Open your eyes. Powder blue meets the world. The first one streamlines the cheek, paving the way for an onslaught of hot, fresh tears. The eyes. Ancient and inexplicably profound. I almost believe in God. Welcome to the world, population: 6 billion and counting. Go make your mark. I demand it of you. Is money the measure of success? Can you weigh happiness? Welcome to the world child. Don’t bother me, I’m thinking. Always thinking. Enumerated thoughts to characterize the day, the year, my life. I want to consume life, devour it whole. Lick my fingers of it. Wallow in the mystique of being and nothingness, deprive myself of the in-betweens. Patience, patience. Welcome to the world, baby. Does one really giveth and taketh away? I doubt it. All life is suffering, but the cessation of suffering can be achieved. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m a good guy. Be wary of tricksters. They’ll take you down with the malice of a venus fly trap. Lies through the teeth. Be what you are. If you want God, have him. If you don’t, spell him nature. Welcome to the world. Dance a dance, sing a song. I’ll smile at you while you do it. Violence is for the weak. Real strength is achieved through compassion. Remember that child. Your skull is as fragile as an eggshell, but I want you to remember that. Welcome to the world, powder blue. Cry when you have to. I’ll hold you and we’ll float away on the river we’ve made. There is no judge and jury. They ran out of fingers to point a long time ago. Simplify, simply. I implore simplicity. Baby, I want you to listen. Everyone is speaking. I recommend you learn to distinguish the genuine from the artificial. I think a stream would be worth listening to. Those don’t charge a fee. Welcome to the world. Live, laugh and love. If you want the Four Noble Truths I can provide them to you, but you’re a little young for that aren’t you? A life affirming smile works just as well and those don’t require membership. If you’re confronted with deceit, laugh a mad laugh. It won’t return. Death is a part of life. Don’t be selfish baby. We can cry together at the end if you’d like. I’d rather smile because it happened. Be smart and self-reliant, child. Welcome to the world. Are people inherently evil or is there such a thing as altruism? I lean towards the latter. Love and hate are all around you. I’ll leave you to sift through it all. Welcome to the world, child. I love you. Good luck.
“His experience and the showers and thrills are not for nothing. Nothing can jar him. Suffering and darkness cannot. Death and fear cannot. To him complaint and jealousy and envy are corpses buried and rotten in the Earth.”—
His thoughts were perpetually tied to an irrational need to qualify people. He looked around for eyes that talked and for eyes that listened. He measured shrewdness and optimism. Car-driving windows down, he’d think: there are either sensitive animals or insensitive animals. Which one am I? Social interaction is a sport, sure enough. His invocations of humor were structured for self-amusement. The eternal ego-ist, but aren’t we all? He enjoyed duality. He wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. Is there a better externalization of a sentient being? He relished humor and candor. He reached, sometimes futily, for depth of character. For war and peace. Love and hate. For self, whoever that may be. He thought: animal connection surely need not just be primal. We all have hearts and minds. His facade, like most, was partially fabricated. Cerebral and rational mostly, but he could fall in love with a girl he passed on a sidewalk and still feel a sinking feeling that every step she took in the opposite direction took her closer and closer to that misty shroud in his mind which housed such sentiments of loss and longing. And he embraced it, because humans are complex dammit. Such sensitive animals, so prone to pain. He wanted to see pain in people, but pain conquered. Pain dealt with and replaced with candor and love. Self-pitying was ugly he thought, but cry for yourself a little bit because you are alive and you will have to give this all up someday. He agreed it was a fine line. When he was thirteen, he relegated the meaning of life into two categories. One: we are here to propagate energy. Two: we are here to find comfort and happiness in our brief spark of cognizance. Even if that be faith in fairy tales, which he wished weren’t true. He wanted to be high and happy and travel and write. He wanted to give a piece of himself to everybody and everything, because why else are we here? He knew to save a sliver for himself though. Ego is important. He lamented those acts of selfishness that caused pain however. He wanted to rewind time if only to undo those brief glimpses of disappointment flashed across faces of friends and family, but he could only ever realize this in retrospect. He was stubborn and flawed. No animal is infallible. Often, he would have visions of funeral processions, mourners in black. A light rain. A grey sky. He never knew the deceased, but he would cry all the same. Shaken and stirred by this natural occurrence. To live is to die. This is the only inalterable fact, and yet we deny it. He knew he and death would have an interesting rendezvous at the end. Sometimes he wanted to kiss a girl passionately simply because they would only be able to do it a certain number of times before the big sleep. He wished to confess affection early and often because of this fact, but he whimpered and cowered and was afraid and wasn’t ever as brave as he wanted to be. He loved everyone dear to him and he was sorry if he couldn’t express that often enough. He wasn’t a musician, but he breathed music. He hated only hatred. And ignorance. He didn’t mind being alone. Starry skied walks with cool breezes and hoodie jackets. He thought it was a shame for people to sit in a cubicle and rot, so he decided he didn’t want to do that. He had unfocused ambition. Broad and young. He knew he would help people someway, somehow. He wanted to save the good people. The courageous and impoverished, because injustice exists and hovers and bloats. He was eternally grateful for existence. He thought it a supreme privilege to write this down.
“I do not fear death, in view of the fact that I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”—Mark Twain (via fuckyeahexistentialism)
Salvation is more clever than to found in a book. The pool of your eyes will tell you more. Beyond the beyond. Our little rock in the big black void of ephermal emptiness. Circling around a heating star. This star is one of 200 billion in this, the Milky Way. The Milky Way is one of 200 billion galaxies in this isotropic, ever-expanding dark-matter filled, platform for all knowing and loving: the universe. To be called ants would be insult to insects. Life is but a dream, cyclical and immortal. Wake up! Catharsis is Buddha-dom. Buddha is a millenia’s worth of ebb and flow. Buddha is sun spots through closed eye lids. Buddha is jazz and Dylan. Buddha is love. No god, no book. Threats of eternal damnation aspire to be chinks in your armor. Salvation lies not in repentance or funny hats, sermons or gospel. When this dream ends, smile and say thank you. You are free. God is dead, because she never existed. God is dark-matter, eternal and quiet. To mame in the name of nothing! Believe in me, for I am truth. Don’t and you will burn. Fear disguised as love? Burn through these false conceptions. Morality need not be dictated! It is innate, primal. Altruism yields virtue. Virtue cries for love. Large-brained mammal, love. Large-brained mammal! Look what you have done. You have feared and conquered, hated and loved. This is the eternal struggle. One cannot exist without the other. Compassion. Strike cynicism from your heart. Your mind essence cleared. The milk of your mind’s waves lap the boat. Beat on against that ceaseless current. You have demons, better believe it. Salvation is yours for the taking. Catharsis is pure, free hind-sight. Knowing you have loved. When those pretty little eyelids of yours close forever, will you smile? This is in your power. Think of it. Insignificant organism, you are limitlessly powerful. How beautiful it is to be alive. A few decades, blink of an eye, and poof! Star-dust. Energy recycled. But that blink! The opportunity to comprehend the universe. Youth, vitality. Freedom, clutching your own beating, bleeding heart. How tragic and wonderful. Billie Holiday: the coalesced sadness of the universe from a voice box. Miles Davis: Kind of Blue. Nirvana. Clutch your small sister’s hand in yours and never let go. That is the meaning of life. Weep fat tears and throw them to the soil. Grow in love, grow in art. Question everything! Fear nothing! Roaring laughter if God threatens you again. Silly myths and demons. Meditate on impermanence. Use the sponge upstairs. Avoid apathy. Feel everything. Sadness and tears are part of the game. Embrace it. Cast out the darkness. Evil does exist. I have seen it. I have fought it. I have championed this life, because I love. Salvation is more clever than to be found in a book. A smile will tell you more.
“Be careful, he said to himself, it is all very well for you to write simply and the simpler the better. But do not start to think so damned simply. Know how complicated it is and then state it simply.”—The Garden of Eden (via fuckyeahhemingway)