7.11.07

i used to view my days as installments in a long period of waiting. waiting for what? i was never sure. but i was sure that it would be something. perhaps i thought it would even be something remarkable.

what is not remarkable? i can't imagine my life going in any direction that is not interesting, or strange, or surprising, and i think the same might be said of anyone. even the prospect of utter failure is interesting. but i think that failure is harder to achieve than some manner of success, and the kind of success that i am aiming for, namely spiritual peace and a general sense of freedom and happiness, is something for which the search seems to be as gratifying as the attainment.

anyhow, the longer i waited, the less it felt like waiting, and eventually the waiting became somehow the opposite of that. instead of anticipating the future and doing so by way of the present moment, i found myself upheaving the past, by way of the present moment. soon i exhausted this activity, too, and i reached a place wherein i was neither channeling the past nor the present, but some handshake that existed between the two. the present, i suppose, but not just the present as it existed on a linear plane. rather, the present as it existed in more dimensions than i could count or fathom. deja vu became, by its very definition, a recurring theme in my life, and i began to dream dreams of epic proportions, about war and love and loss and journeys through the woods and along the banks of rivers. the people were always familiar, and the laughs were always identifiable.

anger became an easier alternative to sadness or loneliness, and then eventually productivity became an easier cure for anger and angst than anything else. and thus sadness was transormed into anger, which was transformed into anxiousness, which was transformed into a sense of urgency, which, on better days, was transformed into productivity. perhaps the order of these is off, but the gist is there.

if i view myself as being where i am for my own sake, and if i experience what comes as it comes, then what comes is sort of a bonus feature tacked on to the end of something that cannot end, and that is in and of itself already gratifying.

i've stopped waiting for things to become easier, because they're never easy, and god knows they never will be, and i've started understanding how to use that which is difficult and how to deal with it and how to turn it into something that is beautiful or laughter-inducing or enjoyable in some regard. and when there is nothing outside of my room to spark my interest, there is always the imagination, from which things can be drawn and manifested outside of their prior constraints, so that they may suddenly exist and take form in the tangible world outside my mind.

and amidst all of this there is love, a kind that i just keep discovering within me and keep finding all over my figurative hands as i realize how much certain people in my life mean to me. and i love them for their flaws and for how difficult they are and for the fact that they don't know what they are doing any more than i know what i am doing, so long as they are doing things or attempting to do things with their days and with their actions. those that enter my life may floor me or win me over or stun me or gradually, over time, make me fall in love with them. who knows. and those who leave my life are gone for a reason, even if it is a reason that i cannot have the ability to understand, and that is what it is and although i may miss them, i will have known them for a time, and that is something to be glad for.

i recorded a song this evening (late-night, to be more accurate), and then felt a sudden need to go outside and walk about. i left my house in heeled boots that elevated me and made me feel light and nimble. i walked several blocks, and it began to sprinkle rain, and as much as i liked the idea of forcing myself to walk miles in the rain just for the spiritual test or some-such that such an undertaking might turn out to be, i convinced myself that it could wait for another night, and i went back home. i enjoyed that rain-smell, though, maybe not for what it is but for the fact that it is so familiar.

how is it that people who are so new can seem so familiar? how is it that people who are not so new can seem foreign and then suddenly familiar? how is it that talking to an old friend can feel like meeting someone for the first time, and being excited about such a meeting? the world presents me with things that are bigger than my scope of understanding, and although this should terrify me, it somehow instead fills me with a sense of comfort. my only fear is that i will never find the words to express the things that i feel at the times that i should. and so this translates to the following: my only fear is that people will never understand how much i care, in whatever way i care. but perhaps these things are not meant to be articulated, since they cannot be pinned down, since they are constantly changing. and this is both a beautiful and a tragic thing.

it's still raining outside, and the rain has filled the air with a kind of energy much like that which occurs when the last of one's lungs are drained of their air due to some kind of excitement that does not allow the individual to take the time inhale before he exhales, in laughter or in gasp. the entire outdoors is on a last gasp that will be followed by the intake of air and the intake of something else. things feel as though they are changing, and the notion of change seems more promising than the notion of constancy. the outdoor air sits wet and heavy and positions itself outside my door with bated breath.

i learned today that the word "nothing" came from the two words "not hing". "hing" was another word for "atom"; a word used to describe small parts that made up the universe, particularly in the writings of early philosophers who were considered pluralists or atomists. "nothing" was considered that which existed where atoms did not; or where "hings" did not. something that was empty was "not a hing". it was nothing. i love words.