Have we become nothing more than a sprinkler? Spraying water at the command of the electronic device. Have we lost our humanity for nothing except for a small amount of indulgence? Why do we diverge from the simplicity and complicated virtues of the mind?
I question me, not you. I question my human form, and the thoughts within. Why does one think as such? Why does the human think with deep thoughts, except to act, or not act on such thoughts.
Whispers heard in the dark are often lost in the culture of the man. Although they transcend the mortal being, they are drowned by the daily work that must be done to succeed.
Silence in the dark could be explained by nothing or something. Is our silence inexplicable, or un-explainable? No, rather our silence in comfortable, and can be explained by the invisible thoughts of a mind that is trapped in a realm that will not release it. Is the human able to release the perfect thoughts of the mind? How does one release, and become one with the thoughts of the mind?
The mind knows not the dark or the light, but rather the silence in between. The mind... Your mind, my mind, knows the silent moments, the slivers of life and death in between every moment, and thought.
For me to know more than you (The Reader) is absolute fantasy, except for what I can remember vs. what you can remember.
The human mind needs only a small amount of stimulus to become complete other than itself. In the light, or the dark, the mind is well versed in the absolutes of itself. It knows its own parameters, and to call it "it" is more than likely a subterfuge of the flesh asserting its dominance over the mind.
The human mind is more than "It". The human mind is more like "Them" or "They" or "The absolute knowledge of the human race".
If you are a human, and you are reading my words. Consider them your own minds words, for we (The absolutes, and thoughts in between our ears) are one.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
Monday, March 13, 2017
The protagonist
The mind of the individual, no, the creativity of the mind is divorced from the physical realm by fleshly desires.
If one could be the protagonist of the entire worlds population, what would that world look like? We try to comprehend the idea of how and why the world is moving in the direction that it is going, and some part of us, a small but revelatory portion of our psyche demands the wonderment of life that we have lost. In meditation of love, and other things that cannot be purchased, we can experience enlightenment beyond attainment. That enlightenment is then crushed by our need to work and provide, and sleep, and repeating those infinitely repeating practices until we are dull and without care of the unknown.
Perhaps, well as the old philosophers of days past have elucidated, there is an invisible existentialism that we have all but lost in our day to day wanderings, and gettings.
What is life? Why is life? How does one accomplish life without discerning the whats and the whys?
I know not of another man's life and hardships other than what I know of mine own. Hardship declares joy as it's dessert, as laziness declares depression. Not that depression won't come to any soul that lives and breathes, but as a reward, nay, I shall not and cannot partake in such a disorder.
Within the noble and proud, there is immense hardship and labor, such that the common man cannot and refuses all together to comprehend. Does that man of nobility then because of his common counterparts, refuse to be noble, and proud? Not by any means does the mind and thoughts of the common encroach on the reward of the noble and mighty of stature.
The protagonist in my story is a noble man. A man wrought with hardship and labor.
If one could be the protagonist of the entire worlds population, what would that world look like? We try to comprehend the idea of how and why the world is moving in the direction that it is going, and some part of us, a small but revelatory portion of our psyche demands the wonderment of life that we have lost. In meditation of love, and other things that cannot be purchased, we can experience enlightenment beyond attainment. That enlightenment is then crushed by our need to work and provide, and sleep, and repeating those infinitely repeating practices until we are dull and without care of the unknown.
Perhaps, well as the old philosophers of days past have elucidated, there is an invisible existentialism that we have all but lost in our day to day wanderings, and gettings.
What is life? Why is life? How does one accomplish life without discerning the whats and the whys?
I know not of another man's life and hardships other than what I know of mine own. Hardship declares joy as it's dessert, as laziness declares depression. Not that depression won't come to any soul that lives and breathes, but as a reward, nay, I shall not and cannot partake in such a disorder.
Within the noble and proud, there is immense hardship and labor, such that the common man cannot and refuses all together to comprehend. Does that man of nobility then because of his common counterparts, refuse to be noble, and proud? Not by any means does the mind and thoughts of the common encroach on the reward of the noble and mighty of stature.
The protagonist in my story is a noble man. A man wrought with hardship and labor.
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