One day I fell. Hard. I couldn’t get back up because as I laid there in complete and total confusion and despair, I had no way of knowing which way was up. The world hadn’t spun, it simply twisted behind its facade. On the surface all was as it always had been: people went to work and the store, they played outside with their pets and children, they ate laughed, drank, cried, and loved. But as I finally stood, slowly so as to hide my wobbling knees, looking around attenuating myself to this new existence, it became clear that the shock waves had damaged the foundation of things. All around was the sound of familiar voices hitting notes I had never heard before, people moving in much more ways to ponder, and most of all eyes lingering on me more puzzled than ever.
It isn’t what people say at the beginning of a conversation that is on their minds. Wait for it. The bread and butter will reveal itself. I know this because I know my own mind. It never stops living. My life is a mere continuation of my dreams, but in my waking life I are often interrupted by simple things such as people talking to me, cars needing to be driven, work needing to be done, and bodies needing to be taken care of. In my sleep there is no stopping the thoughts, they manifest to their fullest without remorse or guilt for any harm or discomfort they cause me. But I don’t mind, I like to roam free. In watching my thoughts, I am able to see through the layers by not getting stuck on one topic, so for a second, I get a glimpse of what is bothering me way underneath it all. Under those layers are the things I wouldn’t say until I was deep into the conversation. Under the layers are the situations that I wish never happened, the things I wish I could take back, and the things I wish would leave me alone. I see those issues there, but seeing is all I can do. If I pull out a topic from the roots and thus finally rid myself of its nagging existence, another topic will fill into that spot. The process is endless because the spots are always there, grasping issues to apply its emotions to. Seeing through the layers, clearing them off, and restructuring was just the beginning. It is overwhelming to climb what you thought was the tallest peak only to finally see how many more mountains are ahead of you. It is the space they layers fill that needs adjustment. How to adjust them, I don’t yet know. From here I cannot see how deep they go because the surface life covers them for most of my day. When the surface life is very smooth and thick, it crates a nice trail to follow that makes me not think about the foundation built below. Maybe this is because the deep layers really do not matter so long as life is in order. So I guess this one comes down to this: When life is good, don’t spoil the fun.
This world is highly evolved, I’m still amazed by the existence of the clock. I think it is funny that one day someone looked up and realized that time exists and we can track it. I think it is even more funny that people write about different worlds because seriously this place exists and has a history (proof of which is given in the existence of a clock) so other places must exist too, right? What I don’t understand is why this idea of other worlds became embedded into everyday life; here is my guess for how it got started:
I think that once everyone realized the odd existence of this world and postulated other worlds, the idea sparked the dawn of a new industry. Everywhere people started preaching of what they thought other worlds would look like. Since technology didn’t exist back then, there was no way to answer the question of “But how do we get to these other worlds?” So the smartest preachers said “You get to them when you die!” “When we die?” shrieked everyone in the crowds.
The farmer preacher said “yes! but only if you plough my field really well for your whole life, will you be able to get there.”
And the Doctor preacher said, “Only if you maintain your health and the health of your family will you get to see the best of the other worlds.”
And the evil preacher said, “only if you give into temptation, will I let you have power in the other worlds.”
And the scientist preacher said, “If we can build a space ship together, we can fly past the stars and take a super nova wormhole to travel to other worlds.”
By this point the idea of other worlds had become so prevalent in the society of humans on earth that no one dared question it. Over time certain preachers gained larger followings than others and we able to wield power over larger and larger groups of people.
It just makes sense to me to stay living for the real world… the one we know exists, then figure out the other worlds when we get there. But maybe that’s just how I travel.
There are a few people who I wish I never met. The few fantastic or enjoyable moments spent with them were in no way worth the years of being reminded of them. I think it was just that I was left in limbo, a place of constantly being unsure of what was going on in my life. The existence of this unknown area, where I was powerless to express myself without being ignored or pushed aside, cause me all sorts of confusion. The world usually worked a certain way, but with this person all the usual ways were not the right way, all the simple gestures were not noticed, all the words I spoke were not as clear as they needed to be, and so on. It was almost as if I were silently being told “if you want me in your life then you’re going to have to suffer for it first: you’re going to have to wait, you’re going to have to be broken down, you’re going to have to be granted permission.” I just didn’t want it to be that way, I wanted it work. I’ve come to terms with the fact that life doesn’t work with everyone, what I haven’t come to terms with is how long it can take me to realize that sometimes. I’m tired of feeling embarrassed for it.
This is long over due, to the point where this should have been my first note. But I had the urge to pull Proust from my book shelf and read his opening paragragh/sentence to “Days of Reading” and I still so full heartily agree. I cannot say it better. There is just some nostalgic essence in remembering the many books I kept my nose in. I understand why they want children to read, more so than ever, because I can draw on experiences that I never actually experienced to aid my waking life.
I feel a sadness for it actually. I cannot get back to that place in my mind, I cannot revisit those stories as I first experienced them because I am no longer at that stage. I no longer escape life into fantasy because I’ve managed to merge my fantasy with real life and I am content. Therefore I seek no solace, no need to reach into another world of make-believe. Now I am merely interested in cool concepts and stories that guide me into deeper understanding and meaning into my actual daily existence. I am at one side excited about all I learn about in the real world beyond my home town, but at the same time depressed over my inability to connect with characters and events of stories long past. An entire world of existance taken away from me by time and experience. I’m forced to grasp to what I can, desperately for some peace of mind to avoid becoming like those jaded folks who tell me that fantasy world never existed in the first place. Oh believe me, it is real, I have my personality to prove it.
Once in a while I find it difficult to explore new ideas because I am not always aware of exactly where I got the idea to explore something new in the first place. Somethings just jump out at me and say “Hey! I fit into your paradigm perfectly! Study me.” Others just manifest slowly to the point that I am not aware of how surrounded by their essence I actually am until I become aware of it enough to seek out additional details.
It is in that seeking that I find it difficult to continue at times. Because once something of interest is on my radar I see it so often and suddenly realize that the idea was in no way unique… it has been starring me in the face for quite sometime… i just for some reason had internalized it to the point of being able to recreate it, all without knowing what I had done until I have finished one piece and go in search of further inspiration, only to find perfect substitutes already in existence.
I love the feeling I get when I step off the life-bus that transported me from one experience into this new experience. Where my mind still hasn’t quiet realized that the previous experience is over and that I’m about to enter yet anther unknown experience. I’m still reacting with the same sense of urgency even though, I can relax now because it is over and I never have to live it again unless I want to.
That feeling is not only great when I’m living it, but it feels just as good to realize that a feeling like that will come again once I’ve finished out this current chapter of experience. There I will be, suitcase in hand, fully in awe of what I have just been through… and in awe of the fact that it is finally over.
“If the reader reflects a little upon the meaning of the entity he calls his life, he will find that it is the attempt to carry out a definite program or project of existence. … We are dealing – and let the disquieting strangeness of the case be well noted – with an entity whose being consists not in what it is already, but in what it is not yet, a being that consists in not-yet-being. Everything else in the world is what it is. An entity whose mode of being consists in what it is already, whose potentiality coincides at once with his reality, we call a ‘thing.’ Things are given their being ready-made.” – Ortega
I’m not sure if any one ever told me this before, perhaps I wasn’t listening if they did, but I’ve figured out that it is best not to make dreams that revolve around specific people or events that are outside of my personal control. I say this because I am tired of watching things die. Friendships, dogs, grandparents, memory foam pillows, etc. If things lasted forever then yes, putting them in my dreams would be justified, but I’ve learned over the past two years that it is not safe to do that.
Yes, being completely abandoned, let down, relieved, disappointed, elated, etc are all signs that I am indeed living an eventful life, full of adventurous obstacles to overcome and push my limits through, but a by-product of that is having to constantly push myself further to trust and learn when to rely on new people as well as believe what they are telling me is true. Anyways, I now focus my future plans (as best I can) on elements that are more within my control, and it is great because when influences of others come into play it is a pleasant surprise as opposed to a “oh, I was hoping you would have been like this instead.”