The Forlorn Day Dream

I saw it clear as day, as if I had just woken up. There was single spotlight beaming down, illuminating my arms and legs which were attached to wires extending into the infinite above me.
I was hanging in a black void, dangling from thread unable to move. The strings seem to pull, and my body starts to animate.  My limbs moved more like clockwork, with an unnatural flow and began reaching into the nothingness in front of me.
Suspended from these strings, I started getting used to my motion and after a time the spotlight dimmed.  I found myself in front of the world that was like a small orb that exuded light.
This world that looked and moved very much like our own.  All around it were small strings jutting from this blue-green globe. I sat there observing as days and nights seem to pass, and I grew to admire this world.  I wanted to reach out and pull strings, to influence the world in front of me. My hands moved as if on their own, reached down and started to pull these strings.  Each time is affecting a little bit more of this world in between my hands. With time, I learned what each string did, learned all the ways to use them to make what I wanted to happen. But every time I pulled strings they became more and more entangled in my fingertips.
That’s when the spotlight came back, my fingers all tangled up in string.  I was just an actor in a much larger system,  I was a just marionette who learned to puppeteer but, truth be told, I never knew who was pulling my strings. I wanted to know why, and for what purpose did I have to learn that no matter what strings I pull that someone was pulling mine.

The Road

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I have been on a road, a long one, that has had many twists and turns. I recollected when I got on this particular path. It was about a year ago when I set out on this journey. What’s interesting to note is that this journey started when I got back from the realization of one of my dreams, the dream of travel.

Looking back, I can use my two selves, past and present, as a measuring stick, and a way to track what his year done to me.  I wonder if my eyes and face carry the new experiences within them.
I can look at the scars, and lessons I’ve accumulated; finding the meaning in this year within them.  As with time, I can only move one direction, forward. Seeing the path before me, I know that I will need the knowledge gained through my blood, sweat, and tears to see the end of this rail.Though I have looked back a great deal this year, it is not without reason. I found looking in the past that I can learn to improve myself, and to find understanding in the path I am traveling.  My reason is a way to become self-aware so that the mistakes and shortcomings of yesterday become the mortar for the character which I build today.

Though I have looked back a great deal this year, it is not without reason. I found looking in the past that I can learn to improve myself, and to find understanding in the path I am traveling.  My reason is a way to become self-aware so that the mistakes and shortcomings of yesterday become the mortar for the character which I build today.
I choose not to live in the past, for the past as the future, is deceptive and gives way to distortion of perspective.

All I have then is the present, which I use to set the destination for the future I want. Unfortunately,  the road is long and has been taking too many detours for my liking.
I’m told to enjoy the ride, as the road curves and bows I can’t help but have an uneasy anticipation asking when I will be set loose.
I can see where I want to go but not where the road will take me.  I am then at the mercy of the path before me. I continue to hone my skills, work to make sure when the time comes I will be ready but it’s this wait that is getting to me.
The lessons are hard, forcing me to become uncomfortable, pushing me to pick up the lessons I have neglected.  It’s these lessons in patience and pride that are sometimes the most difficult. Am I becoming a more complete person? I believe so; it’s on this journey that I realize that I can create the person I want to be and not just the route that I travel.

I have been told, it’s a time of great transition, of movement, of change.  It certainly has tested me in unexpected ways.  Unforeseen bumps, holes, and problems have tested my grit.  How much to do I want my dream, how much will I pay for, how much will I sacrifice. I have, at points, needed to endure the suffering. Feeling stripped and cold, I know that I can use this as a way to strengthen my resolve. For as to what the future hold, I petition the great forces of this world to allow me to take life the proverbial horns and let me work for what I want.
In this year that is plagued with solitude and suffering, I have learned to create the world I want around me.  Establishing field where famine was, and flowers within the concrete.
My work lays unfinished as my road stretches ever onward into the horizon, I am though, fortunate to know that it was year unwasted.

 

Nostalgia: A Pain I Can’t Get Rid Of

Dreams, I have been having dreams filled with people and things I don’t want to think about. The problem is not that they are bad dreams, quite the contrary, the dreams are so beautiful they hurt to have.

The thing that comes to mind is the idea of nostalgia, what I remember is a small speech from the show Madmen talking about its meaning.  It’s explained that it means a pain of an old wound. It is the combination of the two ancient Greek words meaning pain and homecoming. It was a description originally used to explain the feelings of Swiss mercenaries fighting away from home.  It’s a sense of melancholy that I can’t escape.

This pain that I’ve gotten used to, a hurt that will go away as long as I don’t think about it but I can’t help but think about it. The wound is in my heart because it just wants to go home.  I have lost the home for my heart; I had given my heart away and when it was returned to me it was a foreign object.  It didn’t fit; it was treated warmly, but I didn’t know how to handle own heart. So it yearns for that, the cozy, comfortable space in which it grew.

My heart and I are attempting to understand each other.  We were apart for so long that we know that we have to spend some time together. I get familiar with what my heart wants and needs; the problem is the memories engraved on my heart.  The memories repeat the experiences of when it was treated well, when it was happy, when it was hurt, and when it was sad.  Like a record replaying over and over growing increasingly quiet as time goes on.

It’s the great unraveling of things, the desensitization of spirit.  The memory that begins as a situation and starts to turn into a story.  It hurts because of the memories and feelings of being so close for so long will eventually become nothing more than words.  The great human experience calls for us to keep moving forward if we want to survive and thrive.   So the memories will fade, and so will the pain. But it’s this feeling of nostalgia that allows me a glimpse of the experience, and is all that is left, but I know that too will erode with time becoming a memory of memory.

My mind and my heart are having a hard time with that; I can honestly say that it’s a pain that means something to me.  My heart is telling me its time to heal, telling me to wait until I am ready, it’s emptying out it contents, pain and all.

The pang of nostalgia.  I can’t get away from it, and the best thing to do is to have the feeling. Each one an echo of its former self.   Sometimes I want to deny the pain, the hurt so that the memory and feeling will linger a little bit longer, but I know that I have to let go. One day it will be gone, and my heart will be filled with other memories, but until then all I have are my dreams that are so beautiful they hurt.

Dream Catching

Sorting through my memories this week, I found the beginning of one my great loves.  Sleeping over at a friends house, up late when with no one around. Laying in front of television that was playing the usual infomercials as the night pressed on. I changed the channel to Cartoon Network. The channel was showing its adult swim programming and stumbled up a marathon of a show called Bleach. I sat there in amazement of the show for hours as the episodes marched on accordingly.  When the marathon concluded at 6 am, I realized that I had found something that I would fall in love. Anime and Manga.

From that point on I spent countless hours delving into that world.  Summers would be spent watching and reading innumerable episodes and chapters.  Part of me thinks that all that time spent in front of a computer may have been the thing that forced me to wear glasses. Now from the outside, it can look a bit strange which it is understandable but with most things, it’s only strange until you see it.

What is the point of this love? For me, anime and manga allow me to dream and feel as if I were in a different world. It has a way of inspiring me to be better, trying harder, and pushing against the difficulties that I come across in my life. Living through the characters, dreaming of being as strong as they are, and realizing that I am the catalyst to my destiny are all things I learned by sifting through the material.

What is most important is that it grants me a kind of energy to dream big. To dream of being able to change the world. To dream about becoming something incredibly grand and grandiose. To dream about how magical the world is and how to appreciate the small things in life. When I get through the material, I am reinvigorated.

I use this energy to apply it my life as a force of change.  Coming with the power of the human spirit at my back, doing things that seemed impossible a few days ago are easy.  I think it’s important that people find that stuff in their life.  The thing that somehow give them energy even when it is effortful.  Something gives us more than what we put into it so we can use the result to make a real change in the world.

The things that foster the little infinitesimal thoughts to grow.  It provided me with hope and understanding of the world.  A way to relate and see the world differently than before. To make me feel like my heart will beat differently because of the point of view given.

Of course, it is silly, funny, dramatic, stupid, sad, hopeful, surprising, and scary – but at the end of the day, it makes me feel, think, and act.  It springs hope from within and allows me to believe in simple ideas have weight and should be pursued. That I can, and I should no matter the challenge.

I owe a lot to this love of mine, and its one of the things few things I get passionate about sharing with others. I realized that it is about finding those things and never letting go.  As I get older my love for anime and manga changes, it makes me afraid that my love will fade. I know that at least for now I have the dreams that it has given me.