“All human wisdom is summed up in two words; wait and hope.”
“Extreme hopes are born from extreme misery.”
“Beware how you take away hope from another human being.”
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.
“The Wise are silent, the Foolish speak, and the children are, thus, led astray.”
Anxiety is a thin stream of fear trickling through the mind. If encouraged, it cuts a channel into which all other thoughts are drained.
— Arthur Somers Roche
Injustice alone can shake down the pillars of the skies, and restore the reign of Chaos and Night.
— Horace Mann
America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.
— Abraham Lincoln
In Full Metal Jacket, when he said,
“I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you.”
I am randomly typpling (type babbling), yes, I know this… my personal Microsoft Word screen seriously could fuck me with all the secrets and truths it has seen at my hand, fuck it though…transparency is the new thing isn’t it?
I have given up my appearance altogether, I suppose…couldn’t tell you when the last time I looked in a mirror at myself…hmmmm…the possible causes behind this fact aren’t lost on me, either…
Something is happening inside of me again; although I couldn’t possibly describe any of what those “somethings” may actually be in the big picture of things; and I am not trying to find any way to describe it – there’s just a slew of mental data on upload at present; and my mental data down-link seems to be broken, too. There’s just a fuck-ton of shit coming in, and nothing moving aside to make room for it; if that even makes sense to anyone reading this.
Failure is something has come to define my every moment of each passing day for me; it began slowly when Boo was put into “residential treatment” almost a decade ago and only snowballed from that point on. The many things that have subsequently gone horribly awry since then have accumulated into a vast and freezing cold tomb; each instance of my own perceived failings stacking up against the previous until the room shrinks. Failure has been something that I struggle with regularly, and I often lose the fight with it because of its overwhelming and constant presence. I go to a psychiatrist based on this failure (and its many facets and faces); he repeatedly instructs me to “just let it go”…
Abandonment is another key element that is deeply embedded in my marred psychological profile; this element is born of my inability to “just let it go” when it came to my inter-personal relationships with parents during infancy and childhood (most notably a then ever-absent mother). It has mutated the human being that I was born as into a different version of who I might have been in a “healthy and/or intact family setting”; over time, it has warped my perception of others who I feel any closeness to – a mechanism of the emotionally fearful and unstable. I am extremely insecure inter-personally, and it only becomes an exacerbated symptom when I give two shits about the other person involved. I am afraid of people in general; not in a physically cowed way though…I am terrified of interacting with others because of the emotional traumas that inevitably attach themselves to each and every experience with closeness to another human being (or the socially mutated versions of one).
Truth is another crucial piece of who I am from one moment to the next; it has come to burn in my veins like molten lava these days, and growing increasingly more important to every nano-thought in my head. Acceptance of truth is part of this element; and as painful as this aspect often is for me, in my own experiences, the truth carries weight that is undeniably addictive to my heart, spirit and mind somehow…
Perhaps after all, “the truth shall set me free”.
A loveless life is a living death.
~ Old English Proverb
What good is honor when you’re starving?
~ Yiddish Proverb
The heaviest weight in the world is an empty pocket.
~ Jewish Proverb
Pleasures are transient, honors are immortal.
~ Greek Proverb
“In this poor body, composed of one hundred bones and nine openings, is something called spirit; a flimsy curtain swept this way and that by the slightest breeze. It is spirit, such as it is, which led me to poetry, at first little more than a pastime, then the full business of my life. There have been times when my spirit, so dejected, almost gave up the quest, other times when it was proud, triumphant. So it has been from the very start, never finding peace with itself, always doubting the worth of what it makes.”
This is a post with a certain someone in mind and at heart; but Basho pretty much sums up the lifelong inner-boxing match endured by all poets and writers…as a matter of fact, it describes anybody’s struggle with SELF.
“These are the four abuses: desire to succeed in order to make oneself famous; taking credit for the labors of others; refusal to correct one’s errors despite advice; refusal to change one’s ideas despite warnings.”
“Abuse a man unjustly, and you will make friends for him.”
~ Edgar Howe
“Every abuse ought to be reformed, unless the reform is more dangerous than the abuse itself.”
“A knife wound heals; a wound caused by words never can.”
~ Turkish Proverb
The Turks are another ancient culture that have managed to persevere throughout a long, long timeline of various disasters – both natural and otherwise. They have sprinkled ancient wisdom throughout the the cultures across the globe as well. And, they are one of the most eloquently spoken and written civilizations throughout history…something to be said about that much, for sure.
“Even the hand of compassion is stung when it strokes a scorpion.”
~ Persian Proverb
One of my very favorite dudes from ancient history would most definitely be Cyrus II, the first Achaemenian King of the Persian Empire AKA “Cyrus the Great”. The story of one the most advanced and lucrative civilizations from ancient history began with him in 559 BC; and his dynasty stayed in control for over 200 years after his death.
Two statements made to me today that feel compelled to share for whatever reasons:
“Nobody ever notices the teeth of a beautiful soul…”
He doesn’t keep a blog…but I become more and more convinced all the time that he needs to start…his thoughts are often just stunningly expressed between him and me. I’ve written numerous times in reference to my beloved friend who I call the “Shepherd” or “B” or the “Boondock Saint” on my blog; he is someone who is a stationary fixture in my world these days. I treasure our friendship deeply because he is a real-life saint, and not just in the context of me and our friendship – he is a saintly human being who cultivates the gentleness and understanding a “feeler” as well as the logic and comprehension of a “thinker”. These are all parts of his personality, no doubt, as a result of his own lifetime of hardship and traumas stacked up on top of one another; which made this delayed sentiment about my crumbling teeth that he sent to me via text message late last night – all the more heartwarming to me. It’s just a small ray of sunshine that I wanted to share because it was rather profound in my opinion, as the Boondock tends to be.
“Survivors unite, together we stand, facing our demons and…. something that rhymes with stand. (I’m not nearly as talented as you are with rhymes, LOL!)”
This is something that one of peeps here on WordPress wrote today in a comment response she made to me on her blog; she is so adorable – open, honest, and die-hard in her own recovery. She inspires me often and has since…well, I’m not really sure who followed who or how long ago it was, but at least since the beginning of last summer. It was so endearing when I read it, because it is HER in a nutshell: she doesn’t necessarily even have to think prior to jumping in to offer supportive information to a fellow survivor – that’s just how she rolls. Anyway, I just wanted to share this little morsel of absolute goodness because it totally made me chuckle when I read it…
You can go check out her blog also at http://rememberhowtofly.com.
John Keats (1795-1821) is the reason why I fell in love with poetry as a very, very young child.
He is hands down – my ALL-TIME favorite Romance Era Poet, and likely my my ALL-TIME favorite poet; I have included a taste of his genius to help anyone who isn’t familiar with his work become enlightened a little by its beauty and perfection. ENJOY!
“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.”
“I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the Heart’s affections and the truth of the Imagination.”
“I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.”
“Life is but a day:
A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way
From a tree’s summit”
“I want a brighter word than bright”
“Here lies one whose name was writ on water.”
“I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.”
“Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget…”
“If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.”
“And when thou art weary I’ll find thee a bed,
Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.”
“Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,
– Drown’d all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead.
Awake! arise! my love and fearless be,
For o’er the southern moors I have a home for thee.”
“The instant that we drop the Hope, we lose everything we ever could have been.”
Despite the “unapproachability” that I so openly tease the Orphan about on a regular basis, he continues to be socially accosted by some of the most pond-scummiest of creatures imaginable so far, in his evolutionary adventures as a born-again Red Triangle Surfer God.
- The Orphan is a strange combination of “Foreign” = the Orphan interacts socially in a different manner than that which Americans (especially West Coast Surfer Boys/OGSC’s) are at all prepared for, much less have any clue how to respond to, in most cases.
- It’s actually pretty fuckin’ funny to watch from a safe distance most of the time…shame on me.
- The Orphan does Him, and tends not to worry about what anyone is doing until whatever they’re doing starts to impede on his own gig = he’s 9 times out of 10 NOT the one to initiate conversation with a stranger (I imagine he was this way always, even in his most familiar of environments). He keeps to himself unless a nerve gets pinched.
- The Orphan is, just like Yours Truly, allergic to BULLSHIT = don’t talk in front of him if you’re full of shit because he will sniff you out in an nano-second and expose you until you disappear.
A BELOVEDLY TRUE STORY:
He is sitting out past the breakers in the solitude of a favorite beach break of his, enjoying the peace and quiet away from the trendy tourist beaches that have become UN-FUN due to so many idiot vacationers. Suddenly, he is startled by a raspy voice behind him somewhere close by and he whips his head around to see a washed-up, rode hard, dirty Surf Bum paddling up to his position in the lineup.
His eye rolling doesn’t deter the man from sliding in next to him as he waits for a good ride and begins to talk to the Orphan openly about his problems.
“I feel like shit, Man…haven’t had a drink in over 48 hours…trying to quit, ya know?…
The Orphan just stares straight ahead but gives a nod of acknowledgment because he is, unfortunately for him at this very moment in the story, a Human Being.
“Just gotta stop drinking, Man…” no waves to ride in come, so the Orphan listens on, somehow intrigued by the train wreck of a surfer.
The older guy is obviously distraught and in a state of disarray as he tells the Orphan about a “fight” with his “Ol’ Lady” a few nights prior, and having had to leave the house afterward so as not to be arrested when the police arrived.
“It’s all because women ya know?…they are so fragile …you can’t hit ‘em like you could, a man, ya know…? …so much frailer, so easy to really fuck up in fight…so I gotta stop that drinkin’, Man…”
After several minutes of collecting enough verbal information that the Orphan felt certain of his quickly forming opinion regarding a somewhat “touchy” subject, he responded to this miserably clueless, self-admitted woman beater in the way that ONLY the Orphan could.
He turned and made intentionally piercing eye-contact with the man on the board just 2 feet away from him and simply stated:
“Hey…Dude…. I mean, I think it has certainly occurred to you by now that maybe…..you don’t need to stop fighting with your lady because “she is fragile and frail”…”, his fingers are up to do the accompanying gesture of quotation marks, “maybe it’s just because you’re an alcoholic idiot who can’t control himself when he’s drunk – which sounds like it’s ALWAYS….”
The Orphans posture is straight and self-assured as he sits like statue waiting for a response of any kind that takes a while to come, surprisingly.
“Well…ya got a point there, don’t you Kid?”
An Old Family Proverb Goes:
“Forventer verden til at behandle dem retfærdigt fordi du er god som forventet tyren ikke til byrde, fordi du er vegetar.”
“Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are good is like expecting the bull not to charge because you are a vegetarian.”
to tell the truth.
Has The Circus Left Town
– Direct TV Commercial
A Churchill Quote that SAYS IT ALL:
“If you’re going through Hell, keep going.”
Please don’t confuse my spirituality for religiousness…