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vaxjediAnd now the pendulum swings the other way, away from darkness and depression.
But, I have known hapiness. I always said that I believed in magic. Because otherwise there is no point to life. I still, deep down, can't accept there is no point to life. I've gotten so close to suicide. But I haven't been able to. Because deep down, I think there is a point. Somewhere.
I was talking to the Song of the Rose a few nights ago. (I'd use her realy name, but I wasn't so much talking to the temporal person - I was talking to the Song of the Rose). She was upset that her ex-bf was mad at her because he was listening to rumors that other people were spreading, and there were people at work getting promotions who'd been there for less time than she and her life was generally sucking.
And I told her that none of that mattered.
They were just transitory events. Some gossip didn't matter. Her ex-bf didn't matter. Her coworkers didn't matter. Because she is the building cresendo of a song, the rays of light in a sunset, the laughter in a child's voice and the caress in a lover's kiss. She is special. She is beautiful. She is powerful. She is wise. That's all that matters.
I told her this, and I felt powerful. I felt right.
I cannot accept this about myself, however. I do not know why.
I look around me, and I see things that don't matter. The piles of stuff in the living room, they don't matter. The dirty dishes in the sink, they don't matter. The crayon marks on the wall, the toys in the yard, the stains on the floor. I know they don't matter. But I have to step over those things every day.
There are more important things. People have endured much worse. But the details of mundanity gnaw at me, invest my mind like a plague of locusts, devouring my energy, my purpose, my will to go on.
But ultimately, they don't matter. When I am dead and gone, no one will care that I can't keep my house clean.
So what does matter? Love matters. Joy matters. Ecstasy matters. Energy matters. Beauty matters.
The problem is that our world is cluttered. Full of false advertising, false promises. And we buy into them. A clean house matters. A healthy smile matters. A good car matters. A good credit rating matters.
These are all just constructs - castles in the air that we construct. We become neurotic because we buy into the concept that these things are what make up reality. If they were real, how come people survive without them? How did Shakespeare write his plays without a winning smile? How do so many people fall in love and get married without flat stomach and well-defined legs and thighs? How did people find joy without knowing whether Rachel will marry Joey? Or who killed Laura Palmer? Or who is the American Idol? Or who shot JR?
In the end, they don't matter.
We have to remind ourselves about that. I have to remind myself of that.
My crappy job? It's just that. Something to pay the bills so I can do things I do want to do. The bills? Obligations to fulfill. The act of fulfilling obligations is important. But the obligations themselves are not. Do we have enough money? No. So what if we have to declare bankruptcy at some point in the future? So what if we have just enough to scrape by for the rest of our lives? So what If we have a little extra and buy expensive dinners and trinkets? Is it really that big of a deal? No. I will survive. It does not take away my ability to experience joy. It will not take away my ability to love. It will not take away by ability to read. To learn new ideas.
There must be more to it than what I can see. Because what I can see depresses me. I'm looking at the surface, the 'sugar coated topping'.
I have to keep saying that to myself. Because it's so hard to remember with the rest of the so-called world wearing me down. There is a line and we have to walk down it. We can't go one way or another. One way is sinking into the hopelessness of the world. The other is to spin off into insanity.
Attachments to people are important. Attachments to things, to organizations, to concepts - those are not important.
Remember, I have to say to myself. I know this. I knew this. Remember.
But, I have known hapiness. I always said that I believed in magic. Because otherwise there is no point to life. I still, deep down, can't accept there is no point to life. I've gotten so close to suicide. But I haven't been able to. Because deep down, I think there is a point. Somewhere.
I was talking to the Song of the Rose a few nights ago. (I'd use her realy name, but I wasn't so much talking to the temporal person - I was talking to the Song of the Rose). She was upset that her ex-bf was mad at her because he was listening to rumors that other people were spreading, and there were people at work getting promotions who'd been there for less time than she and her life was generally sucking.
And I told her that none of that mattered.
They were just transitory events. Some gossip didn't matter. Her ex-bf didn't matter. Her coworkers didn't matter. Because she is the building cresendo of a song, the rays of light in a sunset, the laughter in a child's voice and the caress in a lover's kiss. She is special. She is beautiful. She is powerful. She is wise. That's all that matters.
I told her this, and I felt powerful. I felt right.
I cannot accept this about myself, however. I do not know why.
I look around me, and I see things that don't matter. The piles of stuff in the living room, they don't matter. The dirty dishes in the sink, they don't matter. The crayon marks on the wall, the toys in the yard, the stains on the floor. I know they don't matter. But I have to step over those things every day.
There are more important things. People have endured much worse. But the details of mundanity gnaw at me, invest my mind like a plague of locusts, devouring my energy, my purpose, my will to go on.
But ultimately, they don't matter. When I am dead and gone, no one will care that I can't keep my house clean.
So what does matter? Love matters. Joy matters. Ecstasy matters. Energy matters. Beauty matters.
The problem is that our world is cluttered. Full of false advertising, false promises. And we buy into them. A clean house matters. A healthy smile matters. A good car matters. A good credit rating matters.
These are all just constructs - castles in the air that we construct. We become neurotic because we buy into the concept that these things are what make up reality. If they were real, how come people survive without them? How did Shakespeare write his plays without a winning smile? How do so many people fall in love and get married without flat stomach and well-defined legs and thighs? How did people find joy without knowing whether Rachel will marry Joey? Or who killed Laura Palmer? Or who is the American Idol? Or who shot JR?
In the end, they don't matter.
We have to remind ourselves about that. I have to remind myself of that.
My crappy job? It's just that. Something to pay the bills so I can do things I do want to do. The bills? Obligations to fulfill. The act of fulfilling obligations is important. But the obligations themselves are not. Do we have enough money? No. So what if we have to declare bankruptcy at some point in the future? So what if we have just enough to scrape by for the rest of our lives? So what If we have a little extra and buy expensive dinners and trinkets? Is it really that big of a deal? No. I will survive. It does not take away my ability to experience joy. It will not take away my ability to love. It will not take away by ability to read. To learn new ideas.
There must be more to it than what I can see. Because what I can see depresses me. I'm looking at the surface, the 'sugar coated topping'.
I have to keep saying that to myself. Because it's so hard to remember with the rest of the so-called world wearing me down. There is a line and we have to walk down it. We can't go one way or another. One way is sinking into the hopelessness of the world. The other is to spin off into insanity.
Attachments to people are important. Attachments to things, to organizations, to concepts - those are not important.
Remember, I have to say to myself. I know this. I knew this. Remember.
