the dance

As you passed,

I kept seeing what I want to see,

That you weren’t gone yet,

That you still breathed.

What my eyes caught

Must have been

The sight of your spirit dancing serenely

Around what you’ve left behind,

As extreme heat leaves the road in a haze,

The road towards the dimensions unseen,

Yet dreamed of,

Journey with no end

On which you fly leaving us walking

In pain,

Yet in gratitude and reflections

Of your beautiful path.

to be an apple

Retouch-1313AHe wanted to be…

OK, he was an Apple

He was red, and green, and yellow, and even white,

As apples come.

He was this juicy thing you could eat right away

He had things of his own he could’ve been happy with

Yet he wasn’t because

He always wanted to be an Orange.

To him, the Oranges were all that he could wish for,

How they grew, and laughed,

It looked so infectiously simple how they did things,

Including drinking –

It seemed intoxication and consequences came to them effortlessly.

He could sell his core to be like them

And he tried to do so.

It took him many falls and been kicked around,

Dark spots and pinches off his red, and green, and yellow skin

To the point white was all gone, or so it seemed

Until one day he learned something –

He will always be an Apple

Because his body was thought through and made in a different way

Selling his core brought no desired fruits, pardon the pun

And when that dawned on him,

He cried, yet the sun failed not to keep shining on him

And the dew still looked beautiful in the waking up grass.

It took much time, enough to feel like eternity,

To find peace with that realization.

Then one day, it all became clear to him –

He could look so many ways,

Feel so much different being alive instead of jealous.

And he also found there were many other Apples to talk to

Which he didn’t cared to do for a long time,

Lost in his resentment.

Next day was very red, and green, and yellow, and even white,

And so many colors he didn’t know existed.

There was much time to grow and enjoy them all

And he kept on doing so

Effortless one day, with some strain another

Yet drinking over that he didn’t need to anymore.


the image was copied from https://retouch.ca/portfolio/apple-orange-retouching/ thank you.

thank you to Russ for the idea.

calmisanthropy

616I was asked why as an active member I don’t go to round-ups and conferences. The answer is “too many people.” I also don’t chair meetings. The answer to the unspoken question on that is I face so many people at my front line work, that’s enough of people around me on a daily basis.

There is also another reason. Cause I don’t like people that much. I think misanthropy is part of my spirituality. Perhaps, calm misanthropy. Not much rage but the feeling is still strong.

I don’t think it is hatred to people, not lately anyway. I think sometimes it is a deep disappointment in how people treat people. And some other times I just can’t stand being around people in large gatherings. At shows, I am OK to be around people if I am banging my head to music at shows. And then, somehow, I could be in a crowd of sober alcoholics that I know by spirit and yet I still can’t stand that mass of people. The only way I can get through the time in that crowd or any other is by growing a black cloud in my head and chest cavity. Sometimes it is a knowledge that we all are going to die, and the sun will still shine, just like in the Rammstein self-titled song. Some other times it’s a stillness of a Viking passing against the flow of the herd of slow moving civilians on the way to the shopping feeder. I could annihilate them all with the coldness of my stare and will.

Is that evil? Am I a threat to society? In a way, yes. I know what makes a person tick. I am often tired of being surrounded by such persons. And then… Then I find out that the persons have surprises for me. They can be fun. They can be very creative. I admire that. It makes me improve on similar skills within myself. I communicate with them and find lots in common with them.

As a result, I don’t hurt anyone. I walk on respectfully and responsibly. I don’t know what another person carries. It could be a burden. A pain. A joy. Both pain and joy and the mix of those that is a burden to them. Knowledge of death. Fear of birth. Acceptance. Rejection. Illness. Fear. I cannot know why the people are the way they are, and because of that, who am I to judge them?

Chuck Schuldiner, a musician I admire, wrote:

“Without judgement what would we do

We would be forced to look at ourselves emerged in lost time

Assuming what may be.

Without judgement perception would increase a million times.”

(“Without Judgement”, 1995)

[funny thing is, on the same album, Death Symbolic, Schuldiner’s got a song called “Misanthrope”]

Ah, people… Maybe they deal with something that I cannot help them with even if I cared to step out of my calm misanthropic domain. Maybe the maybe happened to them and they will never be the same, despite their desires or good willed efforts. I just need to calm my disappointment and keep walking. We all are still going to die, and the sun will keep on shining, but today I don’t have to be your enemy. The black cloud is still here, though. It almost never goes away.


the image was copied from https://www.metal-archives.com/albums/Death/Symbolic/616 thank you.

Looking Back

looking-back“Don’t Look Back, You’re Not Going That Way” the sign said.

Technically, it’s true. If you want to forward, you need to look that way, so you watch your step and what’s further in front of you.

It wasn’t the sign on a road though. It was not on the runway either. The sign printed on paper was taped to the wall at a mental hospital unit.

It got me thinking, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. Now, what was it about that sign, or rather its message, that got me thinking? As an Overthinker (which I certainly am, I wish that was an official medical term, because maybe there would be meds that slow and calm you down without causing any unwanted retardation), I went into the Think Forest. The path I walked was something different than whoever wrote put that sign up, or whoever put together all those similar posts on the Net which I found looking for a suitable image for this post to be published with.

What I thought of was the concept of history.

How do we move forward without knowing what caused us to get here in the first place? How do we make right without learning what was wrong? How do we avoid making mistakes if we haven’t learnt from the ones we made in the past? The only way to learn of those is to study them. Not under a microscope, of course; that will keep us in the rut for too long. Yet still, if we don’t try to understand what has caused us the ill, how will we ever be healthy again – tomorrow or next year?

As an Overthinker, I do sometimes wonder if I’m giving it too much thought, all this musing and wondering, which is why I get to be an Overthinker, as acknowledged by the others with whom I’d share these thoughts with. Yet, as soon as I think of that, I also realize something that doing so is in fact practising something useful. I think it’s called “reflection.” That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Another word for it is “hindsight.” And it seems to me that hindsight is something that much of our world lacks lately. Maybe even longer than “lately.”

We tend to repeat our mistakes over and over. We put millions of whatever currency into improving and perfecting means of communication on a global and neighborly level, but we fail to connect with people next to us. We keep making guns and get sad of how many people die. We then keep voting for people who keep smiling and hug children and that is never a good sign. We keep working jobs we can’t stand hoping it would get better. We keep using substances to keep us ok, but they never do, and we keep lying to ourselves that will change, we just need time to figure things out; that maybe somebody will come and help us with this, but then, we are still failing to connect with others, right?

Looking back is highly important. If I didn’t do so, I’d be drinking still, or drinking again. It’s no use to look back all the time, – either your neck will get sore, or you won’t see a car coming your way. But I think practicing reflecting is what still somehow keeping us alive. Is it worth to just keep alive, though? Maybe we could live better?

“The farther backwards you will look, the farther forward you will see.” W. Churchill


the image was copied from https://www.autismsociety-nc.org/a-look-back-at-a-remarkable-year/ thanks.

To Raise a Warrior

vikings-headlineI went to a Viking Age society life exhibition at the local museum last month. I’m a Norse spirituality fan, so how I could I miss it? Beautiful exhibition, very well presented and explained. Besides the display of the artifacts excavated from the Norse soil, such as the swords, the ships, and the amulets, the museum provided a warrior battle presentation, played out by the Viking warrior and folk fans, travelling around the world. The brave folks dressed themselves in the Norse people garments and used the replica weapons to bring one another down in front of the packed auditorium, a crowd of which at least half were kids.

Each time a warrior fell in the one-on-one fight, the leader of the pack that explained the event to the audience, invited us to bring the dead fighter back to life. It was explained to the guests that the warriors who fought so brave must be on the way to Hall of Valour where they were so eager to go and party until the end of time. The only thing that could possibly bring them back to life is… well, party on earth. “Anybody knows what mead is?” the leader of the pack yelled into the crowd. “That’s right, Viking alcohol drink!” The crowd was then encouraged to yell “Mead! Mead! Mead!” to bring the soul of the dead fighter back to join the body so he could join the rank of the armed folks on stage. And so it went after each fight.

I thought it was fascinating, because the kids in the crowd, were brought to believe, for some odd reason, that an alcoholic beverage could bring one back to life from death. Yes, those are Vikings, to the majority they are all extinct for a thousand years except for TV series legacy. Yes, there is folklore, mythology, and other fun stuff to read about, and maybe forget in a month or so. Yet some stuff, especially fun stuff like that, it stays somewhere in the mind. What enters the mind acts out at some point, in ways we find unexpected and fascinating. How many future punters sat in that room? How many of them, like me, won’t be able to let go off booze easily in ten years?

Yes, me. I never heard of mead raising the dead, but I was actively addicted to alcohol for years, and without my version of mead, such as beer, I felt like a living dead. With it I was alive and could rage like a warrior running through enemy shores and their castle walls of the modern world, or at least I thought so. It made up fun reality for me. It was a kingdom of illusion I loved to keep alive for many years. It didn’t do me much good.

Blame on the Viking fans? No. that’s not what I write this for. This one is as usual for opening eyes. For thinking, while it’s still allowed to do so. The Gods brought us enlightenment for a reason.


the image was copied from https://royalalbertamuseum.ca/visit/galleries/feature-gallery/index.cfm and pillaged by me. thank you.

factories of endless thought

There are lands unknown,

Places many wonder about.

In dark halls we deny we have,

There are kept the machines

That eternally run.

When all is sleep,

Theirs is the endless work.

Although their guards are on constant watch.

The precision of the production is questionable.

When a machine wears out

Hardly anyone pays attention.

In the concealed towns of the mind

Vulnerable faculties are at work.

Facehugger Rage

Alien_facehuggerWhatever happens, it’s never my fault.

What you say to me is never sincere.

How ever you wear your language for me to understand,

I know you’re wrong and your speech is a lie.

 

I am a rebel for the sake of nothing but my gain of something

That would feed an illusion

Capable of calming the old pain of all kinds.

You’ve got my history written down in your books,

And you seem to think that I am up to no good at all times,

And you tell me that you do for me all you can do

But one thing you cannot give me is freedom.

 

What would I do with this freedom, you ask,

If I presumably received it?

I don’t know.

Probably shoot myself up with dope

Like all the other times,

The crash-and-burns, the last times,

I mean those times I swore up and down they will be last times.

I’d probably do something that would cause my leg to break at another spot,

Or dislocate another knee,

Steal stuff here, trash an apartment there.

You know how it works for me.

 

You know it, but I still don’t trust you.

My anger against you is really against me,

But I didn’t just say that.

My clawed fingers I hug my face with as I growl loudly

Is my rage facing me

For it knows my bullshit and it smells my fear.

 

My war against the world is my war against me

The war that I can never let go of,

For I have to fight something.

You and the rest of caregivers

Fall victim to these battles,

For I will never admit the truth.

All I believe (or make myself believe and pray to)

Is that I am surrounded by lies,

No matter what you tell me,

Pushing my wheelchair down the never-ending hallways.


the image was copied from https://aliens.fandom.com/wiki/Facehugger thanks.