Just keep moving…on the spot.


The memories. They won’t stop– they keep flashing past my eyes of their own accord. 

I’m getting so sick of treading on this worn out path, this rut. It feels like I’ve been stuck here forever. The same bleak scenery stretching on in all directions, the sticky muck and sharp, rocky debris underfoot. I know it hasn’t been forever, i know it hasn’t be that long, objectively. But sometimes it sure feels like it has been too long, too long.

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.” One foot in front of the other, that’s it, I keep reminding myself. Often it’s necessary to tread through rough patches to get to your paradise, get through that darkest hour before you’re rewarded with the light of day. This is all a part of life. It may not be pleasant, but you can’t escape it and in retrospect it won’t be take bad. In retrospect you will probably even be able to appreciate it and be grateful for it. Probably.

Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of a new horizon, a new path, a new landscape just around the bend, and I’d smile and feel assured that I must be on the right path, and all I have to do is keep pushing, I’m nearly there.

Then the next thing I know, it seems I must have taken a wrong turn, or accidentally trekked backwards, or maybe I went in a circle… I’m not even sure if I’m on the right path, maybe I should go where it branches off suddenly over there…

As someone wise and purple once said, If you don’t know where you want to go, then it doesn’t really matter which way you head in…

If i knew what the outcome is ‘supposed’ to be, if I knew which outcome was best, then I could pick myself up from here and now, and plop myself right there. And head straight there in a straight line, and start preparing myself NOW for that. Cut out all this messy bits, I don’t care so much for the figuring out any more, it stopped being fun. I don’t want to be stuck here forever, just give me the answer, whisk me to the next pitstop, so I can move on from there and get on with it.

But there’s no ‘Supposed to be’, there’s no ‘Right Answer’, there’s no ‘Designated Pitstop’.
It’s the journey that matters, not the destination. Rather, there IS no Destination.

Life is a journey. Like reading a book or playing a computer game. If you cut to the end just to find out what happens, it really can’t be said that’ve you’ve read the book or played the game, much less that you’ve enjoyed them. Cutting the chase would be missing the point entirely.

… Doesn’t make the frustration and impatience of feeling like you’re stuck go away though.

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Words are meaningless


Sometimes I wonder what’s the point of writing anything; it seems like anything I would have to say would have been said better, more succinctly, more poignantly, by someone else. And when you see it you just feel like pointing to it and going ‘Yes! that! exactly that!’ and there’s absolutely no need for you to add anything else.

Have you ever been in a mood where every song you listen to seems to be speaking directly to your heart? Every line you read seems directed specifically to you? Every wave, smile, wink or comment from a person seems to answer something you have been muling over? It’s a sign. A message. From god, or otherwise.

Words are so limiting, words are so meaningless. Words only mean as much as we let them mean. We give meanings to words, we give them power. And we tend to give them LOTS of power, so I guess words, in the practical sense, aren’t meaningless after all.

To someone who can’t read, they’re utterly meaningless, just squiggles. To someone who has a good command of the language, they could probably ‘read’ any piece of text in any number of ways. Different interpretations, so many possible nuances in between the lines. In certain cases it’s probably more than possible to read in it something that runs completely counter to what the original author intended.

No matter how good you are with words, can you really communicate your innermost experiences to another reader in a way that perfectly reflects your private reality?

We are only individuals, and are always necessarily alone in our own heads.

Whatever our output, it has to necessarily go through someone else’s perception — all of their knowledge, understanding, language skills, life experiences, personality and mood– before if arrives at them. Whenever we see, hear, read something it necessarily goes through the same process. We can’t help but see things through our own eyes, and our own eyes are coloured and tinted. We can’t help that, but once aware of it we can be on our guard to acknowledge its effects and don’t presume to know or understand more than we do.

When you read a text, it can say different things to different people. A simple song can resonate deeply with so many people.

This says less about there being omens, signs and messages form god in the world, and more about the way humans perceive, and how we are all more alike than we are different.

The most meaningful words are the most meaningless, for that can’t be quantified, qualified or proven and yet can be said by anyone at all.

I saw a picture of you hanging in an empty hallway. I heard a voice that I knew and I couldn’t walk away. It took me back to the end of everything; I taste it all, I taste it all…the tears. again.

Outside the rain’s falling down–there’s not a drop that hits me. Scream at the sky but no sound is leaving my lips. It’s like I can’t even feel after the way you touched me. I’m not asleep but I’m not awake after the way you loved me.

I can’t turn this around; I keep running into walls that I can’t break down. I said I jut wander around with my eyes wide shut because of you. I’m a sleepwalker. 

Let me out of this dream. 

Everywhere that I go, I see another memory. And all the places we used to know, they’re always there to haunt me. I walk around and I feel so lost and lonely. You’re everything that I want. But you don’t want me. 

I’m a sleepwalker. Let me out of this dream.

A similar feeling to my Limbo.

Little Shadows


In the silence of the world
Little shadows softly creep
Running, stumbling, tumbling, leap
Without sound, nary a peep

In the madness of the world
Topsy-turvey upside down
Inside out and round and round
Sprinting senseless, no-where-bound

Wherefore art thou?
and who am i?
beauty unfound
apple eye

On your sleeve for all to see
or sneaky, silent, stone wall be
Do you care — do I care you care?
Maybe; maybe not; left (un)shared.

Unreality, realer than real
All you know and all you feel
Contradictions, paradox
Non-existence, there is no box.

Will you please me? no one will?
Just keep swimming; no choice still.
Forever sad, empty, dead.
Hollow chest and vacant head.

Fallen tree, no one’s around
No ears present, still a sound?
Out of sigh, beyond my reach
Feels like: no sound, tone, pitch.

In the stillness of the world
Formless shadows flee and flit
Crying, wailing, screaming, weep
Souless, soundless, endless pit.

Written on 18th Jan 2012

Limbo


this feeling
like floating
only half living
only half there.

you’re sleeping
while waking
and speaking
and laughing
but don’t truly care

going through
the motions
a shell on autopilot
a lifeless puppet on strings
muscle memory,
probably.

just waiting
while floating
and drifting
and dreaming
semi-conscious and unaware.

waiting
and waiting
and waiting
and waiting
for reality
to seep
back
in.

Written 24th January 2012