Self Defeat

So Ill start this off by saying that I have been lacking in posting, but not in writing. I guess some stuff isn't worth sharing with the world, but most of it can be. I find myself postulating on a lot of random avenues in which I find myself venturing, like a pack of dogs on leashes pulling in one centralized direction, a few hiccups along the way. Trying to direct the energy seems the hardest part, like it has too many factors to be consistent, but just enough to give that false sense of hope. I'm constantly taking that two steps forward and the full step back, but somehow I think things are teetering forward.

I messed up yesterday. I found myself inserting my foot in my mouth pretty fucking hard and I feel terrible about it. It's interesting how ones opinion of self sometimes directly lies in the opinion fostered by others. I mean, 99.99% of the time I don't care what people think about me or my actions, frankly they're my choices, but its different here. I think I hurt someone I cared about, and whether I did or did not, it still haunts me like some imaginary crushing weight. It wasn't exactly what I said, but how it came across and what little I can do to remedy it to myself let alone the other person.  I sure know how to pick my battles.

Realistically, this should just be another Tao moment of instant reflection and indifference, like I am not some flawed asshole of a person... but I find myself dwelling and moping about it when there is literally nothing to be done. Its funny how we sometimes get defeatist and it could be triggered by a dumb comment or misplaced thought, like the world is crumbling around us, but unwilling to accept the change and move forward. It becomes this perpetual cycle of moving forward without direction, finding, for a sliver of a moment, to be happy and trying so hard to focus on that thought. I have been doing so well too, watching how much my interactions can help people, then turning around and offhandedly butchering the intent in which I offer my support in one fell swoop. I don't mean to be whiny, but I am tired of being a rude bastard by default. I get so absorbed in other peoples experience that I stop reflecting at a certain point and start talking too frank and forward. I see the person as myself and I get unabashedly direct, brutally so. I don't think its necessarily a bad thing, but I definitely don't like when I hurt people because of it.

So what has me so bothered besides vague generalities? I guess Im tired of being me. Im tired of wanting to help when I need help. Im tired of wanting to give everything to others but do little to take care of my well being. Its frustrating to dislike oneself so much that its easier to take it out on those you love and those you keep close, like they deserve the brutal sincerity, but you cant face looking in a mirror to even shave, let alone face your own demons instead of offloading it on others. Depression is like an eddy that keeps swinging you round and round, making fun of you as you try to swim out by sucking you in deeper. After a while you stop moving and just let it pull you around, until the only thing you see is the sky and those walls are whirling around you like a prison.

I've got a great poker face. I'm not the type to get too emotional over things, rarely do I let my emotions show, let alone try to adequately portray my thoughts about them, but so often I suppress them like its worth stamping them out. I taught myself to do it growing up and any time there is a problem with my life I just push it into small box, lock it tight, and start building walls around it. Ive spent a lot of time struggling to tear those walls down and trying to unearth it all at once, the proverbial skeletons that have been hanging, but to no real avail. I still say and do things that hurt people, I still hate looking at myself through my own eyes, and I roll on, pretending like everything is just fucking peachy.

I dont know what I wanted to get out of sharing these thoughts, they are personal, they are real, and maybe that's it. Truly, the only honest thing I can say about myself is that I constantly run from my problems by pretending I don't exist. Its easier to think nothing of oneself than to actually value your own worth, but its not right I don't think. Ego has never been too strong in my character, and maybe that's the problem. Maybe its a slew of other issues left caged and rotting in the recesses of my mind, like its okay to just shut down and operate on autopilot, long enough to stave off the emotions and just fake being content for a while. I'm tired of dealing with issues like some clinical experiment. A few weeks ago I cried multiple times in a week and before that... I don't even remember the last time. I go so long bottling up my thoughts and trying to keep people out, I don't know what to do when I get a break and someone doesn't have expectations of wanting in, of wanting anything. I fight myself constantly in these days of self defeat, most of the time it is calm indifference and staying in the moment, but every now and then I do something that just sets it off like some domino affect. Im done complaining today, but not done dwelling on my issues. It hurt to look in the mirror to shave today, and I am tired of that feeling. Slowly, I will correct it but I need to accept that all the emotions and thoughts I suppress will haunt me, but nothing will change if I keep finding loathing in my self. It has been an uphill battle to fight what I created. The monster of man is he himself.
-Tyb

Rolling Along

I find myself sitting at a desk that is too cluttered to do things efficiently, I have a pile of projects that are awaiting one thing or another to be done, and I have a heap of tasks yet to do in the near future. Get rid of one, another presents itself. Find a way to make it easy, more work. No matter which way I cut it, there should always be something on my plate, and honestly, I couldn't be happier. In the time it takes to pick oneself up and find a renewed vigor and to avidly want to change on a regular basis without disrupting the current, the present moment of things on that list of endless objectives, transformations take place at an incredible rate. In the grand scheme of things, enjoyment in ones tasks is just as important as honest communication or integrity in those jobs. One should never be satiated on the repetitive motions of things set to stone. If life is a journey, the way is quite often unpaved.

I start to clean halfheartedly, thinking about 15 different things and trying to sort out order of importance. I make another list. I sit and listen to music as a distraction so I can focus on my readings, those are easy(I think?). Frustration sets in as the findings are droning on, regurgitating the same information again and again, I start drifting to another project. I find a leather tool that matches what I last used, I wipe everything down, and realize my desk is a mess. I take time to clean it. I find the space for extra boxes and additions this week, looking at my amassing pile as a one-day investment. In time. 

I finish my work space, then pull another similar leather project and prepare them both for tooling and some stitching. I notice its been too quiet for too long and put on German lessons again. Those are going alright and every now and then I hear a word and have to hurriedly check the definition because it's a doozy. I find myself laughing when I make little mistakes because Im trying to say the words well enough. I finish the tooling on one project and move to the other, preparing the leather, starting the stamping. I take my time to register the parts so I dont miss a step, finishing my original idea and getting all the pieces ready for edge finishing then dying in the next couple days. I have two projects almost done, time for something else. 

I havent had a drink in too long I notice, I grab some water and realize Ive been sitting in the garage for hours and I am somewhat dehydrated. I take a few minutes to grab some food, drink a few more waters and migrate to my room. I spend time cleaning some of my old junk from my documents. I have been holding on to some stuff too long. I look at the pile of clothes waiting to be put away, the messy bed, and my growing collection of nick-knacks amassing on my table space. I shrug and walk out of my room no more ready to start that task than I was when I woke up this morning. I do notice, however, the laundry in the bathroom is pretty full and I need to do most of it tonight and in the morning, then I might tackle my room... probably. 

I find myself back in the garage, oh order more parts, peoples projects depend on it! I start googling business plan concepts for a few different projects, I look at pictures of boots for a pair I want, I can start to see my pinky toes from my current shoes, it happens. I look up ideas for some pvc and recyclable projects, that idea I had last night could work and be cheap, but I need to make sure it can handle weight. I find time to start a blog, stop it, move forward in finishing some projects, but decide I will do one for myself and make some terrain pieces for a future gaming table. It sounds fun and while I do it I watch a few ASL videos. My hands feel like puppets, and I stare at them too much. I also don't think I will ever get too great at watching it, but I am memorizing 'slow down' in muscle memory well enough. 

I spend more time writing the blog, I write a story, not a great story, but its okay. I need to practice my writing more, I keep telling myself to write another story sometime, one that has some substance, but its not terribly high on my things to do and I feel out of practice, errors in speech and word usage let alone the grammar is atrocious. Enough fighting it, practice makes perfect, so just keep doing it, even when its not as fun as you would like. Plus, why is it quiet again, you dont have the science news videos and pages up yet, make that happen. 

I spend time finishing and watching and reading what I veered away from earlier, finishing both projects and moving on to the week meals itinerary for a couple friends. I spend too much time pouring over it, but I like to know that I gave it an honest shot. I dont share recipes because I dont write recipes, and I definitely would have appreciated some help in how to stock my kitchen off the get-go without breaking my wallet. Dont get me wrong, I love to cook, but its expensive to make your kitchen able to make anything you want, when you want it. I hope its a resource as I hit send and move on. Time to find some side work out in the world. I end up with a few small jobs and some random tasks that don't have a definite time frame of starting, finding myself with some more eventual savings for my upcoming trip is more difficult than I would like with my growing need of supplies and dwindling budget. I have almost a month, shit, I have so much to do before I go. 

Doesnt matter, Im getting on the plane and it wont matter as soon as I do but I still have to face it when I return. I need to get as much as possible done. 

I pull out my math and physics stuff again, ugh I hate relearning things that you once knew well, its like pulling teeth. I decide mentally as I run out of another notepad to switch to my whiteboard when I could, I just destroy it all anyway when Im done, what does it matter? I find I finally get the theorem that has had me stuck a couple days, it wasnt as hard as I thought, I just needed to look at it a different way. Fun Fun, right?

I watch a few episodes of American Dad while I draft out two more cosplay/larp items for paying people that I have been putting off for too long. I make lists of my materials and double check it with what I have and what I just ordered earlier. I need more money. Ha. Slowly but surely I know I will find the way, but the little things add up, I find myself trying to talk to a few more people about upcoming work the next few weeks and pin down a more definite schedule. I make another list of objectives, similar but prioritized differently than before, I find myself shifting my perspective by the work I did and Im happy to make the leap. It has been a long time since I enjoyed myself in my pursuits and today has been fulfilling, moderately profitable and relatively calm. I finish at night after I eat in the evening with a reaching out to friends. I spend time on giving in to more research and readings, and find my eyes starting to hurt from all the use today. Its dark and things are cool so I play around outside with one of the dogs and the footwork drills I tried to bring to a fighter practice this week. I cant keep my hips underneath me that well yet, but its getting better. 

I go watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer after a while of dancing around the backyard, and draft up some designs for the businesses I wanted to get committed to paper. Another project for another day. I make another list, this time of things for one specific project, and I take the time to read over the weeks thoughts. I find a few interesting similarities in the days and the different ways I find projects that not only are enjoyable and fulfilling, they are also profitable in some way or another. I have begun to feel at peace in asking and wanting to work for what I want, and I find the things that make me at peace when I do them. I set my own schedule most often, and rarely am I without a task, so it is hard to be idle once again. I like to multitask and I need to foster that. The more I work, the more I receive, and the more value I have in that work. I just need to stay busy. 

Devout

Fictional Short Story

Finding the path again in the dark proved a lot more difficult in the twilight hours, but as the low-light suddenly faded to black, it took just a moment to shift back into a clearer vision of what was. The trees and bushes along the way took on their nighttime shapes, each more identifiable than the last. This was one of the rare nights where both moons didn't shine, happening only twice a year, the extreme miasma of fog and bleak nothingness permeated everything. For the wandering shadow, whose pace increased as this change took affect, this was familiar territory once again and the path shined to him as lit by a strange glow. Another shadow watched from the trees just up the path, slowly easing into extreme still as the lone figure approached, breathing inert and the sound of a heartbeat dwindling quieter than the creaks of the tree's boughs. 

There grew an extreme quiet suddenly, as if Death reared its head, the path petered out for a moment, a momentary distraction. Faster than what should be possible, the lone shadow threw his hips forward and landed on his back, pulling a crossbolt thrower and his punch blade out in either hand, firing straight up to where the figure had just been. The bolt struck the thick branch above where the stalker was hiding, yet there was no stalker. Rolling on to his side, ever more wary, he then assumed a knee down firing position and had another bolt ready to fire in a fraction of a second. His senses were alive, palpable, there was something following him, of this he now knew. 

Feeling two light taps on his shoulder, shooting his dagger in a quick punch over his right side, he tucks the crossbow under and around his flying fist, readying to aim from his back-on-ground position once again. The bolt never fires and nothing connects as a metal rod locks his two arms from moving. A leg as hard as a tree trunk stops his hips from rolling with his body, effectively disabling his movements and leaving him all to vulnerable. A fact that does not miss the path man. He drops his crossbow and uses the soft dirt beneath him to provide momentum to spring with one foot off that massively strong leg, his dagger hand throwing the pole out of the way in the process, enough time for him to create distance. Able to release himself from a near-fatal position, he finishes his slide with a rear tumble, righting himself and drawing his secondary punch mid-way. He cant remember the last time he needed both blades, but it reassuring to still be capable. It has been a long time since someone was able to read his movements, let alone as dark a night as this.

"Who are you Stalker? Come now, tell me why must we fight?"

The eerie silence fades into bug droning and the sounds of nature's undulations assuming precedence once again. 

"Well, Stalker, either try to kill me or tell me your aims, but dont leave me wondering on such a night as this!"

Another second or two passes before a creak in the bough he shot at initially draws his gaze to the tree, perched as though hunting, was a lithe figure in enveloping folds of dark cloth, playing with his crossbow and lazily holding it towards his head. 

A voice like ice and quiet in tempo chills the air around him, "It would be a mistake to think you are more capable a hunter, but you move as though an animal wounded. It would be a pity to kill game that is not able."

Tossing the crossbolt thrower down, the man instinctively attempts to keep it from breaking as it soars to the ground, as his gaze returns to the spot, his Hunter is no longer waiting. 

Feeling the pressure of his errand once again, he is relatively certain he is no longer being followed, at least for the time being, and smiles to himself halfheartedly as his winces from the pain in his abdomen. 

Drawing along the path, grievously exhausted, the path man finally arrives at his destination in the form of a maw-like mouth of a cave. Deep inside, clutching to the walls when his stomach forces him to double over, he drags himself back up and rushes to finish his mission. Finally, as he nears the all to familiar sounds of underground water flowing, the rush intensifying as he draws closer, the path opens wide to view the single most beautiful and terrifying place he ever wanted to see. 

Trees of black tar are enveloped with white opalescent petals on the island in the center of the large cavern pond. There is one path of stones, larger than any city craftsman could create, which leads to the island, the drop below into the tepid clear waters would seem invigorating if it weren't for the large creatures seen whipping about under the rolling surface, predators fighting for prey. The walls are sheered vertical and domed at the roof, throughout the different areas water is rushing out as a waterfall, constantly filling the pools that never seem to rise or lower. No matter how many times he must return here, it always fills him with wonderment and awe, sadly that lasts for only a brief moment as his stomach starts to tear itself apart, his feels his insides warping and fighting from blacking out is the only thing on his mind. 

A few seconds later he starts muttering under his breath a slew of words that start distorting the air around him. He pulls his body in to a bowed position and chants can be heard weaving themselves in his devotional prayers, focusing his willpower and well being into a single point. Time stops for a moment, the path man continues his journey, he absorbs the fear and moves forward. 

Crossing the bridge of stones, the waters below start crashing in a frenzied state, the leviathans awaiting prey feel anxious as the traveler makes his way across. The monsters used to scare him, he thinks, but what's about to come is so much more terrifying. Each step towards the island with the obsidian trees and opalescent leaves is heavier and that much harder to make. He feels his willpower waning as the destination is finally at hand. He has only one thing to do as his feet step foot on the small black and white stones making up the island. He sinks softly as he walks forward, placing himself in front of the largest tree on the island, his prayers have not stopped muttering since he began his final walk, even now they never cease. 

He hugs the tar trunk, feeling his body becoming absorbed in the fibers, feeling himself become one with the tree. It is after some time that he finally feels his willpower exhaust. He laughs quietly about the hunter never getting a chance to face him at full strength and shakes his head as the pain starts to alleviate from his body. The last thoughts, as he is finally brought into the tree, is that he completed his mission. The life of a vessel is to follow the path, the closer he gets to the end of his journey the harder it is to move forward. In time he will be brought back, renewed to collect more evil and return it to the source. Until then though, his hunter will have to keep hunting if they think to take him from his journey. 

-T

Expression

Writing is an expression of internal thoughts and the way to constructively use a language to portray your vision in text. We find many ways to express ourselves in the general sense, some more subtly than others. People move about in unsuspecting ways, tying their personal life to their work, their work to their social life, and every other combination of connections and opportunities to grow upon their choices. We find ways of making alliances, forging bonds, living in the same chaotic mess as everyone else through an expression of self, be it any environment/interaction. If we had no means in which to communicate, stripped of all perceptions, separated and indiscriminately castigated from the vision we all view differently(and challenge obstinately), the reasons behind living a long and fulfilling life would be obsolete. We would have no purpose essentially, slaves to our own genetic miscommunication, petering out throughout time due to inefficiency. Alas, we are not, we are so much more.

Reactionary is a good way to describe it. Our potential is only calculated by how much we dare to envision and what we are willing to give of ourselves in return. In those critical minute thought exchanges of bustling activity we foster a sense of self and devotion to ones aims through critical evaluation. Continually finding all the essentially weak points of our character, or at least perceived so, and sporadically changing our habits to facilitate some sort of growth.

We all experience those times of sliding down, managing our troubles as the footing becomes unsure, wavering in the nonexistence of a parallel version of how things ought to be, wishing to deny the current reality. At a point there is a transition, an impulse, a reaction. The reserves filter away and beyond lies the source of inspiration and potential. For what lies beyond those doors; the truth, integrity, honesty loyalty, and creativity, these all culminate into being. It is as though caught in a tornado, eventually understanding the direction and flow, but constantly fighting being swept from your feet as you tread the perilous calm in the eye of the swirling mass of expectations. You choose not to yield, to walk the path and expect nothing but of self, each person deals with their choices differently.

It seems as a form of masochism, eradicating an erosion of false ideals and presumptions to leave what Lao Tzu, writier of the Tao te Ching refers to as the Uncarved Block. The quintessential man, that which sees not forward, backward, but is present and whole, malleable and infinitely full of potential. He acknowledges all that is or will ever be as immutable in time, but not lost upon in beauty or place. These things, these struggles and performing our dance in the game of life, are the only things that connect us, make us into something more than we are alone. Each moment is just as important as the last, our experience with others mandates this.

Our struggles do no define us, but our actions and interactions with those around us alters our lives as a whole. In some sense we have to find the medium that works for our individual aims, our paths, and not always is there some sort of barrier or road in which to walk down immediately. Not always are opportunities to fundamentally leap forward available. But that has always been the case. It is always the case with the Uncarved Block as it sits in self presence, awaiting to be transformed.

It sits in my mind as I walk my path, expecting only continued effort to foster self, but giving everything to maintain balance and imagining the road of life and time as flat. The ups and downs are irrelevant, it is the singular path. Expression dictates reality and in that choice, that moment of transformation, we grow immeasurably and must once again pull ourselves through the storm to find balance. I have to choose everything and at the same time, nothing. I bring myself to the Uncarved Block in my mind when I get overwhelmed, I create the image of that obsidian monolith. It sits in empty space, surrounds itself with nothing, it is nothing.  All that is, will be. All that was, is now.

-T

Vision of the Future

So I guess as a follow up to yesterdays ramblings and to keep me on to the present self, the one inevitably in the now of each moment. Its fun to pontificate, so to speak, on ones beliefs I think. To constantly want change and to need to experience it for growth. They are symbiotic in nature, relying on the other to foster and mature. It means a lot to recognize that fact day to day, and I look at the course of life like this kaleidoscope now of routes, all coalescing to a central idea, a vision so to speak. I fight each day with myself about levels of importance, that this thing or that has more significance to me at this moment, not how it will have influence on the future self. I realize each day I struggle with these things I evaluate just a little more how much further I want to go and how much I have started and gradually grown over the course of my life so far.

I thought it was interesting, that importance feeling of the past, I was able to answer a questionnaire about mental well being lately that asked a lot of self-evaluation. All of the topics seemed weighted in the negative, like I was completely self conscious and aware of the inadequacies, yet the one question I could answer completely was that I couldn't and didn't wish to change my past. It is the one thing I know for a fact is immutable in the scheme of things and I accepted a long time ago that to miss a single opportunity or chance to grow on those things would be a fallacy and self deprecating. Im glad I have held on to that notion, my biggest fear is failure. Failure of self, of goals, of aspirations in which to prove continually I am on the 'right' path for me at that time. I am afraid that I will wake up one day and hate the person I have become, not some sense of disappointment, honestly I feel that is important to push for growth, but the intense hatred of ones choices and the inevitable crash into acceptance without change. I never want to stop changing, I never want to be stagnant.

As I account for a lot of dramatic shifts lately I think about the choices every day, the ones that got me here, the ones I could and couldn't control at the time. We all need the breaks in our swimming to tread for a while and catch our breath, were not done with the journey, but we do need to stop and check the direction I think. Sometimes its a little confusing to look around and just see the horizon. I started tackling some of those directional issues, have always been trying to I feel, but you get a good slap to the face when you stop focusing on all that bad and see it for what it is; a situation beyond your control. There is literally only so much I can worry about and stress myself out over at any given time and realizing that most things with other people and situations are beyond my control and the only thing I could possibly do is be as present and as honest with those around me as I am with myself. Sometimes it hurts to be the brutish one, the obstinate one clinging to concepts because of passion and past experience, but it is necessary to fight for those things with  my challenging perceptions. If I dont have an opinion on something that should have importance to me, why is it important? More importantly, why am I holding on to it like the rope in which to hang myself? It hurts to constantly look at your misconceptions and foster them, but it is vital I feel in making life a river instead of a pond.

So what do I wrack my brain with on a consistent basis? I fight over how I treat my loved one, the attitude in which I give them precedence and how I should use it constructively. That alone soaks up a lot of time, not a bad thing at all, but I wonder for instance how I can help myself and in turn help those I care about around me. I want to help my loved ones find their passions and grow them, I have always liked being involved in others life as a big brother, force of habit, and I want to push them constantly to be a better person. Some take more work than others, I will admit, but in the process I am discovering more and more about myself and how to channel some of my emotions and energy into things that I find helpful. Its interesting to know I helped a friend just talk about nothing, and in that I gained insight and he did too. We sometimes just need a sounding board to rant towards and I am fortunate so many ppl are willing to listen to mine! I feel like I complain a lot but I have never been so unhappy I couldn't listen to a friend vent. It is cathartic in its own right, hearing someone else's problems and realizing they are yours as well.

I fight about where Im going. Not where I have been, those things matter, its just they all add up to this certain level of experience and energy/time invested so it would be nice to see things through. To finish chiseling the path through the mountain instead of going over it. I like knowing I have my mountain of things to do and see and accomplish. I like knowing that there is an insurmountable obstacle but if I just keep trying, keep moving one rock at a time, it will eventually crumble into the next set of challenges. I dont want to reach the end of my journey, ever, and that means holding on to a vision of that insurmountable mountain. Each day is an opportunity to work at it, but I have to commit wholeheartedly to the pursuit. The ever elusive impossible tasks that keep me growing and challenging my former conceptions.

Work, love, living, happiness. They should all be the same thing. I have to work for what I love in life to find my (ever-changing)happiness.

Thanks for reading today's rambles!
-T

Directional Fortitude +1

Cathartic release has an interesting affect on the body and mind. In one sense you are so enthralled with the rush of emotions and the other you're eyeing yourself behind this lens of intense judgement to want to experience those things. I find it pretty damn cool that we cope and deal with stress, time(or lack there of), integration and realizations on a daily basis that are so profound that we couldn't possible comprehend them all at once, and thus must build to a climactic tumble of misplaced ideals and perceptions. It is an interesting feeling to want to change, for instance, but being confused about the direction you wish to go in. I feel like the best metaphor is a sailor lost to sea, floating calm, no land in sight, picking stars that seem to have worked for people in the past as his rough guidelines. Ultimately it's the choices he instinctively chooses to believe, regardless of how much his logic dictates things be the same as the many others who charged forward across the same seas. He believes without a doubt that there is land on the horizon, if only he were to go that much further.

I had a thought about thoughts, the way I think I think. Its neat to sit and ponder how it is you actually best wonder. Brain teaser that one. Found out when you haven't meditated in a while on your own reflections you end up down some crazy rabbit holes. The tunnels go for miles sometimes. There was a thought somewhere in the banter, described to a friend before as lighting, as though every waking day is this constant flashing maelstrom of thoughts, emotions and experiences in my minds eye. Each time I try to focus on one or follow a vein of thought as it flashes by another crashes in and distorts the path again. Like walking into a library and all the books are disassembled and scattered and you can only pick up a page at a time before you finish reading and are left in a more confusing state than before.
I want to get the library assembled, it has been a while since there was a semblance of things resembling order. I have been running down so many avenues I haven't stopped to wonder why I am just spinning my wheels in confusion. I found some hard truths and some soft jokes, but most importantly, in all this searching I found the prime directive.
I always thought that was a cool terminology term a sociology teacher just wanted to invent, but the realizations of his vision and the ways our conversations come flooding back to me to this day is kind of alarming. In some of those talks we had an interesting discussion on religion, on why so many peoples turned to the concepts of faith. It was illuminating when we were able to openly talk about that term, for it was important to me. Faith, in essence, is an utter pursuit of passions with the belief in ones goals and aspirations. Belief then, happens to fall under the self's ability to deal with change and assert that the previous supposition is correct. In essence, its the trust in ones own path that dictates their faith in those and all around them, sometimes the other way around. Each person needs different things to have faith and to believe in faith.

This was interesting for me, as I sit here writing about a conversation years ago, to remember his exact words to me, like a ringing bell. "It is the pursuit of the prime directive." I liked that at the time, it was like a platitude, but took a while to sink in and absorb. I have had a lot of ups and down over the past few years with trying to get a handle on what it takes to move forward, to feel that same sense of accomplishment of tasks and goals that I did when things seemed much more carefree. Its like a riptide, stay on top of the water as much as you can treading, if you stopped you dont know where you'll inevitably go, but you also dont have control of where you drift while you're treading. Its a catch twenty-two, until one comes to the realization that they need to stop treading and start swimming. Stretch out your mind, your body, reach for the shore and inevitably the tide will break into waves pushing you forward. Life is too short to tread for too long and it took a lot to admit that to myself as of late.

The follow through is interesting as well. For one, there is no real new 'pressure' so to speak, but definitely a sense of elation at my tasks and with making random lists and spurts of creative impulses. Like writing this thing. I found that if I make the time to not only do something, but keep on track with moving from something constructive to another I will inevitably end up back at the start, tying up the loose ends and having the finished project. I dont have to rush, but I also dont have all the time, it was a very Tao realization, 'everything is.' I make that a constant hum now in my head. Everything is.

So what next and what does all this hubbub mean? I sure as hell dont know, but its fun to entertain the idea that there is some sort of underlying purpose which drives each of us into being more than we are, and it originates and ends with our own beliefs and expectations of our individual self. It can be tied to or attributed to the Planet, the Sun, the imaginary or very real God(s) that may be watching over, or maybe its the motions of the cosmos to govern the flow of time and energy but regardless of all that, its you being you, and me being me. It's literally 'what its all about,' living in the now of each moment while envisioning oneself in the prospects of their own success and good fortune.

I found myself so often crawling into my hole and Im tired of sleeping in the dark. I want to fall asleep under the stars and watch the night sky change to day so I can rise and keep moving on to the next thing; the next big objective and small task alike. I hope my life will flash before my eyes when I die, I want to see that library with the bookshelves of memories all filling leather bound embossed titles of organized and orchestrated experiences. I want to understand why I am here at each moment and the biggest outlet is knowing that if I just keep moving, keep striving for that success in myself and my aspirations, I'll eventually make sense of it all. Time makes experience into memory, inevitably integral. This I believe.

Visions of Reality

I haven't truly written in a few years now, I feel like it's out of fear of having nothing to say more than anything. I mean, I know that isn't true, for we all have stories to tell and fantasies we have dreamed up in that faraway landscape of endless horizons in the mind's eye. Yet prudence leads us to silence, like the greatest of introverts in the center of a massive sea of people, out of place and disconnected from the outside world by a choice to keep those passions and dreams alive as kindling for fear of their extinguishing flame. 

We wonder where time went, as we console ourselves on the precipice of our mutual failings, 'if only I...'. But they are the wasted time of days spent borrowing strength I feel, as if we are incapable of allowing failure to be acceptable, to acknowledge these faults and fantasies as tried outreach and learning tools. Like we could be no better than our fellow men and women due to our critical opinion of the goals we wish to accomplish, as they hold us hostage against ourselves and that illusory reach toward a future we want to live in but are too afraid to exist in with the here and now.

I wonder sometimes why I fear the things I do, soon we all run out of time to venture further and further down the rabbit hole of our own beliefs and concepts of reality. It's amazing really, the days filtering by, each morning waking into a collection of remembrance to define the person that exists today and acknowledging the scraps of goals that shred themselves to fragments like some puzzle piece map made of different colors and misaligned edges. The collage of the dream, not necessarily finding that exact joining edge is the unacceptable truth in the endeavor's we choose to partake. Trying to wash over and flatten the image so it takes shape, becomes something tangible and real, but unsatisfied with the eschewed view we now created in the process. The extra steps we encountered were making more walls in front of us than steps to be taken, each day ending on that sour note of frustration and lack of time and understanding. 

I feel as if there is that thread that binds all of us together in this process, like some sort of hive mind mentality in the ever expanding collection of individuals dwelling in and around this planet. Each moment we spend in the pursuit of a life lived, our image of the future becomes that much duller as each day passes by, less defined in the chaos of it all. We're supposed to have answers, but it's typically the opposite that we know to be true, the gray area between that defines things into vague iterations of 'good' or 'evil' and the situational awareness to be present enough to recognize the mental shift when it happens.

I found a passion a little over a year ago that has mentally allowed me to face some of these anxieties. These realizations in my life beforehand never seemed to include the me that exists in this live version of reality, the concept too alien and extreme to compute accurately, was a huge hurdle I feel I am slowly overcoming. Not the last hurdle or even a difficult one to some, but the presence of mind to know that I am always changing for the betterment of the person that continues to exist for the future and the present. I am lost, yes, but give thanks for the people I surround myself with and have endeared into my life which has allowed me so much more understanding of the kindness that exists in us all as we see each other moving forward like Gods, but ourselves as the flawed mud-men. Interesting that we hold other's goals in such high esteem, like they have all the answers and we have to keep rediscovering the simple truths time and time again. 

This passion, this group of people that found a way to entrench itself in my life was a LARPing group called Amtgard. I didn't know what I wanted for a long time, like the walls I put in front of myself were just made for shelter, able to crawl into my hole and whittle away the scraps to the other side little by little. In this community I could be the persona of myself, the true self that is offbeat and illogical, yet runs into spurts of leadership and compassion. It was interesting, watching myself flourish this past year and a half, slowly gaining a momentum of wants and desires to help others more than myself, the concept found many times, but never for this duration and with this passion. The group functioning as a perpetual fuel-source for the concepts and ideas that seemed to crave a receptive and constructive outlet.

In this wandering time of searching I found a place to dress the way I like to dress, in fact feeling more comfortable in my garb than I ever have in 'mundane' clothes. I own up to my faults and see my misfortunes and can actively correct them with a whole group of people that are each moving in their own way, acknowledging the struggle we're all facing in finding a world that matches our mental picture. Slowly, I feel like the people who truly root themselves in this process have changed week to week like a blossoming eternal flower, never truly ready to be plucked before it withers and regrows to a more and more beautiful iteration of itself each time. I love the people I have found, for in this small collection of persons there is an underlying thread of fantasy tied to self-improvement, a support group for the wayward thinkers, so to speak. 

Sure, as in any society or community there are problems, we are all human(I think), and surprisingly the gossip and the frustrations that get thrown around don't seem to ever be all that important, just observations and confusion more than hate and disdain which plagues the rest of our societies. At the end of the day, we all smile and laugh, imagining the next time we get to be together and figure out the quirks we're all struggling to overcome in ourselves, like the boffer fighting is some leveling tool to fix our perceived imperfections. It's truly amazing as I find myself reflecting on each week's adventure to craft a bit more, or do more research into the community at large, slowly immersing myself further and further into a world that seems to relish in the unplanned chaos of life, and the enjoyment of living that life in the most fantastical of ways. 

I found a community in Amtgard that has shown me my passions in an endless stream of possibilities. Each event, fighting and crafting day, or interaction with the members has led me to discover a bit more about myself in the process. I can't say that to be true about anything else I have done so far, silly as it sounds, but the LARP experience is more than just a dress-up and fighting opportunity, so much deeper than the mundane struggles as it encompasses the collective struggle at its root. We all know that perfection is impossible, but having and/or finding a dream that is impossible makes each day bearable and our yearning that much stronger. We find ourselves with a purpose to be with our fellows and to see them grow and mature into chivalric archetypes of these illustrious fantasy characters. We watch each other become the heroes we want to be, not only the hero we hoped we could be. It's amazing, truly astounding really, that something so simple as a foam weapon and a creative mind could bring so many people together and provide them with an outlet. I needed this in my life, and as I find myself more and more involved my joy increases beyond expectations and I see for myself positive changes in my life. 

Find that change and that community that supports your need for self-awareness and improvement. It doesn't come in some confined and one-dimensional opportunity, but in the vague and chaotic maelstrom that puts a smile on your face and finds you going out of your way to do things for people you don't even do for yourself. The perception that we have on reality is everything, I found this group to be an outlet for my fantasies but also the support group to facilitate my growth as an individual. I don't know how long this will last, but the wave seems to grow each day and there doesn't seem to be an end to the possibilities and learning to be found. We could all be so lucky to find the eternal smoldering coal to light our creative fires time and time again. LARP may or may not be for you, but a community that supports you in your creative and learning process is definitely a means to figure out more about yourself. 

I am encouraged to start writing again, not for a need to share my opinions, but that these reflections are for me. I should not be afraid to fail, to fall on my face. Failure doesn't come from acceptance of defeat, but acceptance that my best self wasn't present in participation. I want to be more involved with my choices, to know that each step I take is a step forward. It's a humbling experience and my anxieties are alleviating as I make these minute advances of self improvement and recognition. 

Thanks for reading.