Monday, October 21, 2013
Comfort and Love: a stream of consciousness piece
A warm bed on a bitter cold winter's night, sitting by the fire's glow, cozied up in a warm and fuzzy blanket with a mug of hot chocolate, cuddling close with a hug from someone you love: there's just something about comfort. It's one of the happiest feelings, a feeling of safety and belonging...a feeling of love and warmth. If only the world could focus on comforting and loving one another instead of the terrible need for greed and violence. Because deep down we all have the same basic desires in life: to love and be loved, to be accepted and to feel that we belong, and to be comforted and to comfort others.
Born from love, we were born to love, not to hate. Hatred is not true human nature. It is something that is learned, something that we need to stop teaching. Jimi Hendrix states it perfectly:"When the need for love overcomes the need for power, there may finally be peace."
Everything is love. Even things like war and other violent, greedy acts originate from a love. In the case of war, it could be a love of one's own country, and for other violent acts it may be a love of getting one's way (selfish as this is, it is still a sort of love...a love of oneself). These kinds of love can be good in some contexts and bad in others, just as everything in the world can be. It depends on intention. But inevitably all originate from one source of ultimate love: Our Creator.
I think that love is the meaning of life. Our life begins and ends with love...the very first humans were created with love by Our Creator, and then they reciprocated this love by loving each other and producing a child from this love and providing love to this child as well. Likewise, our own mother and father loved each other, and we were products of their love, too. Throughout our lives then we should honor this gift of love by continuing to pass it on to everyone we meet. Love is the greatest gift of all: a gift that keeps giving and never runs out....and the true meaning of our lives.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Flux and Flow: a stream of consciousness piece
I randomly roam the roads,
wandering wherever my heart takes me.
Nothing is as it seems, but everything is beautiful. Perspective defines things as otherwise, but
deep-down everything is perfect—perfectly itself. Glowing, glittering, gardens of goldfish
swirl about in the ponderous pools of my thoughts, bringing sweet, thirsty
thoughts to my mind, to my soul.
The soul:
never-ending, “changing but never changed, claiming but never claimed,” one’s
soul is always one’s own. It may be
affected on the surface by life’s experiences and other human interaction, but
within it is never the same. And there’s
nothing more amazing than that. What a
wondrous world we live in.
Jellyfish
lazily drift about in the ocean surf as I gaze in awe at the beauty of this
coral reef. Color explodes around me,
this busy, boisterous world of so many dazzling creatures, all interconnected
in the chain of life. One creature
cannot exist without the other, like fire and ice, good and evil. Dualities are needed; without the opposite of
one thing, there can’t be the other.
Good would not exist if there was no evil, no fire without ice. To know both is to better know the world in
its entirety.
Philosophical
conundrums thrashing through my mind, turning my brains to a mush of
confusion. There’s nothing certain in this world, except the fact
that everything’s uncertain…but
maybe that’s what makes life so fantastic and incredibly unique: the fact that
nothing is certain, that anything can happen.
The sun may rise and set each day, the seasons may go by every year in
an unchanged progression, but no year, season, month, day, hour, minute, or second
is ever the same (even though it may feel like it some days, especially when
you feel your life is stuck in a rut or you’re in a winter that seems to never
end). Regardless of your internal
stasis, however, the world is always different and changing.
Even internally you’re never truly
in a stasis. Every day changes you:
makes you happier, sadder, better, worse, more depressed, or more joyful. The psychology of your mind itself is
amazing: at any instant your mind or whole outlook on life can change just by a
mere thought that runs through your mind, a mere sensation that you feel, an
event you see/partake in, or a person you encounter. Up and down, flux and flow: human life is like
the tide.
This may be why we feel so closely
connected to nature when we stand on the ocean shore, feeling the tide pulling
at our toes, gazing out at the infinite azure of the sea. When we’re at the sea, we are connecting to
our own souls, souls so interconnected and similar to the sea: perpetual,
always shifting and changing, and ever-beautiful.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Loreleigh: a twist on the tale of Rapunzel
You may think you had a sheltered
childhood, but I can guarantee it’s
nothing compared to mine. I’d never even
seen the outside world, much less been allowed outside. I’m not
exaggerating. At all. I’d grown up never given an idea of what the
outside world looks like, never even seeing another person. The only physical things I’d seen from the
outside world were food and water that was brought to me every day, twice a
day, pushed under the slat beneath the door. It’s difficult for me to describe what life
had been like for me, but if I were to summarize it into one word it would be
this: meaningless.
When the only person in the world
is you, and there is nothing to be seen except the four white walls that
surround you and nothing to be accomplished except eating and drinking to stay
alive, it’s hard to find any meaning. I
think I would have died of depression and hopelessness if it wasn’t for one
essential ability that I inherently possessed: the ability to think and to
dream.
My mind was a means of
transportation, a means of escape, to transport me into any situation, to any
location, to see and/or be anything. I’d
spend hours upon hours just gazing at parts of my body, letting my imagination
run wild. Looking at my hands, I’d imagine
that there were communities of fantastic creatures living in my squared-off
pores, that my veins brought water to those communities, and that the creases
in my hands were roads and bridges for the creatures to travel over the water. I’d map out pictures of my imaginings and my
dreams with the remnants of my food, trying to make sense of a world that I
knew nothing about. Of course, at the
time I did not know there were such things as roads and bridges or even other
creatures, but I instinctually knew that there had to be more to life than just
these four white walls. Rest assured, it
was a major shock when I finally did see the outside world, and this is where
my story truly begins….
-----
Groggily, half-asleep, I opened my
eyes and staggered to my feet, peering into the darkness for the source of the
unfamiliar sound I’d heard. I saw
nothing but the walls and the silence, both surrounding me, as usual. Nothing odd or new. Sighing in disappointment, I slowly began to
make my way back to my bed when I heard the sound again. I jerked my head around and saw the door
shaking and shuttering. Something or
someone was trying to break in. Or
trying to break me out. My heart soared and beat fast in both
excitement and fear of the possibility.
I wanted to see the outside world, but I was also very afraid. The unknown is a most fearful thing,
especially when the unknown comprised most of one’s life, as it did for
me. My life and the whole world was a
mystery that I’d been sheltered from in my little room.
The shuttering-shaking of the door continued
until finally the door burst open and blinding light poured into the room. I screamed and frantically shielded my eyes,
as the light literally felt as though it was burning them. I stood there, cowered with my hands over my
eyes, for several minutes until I eventually garnered up the courage to peek
into the light. With extreme caution, I slowly peered into the spaces between
my fingers. Even seeing a broken picture
of the world outside my door, I was filled with wonder.
My senses were overloaded. There was so much to see, to hear, and even
to smell. The very first aspect that
astounded me was the explosion of color.
Being locked in this room all my life, I’d been accustomed to only
seeing the white color of the wall and my dress, along with the blandly brown
color of the oatmeal and meat I was fed.
I found out that I knew only opposite ends of the spectrum. I discovered that there were seemingly
millions of shades in between. I also
noticed that the light of the outside world brought a whole new perspective to
my mind. Everything was not as it
seemed. The world was not the hopeless,
uniform, sterile one that I had known my whole life; it was instead a world of
such hope, magic, beauty, and complexity.
Besides the sights to be seen, my
ears and nose were bombarded with a symphony of sounds and smells. From the soft whisper of the wind that
tickled and kissed my skin and gently swept my hair across my face to the loud
chorus of chirping birds, there was so much to be heard that my ears were
constantly ringing. As if this wasn’t
enough, my nose was overjoyed with a myriad of fresh, luscious scents. I breathed in deeply and sighed in ecstasy,
high on the smell of the grass, the dirt, the flowers, and the very air
itself. I was so in love with the
newness of the world around me that I hadn’t even noticed the handsome young
man who stood in front of me, openly gazing at me with his mouth gaping, until
he gulped and then uttered a single word.
“H-hello”
I jumped in surprise and fear and
jerked my head toward the source of the sound.
Now it was my turn to gaze with my mouth gaping. Standing before me was a creature who
strikingly resembled me. He had the same
arms, the same legs, the same face, but it was the differences between us that
especially struck me and filled me with wonder.
He was much taller, his shoulders were wider, and his whole body
appeared much stronger. His hair was
much different than mine, too. It was
short, brown, and even appeared in stubble on his face, on his chin and upper
lip. His face was what enamored me with
him most of all, especially those eyes.
I’d never truly seen eyes before, except via my reflection in water,
much less actually look into them. There
was something extremely powerful and magnetizing about eyes, especially this
man’s. Such emotion, such complexity,
such vitality…and most all, such beauty.
His eyes were a pure, refreshing shade of light blue, a cool glass of
water in which the longer I gazed, the deeper I dove into its depths.
In the mean time, while I openly
gawked, a curious pink color slowly spread across his cheeks, and his eyes
shuttered open and closed. Eventually he
looked up and began to speak again.
“Umm…so…yeah…hi. My name is Henry. What’s yours?”
There was a prolonged silence as I
just stood there, both confused and fascinated. I’d never heard a human speak before, and
therefore I had no idea what Henry had said, but nonetheless I instantly fell
in love with the rhythm and melody of his voice. I wanted to respond, so I tried to imitate his
voice, which didn’t work well at all.
“Ur…m…ry…hiii….” I babbled
out. It came out in a surprisingly
high-pitched voice that made me clap my hands over my ears in pain. Henry looked on in amusement and laughed,
another sound I’d never heard before. It
was a low rumbling sound that radiated warmth and became instantly
contagious. An involuntary laugh flowed
out of my lips and caused my body to shake in unfamiliar ways. It was an odd sensation. Once I began to laugh I couldn’t stop. The laughter racked my spine and caused me to
convulse in a delicious pain. I almost
fell to the floor, I was laughing so hard, but Henry quickly caught me up in
his arms.
“Woah, careful,” he said, his face
mere inches from mine. I felt a peculiar
but pleasant warmth course across my cheeks, and my heart, skipping a beat,
fluttered out of control. “You okay?”
I smiled in reply, unsure of what
Henry had asked but loving the sound of his voice. He took that answer as a “yes,” and smiled
back a smile that made my heart melt.
For a brief, magical moment, we smilingly gazed at each other, Henry’s
arms holding me securely and tightly against his warm body. Sadly, however, the moment abruptly ended when
Henry came back to reality and realized the intensity of the situation. He loosened me out of his grip, flustered.
“Sorry,” he muttered. I, of course, had no idea what Henry had
uttered. All I knew was that I wanted
him to keep holding me. I didn’t know
why I was feeling this way, or even what I
was feeling exactly, but of one thing I was absolutely sure: I didn’t want this
feeling to end.
----
Henry
“It was love at first sight.” I used to roll my eyes at that phrase, but I
was now starting to see that it could be true.
I’d never really believed in much of anything before I met…her.
It’s crazy. I mean, we just met,
and I still don’t even know her name, yet I think I’m in love with her. There’s just
something about the girl. I can’t figure
it out. Well, there’s no denying that
she’s super hot, but it’s more than just her good looks and her body; it’s her
very soul. I can just feel the beautiful
joy and wonder radiating out of her, such a kind, sweet spirit. I’d never met a girl like her before. Pretty much all the girls I knew were
self-centered, vain, and avoided me like the plague. But not this girl. This girl seemed to actually be attracted to me!
Imagine that, right? Yeah, I’d always been the awkward, nerdy
guy. You know the type: always picked
last in gym class but always picked first for academic, school projects? Yep, that’s me. You could definitely say that it’s in the
family. Mix the egg of a marine
biologist with the sperm of a psychologist and voila! You’ve got me: the
insecure, awkward, nerdy dude. There’s
one gene I am very thankful for though at the moment, and that being my gene of
curiosity. If it wasn’t for my
curiosity, I never would have met the gorgeous girl standing in front of me.
See, my dad does research in
psychology, and he always had freely shared his research with my mom, me, and
anyone else in the public who was interested in what he did, but one project he
had kept secret from us—from everyone—for…well…I’d
say at least 15 years. I never would
have learned about his secret if not for the suspicious conversation we had had
this afternoon.
“Where you heading off to, Dad?” I
asked. I had just stepped out of the
house and was making my way to my car when I noticed my dad getting into his
SUV. He jumped, startled, and turned a
guilty face toward me.
“Oh, uh…I’m heading off to the office.”
“The office?” I asked, my eyebrows
furrowed in disbelief. “But it’s
Saturday. You never work on Saturdays.”
There was a beat of silence as my
dad shifted uncomfortably. I knew
something was up. There was something he
wasn’t telling me.
“Yeah, well, I just have a special
project I need to work a little extra on before Monday,” my dad said.
“Oh. Okay,” I said, totally unconvinced, as he
quickly got in his truck and sped away, in the opposite direction of his
office. So, there was only one thing left
to do: I got in my car and followed him.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Faith
Time passes
Moving
faster and faster
Growing
shorter and shorter
Gripping
stronger and stronger.
As the tentacles
of Time
tightly tie themselves around me,
the Octave of Death climbs
higher
and
higher.
The inevitable Death lurks
closer and closer,
And I am not safe,
But you don’t have to feel safe
to feel Unafraid.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
The Stages of Heartbreak
The following poem is quite a bit different from the poems I usually write. It is composed of a series of nine different segments (nine stages of heartbreak). I actually wrote this quite a while back, but I took a long time editing the piece and, to be honest, finally got the courage to put it out on the web. This poem is a very personal poem for me, probably the most personal one I've written before. Like most of my poems, it was inspired by my own experience, but unlike most of my other poems, this one is based on a deeply painful emotional experience. I tend to keep my emotions to myself, bottled up inside, because I have a difficult time expressing myself verbally, and I'm afraid of exposing my weakness to others. Writing has always been my way of dealing with and expressing these emotions. Creating this piece was quite therapeutic for me. It helped me sort through my emotions, and shortly after this piece was written, I was proven right about there being hope because I indeed found "my prince." We have been together about four months now, and I've never been happier. So, if you ever feel like there's no hope and your heart is broken, remember that you are so beautiful and realize that there is someone out there who will truly love you and truly treat you right.
"Every girl has a Prince Charming... yours just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is too stubborn to ask for directions." --Adam Young (Owl City)
"Every girl has a Prince Charming... yours just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is too stubborn to ask for directions." --Adam Young (Owl City)
The Stages of
Heartbreak
1. Realization.
A chill of comprehension
begins to course through my body.
A sick feeling that seeps
from my throat
into my chest
and
twists
my
stomach
into
knots.
2. Shock.
Like a flash of lightning or the shot of a
gun.
It happens so fast,
so sudden.
I finally see the light, and it blinds me,
so that
I can’t think.
I can’t speak.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
3. Numb.
It’s as if I’ve been given a shot of Novicaine.
I feel nothing.
Trapped.
I’m trapped inside this oblivion.
I speak and I hear,
but my words don’t belong to me,
and all that I hear is so far away,
Incomprehensible echoes.
4.
Pain.
The numbness ebbs away.
An earthquake quivers through my body.
An explosion of emotion causes me to slowly
shatter
before your very eyes.
Regardless of my endeavors to conceal it,
I wildly flinging my emotions,
the shattered pieces of my heart,
on display for you to see:
confusion,
denial,
passion,
sorrow,
anger,
hurt; so much hurt.
Punched in the chest.
Ran over by a truck.
Shot in the back.
The only way to deal with the pain is to
cry,
clinging to you as tightly as I can.
It’s painful knowing this is the last time
I will hold you,
but it’s better than the emptiness that
will come again when you leave.
Can’t let you go.
Can’t let myself forget.
5.
Shame.
I don’t want to let go.
I don’t want to forget.
I know I need to.
I’ve humiliated myself.
This isn’t healthy.
With deep racking breaths,
I force my tears to stop.
I can’t let you see me this way.
I need to be strong.
I release you from the vice grip of my
arms.
You make a joke, try to ease my pain.
Wild bloodshot eyes,
a trembling smile,
I hover on the brink of disaster.
6.
Losing it.
“We’ll always be friends.”
“I’ll always be
there for you.”
“I’ll always love you.”
“It’s for the
best.”
“You deserve better.”
I never knew how painful words could truly be until the
moment
these words are
said to me
Because I know what they are leading up to:
“Goodbye.”
How can one word be so painful,
so hard to hear,
without
shattering once more?
You say it.
I respond,
a whisper being all I can manage.
The door closes
behind you.
Never has a sound made me lonelier than it does now.
Never.
The sound of it slices through me
like a knife,
My heart is officially broken.
I scramble, picking
up
the pieces.
It’s no use.
I’ll never be able
to put them back together again.
Watching you drive away,
the earthquake starts all over again.
I fall to the floor,
a flightless
bird.
7.
Internal bleeding.
(((I
try to remove you from my mind.
I
need to move on.
I can’t
let the world see my hurt.
I
keep it bottled inside where no one can see,
denying
that it’s there at all.
Fake
smiles,
pretending
everything’s alright.
Inside
I’m bleeding from the internal war
among
my memories
and my mind.)))
8.
Coldness.
Trying to keep the memories away,
they still return.
They make me warm for a few moments.
When I realize that “memories” are all they
really are,
I’m left feeling empty.
Bitterly cold.
I’m constantly cold.
I can’t get warm.
I’m just so sick of being alone.
I wish you were with me, holding me tight,
taking away this bitter chill that racks my
body and rattles my teeth.
You don’t truly realize what you’ve got
until it’s gone.
I feel so empty without you.
Life goes on.
It must go on.
9.
Rebirth.
The pain will never completely disappear.
I
have learned to deal with it and learn from it.
Life is beautiful.
I am beautiful.
My prince is out there.
I
won’t stop until I’ve found him.
Like a phoenix,
I rise from the ashes.
It’s time to live.
It’s time to begin again.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
The wondrous wind woefully wails,
and a rumbling radiates the air into reverberation.
Lightning lividly lights up the sky
like legions of lightning bugs.
Now the clouds cluster: masses of gray that burst at the
seams
into rain that rapidly races
down
in
sheets of
gray.
Standing in the middle of the storm,
the thunder resonates through my body,
the wind whips my hair like waves across my face,
and the icy rain slices across my skin,
soaking my clothes and sending chills down my spine,
chills of frigidity, fright, and fascination.
I am mesmerized by this melee,
the madness and majesty of Mother Nature:
how something so dark and dangerous can still be
so beautiful.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Reflections on Life
Greetings, friend. I may have neither eyes to see nor feet to
move, but I have come to know and see many things. Our kind doesn’t need eyes to see or feet to
move in order to know and see the world around us. We simply feel the world; we are one with
nature. I would be very pleased if you
would come and listen to me speak, for I have much to tell and little time to
tell it in; I feel that the end of my life is drawing very near.
Earth, the place I call home, is a
place filled with both wonder and woe.
In my 100 years, I have seen many changes, both good and bad. The change of the seasons, alterations in
species and populations, and the miracle of new life occur every day. These are causes for wonder, and my soul
sings to experience these wonderful events, but there are also terrible
changes. These changes are brought forth
by creatures called humans.
Like humans, all animals are able
to think and perceive all kinds of amazing things, but unlike the other
creatures, humans regrettably use this power of perception to do terrible
things quite often. They have a terrible
need for control over one another and a need for possessions; greed is their
downfall. I have seen wars, pollution,
cutting down of my fellow companions, murdering of helpless creatures (even of
their own kind), and countless other evil deeds. I can only sit helplessly and watch these
terrible events unfold around me. I try
to communicate with the humans, urging them to change their ways, but all they
make of my communication is a series of creaks and moans. It is terribly frustrating. All I can do is pray that the next generation
of humans will learn from its mistakes.
This sometimes happens, but the greed never truly goes away. As I near the end of my life, I think I have
discovered why this greed exists; humans seem to keep this greed to cover-up
their fear, their fear of the unknown.
Humans live forever wondering what the meaning of life is, when it
really is right there in front of them.
Having lived for so long, in
constant observance of the world around me, without possessing corruption and
greed as the many humans I have come to know to possess, the meaning of life
becomes clear. If you don’t already know
the meaning of life, then it would be almost impossible for me to tell you, but
the best way I know how to explain it is this: the meaning of life is in the
very word itself: “life.” The meaning of
life is “life.” What makes this
definition tricky is that “life” is different for every individual creature,
but this is also what makes the definition so beautiful and marvelous. Life is startlingly unique and complex, an
intricate snowflake; no two lives are the same.
So, as my death comes nearer and nearer, I do not face it with
fear. Death is only the next stage of
life. Therefore, I shall greet it with
open branches.
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