Monday, August 15, 2011

The Road Traveled All Too Well

Allow me, please, to be amiguous without consequences.

We all walk our own roads, that's apparent. We all attach ourselves to various, yet specific things. Some people will choose yellow, and other a deep shade of red. My road is the latter hue. It is beautiful in everything it is and lacks; runs deep and travels like a river. Encompassed, not bombarded, with substance: foliage, deep-rooted tree's-whether naturally, or self-induced, it is the same-libraries, several outlets not required to be taken, bridges, and bubbles. What I love best, is the course in undeviating, unrelenting toward something not very red at all.

Why, and how this is interesting to you, I don't know. Stop reading if it is. It won't stop.

What happens when an amazing, vibrant shade of Blue decides to run parallel....?

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

In the words of...

Gavin Rossdale, " I just wanna be myself." How wonderful it is to glimpse who you are. Several locations, arbitrary instances, and it can still happen.

There are so many people. SO many people, and I know we all need each other, and exist off one another's innovations, enthusiasm, and realism....but sometimes, while reveling in solitary moments in a random location, I just wanna be me.
 We all need all of us, yes, but what about the individual! I've realized i'm a separate being. We are, by nature, creatures of companionship, and there has been no greater God-given gift than to hold someone's hand in life that I fully trust and love. Then there's me... Strip it all away, tear the world down, and you have you. We're surrounded by people who edify, love, and help us, but can those people purchase your personality? Can they qualify you for any amount of character? Carry you to salvation? In the end, beginning, and throughout...it's you. It's great to be able to be friends with yourself. To like yourself. I have a hard time with this, as i'm insanely critical of my appearance, performance, results, like most of us. And how narcisstic does this idea sound? I wish so badly that I could transfer my feelings once again, and not for narcisstic reasons, but because I want to share with you. I've expressed this yearning before, I'm sure.

The most amazing thing happened the other night in accordance with my previous statement. I was reading Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury and he said, "And isn't that what it's all about? To reach around and up through somebody's head, look through his eyes, see that damned-fool miracle, and say, 'Oh...so that's how you see it? I should remember that." I was astounded! I woke Colby up next to me to tell him that Bradbury had the same "love thought" as me! That if you want to know, love, share, gain insight to or for someone, jump behind their eyes. Literally. How do you perceive the contours of the valley? Just like taste buds literally taste things significantly differently from one person to the next, so does perceptions in images all around us! I juv it.

And, even now, as these words lay stringently upon the page before you, floating slowly to your consciousness, they won't register. They can't register. Not until this is something you've discovered in your own flipping way, in a random occurrence, with maybe nobody you know at all. All of us, certainly, need all of us. I wouldn't change that for a million epiphanies. But, realizing I am an individual and can soley function if I need to, helps me to more fully support those around me. If that adds up.

The opposite is true, as well. As in all things. It's hard to be your own friend because it's easier to come down on yourself; this makes sense because we're always "becoming", and to "become" we need to reflect and analyze. Instead of positively ingesting this information of errors, I know that I, personally, feel like someone just dinged my credit score. Perhaps a character flaw, or maybe instinctual. We all feel somewhat inclined to please those around us. Art Alexocas shares this opinion on self-criticism when he says, "I'm just plain sick again...tired of the sound of my own voice." Rightly, I get annoyed with what's pouring out of my mouth sometimes. It's like I've been talking so much that it turns into a message on an answering machine which nobody really invests time in. It's all an adequate depiction of a balance between what we want, who we want to be, and what's actually reflected in our morning mirrors. We can't become ourselves, or reach a point where we actually want to hang out with ourselves, without a bunch of crap to overcome. I remember all this with a simple slogan: Crap preceeds Good Stuff. Author Ray Bradbury complies with this statement, "If your boy is a poet, manure will be wild flowers to him. It is, after all, what manure is all about anyway." Crap-most literally in this sense-preceeds something beautiful.

Truth is, if we were ok with ourselves all the time, we would never become our own best friends, which again is not self-involved, but almost necessary to survive both emotionally and physically. We're faced with so many fires, and if we can't be strong in who we are, we'll burn. It's simple.

Be yourself. Find glimpses of who you are, and embrace those moments. Allow it to expand your compassion for those around you who may not know who they are and are struggling with any assortment of conflicts: religion, spirituality, marriage, school, divorce, health issues.... When we secure ourselves, we secure others. Much like the Savoir felt all the pains, so he could bear ours.

This isn't meant to be a lonely gesture, it's just an observation. A most welcomed observation. Detach yourself. Feel who you are for a few minutes. It may come with music, or cooking, or finding a short cut. Companioship is priority and preferable, but, when I glimpse the solitary me...I love it, too. Not as much. But we gotta love it a little, man. Enough to reach some level of self-actualization.
It's not easy. Nothing is. Well, standing still isn't so hard.  
Last thought: "Bees do have a smell, you know. If they don't, they should, for their feet are dusted with the scent of a thousand flowers." Ray Bradbury.

Man, and all this to rock n' roll at 8 a.m. Nice. Gonna be a good one!