Are brutes ignorant because they are brutes, or are they brutes because they are ignorant? In any case, my way to dealing with their bullying has always been to get around it while helping others. They eventually self-combust with bitterness and dumb decisions.
I remember when I believed that sleep was almost a nuisance, an obstacle for living, a waste of time. I went from there to believe of sleep as nourishment, and of waking life as being a nuisance, an obstacle, a waste of time, particularly when it shows up uninvited in the middle of the night.
As an artist, I have felt in the past that my career had been resolved into my own idea of success and failure. It was either one or the other, and it was always someone else idea. I’ve thrown that paradigm out the window. Success is failure. Failure is success. It’s all about love.
Proud of the small stuff, of the big stuff, of the stuff I own, of the stuff I got. Pride always puts me in a position of weakness and conflict, of separation, of rivalry. I try to strive for humbleness. But isn’t humbleness another way of being proud? As in proud to be humble? What is the opposite of pride? How I can get to ‘nothingness’ so I don’t have to be this or be that?
I remember one of those times when I thought I was done with love. I locked my heart and threw away the key. I want to think everyone has done the same at some point or another. Of course that’s just silly. You can’t be done with it, or lock it in. It doesn’t work. Resistance is futile.
No one believes in ingenuity anymore. No one trusts it, no one thinks it’s worth anything, no one sees any face value on it. I think it’s because it doesn’t have the capability to hurt and destroy. Everything worth something these days is measured by how big it is and/or how much destructive power it has.
It’s so easy to become a victim of our circumstances and sink in sad, scared, or angry feelings. I think sometimes that’s inevitable, but other times it seems as if we’re drawn by the gloom of suffering, and we purposely avoid overcoming it.
I had a friend a few years ago that used to emotionally mistreat me. I was always available, always flexible, always tending any needs. I finally walked out and parted ways. It’s not that I believe codependency is always terrible, or that interdependency is the way to go. I learned to be comfortable somewhere in between.
Everyone seemed grumpy and short tempered this week. I have a hard time with confrontation but I had to use it to push back a little bit. There was heat, and burn, and smoke, and scowl, as in coal.
Expectations are infectious, I find myself jumping in the pit of fire and thinking I will not get burned. Perhaps you won’t, but there are those instants when you ask yourself why you’re there and why it is better. Is it better?
Changing you mind is not a bad thing. You have to listen and be open. Intuition will betray you more often than not. Get messy.
Sadness=negation of beauty.
8:40 AM: The Havisham Hour. Day/Page/Sketch 283 of 513 from Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations –Pulvis et umbra sumus.
It feels like we’re heading to this place where silencing the truth will actually set you free. Or perhaps it’s the other way around: people are afraid their truths could be outed.
Puppets cannot experience ecstasy without having experienced despair beforehand. Same with us.