Wednesday, March 28, 2007
magnetic molten lava attraction
my heart roars from my chest like a lion on mescaline. the pace is intoxicating, i feel like a boquet of life in the midst of glorius explosions. my atoms are colliding and the sky is the only applicable route. welcome to pangaea, now let me show you the sky. the sky. the haze of all this fades to obscurity only as fast as my legs can tear me away from it. the density of the plant-life alarmingly expected. i console myself that this is the only kind of place that this kind of thing could happen in. oh god, the sky. ripped once more from my displacement, i'm thrown back into this mirage, these trees and this sky... no shoes? why wouldn't i bring shoes to something like this? the movement. fuck the shoes. i haven't needed them for this half of what feels like eternity and i doubt i need them for the next. i'm still running. wait, why am i running, like this? where to, or more importantly where is it that 'to' entitles? my heart. OH GOD, i forgot my heart. my chest is beating like a rebellion. France is on fire, France is in flames! France is in flames? Whatever that means can't distract from the war drum that beats only to me. I know why i run only when i abandon my explainations and flimsy segways. without reason, i find my understanding. i run to the sky.
Monday, March 26, 2007
ey.. i hope you stay safe on this high flyin' endeavour of yours. best of luck with the weather and be confident! spring has bloomed in barrie and i am a night hawk. i hope you're havin' a blast, i really do. it's been some time, but i suppose i'm writing you right now just to tell you that i'm really happy for you - and not in an aching sort of way, and not in a love sap sort of way, but out of care and out of you serving super significance in a really important time in my life. i've come to put stuff in the past. and it feels really liberating.i know this whole computer thing is known for miscommunications. but i say this nicely, truly, honestly...
thanks, mark. i can't pinpoint for what exactly, but y'know.
be well! :)
sam
i'm a rationalist, at large. some people just enter your life exactly when you need them to. or you need them to just enter your life period. some things just are, and you must act upon them. all this build up for something so beautiful. some two so beautiful. for what just might be something so beautiful.
thanks, mark. i can't pinpoint for what exactly, but y'know.
be well! :)
sam
i'm a rationalist, at large. some people just enter your life exactly when you need them to. or you need them to just enter your life period. some things just are, and you must act upon them. all this build up for something so beautiful. some two so beautiful. for what just might be something so beautiful.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Open slightly your heart to me, and I will reveal the world to you
where is my freedom of choice?
if we assume that will has no freedom, we are all like machines, operating and creating through external forces which make it act the way it does. we are all incarcerated in the prison of providence, which using these 2 chains, pushes and pulls us to its will, to where it sees fit. there seems to be no such thing as selfishness in the world, since no one here is free and stands on his own two feet.
when i examine the acts of an individual, i find them compulsory. we are compelled to do them and have no freedom of choice. like a stew, cooking on the stove, with no choice but to cook.
PROVIDENCE HAS HARNESSED LIFE WITH TWO CHAINS: PLEASURE AND PAIN.
living creatures have no freedom of choice, choosing pain or rejecting pleasure, and the only advantage men have over animals is that we can aim at a remote target. i can agree to a certain amount of current pain, out of choice of future benefit or pleasure, to be attained after some time.
there's no more than a seemingly commercial calculation here. the future benefit or pleasure, seems greater than the current pain or agony that we have agreed to take on presently. the pain is deducted from the aspired pleasure, and some extra remains.
only pleasure is extended.
and so sometimes, it happens that one of us is tormented because one didn't find the pleasure one attained, to be surplus one had hoped for, compared to the agony one suffered, and therefore one is in deficit. it's all done as merchants do, you could say.
there's no difference! here between man and animal. there is no free choice whatsoever, but a pulling force, attracting toward any bypassing pleasure and rejecting from painful circumstances. providence leads them to every place it chooses by means of these 2 forces without asking their opinion.
even the determination of the type of pleasureand the benefit are entirely out of one's own free choice, but rather follow the desire of others.
example? sally sits, sally dresses, sally speaks, eats. sally does all of these not because she wants to sit that way or talk that way, or dress or eat that way. sally does it because others want sally to sit, dress, talk and eat that way. it's in accordance with the desires of society, not sally's own free will.
but i...
i do all of these things against my will. i would feel a lot more comfortable behaving simply, not carrying any burden. i am chained in every movement to the flavors and manners of others, which make up the society around me.
in my near past state, i operated according to the understanding of my egoistic nature. i regarded this or that as good or bad; i learned from my environment and acted accordingly.
the more i connect with my surroundings, the freer i feel in this world. and i see. i see that the world around us changes according to how we want to see it.
if we assume that will has no freedom, we are all like machines, operating and creating through external forces which make it act the way it does. we are all incarcerated in the prison of providence, which using these 2 chains, pushes and pulls us to its will, to where it sees fit. there seems to be no such thing as selfishness in the world, since no one here is free and stands on his own two feet.
when i examine the acts of an individual, i find them compulsory. we are compelled to do them and have no freedom of choice. like a stew, cooking on the stove, with no choice but to cook.
PROVIDENCE HAS HARNESSED LIFE WITH TWO CHAINS: PLEASURE AND PAIN.
living creatures have no freedom of choice, choosing pain or rejecting pleasure, and the only advantage men have over animals is that we can aim at a remote target. i can agree to a certain amount of current pain, out of choice of future benefit or pleasure, to be attained after some time.
there's no more than a seemingly commercial calculation here. the future benefit or pleasure, seems greater than the current pain or agony that we have agreed to take on presently. the pain is deducted from the aspired pleasure, and some extra remains.
only pleasure is extended.
and so sometimes, it happens that one of us is tormented because one didn't find the pleasure one attained, to be surplus one had hoped for, compared to the agony one suffered, and therefore one is in deficit. it's all done as merchants do, you could say.
there's no difference! here between man and animal. there is no free choice whatsoever, but a pulling force, attracting toward any bypassing pleasure and rejecting from painful circumstances. providence leads them to every place it chooses by means of these 2 forces without asking their opinion.
even the determination of the type of pleasureand the benefit are entirely out of one's own free choice, but rather follow the desire of others.
example? sally sits, sally dresses, sally speaks, eats. sally does all of these not because she wants to sit that way or talk that way, or dress or eat that way. sally does it because others want sally to sit, dress, talk and eat that way. it's in accordance with the desires of society, not sally's own free will.
but i...
i do all of these things against my will. i would feel a lot more comfortable behaving simply, not carrying any burden. i am chained in every movement to the flavors and manners of others, which make up the society around me.
in my near past state, i operated according to the understanding of my egoistic nature. i regarded this or that as good or bad; i learned from my environment and acted accordingly.
the more i connect with my surroundings, the freer i feel in this world. and i see. i see that the world around us changes according to how we want to see it.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room.
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time...REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
-- The Velveteen Rabbit
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time...REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
-- The Velveteen Rabbit
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
last night was, but of course, st. patrick's day. another excuse to attend a social event and make appearances and hoot and holler and the like. i think of last year, and remember the adventures. i was a little girl, than.. living at home, under mummy and evil stepfather's rule and had to beg my old heart out to even have them think of letting me go out on such a night. i suppose it was than that i was wholesome? so being wholesome is to be flawless, is that it than? because i'm pretty sure a universal entirely human thing is to falter and make mistakes, make really crappy ones, to experiment and to get lost, to maunder in the wrong directions, but to eventually arrive somewhere peaceful. i don't know why in the hell i'm ragged on for being human. there's a road i've left to find, but i'll be there in time. i suppose those road just ain't cut out for the two of us.
Friday, March 16, 2007
it is nearly 3 o'clock in the morning, but it's march break and i think i am entitled to these nights. i'm walking far more often, mainly due to the nice weather we've been having. this past weekend, i ventured to toronto and walked all over. walking is good for the soul. in and around this time is very odd for me. the smells of the winter leaving us and the spring waiting to greet us, are clearly so nostalgic. many beautiful memories from this past year sweep back to me. i'm truly learning how to smile in thought of them. i'm very tired, though, and hardly know if i'm even making any sense at all. i must go to bed.. tomorrow, i plan to spring clean and put on feel good music. i must accomplish cleaning up this hole. i wish the gangsters (if you will) shared some common ground in respects to the definition of a home.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
i always heard that your entire life flashes before your eyes the second before you die. last night my second stretched out forever, like an ocean of time. i saw the stars in the middle of the night during brown owl campfires in 2nd grade. i saw yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined our old street. and my grandmothers hands and the way her skin seemed like paper. and the first time i ever saw his smile... ...
but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. sometimes i feel like i'm seeing it all at once, and it's all too much to even bear.. my heart fills up like a balloon and could burst. and than i remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. than it flows through me like rain and i cant feel anything...
but gratitude.
there is an understanding between people, i believe - an unwritten consent. i know it's there, though am unsure as to what it says, or what it even means. but it is felt internally. the more i feel it, the more i try to comprehend it's way. i as a human possess the the incredible capacity to feel. to hurt. to lie. and love.
i look back, the past 2 years having blended themselves almost entirely. sometimes i try to sort out one day from the next, but am always left with an uninteruptted flow of what i've come to know as reality, turned into what are now memories. i am left with a hazy pulp of rhetoric and unanswered questions, all stemming from my ridiculous affinity for affection.
i've never understood why my love has been so destructive.
i feel this inexplicable nostalgia. without knowing who, or what i miss, i sit here at my desk and wonder how much my life can handle. a cycle of losing, gaining, faces and recollections of things i've lost long ago, covered by that which awaits to take the other's places.
"it's like my heart is broken into so many tiny pieces, they could fit through the eye of a needle.. it's like this hole in your chest, that not any amalgamation of things could ever fill, could ever set at ease, could ever repair." i said this after he passed away. it is mind blowing how death can change you.
but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. sometimes i feel like i'm seeing it all at once, and it's all too much to even bear.. my heart fills up like a balloon and could burst. and than i remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. than it flows through me like rain and i cant feel anything...
but gratitude.
Don't Make Me Go All Single Cell Organism, Infect Your Poor Ass And Cause E.D, Sucka
"I say, if your knees aren't green by the end of the day, you ought to seriously re-examine your life!"
...infact, I've pretty much given up modern sophistication in order to retain fantastic thought, not to say I'm simple by any regard; but like hell I'm living without fantastic vision.
...infact, I've pretty much given up modern sophistication in order to retain fantastic thought, not to say I'm simple by any regard; but like hell I'm living without fantastic vision.
the buses were infact, not cancelled, this morning, which comes as a shock to me considering the bone chilling -35 degree windchill factor. it's too cold to even enjoy taking one step outside. don't get me wrong, i love the winter - the soft crunching noises beneath your feet as you create footsteps in your path in the snow, the sparkling stars of snowflakes falling on your cheeks, the need for big hollywood glasses because it's blindingly bright, fooling around in your ugly vintage snowsuit in the backyard making hotbox forts, crashing and burning courtesy of your snowboard, watching the people on your street act like animals as they try and attempt to shovel their driveways (which is sortof comical because the way i see it, it's winter, dress accordingly, you might! need gloves whilst completing such a task.. you would think? comfort before looks, it's winter, christ's sake!)
but anyways, here i sit, as school would just be starting, hazey-eyed, with malcolm cuddling quite comfortably in my lap. another day of missed school. i hope that it's one of those altered days, i'm not sure my conscience or my academic pursuits can afford any more missed days. and to boot, i'll be heading to my mum's shortly, which means i'll not complete any homework tasks i might have left. might beinga keyword, because i'm not entirely sure what i've got on my plate left to eat. when did i stop caring about being on the honour roll...
i told my mum, 10 o'clock, but i'm going to crawl back into bed within the next few minutes, and i gaurantee the phone'll be a-ringin' the next thing i know. the one night i get a decent amount of sleep and actually wake without thanks to an alarm clock, at the correct time, i'm on the couch, freezing cold with lack of a pillow... my bed looks comfy, awaiting my body to occupy it.
but anyways, here i sit, as school would just be starting, hazey-eyed, with malcolm cuddling quite comfortably in my lap. another day of missed school. i hope that it's one of those altered days, i'm not sure my conscience or my academic pursuits can afford any more missed days. and to boot, i'll be heading to my mum's shortly, which means i'll not complete any homework tasks i might have left. might beinga keyword, because i'm not entirely sure what i've got on my plate left to eat. when did i stop caring about being on the honour roll...
i told my mum, 10 o'clock, but i'm going to crawl back into bed within the next few minutes, and i gaurantee the phone'll be a-ringin' the next thing i know. the one night i get a decent amount of sleep and actually wake without thanks to an alarm clock, at the correct time, i'm on the couch, freezing cold with lack of a pillow... my bed looks comfy, awaiting my body to occupy it.
Monday, March 05, 2007
come and spend the night girl
why does advancing spiritually feel like suicide to my ego?
when spritual advancement and egoism both seem to hold nothing for me, that's when they're equal and that is when free will choice can be made
why is that?
when spritual advancement and egoism both seem to hold nothing for me, that's when they're equal and that is when free will choice can be made
why is that?
2384 Monck Rd.
i take more time to sit in silence. there is so much depth and beauty in silence. how beautiful one moment can be. i relish this infinite peace. two boats float on top of the incredibly calm waters. pure, infinite, warm. there is a purity in staying true, in walking with a gorgeous man and wanting nothing more than their friendship. everything beings in the dark as the day begins in the night.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
musings from the porch
Yesterday, the day began so warm, the heat already palpable. The bright sun illuminated the dust on my dresser and the silvery filaments of spider webs, spiraling midair, mirroring qualities of my inner housekeeping. Now, it’s deep into the night, the air is fresh and cool, and above there are a million stars. The moon is a few days from being full. I love cool nights. My heart feels the immediacy of mystery on these bright summer nights; sitting quietly on my porch I offer hospitality to the unknowing. Dust and webs aside, graciously I invite, “Forgive the mess, and linger awhile.”
Existence has its own way, smiling at innocents who think they have control. In this moment, the only moment, I have no control. I don’t need any. My trust in this runs deep. The next breath will come, and so will the one after that. The one that does not come will leave me in total peace with silence.
The sky expands. In darkness I see there are more than a million stars – there are millions upon millions. Sitting here, I am so small – a tiny particle of dust in the grandeur of the universe. I am a silvery, shimmering, smiling, crying particle of dust, reflecting a miniscule facet of glory – absolutely right in size and shape for the reason I exist.
What is this experience of “I,” of this person I call myself, Samantha? This has been a source of wonder from the earliest recognition of self awareness in childhood. Perhaps it is the greatest variable in my nature. The character and quality of “I” is sometimes a feeling of alienation, at other times of communion with life. I move on a continuum of self-deprecation to profound self worth. At times this feeling of “I” has been a prison bounded in captivity by habitual thoughts and feelings – circling, tapes that wind, rewind and run again. At other times, emancipated, this “I” is my own hidden treasure. This “I” is an eye, through which God sees.
In the deepest shadows of night, when there was no moon, no stars, and the unfriendly air was chilly and everything was dirty and disgusting – in that dark night was there a god to see? For a time I doubted…and then the cleaning began. Some unseen hand within began the polishing in the seat of my soul. As Rumi says,
An unsuspecting child first wipes the tablet
and then writes the letters on it.
God turns the heart into blood and desperate tears;
then writes the spiritual mysteries on it.
Internal resources seek light. After the tears, I seemed to find resolve to move and flutter, scratch and tear a hole in the papery screen covering this darkest room. Reality teaches by means of opposites and contrasts, wrath and mercy. With wet wings and compassion I saw the sun rise for the first time. The imperfection of the world is what gives birth to the sunrise, to the reality of love – an unconditional love that loves even this imperfection.
Imperfectly and hesitantly I have been riding into the unknown. Traversing has been tumultuous – like riding an unruly horse I have hung on, grasping at a wispy mane with my fists and a moving torso with the length of my legs, clinging to an uncertain security. Getting bucked off is sudden, painful, humiliating to my ego. This falling has happened over and over again; learning to ride the undulations of existence is at times painful and frightening. Trembling is a part of being human. Rumi says,
Look at yourself, trembling
afraid of non-existence:
know that non-existence is also afraid
that God might bring it into existence.
If you grasp at worldly dignities,
it’s from fear, too.
Everything, except love of the Most Beautiful,
is really agony. Its agony
to move towards death and not drink the water of life.
One day I know I will let go – let go of fear, of trembling, of resistance. Perhaps that day is soon. Though the horse is appealing – strong, beautiful, compelling, the horse is an illusion. Finally it will dissolve as fantasies do. I feel and note the particles, like dust on my dresser, fragments of the illusion falling away, resting, glistening in the new day's morning sun, smiling at me. I feel the intimacy of love, unconditioned immanent love, warming me in this light. This love, without control, without fear, without knowing, wraps me softly in his very own light.
Existence has its own way, smiling at innocents who think they have control. In this moment, the only moment, I have no control. I don’t need any. My trust in this runs deep. The next breath will come, and so will the one after that. The one that does not come will leave me in total peace with silence.
The sky expands. In darkness I see there are more than a million stars – there are millions upon millions. Sitting here, I am so small – a tiny particle of dust in the grandeur of the universe. I am a silvery, shimmering, smiling, crying particle of dust, reflecting a miniscule facet of glory – absolutely right in size and shape for the reason I exist.
What is this experience of “I,” of this person I call myself, Samantha? This has been a source of wonder from the earliest recognition of self awareness in childhood. Perhaps it is the greatest variable in my nature. The character and quality of “I” is sometimes a feeling of alienation, at other times of communion with life. I move on a continuum of self-deprecation to profound self worth. At times this feeling of “I” has been a prison bounded in captivity by habitual thoughts and feelings – circling, tapes that wind, rewind and run again. At other times, emancipated, this “I” is my own hidden treasure. This “I” is an eye, through which God sees.
In the deepest shadows of night, when there was no moon, no stars, and the unfriendly air was chilly and everything was dirty and disgusting – in that dark night was there a god to see? For a time I doubted…and then the cleaning began. Some unseen hand within began the polishing in the seat of my soul. As Rumi says,
An unsuspecting child first wipes the tablet
and then writes the letters on it.
God turns the heart into blood and desperate tears;
then writes the spiritual mysteries on it.
Internal resources seek light. After the tears, I seemed to find resolve to move and flutter, scratch and tear a hole in the papery screen covering this darkest room. Reality teaches by means of opposites and contrasts, wrath and mercy. With wet wings and compassion I saw the sun rise for the first time. The imperfection of the world is what gives birth to the sunrise, to the reality of love – an unconditional love that loves even this imperfection.
Imperfectly and hesitantly I have been riding into the unknown. Traversing has been tumultuous – like riding an unruly horse I have hung on, grasping at a wispy mane with my fists and a moving torso with the length of my legs, clinging to an uncertain security. Getting bucked off is sudden, painful, humiliating to my ego. This falling has happened over and over again; learning to ride the undulations of existence is at times painful and frightening. Trembling is a part of being human. Rumi says,
Look at yourself, trembling
afraid of non-existence:
know that non-existence is also afraid
that God might bring it into existence.
If you grasp at worldly dignities,
it’s from fear, too.
Everything, except love of the Most Beautiful,
is really agony. Its agony
to move towards death and not drink the water of life.
One day I know I will let go – let go of fear, of trembling, of resistance. Perhaps that day is soon. Though the horse is appealing – strong, beautiful, compelling, the horse is an illusion. Finally it will dissolve as fantasies do. I feel and note the particles, like dust on my dresser, fragments of the illusion falling away, resting, glistening in the new day's morning sun, smiling at me. I feel the intimacy of love, unconditioned immanent love, warming me in this light. This love, without control, without fear, without knowing, wraps me softly in his very own light.
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