Today I’m feeling incredibly inspired after a great weekend at home seeing a family member who I haven’t seen in seven years.
Whenever I have the pleasure of hearing a noble perspective foreign to me, I’m always very interested, and perhaps slightly altered in thoughts.
When I put my hand on my chest, I can feel my heartbeat. Liters of blood flowing through my body every day, a genetically compounded blood. In my father’s father’s father, a strain of my own blood ran through his veins like horses driving chariots. Within my mother, a tumultuous swirl of swarthy red containing what? Like a waterfall, a lake at a mountain’s base, or an iron kettle boiling a pine tea in the desolate wild; our blood is uniquely composed through our lineage. As I’ve said before, we have this one life. Think of what our ancestors went through to get us here.. Do we really “have it hard” at all? When I think of this, the question lends itself to a greater sense of pride for a name. ”What’s in a name?”
I quote myself, “the desolate wild”, this world is scary. There’s not a doubt to me that it is not. However, we surround ourselves with those we absolutely love and those who care about us completely - not just our happiness. Yeah, together we conquer tribulations. Together we experience the hardships. Sometimes “together” is not there, but we can always fend for ourselves knowing Emerson’s stress upon the importance of self-reliance. Then everything we’ve heard and read makes sense, and we become one with Earth’s beating drum. The tumbling blood-river through our family, to make a man out of a mouse in the face of our courageous ancestors. To compare our difficulties with those of our family’s past. We will be okay.
-“Anyway, it was one of Maman’s ideas, and she often repeated it, that after a while you could get used to anything.” -Albert Camus, The Stranger
-“There’s nothing you can’t put up with for, at least, a little while.” -My Dad
Yes, we learn the value of perseverance. Just as our fathers and mothers were forced to learn at times of immediate distress.
I am very blessed to have these people in my life, please know this.
My father’s cousin’s music, please give it a listen:
So I killed my inner child today And tried so hard to act my age With motion slowed I walked the mile I closed my eyes and stood up straight
With a heavy heart we move the dirt The morning watered cold cold earth I buried mine right next to yours Of simple things I sing no more
The kind of thing that screws your head up You think I don’t think - I think I think too much I’m feeling life slip - but I’m alive till I overdose on feeling and continuous time kill
In other days we were complete In summer grass in our bare feet These pictures built this time machine And spun my head, distressed my seams
Now black with earth my empty hole I lay to rest the breath I hold To rest with all these better things The murder and the thoughts it brings
It climbed my clouds and rained upon me I see beyond it, you think I don’t see We moved across this Great darkness
My dear, I Fear that our souls are lost Minds are weathered and lines are crossed And holding on to what was left We stood and made the final steps
It took this long to set you down And truly let you go There sits untouched the holes we fill The years left us the strength to kill
What swells inside, burns inside stays inside
So come on baby take your pick Of questions that will make you sick I’ve got a hundred thousand whys? Wont know a damn thing before I die
I keep waking to the sound Of inner children underground Of scraping at the dirt above Desperate to be heard
The kind of thing that incinerates security Burns clean through and f*cks up your sanity A nightmare born to wake to this These screams from underground…
Although this appears to be about the ending of a relationship, I’d especially like to focus on the idea of burying our own “inner children”. I can feel mine “scraping at the dirt above”, and I yearn to escape the ever-pressuring feeling of inadequacy.
A feeling of cold water being poured through me suppresses this in His rightful environment. Is it “this” that He’s really suppressing, well no.. not exactly..
And if I am a vessel, I will not be blown astray. I can drive on, I will. We can, we will.
I’ve never spent a night in a boat on a body of water. Hell, I’ve never had half the adventures as I’ve wanted to, meaning entirely fictional ones like we see Disney depict. But, lately I feel as if I’ve been transplanted to a life at sea.
I am at college now. So much change at once hits you like a wall when it catches up to you. Well, you can’t forget who you represent. That’s a lesson for always. I’ve prepared for these days for years, committed all preparations to storage amongst the hull. Years ago I rode a sloop. Now, massive in size, this schooner has everything we or I need. We’re off, all around, every angle out to sea is blue. The sky yields unending heights, just a feint brush of blue otherwise the sky would be white - and I don’t see a cloud. The sea appears mystical, drugged with lively green’s kiss till taken down by heavy, dark blue’s jealousy. However, the swirling of colors results to a white-foaming question or greeting appealing to only me. On the schooner, we or I have all we or I need; is this to say the body is a warehouse? Or perhaps, a temple?
Analogically, I am the ship. I have a mighty compass above, articulating cleverly obvious directions. And these seagulls swing by, just to rest their tired legs on my deck. Once again, I see nothing - nothing at sea. Yes, it feels overwhelming and a lot like too much change at once.
But, if we were to call the ship this college campus, then we really would have all we need. There are so many facets here that I am yet to discover. Optimistically (always approach every situation with optimism), I’ve stepped into some of these ports searching for any positive resources necessary. Seagulls fly away, but I know there is so much more here.
And so I call myself a sea-venturer, and I suppose I’ve always been one. Each step towards progress makes capsize a possibility. It’s fall or make it, se la vie. We all know this, anyways. I ask you to join me, in fleet or onboard. Don’t expect me to drop anchor in waiting, I have my destinations, but I will slow in order for you to join on as well. And then we are off, port to port, point A to point B, into the warm-red sunset; and we’re off.
I apologize for all the seafaring references lately if it’s grown to an annoyance for you, but similarly to flight, I find a life at sea to be fascinating. I see I’ve sought an analogy too great for my tired mind to clearly explain.
"... and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." (2 of 3)
Consider me not your “Captain”, but call me a friend. We are as one, and I believe the possibility of “one” is a world ideal, although ultimately utopian.
If only we were to open our eyes to this “one world” on a much smaller scale, I’m talking about around here. Can anybody else see this? To share these adventures with each other, to openly discuss, to envision, to dream, to be free - all in the security of unity… Ah, is it ever okay to dream?
One way or another, we will arrive to the sea - in flesh or by ash. Each and every one of us will float peacefully, contrasting with the sea’s negative buoyancy, and sometimes feeling the crush, till we’re at the ocean bottom. It is then that we’ll truly feel the humbled perspective of God’s immense power. It is then that we will return.
Land ho, I see our first stop. Is everybody feeling “okay”?
"...and he sailed off through night and day... to where the wild things are." (1 of 3)
Well, I’ve got time. Time, an entity of which I have plenty. Sometimes I feel bored, yeah, tired of surroundings including happy simpletons. But that’s okay, they’re okay - confident in their simplified characters, never wanting too much more. That’s not to say they’re welcome on my boat.
Because now, right now, this very moment, I feel like I’m wasting this valuable time. I’m missing adventure. I encourage everyone to go out in their backyards tonight and open up our imaginations to the things we were once so familiar with, do you remember those things still? Submerge yourself into your youthful form… Do you miss it? It’s not too late, we have time.
Yet at the same time, my patience grows thin. How? I don’t know… Maybe I caught the scent of something musty, cold, dark, steel with a plush lining / mixed with a damned curse, a fear of failure, a taste of success. I’m anxious for everything positive to arrive at once, including the completion of literary works, and all current projects. It’s gotten to the point where my adventures are only reached when I read, or sing tell-tale choral pieces.
I’m tired of it, so tired, the strange surroundings of the same folks who don’t know… Anyone who wants to come, climb aboard. Don’t dare think of time, on our ship it’s all alright.
What could I possibly respect more than this amount of power? A few weekends ago I took a trip with my parents to Watkins Glen.
When you emerge yourself into nature, the experience is nothing short of a spiritual bath. Cold water, first on your face, through your pores, straight to your veins. And this bath doesn’t cause your blood to rush through these veins, on the contrary it acts like a sweet serotonin; you’re surrounded by bliss.
Here, yes, it is here that we must listen with our entire mind and soul to that voice which has been crying to us for so long. I think I know what God’s been trying to say, yes I think I feel- No, I know I feel - you’re in me now. I continue to walk… subconsciously.
All pictures were taken at Watkins Glen State Park with my Nikon Coolpix, unfortunate that I did not have a 30mm or SLR. I will have more pictures from this trip in an album on my facebook.