::Damnit, Not Damnit
I became extremely ill earlier this year (hence the hiatus) after a metaphorical hit-and-run and it gave me some real insight on how easy it is to leave tire tracks on others, driving off in the family wagon, and not looking back. Some weird heart thing manifested and because of this, I lay in a bed for a couple of weeks musing about what was going to happen if I did actually bite the big one. I imagined old lovers returning to resurrect limp limbs with a whisper. I dreamt of dead friends and relatives gathering to sing hymns to the gods of late awakenings...
It seems to me that religion gets knocked around like a crack whore and philosophy is like a teenager's gum stuck on a bed post, something chewed until it becomes a gray, rubbery mass with echoes of some kind of flavor. People who decide not to rely on a god can either deify themselves (the Übermensch, a misunderstood and misused excuse to justify one's own foul behavior and lack of conscience; a good way to deny the humanity of oneself or others), or choose to rely on what people call fate. I think fate is an accidental architect, a dodgy, unpredictable cohort that somehow gets to do god duty when the concept of a creator or master worker is on vacation or better yet, non-existent.Fate, is like death on that movie Big fish, like being a fairytale, little wing all under water. Philosophy on the other hand, relies on a mode of discourse that (to me) appears to be as much giggle not nearly so soft as it could be as post-modernism. A way for people to feel each other out, feel themselves in and think of gratefulness as the first thing in the morning.
My big realization was that I will never stop being amazed at how casually we regard the basic human rights of others, whether through our beliefs in higher causes, beings, events, or ourselves. Most spirituality is just our monkey way of making sense of this thing called fire and the only redemption on the menu comes from a sincere effort to make right the wrongs we've done, even if it seems impossible.This is what separates me from most other people and why I'd rather have the perspective that keeps my chin out there (ready for an inevitable sucker punch) than tucked gently into my delicate little wing. Someone may actually succeed in knocking me down briefly, but thus far, they've all turned out to be little more than interlopers, desperate for a piece of my action. As soon as I saw that clearly, I got back up and watched with a mixture of pity and mirth as they slunk back into their holes like the smack talking cowards they are and out of my sight.
Anyhow, when it comes to the future, as in fate, destiny, filosophy, Buddah, Dalai Lama, Walter or Nietzsche. I prefer to keep the billis of my nostalgia in it's place, the crave of my asthenia quiet when it occurs in capsized overdose and the loop of music in activity and harmony.
Damnit, I have survivos syndrome. I'm the one who broke the banc at Monte Carlo.
Folks, why sometimes we think we have to dwell in hell when those slippers could have chucked us right back to heaven all along?Now Playing:
Where is My mind-Live- (Pixies), Foolish Games (Jewel) Best Served with:
.:Lo wrote this at: 3:35 AM:.