Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for respond

11:18pm

Here we go. words. let’s do this. Currently listening to Cinematic Orchestra. Yes. I love this.

Well, I feel older, I feel wiser. Today, I feel comfort. I feel comfort in my skin, I feel confident. I feel good. I feel better than I did before. I feel wiser than I did before. I feel like I’m ready, I feel like I’m getting there. I am getting SOMEWHERE. Somewhere good, I hope, I aspire. Hmmm, this music is so loving, so simple. It is rich and full. I can sink into it.

I’m conflicted here. Ok, here I go, no holding back. I’m torn, between two men, both friends, both wonderful men, both strong, both attractive, both loving. One clearly communicates better than the other. Aye, no more of this nonsense. What shall be, will be. Let the wind take it. Let the world turn, let things fall into place, let things happen. It always turns out as it is supposed to. Always. Simply don’t interfere, simply live, and go, and go with your intuition, and it will happen. It always does. I love trusting in nature, trusting in life, letting go. let go. trust and let go. and nestle in the comfort that things will work out. They will. They will. They will. Sigh.

Hmmmm, what else. I want to be confident and sure. I want to be myself and I want to go after what I want. Stop thinking and start acting. Stop second guessing. Just go, just do. You can.

When I listen to this song, it brings me back to reality. It brings me home, it brings me to myself and connects me back to life, to mortality, to these fleeting days of our lives. It reminds me that things are just things, but we are people, and we find meaning in and with each other. We are people, and we must find shelter in others. It reminds me of the stars, it reminds me of this universe, of the millions of stars, of space, of time. Of the grandness that exists, of the grandness of this life. Of everything that we get to experience, by fortune, but perhaps it is just because of our nature. We get to experience this, these things, because we are human, because we received the fortune to be born, to be here. We get to see light, and colors, and perceive beauty, and feel love, and feel the wind, and look up, and dream. we get to dream. what fortune. we get to see life, and death, we get to grow old. We get to feel. We get to learn and experience and explore and venture and take risks. We get to do all these things. It IS amazing. It truly is. You must know this, you must realize what great fortune we live in. What we know, what we are, well that’s something great. That is something that you must reach for, reach out and hold it tight. Always recognize the beauty that surrounds you, including the beauty that is you. Always be in awe. Always stand back, with eyes open. With eyes wide open. Realize that the pettiness that surrounds us, that surrounds you, is just that- petty, and small, and simply and oh-so-utterly unimportant. Realize that the grandiose that surrounds us, that surrounds you, is just that- grandiose, and wonderful, and amazing. Just… please… always realize, always remember, to stand back, with eyes wide open.

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until my eyes lose you

Would you just stop and pause? It makes me so frustrated when you speed through the days. It makes me so angry, it makes me clench my fists when you steam ahead, leaving behind a blurry trail. It makes me stomp and cry out. You, like lava pouring down a mountainside, unstoppable. You, like a speeding train, accelerating and accelerating, broken brakes. You, whirlwind. You…. you’re leaving. you’re getting further away. you’re already disappearing into the horizon, getting smaller and smaller, until my eyes lose you. You’re far. You’ve left me behind, you’ve forgotten. How? How could you have possibly let me go, how could you let me slip from your grasp, so smooth. You’re far and I’m here, crumpled cardboard cut-out. Gazing at the surrounding vastness.

Competing With Creation

As humans, we are always creating. New technologies, new medicines, new expectations, new standards. With progress comes improvement, or so we believe. But, are we creating things we cannot compete with? With unachievable standards of beauty, fitness, life accomplishments and more, it’s hard to believe that modern humans will ever be satisfied. Magazines, TV shows, and movies are all sending signals, messages, and cues about what life should be, and moreover could be. And so we begin to crave that, strive for that, reach for that… But do we ever reach it? Or are we constantly falling short to the standards we place upon ourselves? Perhaps we are our own worse enemy in some sense.

Questions: From Me, To You

These are a few questions that I thought up and I’m asking them to you. Because I’m curious about the human condition. Because it just might be thought-provoking. Because… well just because. Answer one, two, nine or ten. It’s up to you.

 1. Right now, in this moment, how do you view yourself?

2. Recall every single emotion you felt during the last 24 hours. List them.

3. What are you grateful for?

4. How often do you lie (to yourself and to others)?

5. When you look in the mirror, what do you see?

6. Where does inspiration come from?

7. Can you truly love something or someone more than yourself?

8. Where have you been and where are you going?

9. What does originality mean?

10. What is your biggest, most heart-wrenching fear?

Living Like Weasels

I’ve always loved Annie Dillard’s language. It’s so powerful, and Living Like Weasels truly a beautiful piece of literature. Here are my favorite excerpts:

“Weasel! I’d never seen one wild before. He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert. His face was fierce, small and pointed as a lizard’s; he would have made a good arrowhead. There was just a dot of chin, maybe two brown hairs’ worth, and then the pure white fur began that spread down his underside. He had two black eyes I didn’t see, any more than you see a window.

The weasel was stunned into stillness as he was emerging from beneath an enormous shaggy wild rose bush four feet away. I was stunned into stillness twisted backward on the tree trunk. Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.

Our look was as if two lovers, or deadly enemies, met unexpectedly on an overgrown path when each had been thinking of something else: a clearing blow to the gut. It was also a bright blow to the brain, or a sudden beating of brains, with all the charge and intimate grate of rubbed balloons. It emptied our lungs. It felled the forest, moved the fields, and drained the pond; the world dismantled and tumbled into that black hole of eyes. If you and I looked at each other that way, our skulls would split and drop to our shoulders. But we don’t. We keep our skulls. So.

He disappeared. This was only last week, and already I don’t remember what shattered the enchantment. I think I blinked, I think I retrieved my brain from the weasel’s brain, and tried to memorize what I was seeing, and the weasel felt the yank of separation, the careening splash-down into real life and the urgent current of instinct. He vanished under the wild rose. I waited motionless, my mind suddenly full of data and my spirit with pleadings, but he didn’t return.”

And later she writes….

“We could, you know. We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience–even of silence–by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn’t “attack” anything; a weasel lives as he’s meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you’re going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles.”

 

If you love this as much as I do, google it and read the whole thing.

my dear run! little lion, head towards the wind.

quick lion. move fast. leap and bound across those fields of gold. heart of gold. I can see that. run run, rage run. take your courage and run. don’t waste it here, don’t waste it now. your heart is on the line. my dear. quick quick, run and don’t look back. nothing behind. nothing here. everything is ahead. tremble. run run, grace run and be gone with that. learn from me. start new, start anew, my dear run! little lion, head towards the wind.

my mind forgets, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white

Memory: intangibly forever. It’s really all we have in this life. When time speeds up and our lives slow down, all we are left with is a shallow collection of memories—it’s all we have, it’s the only proof of a life lived that counts. While the ability to trap time and space within our minds is utterly glorious, it is undeniably frustrating.

As I grow, as I age, I find that my memories from yesteryear are riddled with gaping holes, leaving shreds of random recollections. While they may not be random, while there may be some subconscious grave importance to the memories I still keep, I cannot help feeling disappointed in the inability to remember every single solitary moment.

My memories are sliced into pieces, spliced together, and strung along a string. Like a kindergarten art project, my memories are hole-punched. Euphoric memories are salvaged, while dull and negative memories are excised. They are snipped from the stream of remembrance, and discarded so carelessly. They fade away, like a sepia photograph slowly turning white.

My mind buries the bad. My mind forgets, consciously concealing.

I find myself remembering only certain things; I tie these recollections down with double knots, and think about them for weeks, months, and years. I never fatigue from grasping onto these memories with clenched fists, constantly dissecting them, mulling them over, trying to dive deeper, searching for… something true.

I hold on tightly, perhaps TOO tightly. And while I desperately cling to certain events, others are forgotten. They are shoved out, dumped like trash in a gutter. I find myself disappointed in the limitations of my mind. It is devastating to know that those memories are gone—those first memories of light and sound as a newborn, the memories of walking and talking for the first time, memories of a childhood—they are all slipping away. WHY! I want to hold onto my humanity. I want to remember and reflect and ponder and know EACH day of my life. Each and every single day that I lived, that I was in existence. WHY should I have to forget.

I don’t want to forget this life. I don’t want to forget what it meant to live, what it meant to grow and evolve. I don’t want to forget the progression. I don’t want to forget myself.