Thoughts again

All thoughts are like the weather, they come and go.

The thoughts are reactions to situations of series of events. They build up to feel like a wall of reality - and illusory wall.

Can I take the bricks out of my wall?

Can I just kick the fucker down.

[and yes I noticed, big time, the lack of kindness in this statement and the fucker is, of course, created by me - its what I have been calling myself].

Delusions of grand wotsits

Many of my negative thoughts about others resolve themselves as aspects of my own limitations.

I see my prejudices and negative feelings reflected in others. They don't make me feel bad; I do through my reactions to them.

My negative feeling to the situation is mine; not done to me. I should know it and responsibly calm it down.

William Morris (and me) may be disappointed

You may desire only what is useful and beautiful
though there is shit sitting there
its waiting dully just for you

Its sitting by your side
making love to your leg
making friends with your friends
taking the fresh air from your nostrils

Invite it in, make friends with it

Anguish - illusion?

Anguish boils inside me - like fire
but it is not a fire
its a thought

It came and seemed to burn
I felt it - bravely and with my own kindness and it was gone
replaced only by peace and then my
next thought

Thoughts

Thoughts, like the weather, come and go
They are as true as the moment
Listen to the wind

Know that as the wind - as the sun - as the rain - all may change

Drink the drink while it washed our thoughts away
to the sea
the the clouds
to the trees

In the trees - thoughts.

Thursdays - and playing with italics

- "Oh, again" she says. I don't know what she means though - nothing has happened. Her words appear from nothingness.


Where have we been these days - talking about time, these days I mean more than I mean where. I always prefer to know when more than where, mostly. There have been times when I did'nt, mostly. But I don't know where that was.


"Once, once is all I can give you" I say - this may be a lie, but you think about it, how will we know?

Nothing has happened again and - "oh, again" say says. As if its the "again" that she wants more than the nothingness.

I cannot give you more of what we don't already have - once it was there, it was now and here. Not now though; gone again.

After all this time and the blips in between

I learn new things all the time - mostly things that I have known for ages.

I know them, and they are wise. But I keep that wisdom in the back of my mind until just after the point when it would have been useful to have used it... I must remember that fact and try to use it in advance of its need...

Friendship, time keeping, love and lust, acute depression and indecision are all things that I have learnt things about these last few weeks.

They are all interconnected -obviously I would not seek to impose clarity by dealing with them one-by-one.

So, first one first - acute depression. I've had a bit of it recently; different to the chronic depression that slips in and out like dead bunny on a shit tide. More of a shit with nails in it storm. I remembered, as it was slipping away .. that I do have the capacity to mellow its effects - that is what all of this mindfulness stuff has taught me. When I remembered, then I saw it off far quicker than I otherwise might - there is power in not allowing myself go around and around in paranoia's wee garden.

I saw again too just how unattractive being an angrily depressed person is to others - friends slip out of the way of the flak - they have their own indulgences and don't need mine too. Thats the way it goes - punish people by, all of a sudden, not being what is expected and they slip away hurt and (some word I don't know to express selfishness thwarted).

Its unfortunate that I associate my own and other's depression as an indulgence, an unavoidable and totally unwanted one, but one nonetheless.

Friendship - well, some of what I have just said and some more. I don't have enough of the sort that I want and thats partly cos .... don't know .... I have crap boundaries. If I like people enough to lower my guard then I am exposed and, having been exposed I feel as bothered about what I say as I am bothered about being naked with my partner (not at all - in case thats not clear).

I want more than is probably reasonable. I fail to see that others maintain a boundary between friendship and lust - to me its all about fun and passion and intimacy. The only badness is the guilt that I feel (and this is only really over thoughts not actions - I am pretty damn well behaved in reality - sadly) in prediction of hurting people for things that I have not yet done.

I have precious few friends, precious friends. When I break one its like a cow loosing a leg... there is only so many legs a cow can loose before becoming something significantly less useful. I need to stop being a cow and start being a centipede - or perhaps a 25 legged cow. Mostly though the paranoia makes me think I have lost a leg - that my udders are going to drag in the mud - when actually I merely have a bit of a limp.

Where was I... think I've covered love and lust here too and failed to talk about friendship as I had intended. So, friendship. A friend (I hope - but I just never feel sure with this person) said to me about friends and texts - so many texts in times of need from people not heard from in ages. I didn't ask for more clarity at the time - I wonder now whether the point was along the lines of just how real are these friends who only pop up to participate in the highs and lows.

I wondered, self-indulgently (you should be so lucky!), how it was that more than 3 people should show any sign of giving a flying fuck! But really I do see the point even if I am certainly immune to the problem. Who needs dozens of well wishers who are only present by text?

Probably not me.... and thats brought me back again. Friends, if at all possible, they need to be together regularly otherwise the conversation and experience is not rejuvenating itself its just a collection of catching up on each others other (real) lives since last we met. I want to see my friends regularly - to hug them - kiss - laugh - argue etc.... be with the good and the bad but also the lame times too.

Indecision - well, that may have to wait for another day.

Pxxxx

Doors of perception - healing in 5 dimensions

It is a year now since I went on a journey into space, time and probability. Since then I have glimpsed the same journey again, but not made the trip.

We, a fellow traveller and I, met with a profit - she warned us the risks of our adventure, furnished us with fuel and wished us luck on the trip. We took the potion, creation's great delusion - a flower of death - and waited for time to take us into a journey into sound and vision... that was as far as I had thought we would go.

I became scared, feeling sick - colours and sound twisting around, couldn't deal with with low ceilings, the people or the lack of air. We went outside where the footpath and the road, the shops and all of reality breathed in and out - colours changing, pulsing, spinning. The ground moved, sinking with each step like walking on an elastic sheet. The shop windows were filled with magical goods - the footpath, like a conveyor, never ending our steps took us nowhere though we walked lots for eternity.

I was blinded in reality but colours so vivid filled my mind - every now and then I could see and fear the streets, the cars, trams, bikes, taxis, buses, water - how could we walk when we could not talk, or hear, or think. I had to sit, to try to sit and not vomit as I breathed the world in and out of my mind like smoke.

We sat, transfixed in amazement, joy and terror, and technicolor time tripped around and sound danced spiral, paisley, patterns in the sunshine of the past and the future. People passed, echos of reality, looking in, looking on, passing by.

What have you done? what have you done? Time began to play, life passing by - all my past, present and future as vivid as day; a crystal clear, holographic encounter with my soul - laid bare on those streets, drooling - unable to sit, loosing the ability to breath.

Time turning, playing again, running to its ultimate, darkening, shrinking, freezing, stultifying, inescapable death. I shut my eyes, surrendered to the void, embraced death in fear, loss and horror.

Through a void, a compression of reality, through time and back to the start - this vision played again while my loved ones watched: calling "what have you done, oh no, what have you done" looking at me, vegetating, calling "what have you done" - my journey through time repeated again and again - though I may have died many times before I realised that this was happening.

As time continued, repeating, running fast, the snap-shot of life grew smaller until I could see life, time, reality, in its true state. Everything was a matter of an increasingly small, timeless nothing - repeating, repeating, repeating - the only speck of reality, siluetted, in an endless, timeless, dimensionless, void of improbability.

Everything was, as it always had to be, nothing. Nothing - life - ran faster, faster, faster. A vacuum eating a vacuum eating a vacuum - all of everything turning inside out at each and every point at the same time.

So cold, so lost, so trapped - a turmoil of ultimate fear.

So, we sat - heads full of universes, visions unimaginable but nonetheless imagined into reality. We span and shivered all through the night while all about us - through doorways into the madness, reality poked, drunken, violent, accusing, staring.

And - after hours we walked - me blind to any reality, colours spinning four dimensional spiders webs of fractals.

I'm not sure now how much good or bad that night caused me.

I do know that I was pleased to feel the streets beneath my feet and to feel warmth in my clothes - to see again and to hear. I am wiser for the journey and pleased to have returned to life however much I know, as I guess we all do, that life is no more real than that which we perceive and what we perceive is merely a snippet of time - dust on the window of a train from here to infinity.

Love and stuff, P