m not on the ground and I’m not in this one up to my gills, but I hope he’s right.

Why I Think Iboga is Important

October 21, 2011

Those Who Have Been Hurt Will Hurt in Turn

October 13, 2011

Their choice is in the slow burn of continued suffering, or the sharp agony of swift release.

Will the pain they deliver be sent inward or outward? Their nature determines.

To free yourself will you see your pain written on another’s face or take an inner journey where only the Id can hear your cries?

Pain is as eternal as the soul, but changes just the same. Will you hide your’s in another’s flesh or weave it into gold in your hands.

A Moment With Black Ice

October 5, 2011

Fettered Armor Free, Dance With Me

October 3, 2011

Imagine that you were born into a world where as every person gets older they have to wear another piece of skin tight armor. By the time you are an adult you are completely covered over. You have an electronic helmet that lets you see out, but it only sees in shades of grey. The people here have lots of words for shades of grey, but only a couple for not-grey.

The longer a person wears this skin tight armor the more grime builds up underneath. They get blisters and sores and rashes and eventually some of them will die from that, but the armor keeps anything from getting in so they feel all of it more like a dull ache. They don’t even know how to talk about it because isn’t that just how everyone feels?

Imagine that you are the child born into that world. Somewhere deep inside you lives the knowledge that a human being isn’t supposed to wear skin tight armor every day of his life. Everyday of my life. So you fight it. You keep taking off the pieces of armor they put on you, but it wears you down. They don’t care if their world and their armor is covered in shit and spikes because they can’t feel it. If you don’t wear the armor they think something is wrong with you. So eventually, piece by piece, you accept it. You wear the armor, even as you tell yourself you are going to change it. the helmet clicks into place and you suck down that stale air.

Years later, you try to remember. Wasn’t I doing something? I remember. I feel something, but oh well. I’ll think of it later. Oh god. What’s that pain. There is a crack in the armor and something is oozing out. You claw at it and pull and now it’s really serious. You could get infected. You could die. You claw at that armor and pull it off, piece by piece. By god it stinks. You smell like something died a long time ago. You wash at it but it’s always like there is more grime and mucus underneath.

eventually, eventually, you can take long enough to look around and you start to cry because you had forgotten. You cry because everything is so deep and rich you could fall into it forever. There is shit and spines and you can see them now, but there are colours that you had forgotten. Things that the helmet never even let you see. you have to go back to washing your skin now.

Your skin is growing back now. There are still sores, but they only bleed a little now. You touch a leaf and a handful of sand. They feel like god and eternity.

You look around at everyone in there armor and you realize there is no way you could ever ask another person to go through what you are still going through, but you don’t want anything more than to feel them and see them free.

You do all you can. You take off a glove, or a boot. You wash it out and clean their hand. You ask them to take off the glove a little everyday. You cry a little because you are afraid it will never be enough, for them or for you.