All, Journal, Philosophy, Prose, spirituality

Ranting on Those Bastard Collective Neurosis: Religion and Spirituality

I’m not going to lie: I have spent fifteen minutes attempting to open this entry. 

Here goes nothing world, Lawrence Black now contributes his metaphysical phislosophies to the pithy sum of all religious and spiritual thought. Godspeed, Sir Black. 

That, unfortunately, was the best I could do. It is difficult to write about your spirituality: in a sense, it is akin to explaining your very philosophy of life – like who can do that; I view both spirituality and religion to be a kind of neurotic thing best kept to oneself. 

It was Pablo Neruda who described religion as a “collective neurosis”, which I just loved, because, to me, religion is essentially a complex like any on this list. Perhaps even the most complex of all complexes; I mean, we aren’t just talking mere narccicism or incestual fantasy – to cite two common complexes – no, we are talking imaginary being in the sky who sees you masturbate.

Now, just calm the fuck down Murica – we know you love your Jesus and your Trump – I’m just saying, in my opinion, that religion shit is fucked up. 

How – I don’t know – try this: try and imagine you care about things like equality, reason, free will, and science. And if you don’t, well, then religion is perfect for you. 

Not that I don’t find moral, intellectual, and literary value in various world religions – I have a good two feet of bookcase occupied by them – they just aren’t valid philosophies of life for me; in short, the collective neurosis of religion is not my cuppa. This, however, does not mean I don’t think man has a soul, or that there isn’t more that just the physical universe;  I have, after all, smoked me some fucking DMT. 

#thatshitkray

Point being, there is definitely a spiritual aspect to my life – and by spiritual, I refer to pantheism, synchronicity, psychedelics, intuition, the unconscious, love, dreams, the imagination, mythology, and the bigger workings of my sense of destiny, which guides me; however, I try to stay as far from spirituality as possible, and by spirituality I mean that other collective neurosis that we call “New age”. 

You’ve know them: those annoying suburban-troglodytes who seem to live by the mantra of “See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil”; unless of course, the topic is GMOs or The Ego, which they, of course, themselves, do not have – on account of, you know, being so spiritual and shit. I am satirizing, but I really seriously hate these fuckers. Okay maybe not really, but I don’t like that spirituality has, in a sense, become just another religion, full of it’s own dogma, only, it’s not Jesus and God but consciousness and the divine.

Now, I realize that the entire point of spirituality is having your own experience; however, I see a lot of “spiritual people” having what seemingly amounts to the same experience. Hell, go to any Whole Foods and you’ll see many of those spiritual types practically have the same lives. 

I’m ranting; but, for me, what it boils down to, is that religion and spirituality ultimately provide limiting paradigms for my model of consciousness; for that is the only point of these things: models for life. Sure, Jesus is one – if you want to worship your Dad’s favorite son who died nailed to a cross because you are a born in sin piece of shit who wants to live in guilt before you burn forever or go to heaven, who knows. 

I’m entertaining myself, still ranting, but I have written this far because I want and deserve my own model, where I can live from my spirit and my soul without saying all is one, or even believing in an afterlife. 

I forgot who said it, but the quote goes something like, there ought to be as many religions as there are people. 

And I agree. Because if my God doesn’t exist, he should. 

What, you didn’t really think I was actually going to tell you what I believe, did you? Maybe in a part 2. 

Postscript:

I recognize I made a bit of a semantic argument about spirituality, without outlaying any actual ontological views, which is fine; however, I am really hoping after my next slumber, I awake inspired to map out something akin to my own spirituality – even if only as a record for myself as thirty-one years old. After all, my spiritually has evolved for as long as it has existed, and it will continue to for as long as I do. Just remember: the moment someone else has all the answers, you are the sucker. And I, for one, would rather risk manufacturing my own illusions, than to blindly follow another’s. 

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All, Journal, Prose

Notes Before 31

I begin my thirty-first trip around the sun in seven days.

Trip being the key word.

Life is indeed – if you open to it – it’s a great trip. Fantastic, magical.

Never thought I would grow into something different than I was at twenty-two. I was so naive back then. But that’s how naivete works. No one knows they’re naive.

Back then and ever since I thought I was all I would be.

I was a guy who thought my story was over.

How wrong I was.

I would go on, as I predicted hopefully in my poems, to fall in love again.

This girl would be, is, the one.

The one who lets me be exactly who I am, who gave me that divine feminine allowing space to continue discovering myself.

I’m quieter now.

The things I want, I want more.

Anything standing in the way, I want less.

I trust in the things I have learned, preferring psychedelics to analgesics.

Pleasure to pain.

Solitude to society.

I’m confident, supremely.

And frankly, I don’t have much to say.

Just the steadfast things I believe in:

Trust in yourself.

Forgive – but also condemn those who have fucked you over – those who took advantage of your kindness and naivate.

RESPECT YOURSELF.

Accept that you did not know any better and that the past could not have been any different.

Know and like yourself.

Spend time alone.

Let go of guilt.

Let old gods and myths die in favor of those you yourself build.

Design your own religion. Be faithful to something. Truth, beauty, goodness. Kindness.

Know that happiness is not the result of a good life – but the cause of one.

Just decide.

Just decide and make your life what you want.

Know thyself, trust thyself, respect thyself, honor thyself.

Be kind, be kind, be kind.

Love yourself.

Appreciate your aesthetic merit.

Keep learning.

Read.

Choose your own morals.

Have hot sex.

Take care of your body.

Know that the eyes are the window of the soul, and others will see you, will feel you in them – no matter how hard you try to mask your insecurities. They will see you. So get a firm hold on your own truths, and do not waver or doubt them. Know what is true for you in your heart of hearts. Decide your consciousness. Direct your thoughts.

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All, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Prose, Self-Actualizing, spirituality

The Young Actuals

12924416_1156070307750254_1734732197348032226_nThis is me; having realized that no matter how much of a writer, hippie, or bohemian I am, I am also a guy who enjoys success in business.

After all, you wouldn’t want someone else to judge you through a single lens or label, so why do it to yourself.

You are not this or that. You are whole. And to recognize the parts of you that exist seemingly in direct opposition to one another is the essence of wholeness.

The trick to happiness and inner peace, for me at least, is living in a way that holds the opposing parts together – not neglecting one or the other, but living in a way that honors both the billionaire and the Buddhist in me.

The Young Actuals of this world are those who understand that freedom is not meant to be wasted living a mass produced life in which we are at best imitatable – and at worst: miserable imitations.

For the Young Actual, to fear what others think is suicide; to envy others: insanity; for we believe in our own originality, and in the quiet intuitive knowledge that God was always only ever an archetype for man.

And, tired of living with the results of backwards myths, we have no Gods but our highest selves.

Our religion: the private experience of living a personal myth.

Our existence: a creative rebellion in which art is once again made loyal to man’s interior truths, through which the invidvidual once again hears her own inner voice.

For we are not products of the collective, but the producers, and the stewards of consciousness itself.


Young Actuals ethos inspired by Ayn Rand, Albert Camus, and Ralph Waldo Emerson.

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All, Journal, Prose

Draft #4

I’ve saved three drafts tonight, and dodged I don’t know how many personal bullets. 

I wonder how many writers let their unconscious script their writing, and thus their lives?

For me, by draft three I knew these were conversations – or, rather, drafts – to share with her. 

And I’m sure we will learn something and we will grow of it. 

Mostly, I’m terrified of being thirty and having someone to let down other than myself; for I have let down myself enough, which, in itself, is a terribly private confession – but I do not pretend perfection; I only claim to know myself – as any good writer ought. 

I think the most difficult and brave thing in a relationship is knowing how to not project your personal bullshit onto your lover – how to not displace the guilt and insecurities into blame, creating a drama you can use as an outlet for your own stress. 

I admit, my business is not where I want it to be. 

I admit, commitment becomes somehow more frightening with age. 

I admit, I get lonely too. 

I am human. 

But in my humanity, I am magnificent. For as a writer, I get to decide whether I will clear the collective unconscious, lessening the burden of guilt by confessing my sins, or whether I will saddle it with the debt of a drama I have never paid. 

So, I write about what it means to be human. To sip whiskey on your balcony at X:15 am and confess your petty sins, which others will always crucify you for later anyway. 

I wish everything would be perfect when I awake, but alas, the future takes time. 

And maybe on draft number five, I’ll finally feel alright. 

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All, humanity, Poetry, Prose, Timeless Truths

Only Yesterday

The sun will rise tomorrow,
As straight as the crow flies;

Daylight will come.

And it will be a good day for some,
And for others: one dark and tired

But I promise you this:

They’ve already decided –

For whether they know it or not:
Their day is upon them.

But –
Shall they meet us,
Perhaps then they will know what we do:

Which is that the human heart – if unafraid –
Shines right into the blind-spots of our souls,
That pulling darkness,
That invisible, secret shadow-side to each individual’s light

And should someone’s light throw shade on my shine
I am unafraid to use that yin,
And wear the black darkness about me like a cloak
So that I may once again slip in,
And explore the depths within this heart of mine –

Where I,
Brave and trusting,
Shall seek the light –
That yang-energy hiding behind the wound I have yet to find

And finding the sad thing
– As the seeker always does –
I will carefully remove the stitches,
Drenching the lonely sad plains in my soul with undiscovered parts of myself,
Where only yesterday,
I didn’t know I existed.

And when our wounds have been finally opened and examined,
We will be more whole –
Our wings once again dipped in gold,
We will have grown,
Not simply older,
But better, brighter, lovelier, and wiser –
Than we ever imagined,
Only yesterday

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All, Prose

Prose: Katy Perry

I have things about me, qualities and characteristics, which others may perceive as flaws, but I am me, and I am perfect. 

I never thought that I would become a man, but I am me, and I know who I am:

I am the programmer of the game called life. 

And I do not take myself too seriously; for I am me, and I am light, and I am love, and I am happy; for I am. 

And I have learned lessons from my past: living and loving and winning and losing has given me all I need to be in this evolving moment called time. 

And the present really is a gift. And I share it with friends and family and the beautiful women woman I love; for I am me, and there is nothing better than being unique and owning who I am. 

For I am me, and you are you, and we are us, and we exist for the sake of one another; for we are living and dying every day.

And there is nothing to fear; for at the end of the game all the pieces go back from whence they came. 

And I know not and I care not about what is next, for I know what happiness is possible for me in this life.

So let’s savor these cold drinks, listen to Katy Perry, and have a threesome.

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All, Journal, MyFavoritez, Personal Mythology, Philosophy, Prose, Psychology, Self-Actualizing

Finding Excalibur: My Journey to Knowing Confidence in Myself and My Path

I have been following the muse in my sense of destiny and in my path of learning and self-discovery, awareness.

Yes, I have clear goals – clearer than ever – and yet, as of late, I have chosen instead to follow the muse rather than my goals; for my intuition is strong – stronger than it’s ever been. This I understand to be something of an act of faith, which has it’s place (Something I will touch on again); yet the more I follow my intuition – a kind of hybrid between faith and reason – the more I am led toward something more concrete, something that looks like an intelligent plan [1].

And this plan, as it comes together, feels almost like a reward, a relief – an end to one journey and the start of another.

It’s taken me a long time to rebuild trust in myself – trust I lost, and rightly so, simply via ignorance; for truth has a way of outgrowing itself, and life sometimes – in its process of upgrading you – necessitates a reformatting of your software, and in humans, this basically is the awareness realization (Often after failure) that we don’t know shit – or, rather, that our old paradigms are simply no longer valid. There just comes a time when the things we thought were true fail us – whether by our actions or those beyond our control; there just comes a time when our lives outgrow our understanding of life.

And so, if we are brave, we trust in the universe to deliver us through a kind of alchemical process of entropy in which we go through a chrysalis of sorts, returning to the ashes before we rise as the phoenix. To borrow the grandest metaphor of all, from Joseph Campbell, There is no resurrection without crucifixion. This is what I refer to as quantum change, a term I heard John Mayer use in a radio interview, in which he said something to the effect of, ‘I believe that we are capable of true quantum change, maybe once or twice in a lifetime.’ And I most certainly, no doubt, am undergoing – have been undergoing – such a thing. Go through my writing over the past sixteen months, and you can literally see it in the paradigms I’ve birthed and put to death. To me it’s nothing short of remarkable, because, really, you’re coming out of the other end a different person, but more you – and perhaps even the real you – for the first time in your life.

All that said, I know the end to my quantum change is near, and perhaps even here, for I know what the beginning looks like. It’s my goals – goals I possessed the desire but not the will or the understanding for. And this I know is a fundamental necessity in order to do them, to live them [2]. So it has been that I have let my goals marinate in the marrow of my bones down to the depths of my soul, where I ventured in hopes that I might find the will and the way.

This path was, I admit, largely one of faith; for what else does a man with nothing left have but that sense within him, that therein lies the pearl of great price. This is the treasure we seek, which, as Joseph Campbell tells us, lies in the cave we fear to enter. Thankfully for me, I had nothing to lose. And I don’t mean this with any measure of self-pity, which I know all too well, but, rather, in gratitude. This, I concede, comes in hindsight, but regardless, I am grateful. I smile on what seemed so dark.

But it was this darkness that led me to faith, and faith that led me to something more. Again the dots connected, as they only do in hindsight, but now I feel the dots are beginning to connect looking forward. Where then I only had a sense of my own destiny, now I have an understanding of it.

Ironically, I originally meant to write this to decry faith as something inferior to knowledge [3], but as I write think-aloud, I realize it was faith that got me here, which, of course, destroys my entire thesis, giving way to a better different one, which I suppose is more a conclusion; hence: the reason purpose for which I write.

Writing, in this way, is a kind of math, in that I arrive at – not forgone – but predestined conclusions. Facts, if you will, about life. For this is what all this journeying down my rabbit holes is about: solving problems. Chiefly, how to live my life as only I can live it.

Thus it is for my answers I write tonight, to reach that light at the end of my tunnel – the will and the understanding by which I can achieve my desires and live my goals.

That something more, which faith led me to, contains the truths I will use to attain the fulfillment of my desires. And these truths are all that I lacked, all my unconscious mind led my intuition to appercieve through experience, assimilating my perceptions into a consciousness capable of completing the tasks my soul has bestowed upon me; in a word, I lacked the requisite cognitive abilities to fulfill my mission.

Note: I understand these are concepts most people don’t live by, but in the vein of my heroes – as my spiritual grandfathers have – one ought to pursue nothing else [4].

My intuition, as I understand now, knew that in order to complete my mission, I needed some things I lacked, namely confidence and understanding, which I would come to find were directly related. It was, as I described above, through faith that I was able to trust in the process of quantum change to carry me here, to the following realization, which prompted me to write this:

The root of all confidence is in recognizing (Understanding), acknowledging (Internalizing), and developing (Pursuing) your potential.

This may seem simplistic and even recursive, and perhaps it is to a degree – as the above statement seems to say no more than the teachings of Marcus Aurelius, that the obstacle is the way. But it goes deeper than that, because if confidence is rooted in recognizing, acknowledging, and developing your potential, then the question that remains, is whether you posses the will required to do so.

And will, like the other factors in this equation of words, is something I have touched on recently – in fact, it is something I’ve only come to learn the value of this year, when I realized that life is a a game of potentials but it is won by wills.

‘Will’ – Synonyms: determination, willpower, strength of character, resolution, resolve, resoluteness, single-mindedness, purposefulness, drive, commitment, dedication, doggedness, tenacity, tenaciousness, staying power, “the will to succeed”

All this [will], merely comes down to our ability to believe in ourselves – to believe that we have the power to decide on our options, and furthermore, the capacity to act on them.

And this is where I began thinking of the distinction between belief, faith, and knowledge, when I set out to write this entry, because I realized that I had gained more than belief or faith in my ability to decide on my options – I had gained the power to decide on them, based on my understanding of my potential – a concept I only truly awoke to this year.

For once you have an understanding of your potential (Something that comes from altering your perception of it [5]), you can begin to shed the dogma that has trapped you for so long in what you believed to be reality, and once you do that, life takes on a new meaning.

And it is within this new meaning of life that you see the true limits of reality, by which you gain the understanding necessary to act on your options. In short, you really realize that the only limits of reality are your potential, and the only limits of your potential are your reality.

This is neither faith nor belief, but knowledge. And it is more than self-knowledge but self-knowledge gained by knowing the world around you is a human construct, and – in the words of Steve Jobs – ‘created by people no smarter than you‘.

And this palpable knowledge, based in your understanding of reality and your own potential, is such a palpable shift from belief, that no faith is required. You have, in fact, at this point, exited the tunnel and made the shift from self-belief as some esoteric faith based thing to something very malleable, which allows you to understand both your options and your capacity to fulfill them. And this is, in essence, self-belief confidence in it’s truest and most powerful form. It is the confidence that comes from knowledge.

So, it is not that faith or belief is inferior to knowledge, it’s that knowledge is true, whereas faith is the belief that leads you to it [6].

I used to think I had confidence in myself – and I am not referring to confidence as a personality trait or a social marker, but confidence as a precursor to ability – but what I really has was self-belief (Rooted in faith). I believed in myself. I believed that I could understand the things I needed to understand in order to pursue my desires confidently [7]. But now, looking back, I see that I really viewed confidence as some esoteric elite thing that we either had or we did not, and much as I tried to fake it, it never worked. Bunny would tell you, I tried to fake it, but there was a failure to launch. And in light of my newly realized confidence, which is, as I said above, rooted in a true understanding of one’s potential, I see that fake it till you make it does not work, for me at least; however, what does work is self-belief rooted in faith as a means to confidence [8].

The root of all confidence is in recognizing (Understanding), acknowledging (Internalizing), and developing (Pursuing) your potential.

Where self-belief comes from faith, confidence comes from knowing, from a true understanding of your options and your capacity to fulfill them.

At this point, the conclusions may have been forgone, but they needed to be written, as this is my path. I needed to mark this moment; for this moment is far more precious than any before it, given that I have my Excalibur [9] now.

This confidence, as I posses and understand it today is the sword by which I will claim my throne. This is the linchpin of my success that I have been missing. Lord knows I have the will [10].

From here my intuition is very clear on the remaining steps [11] before going full limitless [12] mode with my desires.

What’s next, wait and see; it’s only a matter of time.


Footnotes:

1. Whether it’s an intelligent plan or an intelligent design, or  – as I would be apt to suspect – a combination of both, I know not; however, I suspect my life will be, and is – for me at least – the answer to this. To me this is an esoteric question, one I likely do not posses the intelligence to answer; although, perhaps the wisdom and intuition to do so, which, as it is, I am attempting to by living what I feel to be a spiritual or inspired life. /irrelevantfootnote.

2. One’s goals aren’t to be done – they’re to be lived.

3. The original title of this entry was Confidence vs. Belief, which the following I had begun as a facebook post:

I think we place way too much faith in belief, in faith itself as capable of creating our reality. I think – spirituality and religion aside – scientifically and pragmatically understanding life as we are capable of living it, is much more powerful. Not that belief doesn’t have a place – but knowledge, knowing, is far more powerful. In a word, it comes down to confidence; I must have faith in belief, but I may have absolute confidence in knowledge.

4. Thomas Moore’s Care of The Soul is a fantastic book anyone looking for a deeper connection to themselves should consider reading. In it, Moore outlines what he believes to be the biggest problem vexing modern man: our lack of a connection to our inner world – and consequently ourselves.

5. I awoke to my potential via a shift in my perception, a worthy topic indeed, and something I may write on in the future – provided it is necessary for me [5.1].

5.1 More likely I will bake this paradigm shifting inducer into one of my novels, as these kind of intangible concepts do not translate well into non-fiction, or, rather, the narrative of reality in which we live is not big enough to present a new myth within [5.2]

5.2 This will all make sense one day.

6. The truth will set you free has new meaning for me.

7. Exhibit A, courtesy of Mr. Walden Pond himself:

HDT

8. My path is my path, but it is my hope for you, my dear reader, that the paradigms I present provide shortcuts through the wilderness you may find yourself in, standing on the banks of your own shores.

9. Great name for a yacht…

10. There were times in 2014, when I would work literally days on end. If I told you the hours on end I would pull, you would not believe me. But without the confidence, as I have outlaid above, my will was impotent [10.1].

10.1 That said, will is the foundation of the strength you will need on your journey:

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

11. Tomorrow I will revisit (read) my previous entry and in particular the link contained within the edit, in order to diagram my own reality and wants (desires / potential) with the models laid out by the author for ‘Elon’s Software’. And I will also revisit the notes and lessons from Napoleon Hill’s Outwitting The Devil, a book I feel contains some very complimentary insights into the attainment of my pursuits.

Edit 11/14/15: Just published an entry titled, Hacking an Open Source Cognitive Model for Goal Prioritization and Attainment, which contains a follow up to the link I referenced above on ‘Elon’s Software’.

12. Back in 2011, in my quest to pursue my own path to actualization, I wrote a series of entries titled, Real Life Limitless; however, at a certain point I feel I owe my readers a redo of this in light of all that I have discovered, only this time I will wait until the proof is in the pudding.

Note: Featured Image from Wikipedia Commons, Excalibur

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To Be Okay

https://soundcloud.com/cderamos/brian-eno-the-big-ship

This year I have become myself.

Or, maybe, I have just crystallized into something whole, maybe I simply feel complete now that I know that this is as whole as I will ever be. alone.

And in all my solitude, in all my hours burning candles, in all my facing of myself, I’ve finally become someone who does not need anyone else to validate my own existence.

Lawrence Black: serial monogamist. Wannabe prince to those who shall remain nameless, those who are now blameless, to those who are, in my estimation, at least, changeless and perfect. And I lived through them, I saw myself through their eyes – for better and then for worse – until the bitter end.

And between those starts and ends, I was never a man unto myself, I was never okay – just okay – I was never okay; I was never okay – not on my own, at least.

And now I am [okay].

Now I am living through myself for the first time.

And for the first time, I am living for myself.

For this life is mine.

It is a wondrous thing to be okay, to know that regardless of whether or not anyone else does, that you yourself know, you know who you are; for to know who you are is to be okay.

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All, Prose, Prose, Writing

Goodnight Moon

Each day, we have but one day.

And reality is as real in the moment as it is false in others.

Sometimes, we merely need different mirrors in order to see beyond ourselves.

This weekend I saw beyond my own [mirrors], which gave me a glimpse into my future – the life I want.

And this life is mine.

I no longer wish to be smart. I no longer desire to impress myself.

All I want is honesty.

All I love is beauty.

And the only beauty is in being honest with yourself.

Goodnight moon.

 

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All, Journal, MyFavoritez, Writing

If Not Now, When?

So many drafts; just like my life: my business a draft, my books drafts – my success a draft – my dreams a draft.
But alas, life is no rehearsal; I play starting squad on a team of one every single day.

And here as I sit, shoulders haunched, stomach slightly pudge and paunch, this is who I am: a California Thoreau; a yuppie-hippie – candlelit and lovesick – my boyish heart beating a stone’s throw from my boyhood home. This is as whole as I will ever be.

Sure, I, like my drafts, am unfinished; and I may become more complete as they do, but I’ll never be more the bard than I am now – I either have it or don’t; the gift, the magic, the love of humanity. I believe these things exist within me.

This is my myth, the story I am living, and it terrifies me. I have been blogging writing underground nearly six years. And this waking dream I call 7saturdays has evolved with me – from the online diary of an ambitous twenty-four year old, to a neverending letter to myself, my future readers.

And, until I finish those drafts, I know I am placing messages in bottles to no one. Because I know that, like the still waters before me, my life holds them all captive. The lack of flow, of digging deeper to push these letters downstream, holds them all back. And they are adrift, like ships in a fog, at the mercy of the current, and the current is what waits for no man; for the current is time; and I: the moon, master of the tide.

The tide won’t wait. And then, there is only the dread of the rocks. No redemption for my soul, no reaching millions with my books. Not if they are drafts.

I must shape the world as I see it fit to live in; I must build islands in this sea. Otherwise the bottles float on, lost forever.

It is my hope – my deepest desire – that I will become one of the greats. Not to be great – to do great. I think it was Jung who wrote: Goethe does not create Faust, Faust creates Goethe.

And in this fashion, I aim to complete my drafts and in working on them to work on myself, to work on the world. In this way, my life’s work will become part of our human story, our history. For what does a writer do if not write the biography of the world? His work capable of permeating past, present, and future.

But, oh the dread of the rocks!

However, I must look to my library, to the men and women who cast off before me – to the poets, philosophers, and writers who have landed on my shore – to the ones who invited me to this great wide sea. And it is with deep appreciation and great awe that I read their works. I read with the hope all writers have: the hope that through some mystical, intellectual osmosis, their gifts will inform mine.

There are a thousand reasons books at my home, all beckoning me forth.

Beckoning me to sing along, lest my swan song be a mere death rattle and not an echo for eternity.

I wish G-d would whisper to me now, and maybe He is. Maybe the desire in my heart is a promise; and I would like to believe it is, which is, I think, a sign of fear – as is the case with all things we would like.

I fear greatness. I fear people thinking I am a fraud, a wannabe. As if I will be rejected for thinking I could build telescopes that let people see the stars.
But that is what I want my books to do. It’s what Shakespeare did. He took people to places in their hearts they had never been. He expanded the depth of the human heart. Joy, sorrow, laughter, ire – reading Shakespeare teaches me that these are part of a human life, part of the beauty and fullness of living. I too would like to be a steward of humanity.

And given the opportunity I have to do so, I feel blessed; and, as is the case with anyone who feels himself to be blessed, it is immensely humbling.

I do not forget where I come from: I was a kid who grew up in the proverbial gutter – and maybe that’s the problem: my inability to shake the feeling that life was hard. Then again, is a hard life not the fire in which writers are forged?

I write here to curate my living myth, my story. To pull the tide closer to my dreams. Dreams held back by excuses.

But, if not now, when?

There is nothing more to say, only to write.

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Journal, MyFavoritez, Writing

The Song I Sing As a Man

I am so terribly happy, I find myself stupefied by my undeniable joy.

Never have I, alone, felt anything like this; and it’s not the transitory kind of happiness either – my disposition seems to have altered; although, it’s not without cause. I’ve doubled down on my boyhood dreams, put my money where my mouth is, and invested in myself as a boy wishes to do when he is a man. Furthermore, I returned to the simple, instinctual joys of my childhood – those natural, comforting acts and habits in which one’s soul receives communion from the steady, centering spirit of the earth. But as we age, the ego emerges and we slowly abandon ourselves, eventually burying any sense of duty to the self, sometimes for decades, sometimes forever. I’m just one of the charmed, fortunate fools who rediscovered something lost long ago; lost long before I knew heartbreak; lost long before I lost faith in myself, for a time, that time not so long ago.

Today I’m again happy as only a boy is, as only one is who has not yet lost the unblemished optimism of youth, the hope of boyhood, and the innocence of promises whispered to teddy bears.

Back then, long before I carried this scar on my brow and this sorrow in my heart, I spent every free waking moment with my unsullied face in a book, the stories a balm on the dimples of my heart, still faint impressions formed by a world less perfect than the ideals of my ten-year-old heart.

Today, the boy who grew up lost in a book has found himself again in the libraries of time and in the words of his heroes, strangers who told the world their secrets: as a boy whispers them to his stuffed animals.

These, beautiful, peace-filled days pass in books and walks and endeavors meant to shape the world, at least, the world I live in.

It’s been said that happiness is the absence of neurosis, and I have discovered this to be true, for I have not a love, nor a fortune, nor a magical secret – but I smile as one who does, knowing I will.

I’ve realized the gift in losing, the freedom in uncertainty, and the rapturous joy to be found in the treasures of the heart. For this heart is mine and I’ve been to hell and back with it. And I’ll be damned if I ever forget the song in it again: the song I learned as a boy; the song I sing as a man.

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