June 2011
“It soared, a bird, it held its flight, a swift pure cry, soar silver orb it leaped serene, speeding, sustained, to come, don’t spin it out too long long breath he breath long life, soaring high, high resplendent, aflame, crowned, high in the effulgence symbolistic, high, of the ethereal bosom, high, of the high vast irradiation everywhere all soaring all around about the all, the endlessnessnessness…”
—James Joyce
“Drinking hot sake
Toasting fish on coals
The Motorcycle out parked in the rain” —Gary Snyder
Toasting fish on coals
The Motorcycle out parked in the rain” —Gary Snyder
Reverent tall trees
Cast long shadows upon me
Only to suffer.
“How do you short-circuit control?”
—William Seward Burroughs
You can find me, most days, leaning over the sandstone rim of the well, staring blankly into that pervasive, unending pool of self-doubt and mortification. Nothing but a thick, black, tar-like substance down there. I’m careful not to let anything fall in. If I’m very quiet, I can hear whispers fornicating atop the bubbling liquid surface. It’s my own voice, only cold, emptied. I can discern the harsh, serpent-tongued cynicisms trapped inside a rising bubble. That black orb rises to linger beside my right ear, and with a pronounced “pop” forked-tongued fear tickles my ear. Tears trail well-worn paths along the contours of my face as I lean on my forearms, hands clasped together and listen.
I’m looking to leave this place. I think my release lies in Frederic Chopin’s nocturne no. 2 in F# major and a rococo Buddha statuette. Somebody once told me the fear of not living should supersede the fear of death. Often, I can feel myself weighed down by that tar in that pool at the bottom of the well. I know all too well my inhibitions, my fears, my doubts. I used to wish for a conclusive, ultimate liberation from the demons of ego. I’ve since accepted the integral role darkness plays in the innate duality of the human character. I’ve come to terms with all that I’m comprised of. I know that sandstone well that haunts me will always be there. The realization that my life will always be one continuous, constant struggle toward the usurping of darkness with light is at once both daunting and exhausting. All I can do is the best I can. I’ll lean toward the light and walk boldly toward love & reverence. My strongest attribute has always been an unrelenting resilience from cynicism. I have, and will remain, young, idealistic, naïve, and a hopeless romantic. Though I will forever frequent that well in my subconscious, that place will carry no further weight in me when lights decimate shadows. Personal revelations are of the up-most importance to me; for how am I to lead a life of pure compassion, selflessness and love if inner turmoil plagues me? I can’t allow such viral corrosiveness. I yearn only for the cathartic, simple happiness that restriction of want and frugality can bring. I want only the opportunity to inject happiness, love and serenity in a world largely governed by fear, injustice and cynicism. I want adventure! I want never-ending travels. I want good books, a loyal dog and a pretty girl to love. I want to smile at the end of it all, knowing I followed that true-lined love stained path.
