A Dream of Pandora

Alone – <a href="http://&lt;!– wp:paragraph –> <p>I woke up from a dream today, a dream which showed me a vision from the heart and spoke to me of my eternal strife asking me to listen, think, and then do. </p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>This dream consisted of a subject that I am comfortable speaking about but uncomfortable dwelling upon. It feels at times when broaching the subject as if I were to be given pandora's box with the last bit of evil trapped inside, the antithesis of hope. That opening the box somehow unravels more myself and my motivations that I'm scared of whats inside. It scares me because I used this demon trapped to push myself forward and what would happen if I were to cleanse myself of it like all of the other demons of my past. Would I lose that vital piece of trauma that pushed me forward? I don't know if I was created by this traumatic need or I should prevail all the stronger having faced it. So like Pandora, I will open the box and peer inside, hoping instead that what is left is better than when it was locked away.</p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>In this dream, I was at a reunion of sorts. People who were there were all among the people I when to elementary and middle school with. A strange set of people from a strange time that at this point I have more than double amount of memory and experiences than I did when I knew them. </p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>In this reunion nothing strange or dreamlike occurred, just people talking to each other, catching up about old times, and recounting new ones. But when I began to speak it was this feeling deep down that these people couldn't see me, they saw this sad and broken version of me from back then. Made to feel so small and insignificant. Made me feel like the person that the teachers and the students paid no mind to and created no lasting impressions of. The one that was seen to not be going anywhere in particular, living a banal and unimpressive life just fading into the background. </p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>This is why its so crazy to me, it still made me feel like I was the same person as I was back then. All it took was a look, and a couple of comments which weren't even mean and it felt like I had gone through a time machine and that person they believed me to be was still there deep down inside of me. Through a look I had to relive all these feelings and inadequacies that I endured for many years.</p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>In the face of the intolerable cruelty of my past, I realized that trepidations shake across time to create a resonance felt today. I have this feeling and fear that I'm going to disappear. That back then in these early and formative years were a reflection of my ultimate destiny of fading from view. To never be taken seriously or thought to hold value.</p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>I know that these feelings may be in some ways irrational but its the dissection of these feelings which may allow me to understand more fully subsequent motivations. I feel as though I need to be good at everything but can never be the best at any one thing. I have this feeling that I can't leave anything behind and that by saying "No" an opportunity that may be forgoing the one last piece of the puzzle that would make me whole. It's this paranoia of not being enough for anyone that makes me fluctuate from feeling like I shouldn't try at all to throwing myself through hell for work. </p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>It's this feeling of unease that I have constantly compared to everyone around me and by doing so that I always come up lacking. That as me I can't ever be enough. <br>It is as though around me sense this, this desire to be seen and appreciated. I'm sure in some way off-putting. Even when recognized don't feel that usual happiness of accomplishment but the inescapable and unsatiable hole in myself.</p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>Can I ever really be truly happy bearing on my back this kind of curse. I am irrevocably broken that I have no hope to fill these gaps. I need another solution to fill hole inside of me because eats away at me and doesn't direct me where I need to go. Coming to terms with this though is harder said than done. </p> <!– /wp:paragraph –> <!– wp:paragraph –> <p>Perhaps with this dream, I can start on this journey of reformation, to become the person I hope to be without the fear of slipping back into the person I used to be. To run forward not because I am scared of what is behind me but because I am looking forward to something in front of me. It a journey that won't be resolved in one night but by opening the box we can then only know where this journey may lead.</p> Aenami

I woke up from a dream today, a dream which showed me a vision from the heart and spoke to me of my eternal strife asking me to listen, think, and then do.

This dream consisted of a subject that I am comfortable speaking about but uncomfortable dwelling upon. It feels at times when broaching the subject as if I were to be given pandora’s box with the last bit of evil trapped inside, the antithesis of hope. That opening the box somehow unravels more me and my motivations that I’m scared of whats inside. It scares me because I used this demon trapped to push myself forward and what would happen if I were to cleanse myself of it like all of the other demons of my past. Would I lose that vital piece of trauma that pushed me forward? I don’t know if I was created by this traumatic need or I should prevail all the stronger having faced it. So like Pandora, I will open the box and peer inside, hoping instead that what is left is better than when it was locked away.

In this dream, I was at a reunion of sorts. People who were there were all among the people I when to elementary and middle school with. A strange set of people from a strange time that at this point I have more than double amount of memory and experiences than I did when I knew them.

In this reunion nothing strange or dreamlike occurred, just people talking to each other, catching up about old times, and recounting new ones. But when I began to speak it was this feeling deep down that these people couldn’t see me, they saw this sad and broken version of me from back then. Made to feel so small and insignificant. Made me feel like the person that the teachers and the students paid no mind to and created no lasting impressions of. The one that was seen to not be going anywhere in particular, living a banal and unimpressive life just fading into the background.

This is why its so crazy to me, it still made me feel like I was the same person as I was back then. All it took was a look, and a couple of comments which weren’t even mean and it felt like I had gone through a time machine and that person they believed me to be was still there deep down inside of me. Through a look I had to relive all these feelings and inadequacies that I endured for many years.

In the face of the intolerable cruelty of my past, I realized that trepidations shake across time to create a resonance felt today. I have this feeling and fear that I’m going to disappear. That back then in these early and formative years were a reflection of my ultimate destiny of fading from view. To never be taken seriously or thought to hold value.

I know that these feelings may be in some ways irrational but its the dissection of these feelings which may allow me to understand more fully subsequent motivations. I feel as though I need to be good at everything but can never be the best at any one thing. I have this feeling that I can’t leave anything behind and that by saying “No” an opportunity that may be forgoing the one last piece of the puzzle that would make me whole. It’s this paranoia of not being enough for anyone that makes me fluctuate from feeling like I shouldn’t try at all to throwing myself through hell for work.

It’s this feeling of unease that I have constantly compared to everyone around me and by doing so that I always come up lacking. That as me I can’t ever be enough.
It is as though around me sense this, this desire to be seen and appreciated. I’m sure in some way off-putting. Even when recognized don’t feel that usual happiness of accomplishment but the inescapable and unsatiable hole in myself.

Can I ever really be truly happy bearing on my back this kind of curse. I am irrevocably broken that I have no hope to fill these gaps. I need another solution to fill this hole inside of me because eats away at me and doesn’t direct me where I need to go. Coming to terms with this though is harder said than done.

Perhaps with this dream, I can start on this journey of reformation, to become the person I hope to be without the fear of slipping back into the person I used to be. To run forward not because I am scared of what is behind me but because I am looking forward to something in front of me. It is a journey that won’t be resolved in one night but by opening the box we can then only know where this journey may lead.

Asura Instinct

You have to forgive me, for I’m using words and phrases for which I only have a tentative understanding of the complexity, history, and significance to describe, most likely poorly, my own experience. To be fully transparent, it’s because of this naive understanding that I can, in any way, describe my feelings sensibly. I’m to co-opting these words and phrases, not to describe these borrowed concepts in any negative light but to illuminate these emotions which I can’t readily discern otherwise.

Begin

You can’t hold a flame in your hands. – Auroradiation

It’s a fury in my chest, a fury that arises from the seething fire of the accumulated stress and pressure of my everyday life. A fury without direction, coursing through my body like boiling water, scorching my veins and arteries and wanting me to turn everything back to black. It strains my muscles, my mind, my flesh with an untempered ferocity that asks to destroy, to upend, to dismantle, and to reduce everything back down to its component parts. It’s a frustration with my circumstances that calls for me to rip and tear apart everything, but most of all destroy some foundation of myself.

These destructive impulses call so loudly for destruction, like being opposed to creation in its purest form. The desire or instinct to bring it all down to nothing – that in my mind have named the Asura instinct. This idea of being opposed to heaven, to creation, to everything that sentient existence convenes upon us. To raze towers and seas. To bring mountains low and us even lower.

This Asura Instinct on the surface appears to be this overwhelming negative impulse, because how could these feelings of wanton destruction bring about anything good? But it’s because of this desire to destroy that I understand the true need, the need for change and control. That my life in some ways is not working. That this pressure begins to build and build until the whole system feels like it’s going to come down. This directionless fire and fury in my veins serve then as the power to change, to dismantle systems and build them anew for myself and my future.

It reminds of the three principal gods of Hinduism and the cycle they foretell through their role and existence, the creator, the preserver, and the destroyer. All three serve an important purpose and each role is seen as essential for the process of life and reincarnation. Destruction and death are all part of this cycle because without destruction we have nothing to create, and without destruction, we have nothing to preserve. It is true then without destruction we cannot fully be.

It’s this fury in my veins that tells me that something has to change, that sadness and frustration are, too, the part of this journey. That all things must end no matter how much I fear the end and how much this fear paralyzes me. I’m scared of the destruction because of what will happen when I can no longer hold onto something in my arms so tightly. That I have to let go and say my goodbyes wholeheartedly. That it’s okay for it to disappate and no longer return. That it’s okay that the permanent state of a thing could be in both its ephemeralness and its finality.

It’s this Asura instinct, the fire within my veins that I know that I need to complete the cycle of change and growth. That the wave has to return to the shore. That projects and problems must see an end, and in their end, they may not be perfect but they may be perfect because they end.

It’s acknowledging this Asura Instinct, my need for destruction, that I know change needs to happen and that I must let it. I must let things end so they can begin anew. I must let go so I have the opportunity to hold. It’s through this destruction that I know that I can truly live at all. It’s through this destruction that I can finally be me.

The Art of Letting Go

余熱 – あをじ

It was because of a conversation that I had recently, a conversation about addressing a progressively troublesome tribulation that has made a reappearance, that made me realize it. That I’m having trouble letting go. That in my mind and heart I am still living in this space of trauma response. It was made more clear when the other person caught wind of this and asked a simple question “What is it that you want?”.

Resolution.

At the time I couldn’t put this concept into words. I attempted to throw together scenarios that I felt would uplift the mood and bandage the hurt that occurred. It wasn’t until reflecting later that I found it. Through everything going on, I still don’t feel resolved at the original transgression. I am living in a wounded state, letting the hurt begin to scare but never close. Always in remembrance to ensure that I remain ever vigilant for a potential hurt to come.

It makes me frustrated to know that this pain still circulates through me, to what benefit does it hold other than to make me fear each passing week and to remain on guard for the potential surge in negative feedback. This is no way to live.

I know that this part within me wants justice, or to feel a sense of fairness. That the transgression was, in some ways, acknowledged and accounted for. That the cosmic scales would be tipped in a noticeable way that I can feel that the pain and anguish is the cost for something more that I want. I want this knowing that the universe doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t give you something just because you may believe you are due. I turned this situation into a large lesson on life but these experiences are continually pieces of wisdom that I wished I could learn some other way.

This resolution has to come from within but I don’t where to even start. Where to begin to let go and leave the rest of these feelings behind. For now, I will settle for an acknowledgment within myself that something needs to change and that if I don’t desire to change it then I won’t be able to truly heal.

A Torent of Wind and Rain

Near and Far by まかろんK

A wailing torrent of wind and water crashes upon my shoulders. The path below becomes unsteady as water mixes with soil and stone. I feel my feet slipping, my body screaming out in pain as I am pushed down by the storm. I want to stay down, stay on my knees to bandage my hands and feet and rest but I know I can’t stop because if I stop I may never get back up again. Sitting under the rain as it hit my face I wonder why I do this at all if the trail guiding me up the mountain has become is so uneasy and treacherous.

This isn’t the first time this has happened, I am afraid to say that it won’t be the last. This instance though, I have been disabused of the notion that my relationships to this journey, at least for the moment, won’t always be in some sense attempting to placate a higher authority. An authority that, in many ways, does not seek to understand but dictate the journey which I am on. One more satiated by the milestones reached rather than the climb itself. I don’t fault them for that as their progress is invariably tied to these milestones, but I do question the method in which they have sought to pursue them. To weigh me down with stacks of rods and weights and tell me to achieve without giving me much guidance as to what it is that I am attempting to achieve or how I should get there. So then it becomes unsurprising that at some point I will fall short of these goals and ultimately disappoint.

Failure is built into this system as well as paranoia as I attempt to create stability from ambiguity. It makes me realize how much I’m afraid of the lash that has left these scars so saliently on my body. I wonder when they will heal but never give the time or the energy to do. I keep myself just keep far enough ahead so the punishment doesn’t ring against my skin or continue to scar up my heart.

I’ve become afraid. Afraid of words and their delivery as it opens myself up to this unanswerable criticism which is unsustainably lacking of any true solution to the problem it seeks to criticize. I have seen the darkness and the void, the chaos which lies beneath, and attempted to quell it using time and resources but I can only go so far before I am pulled back down the mountain on my hands and knees. I am not afraid of falling, and tripping on this journey but what gives me pause are the instances of being pushed.

It hurts me and I feel it. I don’t know how to describe it and try to deal with the absurdity of it through laughter and prose. In truth, though it hurts every time someone mentions how unfair this all it, the cards that I’ve drawn out of the deck of fate shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. The unavoidableness of this situation makes me want to just wish it all away but there are no easy solutions. Just mud, rocks, wind, and rain to move through as I climb. I know will be stronger by the end but I pray that I won’t lose too much to the pain before I can get there.

A Long Awaited Recovery

Here it is, a post I have have been hoping to write for some time but haven’t. It’s almost been a year since I last posted to my website, a year of memories and healing but a notable absence of putting thoughts to a page. I could say it’s because I needed a break, my thoughts were getting heavy and I needed to step away from them for a while but that was only true for a time, the truth is I’ve been afraid to return to writing. To sit down and stand trial on all the missing time and memory. To make sense of the moments between then and now without any tangible proof that I didn’t just disappear. I found every excuse I could think of to stave off this inevitable return knowing full well that I left myself on a cliffhanger of heavy emotions and thoughts. I knew I needed to come back but where I left off but felt so dark that I didn’t know where to begin.

So here I am, many months later. Here to report that I did survive, that I found a place to live and thrive beyond the pitfalls of heavy emotions, the global pademic, trials of work, school, and my life. It feels like an eternity from where I started this year to where I am now which is good because that time and space from my former self has allowed me to grow and change in ways I probably don’t realize.

So what happened then? How did I get from there to here?

I did what I do best, I worked at it.

I got help, a definite hard step in the process of attempting to better myself. I asked for others assistance, and got my friends to play along. I got cats, which have been thankful for most if not all days I’ve had them. I worked on my body and fitness, got outside more, invested inward and took the time I needed to recover. I’ve grown, changed my outlook and how I go about things. I’d like to think that I’ve matured but I think that I’ve found a different goal to who and where I want to be.
It was a slow and awkward process but eventually I started standing taller,and fighting back. Looking forward and planning ahead. Before I knew it I was in a different place from where I started and beginning to like what I saw. I don’t know what the cure is for negative emotion, suicidal ideation, depression, or sadness. I do know that if I invest in getting better that I always land in a higher place than when I started. The road is not ending on this journey of self improvement but I am happy to say the road is less rocky than before.

I know I can’t summarize all the feelings, emotions, trials, and errors in a few short words but what I can do is start writing like I had before and begin again. So this is what this post is about, my return to the fold, my return to writing, and my desire to talk again in a place that meant so much to me for so long. It’s a welcome back and a see you soon. I am writing because I finally broke the block and have found the sun again.

Coming to Terms with Divergent Paths

Yayuka – DDDDD_DIE

I try and hold.
These things inside,
the struggle to understand
to make sense
the discordant foundations
and beliefs
that come in conflict
and disorient my soul.

I walk at night, after a long day of thinking and doing. Trying in some way to come to terms with the various divergent thoughts and beliefs that been instilled in my from a young age. Freedoms but not too free, compassion but not for those people, love for everyone but yourself. I don’t understand when the lines in the sand the people draw and will not cross end up curved or askew. When certain principles fail to meet a standard of universality it’s hard to understand the hypocrisy behind it. The arbitrary lines that are drawn make it seem as though the some sort of rhyme or reason to them but when asked to interpret them at times there is no reasonable answer or explanation. Most of the time it’s just because that is the way it has always been. The question is to why, and how these lines are drawn never escapes me.

This is why it makes it so hard to pick up and run with anything for me. These discordant ways of living fill up my head and make wonder what kind of path I follow if I were to actually pursue a sense of truth from any of these roads. I do not pick because I seek to understand truth, and to understand truth I have to know that perhaps what I see may not be what actually is. To seek truth means that I may be left wondering how I make sense of all these things I grew up and hold dear in my heart. To pursue truth, I am left open to the possibility of reinterpretation. To know truth I have to be okay with having these hard conversations in my heart to reconcile the earth and the sky.

We grow and change, and as such, as long as we are open, we can step towards that truth that I so crave to see.

In Days I Dreamed Of Dragons

Winter Vibes – Atey Ghailian

I remember when I was younger that whenever I would be able to see the moisture on my breath it feel like I was blowing fire from my chest. “I am like a dragon” I always think proudly, braving the winter chill of childhood. “Nothing can stop me” I thought as the breath reminded me life inside burning brightly into the world. The world was full of these breaths and their wonder, every one could breath that fire from their chest, some stronger than others but all of us the same. I would savor the moments all wrapped up in jackets and jeans to test my breath to prove what a beast I was to be.

Those breaths changed as I got older, changing from a testament of invincibility to reminder of the thing I had to overcome. These breaths come more most notably on the road when running, sweat dripping down and freezing in the bitter wind. Those breaths represented a burning up inside of all the things I never knew but had to endure. A fighting spirit that persisted beyond the circumstances looking to burn my fate and the world along with it.

Now the breaths represent a small sense of solitude. I quiet moment in the night as I traverse hard concrete and quiet soil. It’s only my breath left, I feel it beneath my mask and skin. There out in the world it seems so empty, so lifeless, so void. I wonder, will there be others out there fight against the cold, looking for life out there in world or will breaths be the only one to refract those dimming lights. I once dreamed that we may have been dragons but sometime, just sometimes I feel that I am all that is left.

A lit wick and a slow burn

Slowly burn on a fuse that has been lit for a long time, these small but subtle moments that been eating away at me like rocks beneath the shore line. At some point I wonder if there will be a time where I will have no more fuse left to lay to keep the fire at bay, I have no time to check the lead the behind me, just enough time to lay it down and hope it keeps coming.

I’ve been feeling burned out by the world and work for a while. To be honest world and work might be one in the same. I’ve been searching for meaning in what I do because of it. Trying to find purpose in the waves of things I don’t really care about.

Though I am getting an education what I am left with is a particular set of skills I never wanted and a set of knowledge I had no desire to have. That might sound particularly silly and ungrateful but to be honest it’s more that it hasn’t met my expectations. Maybe it’s the pandemic and maybe it’s the classes but it makes me question what I’m doing and for what reasons I am doing it. I continue on in hopes that all of this will make sense but knowing I have give something up in myself to get anything out of it.

It feels sometimes like I’m a mouse in a cage running on wheel hoping to get somewhere, deluding myself into believing that every step I take is one that will bring me forward but in actuality all I am doing is retreading common ground. I wonder how I will look back on these moments in my life and think about them. Will they become a delightful serendipity or a bitter pill to swallow.

What I can say though is that I’m tired, I have been for a while. It’s the only thing I know I have been quite some time. Day and weeks blend together as I stare into the abyss and hope to find meaning. Hours lost, moment wanted. All I crave really is some type of substance to fulfill me and this releive me of this itch but for now I will just keep my head down and keep going. For now I will just concentrate on not getting burned.

Succinct

The Fall Woods – Me

I can be honest, writing has been hard these last few months, to the point where I had to leave the page unattended to feel free of the burden that comes with this regular exercise. I can blame all of this on the pandemic and the crappy year that 2020 has been but that would only reflect a small portion of the tumult my life has felt. I needed to take a step back, reevaluate my personal processes.

It’s been fruitful, being inconsistent with my writing. It has allowed me to realize that though I like to write a certain way there are always ways I can improve. That things can be made more understandable while still retaining my own flourishes. A need to cut down on the words but improve on the prose. That is what I here to do now, to write in a more compact way because I was allowing my brandishes to obfuscate my true aims.

This time has given me also the ability to contemplate how far I have come and how far I still need to go. I have realized and had to reassess my foundations and my beliefs because I am invariable drawn back my past as I fight for my future. For now I am writing to pledge once again to start this dance between statements and sentiments.

Move, Pain, Repeat

To Start Over Again – Shal.E

It’s actions which define our days but our habit’s which define our life. But what happens when our habits fall apart, and our actions become strained. What would we do to try and regain control?

I’ve been having trouble sleeping and trouble waking up. I lay in bed late at night, after all my tasks are done and my body feels strained, wondering if it will be few minutes or few hours before I finally see the sandman. I sleep for as long as I need to or can before I start the day again, knowing I am missing some parts of my preparation and others of my coping.

It’s because I want accomplish things that I feel my body turn against me. I have resorted to super charging which makes my muscles feel strained the next morning from how tense it becomes. I feel sore the next morning, not from exercise but from the toll on my body all this energy comes. Like a double edge sword, stealing power from tomorrow to use today, indefintiely until my body feels like it’s slowly falling apart from just moving.

The good thing is that all this energy my body in place so I can be a puppeteer to a marionette. Moving myself in a way that makes the show go on, that gets my work done, and makes me feel as if I am finally getting things done. They don’t tell you about the strain on the strings though. Creaking loudly throughout the day as they continually push against the burden of a resistant self.

I question whether life at the moment is a series of trade offs and balancing acts, and for a man who wants everything this becomes problematic. To I push my body through the ringer to get my body to follow my mind wants or do I let me body continue to delay workings of the mind and soul.

I come up on this dichotomy and my decision usually is to throw myself through the pain and anguish if it means that I can get what I want. What is one more step full of pain if it means I can get the life that I want. I just feel the strain right now, the pain in my muscles and bones, but it’s the price I am willing to pay for the moment, but who know what I giving up in the long run.

It worries me though, that I may be giving up too much. That these things shouldn’t need all this extra help and I should just be able to persist without all this extra help. What is happening and has happened to me and what might that missing ingredient be in all this. That would make me feel whole mind, body, and soul.

For now, there is no time to worry, I will just keep pushing through until one thing finally gives.