I thought I had something to say, then I realized… I don’t. Wait, I do. It’s just that it comes and goes so easily, I’m constantly juggling with items both there and not there. “Your way is therefore to manage this minute in harmony with nature, and part with it cheerfully; and like a ripe olive when you drop, be sure to speak well of the mother that bare you, and make your acknowledgments to the tree that produced you,” – Marcus Aurelius. I considered elaborating, but then I lost it.
I don’t know anything, or at least I don’t know much. I’m not trained in critical thinking or have I ever been taught. Much of what I spout has been borrowed, be it out of context or misunderstood. I take what I experience and try my hand at expressing what I’ve understood. As stated before, I’m unqualified for any sort of critical thought and hold no qualification. I guess this is an attempt to see who is willing to correct me, at least to their thought.
Let’s assume each individual’s consciousness is connected to a greater, whole consciousness. What if we’re just differentiating perspectives extended from this one living mass? We are not individual at all, instead, we are a single organism, I am you and your are me, to quote the Beatles, giving the illusion of being separate.
I’ve noticed my physical make up may differ slightly to those around me, but upon examining their experience, we share similarities. For example, a hateful racist, although I may disagree with them, has a similarly forceful anger that I harbour as well. Much like the ultra optimist. I might not be outwardly optimistic, but it does not mean I do not bear hope.
This by no means holds any validity or even merit, hence why it’s an opinion. But I think that this human organism is reality and we are just an extension of this whole. No matter how we try to distinguish ourselves from each other, we are all still very closely connected. Would it be wrong to assume that consciousness is reality?
“Whenever I hear of the state that some other man is in, I waste no time over that but immediately turn my eyes on to myself to see how I am doing. Everything which touches him touches me too. What has happened to him is a warning and an alert coming from the same quarter. Every day, every hour, we say things about others which ought more properly to be addressed to ourselves if only we had learned to turn our thoughts inward as well as widely outward.” – Michel De Montaigne
This was pulled from an essay of his called On the affection of fathers for their children. Now, I’m sure someone could correct me in my use and understanding of this quote, but I chose this specifically for the following string of words, “…we say things about others which ought more properly to be addressed to ourselves…” It’s something I can relate to and I’m sure many others as well.
I catch myself in this trap from time to time, unknowingly critiquing/criticizing another, when it is myself I should mind. For example, you’ve probably heard people express, yourself included, their frustration with the comment, people are stupid. Sometimes it happens, but I’m a person who is part of the people. Therefore, this must mean I’m stupid.
Criticisms given can be equally returned. Similar to the Beatles lyric, “and in the end, the love you take
Is equal to the love you make.”
On a lighter note, one less taxing on my little mind, I cut my fingernails today. I succumbed to what I was postponing. I had a soccer practice this morning so I figured short nails mean no accidents. And by accident, I mean injury, which of course I mean, I won’t break a nail… Yes, I know what that sounds like, but I could have broken a nail gouging one’s eye out.
Anyways, since I’ve paid close attention to my hands, I’ve left my feet untouched. Thus, continuing the growth of these funky toenails. I would like to say that other people are dirty, but who am I to talk.
I skipped cutting my toenails a couple days ago and it looks as though I’ve decided to do just the same with my finger nails. Sure, they lower my physical appeal, but damn, they work wonders when excavating golden nuggets that cling to my nose canal like a bat on a stalactite. I know it’s gross. You expect children, not adults, to clean their nose in such an uncivilized way. Although, nose picking adult do exist. A great example of the adult nose picker can be found when watching people in their cars. It’s as if they have forgotten their car has windows. Furiously digging, I do not wish to stare, in case I’m caught. Instead, what I would like to do is cheer them on, go for gold. Or, another instance of nose robbery, there’s the moments in which you look away for a second, only to turn around and see the other person quickly removing their hand from their face. Oh sure, it could be that they had an itch to scratch or a pimple to touch. But we all know what they were doing, at least it can be assumed by that red embarrassment of the face. It seems that guilt has exposed them, but we should not judge them. We should relate to them because sometimes things need to be picked at in order to be resolved. Besides, those dry crusty boogers are just out right irritating when inhaling through one’s nose. Besides, it’s hard to say who is civilized and who’s not when we all, from one time or another, react in a primeval way according to certain situations. Now excuse me, I must itch my face.
I say this in relation to my own creative endeavors, for I think their sum equates to nothing more than a mere stroke of the ego. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy completing a project, yet dissatisfaction slowly creeps in following its consummation. Nothing ever feels as fresh and strong once it leaves my mindscape. Maybe this can all be attributed to my lack of talent. Granted, that is partial reason for concern, but I think it has more to do with trying to encapsulate the essence and force of spontaneity. Upon the initial realization in the mind, it loses its intensity by way of constraints, which, ultimately, renders what was originally thought of as fake and contrived. And to be honest, this could very well be one of those instances. That being said, these efforts are not in vain, for they still serve a purpose. It just so happens I’m unable to categorize them. I’ve seemed to have fallen short of a climax, lest even a build up to such an event. At least I know where I started, it’s just finding the right place to end.
I thought of cutting my toenails, but instead I chose to drink. Why? The reasons not to outweigh the reasons for cutting my toenails. If I received the same pleasures from cutting my toenails as I did with the drink, I’d cut, less trim, my toenails everyday.
Considering both options, I’m not seen by people, noticed even, therefore I can chose one over the other with a sound mind. Secondly, as stated before, the drink gives me satisfaction not found in cutting toenails. And thirdly, and probably most sadly, I like to drink. Upon drinking I’m not imbued with special powers or feelings, I just enjoy the staggering mindset. My consciousness already falters under the indirect pressure of the world. I think and feel this allows me to accept more readily my mind’s unsteadiness. I hope one day to accept my teetering mind as absolute and irreparable.
I enjoy these moments, for they give me the ability to traverse my thoughts uninhibited. I’m sure other people supplant this self-consciousness with doctor prescribed medication, but I chose to use a readily available and majority consumed elixir. Of course some might need the doctor to aid in their preservation, but I don’t think that I’m wavering that much. Plus, I think that it would not be as natural to take a pill that alters who I am, unless of course I am in a position to harm myself. But since I am within my faculties, I don’t think the harm that I cause myself is enough to require a doctor’s intervention. Surely someone can say that to drink is a problem, and yes it can be, but all things without moderation leads to, in my opinion, to negative behaviour.
Anyways, I have no authority into what people chose to do with their time, especially when I take the drink that servers in numbing the masses. So if you find yourself choosing between what one must or what one wants, consider the repercussions. I’d not be drinking had I needed to display my toes.Okay, if you’ve made it this far I must commend you. I’d have assumed you’ve got to grab a drink by now, and if you don’t drink, whatever you find titillating or at least accommodating. If anything can be extracted from this bit of wording is this, vice within moderation should not be seen as a bad thing. I’m sure I’m imparted many a bad things within what has been typed but I guess that depends on who reads this.
I must admit that my knowledge is limited. Besides that, my understanding also stoops to such lows. I’m born a “blank slate” and from there my parents inscribe upon me their knowledge, which they got from “blank slates” past. It’s hard for me to discern truth, due to my lack of understanding. It’s not how sharp it is, it’s the depth with which it reaches, and to that, everyone, potentially, wields a valid point. If science draws a blank upon defining the reality of existence/mind, then how can I trust anyone, myself included?
I’ve been told that I “read” to much into what’s being expressed, therefore, my thoughts are misconstrued. Now if everyone is a little bit off in their judgement of what is “true,” how can I be deemed wrong? I’m sure some one can validate or surmise their truth, but if we all have been taught by an empty teacher, who really can speak of truth? I’m readily available to take another words as truth, but that’s only because I mistrust my judgement. Which, by the way, comes from another who is just as disinformed as I.
It’s taken some time to realize but my hands give me more pleasure than computers. Dirty as if may be misconstrued, I mean in the ways of creation. There is something to be said with making something with ones own hands. Be the creation an illustration or something written, I’ve found more satisfaction in using pencil to paper than the computer. I feel more connection being physically involved with my creation as opposed to using the intermediary computer. Sure, I can make the same stuff, but the satisfaction has evaporated, leaving me dissatisfied. I could post much of my thoughts and ideas if I didn’t write them down first. Much of what I think, I’ll write down. After that I leave it, never again to transfer it into the virtual world. Sadly, much of my written work, nothing comparable to those whose time is consumed but such habits, is translated into the virtual world. When feeling climaxes, I reach for pencil and paper. The connection to what’s being expressed never feels as authentic in the virtual space as it does when firstly transcribed in the physical. Now is the exception because the thought(s) being typed/expressed are being experienced while upon the computer. Had I not been present with my trusty box I’d have either written it down, or just thought it. Giving physicality to my thoughts brings me closure and allows for future rumination. Thinking the same thoughts, this is my opportunity for refinement, although there is no one to retort such trivialities, it gives me a sense of inclusion. This is an infinite space compared to a notebook that is public to many eyes. There is a sad hope that these “other” eyes will assist in the betterment of my thought, outward actions as well as my general contentment. “You and one companion are audience enough for each other; so are you for yourself. For you, let the crowd be one, and one be a crowd. It is a vile ambition in one’s retreat to want to extract glory from one’s idleness.” – Michel De Montaigne. This quote further enforces my thoughts, but it’s hard for me to believe. Much of my thoughts are thought but not some much as believed. I guess you could say I don’t trust my gut. It’s hard to entrust reason to ones stomach. I hunger constantly and my thoughts are more easily satisfied than my gut. How can I trust something that constantly craves filling? There is reason for filling, but is it ever enough to last? Hunger can be satiated but it’d never completely full. That’s probably why I create, or at least reinvigorate. I use reinvigorate because much of what I think has be already thought and continues being discussed. Now to end this… Keep your ideas because they are as right and wrong as what I think. We make up right and wrong, so whatever I’ve said will entertain your conceptions of right and wrong. In the end, discussion hopefully will promote inclusion.
I fear social media, but I’m trying to overcome this irrational fear by stretching myself thin. I have minimal work posted upon my Tumblr site. it’s a host of school photography projects, along with some personal works. These personal works, however, were completed in a time frame of one to two days. if they seem unpolished, that’s because they are. Concept over aesthetics is my motto. Judging from other purveyors of the social media sphere, it seemed necessary to mention other places of which I portray myself. I told myself I’d never whore myself out, but it looks like I can do it virtually without remorse. I plan to continue creating but that doesn’t necessarily translate to my virtual realms.
Who am I making this for? Myself, yet “others” are discreetly pervasive within my hopes. I’ll continue with my thoughts aloud when I please. I’ll leave now with a quote of which I find great pleasure, ” … there is nothing in the whole world madder than bringing matters down to the measure of our own capacities and possibilities” – Michel de Montaigne.
I’m just seeing how cold the water is. I guess i’ve not properly warmed the water for people to submerse themselves completely, but to be honest, I don’t have the right type of heating for such a task. I think I’ll just run the heater once and a while so as not to lose function. Ultimately the heater is only for myself, and I do not wish to compete with the other products out there. If one person, besides myself, can feel the heat, then I’ve done my job. The job being to warm, but specifically the amount of people to be radiated upon, just enough for the minimal amount of out put. This is a virtual space and it is cold as all hell, although hell is warm, this embodies hell but at a frigid climate. Hell hath frozen over, yet no apocalypse trumpets its arrival. Better modes of heat are found else where. This has all been a test.