Monthly Archives: May 2012

I have been searching for a while. A healing salve for the aching heart. The silencer for the ever busy mind. When did it all begin? Will the bells stop whistling inside? Have I made a true pact with reality or am I still carrying on the burdens of the past? And what good is a compromise?

Going through sorrow is a part of life. It makes us stronger, mature and more aligned with ourselves. When a painful event races through existence there first comes shock and sharp agony. Then the phase of fantasy of the times before. Or perhaps regret. The wheel of time continues to turn and we slowly realize that the world still revolves no matter how we feel. The cloudy visions start to become clearer and the future looks a little more promising. But is the lens tinted or is it clear? Can it ever be fully clear again?

When you are involved in a car accident as the driver, do you feel fear sitting in front of the steering wheel? Do we drive with extreme caution, slow down excessively and avoid peak hour traffic? Are we condescending to other adept drivers?

Or perhaps a messy heartbreak has torn you apart. Do we give as much as we did before? Do we trully love without obstruction? Are we genuinely rid of the past person who we no longer call upon? Can we really cherish another’s happiness?

I’ve lived what I recall as a painful childhood. An emotional scarring which over time has evolved itself. To a point I don’t stop to think how I became me. Like in a new relationship; you don’t think about what happened in a previous knot. At least not consciously.

And yet silently I have come to accept the seething wounds are there screaming out from its prison. Like a medieval witch tied to a post fighting its way out of a burning demise as the fire cackles in hysteria. Thrown in a deep well which still holds the echoes of a life long gone. Haunting, beckoning. Through the decrepit walls of silence.

Would there be salvation? A memory wipe to restart the fallback? The drink of forgetfulness? Through revelations of thoughts I have come to understand we have these experiences for a reason. The divine tides are manipulated by the invisible threads. The element of a lesson often bites us so hard we fail to see its meaning.

I feel one step closer to finding out why I am here. On this earth. Taking in the air. There is a constructive reason for every negative event. But you must pay attention to it and not push it away. Less the demon consume you slowly but painfully into a silent depression on your deathbed. These voices must be heard and transformed. Into a purpose. Understanding. And warm loving strength. A hard struggle for sure. I believe it will be worth it in the end.

Running to the corner turning into a sprint. A hard right, then down the stairs into the level below. Heart racing, I run, dive into the corner and hide. Lost. Perhaps perplexed with doubt. Turning up is a light shining through the window. A glimmer of hope. A butterfly which cannot be caught. The ray remains teasing the leaves. I glean and examine while the cool breeze weaves its magic. Nothing. Not even a caterpillar in sight.

A scurry to the next floor. Into a closed door and out onto the main lobby. There is no doorman, only a shadow of a lurking statue tall and menacing. Yet I’ve seen it before so I only heistate if but for a second. The walls change colour – but it is but my imagination. Time ticks in a drone softer than my footsteps. And I start to feel hazy, and the solid floor starts to feel tingly on the soles of the feet.

And lethargy comes. Again.

I would come across this phrase in an adventure game.  Not the first time I have heard it and certainly not the last. Derived of the fate of King Sisyphus, it represents the never-ending toil of what would superficially seem meaningful. In efforts of pure intent, the hill shall stand in the way of the  gargantuan task of a round piece of mass getting onto the other side. While the boulders are rolling up and down the hill, could we all just be animated pieces of rock in Newton’s cradle of perpetuation?

There exists the art of telling the future. We have all heard stories where the unfathomable visions had become dreaded (and sometimes blessed) occurrences. In most cases he is the peddler in the middle of the desert – offering much to whoever wishes to indulge its supply, yet seemingly unneeded in the harsh sandy dunes and even dobbed a mirage of convoluted explanations. Yet while many have been left starstruck from this experience we have left our dynamic pieces of hopeful selves to conjure up fickle and often unfavorable reasonings to the unexplainable

“An act of satanism!” cries the religious

“Deluded but cheap entertainment” from a socialite

“A misconstrued theory!” woes the intellect upon a path of Albert Einstein

And a small voice squeaks in some of us “an act of nature and a spiritual blessing”

While I do not doubt the possibility and true accounts of the experienced, I do still strongly believe there is a great element of change. Does it come from plugging out of the Matrix, putting on the hat of the Adjustment Bureau or a taste of the law of attraction? Or perhaps we are treading along a never-ending cycle, with the voice that speaks the loudest dictating our thoughts.