March 18, 2016

Monotony and Monodromy…

By In lightly lyrical, musings, quotations

…in the shadow of you.

Write it down on real paper with a real pencil. And watch shit get real. – Erykah Badu

“Finding meaning” gets a bad rap,
but, never reason.
Despite both aiming to understand the underlying order of things,
meaning remains for everything beyond reason.
For everything beyond scientific acceptability.
Subtle, maybe even the same.
But meaning often requires an arbitrary assignation.
Built and blindly followed.
Possibly benevolent in its construction,
an arbitrary assignation no less.
Always right past complex thwarting chaos.
Protecting us?
As if it’s in charge of the unknown.
But blindly may be the wrong adverb.
Most followers have eyes
and perspective,
rooted in their own assumptions and deductions.
Lacking in method as they may be,
can they be blamed for trying?
You could call it random.
Or reciprocity.
All arbitrary assignations no greater than or less.
Allowing trust in, at least in something
the randomness of the universe, maybe.  

Monotony and Monodromy

“The sleep of reason brings forth monsters.”1
Words latched onto the space and silence
with room to freely roam
and room for repudiation.
But “pain can only be deferred never denied.”2
You would have been proud.
As you’ve been of every word eked from my mind.
The flow began with perfection: the light in your room for half a dose of shrooms…
Then my memory and expectations ran away with you,
but now, highlighting lack doesn’t prove your worth.
Just the existence of other sides of me
craving constantly.
A woman, phenomenally.
But by chance primarily.
Using you now,
To practice reaching without receiving.
Risk free,
Then is it vulnerability?
At the very least an experiment with temporality.
Or is it all a front? Free Floodlighting?

I am living with a deep rooted frustration with the nature of adulthood, life, and love.
I can’t possibly be the only one but,
I’m definitely not coping as well as some.
You’re unshakeable in this climate while I’m constantly quaking.
I’m not an angry person, but…
maybe I am.
Since seeing you.
And stepping into these shoes, this role:
the one who cares.
Because someone has to care.
Can we be just listless?
Would we be?
Do content and complacent always walk hand in hand?

Am I giving words to my reality or creating reality with my words?
Via conditioning.
Is that where we are? In that purgatory.
Facing/fighting the repercussions of speaking ill and evil?
Is this my creation?–
2016, Year of The Monkey.
The three wise monkeys, unheeded.
Knew/know that venting fuels anger.
But does it release it?
Does it dissipate?
If not, what’s to absorb it?
– If it is, a result of my calling imperfection by its name,
I don’t care, because nothing’s perfect and we all know it.
So if I’ve broadcast our flaws, unnecessarily, the better for those that heard.
Because I want nothing more than to support those that surface, from anywhere.
In the space I’ve built where it’s okay,
To be anything and everything less than perfect.

I know there are no bounds to the projection of my existential frustration onto us.
But I question, why aren’t you so frustrated?
Why/how don’t you care?
(Why) is the fact that you don’t your problem at all?
If it only bothers me?
Oh, because I wanted you with me.
To find a life for myself filled with all my loves and all my dreams.
A life I may have had, but couldn’t see.
And can’t create
because it may not exist outside me.
It may, rather, need to be unburied.

For it may be that,
“We don’t see things as they are; we see them as we are”3
So if the faults we find in others our in fact our own.
Then I’m not who I thought I was.
I’m not living all that passionately.
“Just decide what you want to do and do it”
Is what I told you.
We’re all hypocrites.
Clearly, me too.
Did my critique stem from shame?
Of my own lassitude?
Of my not being where I want to be?
Or doing what I want to do?
All made more apparent by the presence of you.
Was I denying my passions?
And my accountability too?
Smoke and mirrors.
I know there are no bounds to the projection of my existential frustration onto us.

Are we content with companionate?
Is that settling?
Is it ever settled?
Or does passion ride the wheel of fortune too?
Endless compassion sans passion.
There’s strength there, a sound successful history no less.
But what about the passion derived from shared passions.
Or space shared by passionate people.
Passion begets passion, undoubtedly?
Does that poured into one draw from the other?
philosophy, psyche, physics, physicality, politics,
Love & Math.
Can infallible passions expressed externally preserve intimacy?
Or, do these, shared cares, breed relational volatility?
Do these always im/explode?
Unstable and unsustainable?
Are we content with companionate?
Is that settling?
Or the absolute?

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”4

Does contentment with companionate =>
Contentment fulfilling our array of desires/cares/needs via society?
If I am/do, how do I limit the relationships in which I find them by my relation to you?
And, how do I limit myself by limiting these?
This is community.
This is food and fuel,
water for the well.
But, should it even be?
What about self-sufficiency?
Ideally each individual’s fulfillment lies within.
So, is it fair to feel like my potential is limited by curtailing them?
Maybe yes, maybe no. Either way it’s okay.
How do I stifle the passion and attraction that my passions apparent in others incite in me?
How do I stifle the possibility/potential of connection built upon them?
It seems “I need a lot of things that you can’t really give to me./
I’m screaming on mute cause you ain’t really hearing me”5
You’re hearing what you want to hear
What you already think you know,
Just seeing what you want to see.
But, you’re not my biggest enemy…
Even though it may be:
Resentment’s roots are unmet needs.
Or knowing you’ll never meet those of another.
The last thing I wanted was to resent you…
Is any of this true?
Or just aphoristic philosophy?
Of which I have an addiction recently.
I’m craving the simplicity.
Of Black and White.
But I’m just a little bit caught in the middle,
my mind’s nestled with nuance
and life itself may exist in between.

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”

I keep hearing, reading that we can only love another to the extent that we love ourselves.
Does this mean that if we have ever loved another, we most assuredly loved ourselves? –
If A => B then does B => A?
Not necessarily.
That doesn’t even hold for equality.
Squares = rectangles / rectangles ≠squares.
But, syllogistically Not B => Not A.
Can’t catch a break in this game.
Maybe it starts by giving yourself one…
Nobody said it was easy.
-I don’t know if I love(d) myself.
But I can remember a time when I love(d) another
but this does not recall how I felt about me.
And, even if it did, it wouldn’t fix anything.
The more important questions, at least:
If not now, when?
If not you, who?

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”

Judgement, a small subset of the above:
Are we only be open to others to the extent that we don’t condemn or condone ourselves?
Even though it seems easier to find compassion for others.
Always with the underlying understanding:
That we cannot know another’s perspective.
Or, thus, their motivations
So we can forever speculate and justify until the defense rests.
But I know mine.
Entirely right?
So, with hindsight, self-criticality comes easily.
Assuming a morality marker has been assigned
For measuring my motivations and actions against…
But, what about my long held belief:
We’re all doing our best in every moment
And we all have our own habits and proclivities based on experiences unseen to me,
With that, it may be; There is no right or wrong
only our best under circumstance.
The only offering,
Of which we can never give less.
Including me?

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”

Fuck you, do they?
Are there answers really?
Or just the choices we make.
Gut instinct.
Confabulated upon.
For the sake of mind put at ease.
With the belief we’re always acting judiciously.  

How could I fail to see the long game of curiosity?
Always courting me.
I’m consumed and curious about….anything;
So, nothing will ever satisfy me entirely?
How does one cope with the burden?
Of curiosity constantly calling.
Does discontentment always precede it?
Have I appointed contentment the outcome?
We put happiness on the other side of something.
Ambition and achievement, maybe.
Can I be curious without believing the full expression of curiosity will make me greater or less than?
Than, nothing more than, me.
This measurement is the determinant of the direction of our drive.
Or so it seems.
But, if content, and not striving, or deciding to or not to strive, then curiosity doesn’t seem to be killing as many cats.
Are curious and content constant combatants?
Do content and complacent always walk hand in hand?

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”
Crafted, arcane questions,
And experiments.
But my own rationale can’t persuade me,
I’ve assessed the disconnect between information / transformation already.
Even proved it time to live the deductions:
To live more altruistically.
And out of love primarily.
Yet I’m still just living.
I think?
Trying to reason it all out.
Spinning, by choice.
Alternatively I could choose,
elect an answer, and pretend to be sure,
Until I am.

It’s been asked of me: How do you open your heart?
“You just stretch.”
But, This Shit is Laughable.
And  true to a point…
Your heart, a muscle, can’t grow through thought alone.
As powerful as visualization may be.
You may convince yourself it’s necessary.
Central to survival and,
the most rational next step.
But that’s not the work, unfortunately.
Rationality does not make it reality.
But what about conditioning?
Practice and all may be coming.
So maybe it can?
I can’t figure it.
I can’t figure it out.

“Beloved, your questions require the answers that come; Through direct living experience.”

Uncertainty alieved.
Just keep living, you’ll see.
At the very least,
(that) it’s your only option really.

“Beloved, your questions
Touch the heart of wonder.
The path of intimacy with all life –
Weaving together body and soul,
Sex and spirit, individuality and universality.”6
Can I allow myself believe it?
Can I let myself (be) Beloved?

1. Francisco Goya. “El sueño de la razón produce monstruos.” Los Caprichos.  Etching. 1797-1799.
Roberts, Gregory David. (2015). The Mountain Shadow. Grove Press.
3. Anais Nin, Seduction of the Minotaur. Denver: A. Swallow. (attributed by Nin to the Talmud)
4. Roche, L. (2008). The Radiance Sutras. Marina del Rey, CA: Syzygy Creations.
5. Rudimental [feat. Angel Haze]. “Hell Could Freeze.” Home. Asylum Records. 2013.
6. Roche, L. (2008). The Radiance Sutras. Marina del Rey, CA: Syzygy Creations.


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