This isn’t a political age; it is an age of madness dropped in ignorance.
Continually making something out of nothing and nothing out of something.
…
Nowhere to go we journey into ourselves only to be lost in the wilderness of everyday life. The present remains an observer and awaits our ineffectual surrender with patience. It is our madness to endure; time burns the edges of the crust while we sit and starve for plenty.
We live alone and love in the absences.
…
So sad, lonely and disappointed in this life, our lack of honesty about this is what is truly remarkable.
We do not live but live sound asleep. We have houses, but cower in-between four walls afraid to connect. You have family but can not see them for who they are. We have voices but can’t say anything to bridge the silence.
You are surrounded by things you purchase but it is empty. We eat and are still hungry.
Why do you rely on superficial talk? Is the silence still filled with fear? Why do you stick to pretending, when pretending is all you get in return? Don’t you want real connection between real people? Then why do you turn away?
…
There is a subtle desperation hidden behind every social interaction. The banality of our words exposes our artlessness and leaves us vulnerable. Each weakness is personal, evident and distressing. Every one of us has a weakness that reveals its true nature in our works, our words or our deeds. No one is immune, no one is left alone from critique or error.
Our talk, full of symbols, deeds, desires and judgments, lays bare our personal weaknesses with go-to phrases ready-made in our manner of speaking. How we manipulate each conversation back to what ails us, back to what concerns our most intimate vexations. Loving no one better than ourselves we plead with each moment return back our personal selves more beautiful more improved from when we last let it step momentarily away. Again, let us make this conversation about ourselves, again.
This desperation, this ennui, lives between us and the present moment, covering everyday life with a light sheen of ego-centricity. Whether it is a fear of silence or a fear of saying too much, each special case carries us back to our selves and away from really connecting. Under the guise, the excuse, of “being ourselves”, we hide behind our idiosyncrasies and blame away each more of our own or other to some obvious defect. Never really bearing the full responsibility, but hiding it away in some forgotten closet. Yet, everyone sees them and never looks further than that. Why should they? Why should we? Why should I? Easy judgment is a candy too close to push away.
The much deeper personal failures evoke too much pain, too much doubt, too much anxiety to approach thoughtfully. Rather the low lying fruit of self-depreciation or blaming others for some common fault makes the day pass by like a swift slip needle into a vein. Just one more dose, one more nod. We all have tracks in our arms from this trick.
How can we have reality when we digest so much falsehood? Each conversation a cloud that covers our eyes, a veil of lies, of personal ego contrivances. How can we step outside of this? What is the remedy? There is a special pain we must be prepared to endure if we are really ready to actually look deep into our actual selves. This special pain is the preparing to make continual mistakes and not allow these failings to relapse us back into thinking only superficially. Love exists. But the world is a trap and desert that we must be prepared to resist over and over again. It is a very long walk from ourselves to our real selves, indeed. Yes, the heart is just a breath away from the ego, just one small step - but the ego has truly learned how to fight back. Be prepared. Connect. Be grounded and connect.
Continually making something out of nothing and nothing out of something.
…
Nowhere to go we journey into ourselves only to be lost in the wilderness of everyday life. The present remains an observer and awaits our ineffectual surrender with patience. It is our madness to endure; time burns the edges of the crust while we sit and starve for plenty.
We live alone and love in the absences.
…
So sad, lonely and disappointed in this life, our lack of honesty about this is what is truly remarkable.
We do not live but live sound asleep. We have houses, but cower in-between four walls afraid to connect. You have family but can not see them for who they are. We have voices but can’t say anything to bridge the silence.
You are surrounded by things you purchase but it is empty. We eat and are still hungry.
Why do you rely on superficial talk? Is the silence still filled with fear? Why do you stick to pretending, when pretending is all you get in return? Don’t you want real connection between real people? Then why do you turn away?
…
There is a subtle desperation hidden behind every social interaction. The banality of our words exposes our artlessness and leaves us vulnerable. Each weakness is personal, evident and distressing. Every one of us has a weakness that reveals its true nature in our works, our words or our deeds. No one is immune, no one is left alone from critique or error.
Our talk, full of symbols, deeds, desires and judgments, lays bare our personal weaknesses with go-to phrases ready-made in our manner of speaking. How we manipulate each conversation back to what ails us, back to what concerns our most intimate vexations. Loving no one better than ourselves we plead with each moment return back our personal selves more beautiful more improved from when we last let it step momentarily away. Again, let us make this conversation about ourselves, again.
This desperation, this ennui, lives between us and the present moment, covering everyday life with a light sheen of ego-centricity. Whether it is a fear of silence or a fear of saying too much, each special case carries us back to our selves and away from really connecting. Under the guise, the excuse, of “being ourselves”, we hide behind our idiosyncrasies and blame away each more of our own or other to some obvious defect. Never really bearing the full responsibility, but hiding it away in some forgotten closet. Yet, everyone sees them and never looks further than that. Why should they? Why should we? Why should I? Easy judgment is a candy too close to push away.
The much deeper personal failures evoke too much pain, too much doubt, too much anxiety to approach thoughtfully. Rather the low lying fruit of self-depreciation or blaming others for some common fault makes the day pass by like a swift slip needle into a vein. Just one more dose, one more nod. We all have tracks in our arms from this trick.
How can we have reality when we digest so much falsehood? Each conversation a cloud that covers our eyes, a veil of lies, of personal ego contrivances. How can we step outside of this? What is the remedy? There is a special pain we must be prepared to endure if we are really ready to actually look deep into our actual selves. This special pain is the preparing to make continual mistakes and not allow these failings to relapse us back into thinking only superficially. Love exists. But the world is a trap and desert that we must be prepared to resist over and over again. It is a very long walk from ourselves to our real selves, indeed. Yes, the heart is just a breath away from the ego, just one small step - but the ego has truly learned how to fight back. Be prepared. Connect. Be grounded and connect.