1,000 WORDS (2nd attempt): DAY 15: What’s the Point of It All?

Sometimes we wonder why we should even try, we awake with this doubt, with its accompanying thoughts and feelings, they hold us down to our comfortable beds, comfortably numb but held down by our own weight. The room’s a mess, the whole house even, for days and weeks on end, for months, time flies and nothing gets done, yet everything happens, every day and night — we just don’t seem to be in control of what happens. It reminds us of our own dissatisfaction with ourselves, with the daily routine, of the resistance within us, that seductive, deceiving demon who thrives off of shaming and ridiculing us for even dreaming of dreaming our dreams at all, not to mention really dreaming them, or drastically turning them into reality. Even if we can beat this devil and stroll triumphantly out of hell, succeeding in our primordial task of completely demolishing resistance and getting started with our sacred journey, even after this moment divine ecstasy of finally beginning, too often we come to find, after a rather short interval of time usually, that results rarely turn out the way we initially planned them, or worse, that things always go wrong! This could go for your day or for any long-term project. It can be applied to life in general, its unexpected and unprecedented. We complain, but that’s how we’ve come to like it, how things ought to be even. But forget it, things always seem to go wrong exclusively for us! We make a fuss, we kick and cuss at the sky, we ask why and we cry like cosmic babies to Father God, or to mother helplessness, but in a frenzy of agony and anger mixed together nonetheless, no matter who we’re kicking and yelling at. We’re really yelling at ourselves though. We recognize our enemy as ourselves, deep down inside all of us do, and this frustrates us more than anything because we’re in denial, we don’t want to get out of our comfort zone and start being who we are meant to be, whether this means a dramatic transformation, or just being in the now, enjoying the day without wishing we were elsewhere, or nowhere. Let’s take a moment to think back. Did we go all the way with it, really go all the way, or did we do things without applying the correct dose of concentration, or without adopting the correct attitude towards the matter? Ideas may float through our mental horizons ceaselessly, but they may not even turn out in any way at all in real life, seeing as how they never get started. Sometimes people are about to make great success in internally defeating resistance, yet outer circumstances may prevent them from making this final ascension. The tragedy of the human condition keeps us cynically inspired with lethargy, with hate and with an attitude of not being able to care less, but which really masks a deep care for the world and its inhabitants, along with a fear for yourself and for anyone you love, fear that they could ever experience such horrors. People are dying all around us, everyone pretending they can hold it together, everyone keeping busy, in a rush, chasing the next thrill, everyone addicted to a chemical, a pill. No one can stop for the moment and be free, without fidgeting with their phone or shaking their leg. Some part of us must remain busy, we must hold an appearance and we must never be vulnerable. We are trying to cover up the truth with massive amounts of lies, and it shows. But who cares if others can tell? Who really cares? They can’t even tell, they themselves being too busy digging into, or covering up, their own problematic psyches just like you are. Is there a meaning to life beyond a high, beyond a trip, beyond a mystical moment of oneness? Is there more to God than a vision of Jesus, or of Buddha, or of a prophet from ancient times? Is there more to life than a vision, more than the petty lies we tell ourselves and each other? Or are these produced in the mind? Could the people who hear voices telling them to kill their families be hearing the same voices that the ancients heard when they passed their sons through fire to please the gods? Could it even be the same voice that commanded Abraham to sacrifice Isaac? Or could these be devils, while this was in fact, the divine voice of God? I don’t lean to either opinion, since I can’t speculate on the matter, but it is definitely strange and disturbing to think about.  We wonder what all this evil means, we might even accept that it’s all the suffering of the world comes down to our evil doing, our evil being which is inherent within us all, but we simply can’t accept all the seemingly meaningless cruelty of it all, we can’t come to grips with the bare facts of life. These thoughts can cripple us and resistance comes back in a big way, along with its brother fear and many more cousins who aren’t playing around with your sanity. These little troublemakers might have you questioning things like ‘what’s the use of enjoying our own lives as millions of others suffer?’ As we live, others die, often from unjust causes, from political corruption and murder, but more so from corruptions of the human mind, from a loss of control over one’s own genocidal emotions. One man without the proper restraint on his own destructive emotions is a potential danger to everyone around him and even for many generations to follow him. How are we not guaranteed not to go astray if we are influence by hatred and distrust for life? Self-control is key, both to fighting resistance, and to controlling what we create once we beat it. A word, a deed, a piece of art, or of literature — these are all realities which we bring to life from the creative and collective unconscious. We are all projecting our realities onto any and every external object we come into contact with, we see things and smell things and feel things according to our own specific reality throughout our lifespan on this earth, during this incarnation. We think we all share the same senses, and indeed we do, but truly there are never-ending sets of variations of these senses. But is there more to these senses that we believe we know and trust? I for one think we should all try to answer this question truthfully to ourselves, before we ever decide that life is completely senseless.

To be continued tomorrow, on Day 16.

~ Rebel Spirit

1,000 WORDS (2nd attempt): DAY 1.

May 13, 2019, 1:48 am. Sitting in my dimly lit room, finally starting to get some words down after just staring at my laptop for quite a while. I feel a sudden urge, an overwhelming inspiration to write. But to write about what? The issue isn’t really what to write about, but rather how to begin, or where to begin writing about it. How can I begin at any specific point in time when the message I try to convey is timeless, bubbling up from within me as an extremely powerful force which consists of all the wonders of the past and all the greatness that will ever come of the future? It is not only mine however; this force is impersonal, and it is within us all. It is the source of all creativity and progress. If I can’t accurately write about this timeless spiritual dimension which lies beyond and yet within all of us then what else is there to write about? Nothing else compares, so this is what I must write about first of all. Now, if the topic is so wonderful then why haven’t I seriously sat down to write about it before today? Why haven’t I used all this overwhelming inspiration to write every single day? Why did I stop writing only 8 days into my initial goal of writing a thousand words every day? The answer is resistance. There are various reasons really, but they all amount up to resistance. Joseph Campbell stated that “the psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight.” I really feel I need to start being more of the latter than the former, as I often feel I’m going crazy from seeing so much confusion, if not in my own life and mind then in those of others. Due to all this confusion I’ve been letting resistance get the best of me for far too long. That’s no excuse, just the unfortunate truth of the matter. Humanity as a whole needs to be actively working to transmute all of life’s chaos into art, into creativity, but by doing nothing instead, or by panicking in the face of pressure and running away into the arms of comfortable pleasures that later turn into vices, we become paralyzed. Resistance becomes the ruler of our lives. I’ve begun to drown in the waters of life, questioning everything and reaching no absolute conclusions, becoming completely paralyzed by uncertainty. But the truth is no one needs an absolute conclusion, an absolute knowledge of life, in order to get started on any creative venture. I just finished reading Steven Pressfield’s ‘The War of Art’ last week, and it honestly couldn’t have found me at a better time in my life. Pressfield says in the book that from the age of 25 to 32 resistance kicked his ass all up and down the block and yet he did not realize it until after all those years had passed. Resistance is tricky as hell, and subtle too. I’m about to be 25 on November 25th of this year, and I seriously have been feeling like I need to get started, like I really can’t afford to stall this any longer. I’ve known that resistance is fucking me up and that I simply have to beat it since before I even read Pressfield’s book and could clearly recognize my problem as resistance. It was just an unnamed, negative force before then, yet I knew it was there. I need to move forward now and make a change. I don’t feel any regrets when it comes to my past, as everything is a lesson to learn from, yet I do have greater expectations for the future, and I need to change a lot of my old habits as well as develop a lot of new ones if I’m serious about creating such a reality. I shouldn’t mention the future though, since the future never really exists. I feel like the present is constantly being ripped away from us by the pressure of remaining alive and significant in a future fantasy in our minds. Even though I am aware of this, I’ve often felt like I can’t escape it no matter how hard I try. It is in our genes to try to survive, and to feel as if our survival is more important that of others. The truth is it isn’t. We aren’t in any way more special than anyone else, and people are born and die every day. Do we cry, do we mourn for all these people? We all understand that we are all equal in God’s eyes, yet we would die only protecting our own lives and the lives of our immediate families, but never for the lives of strangers. We clearly favor ourselves, and maybe there’s nothing wrong with this. But sometimes we need to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good of all, for our own greater good even, as we are not separate from all our earthly brothers and sisters, though it might seem that we are. I have always understood this, seeing a clear example of this in Jesus, who I was taught about very early on life, yet I have never actually put it into practice. What I’ve been doing for so long is simply surviving, wasting the days away in fear that things could go wrong if I try, doubting myself until the last bit of motivation is murdered within me, or even in fear that I might succeed, and that my life might be completely changed to the point where I can no longer handle it. Instead of living serenely in the present and trusting in life or God to take its due course, I’ve been living in a world of future possibilities, in a fantasy world. I’ve taken the comfortable route and decided to work 9-to-5 jobs one after another without putting any actual effort into my real calling, my writing, my music, my creativity in general. I’ve been focusing only on what works best for me at any given moment, passing time and ignoring what is meant to be my true contribution to humanity, the passion I hold within me and the talent that I’ve been blessed with. I haven’t been willing to sacrifice the petty pleasures and habits that hold me back. None of us have anything to offer the world other than ourselves, who we truly are. I haven’t always been true to my authentic self, but as of today, that fake me is dead, and the true me begins to rise from the ashes like the legendary phoenix. I see now that there is no time to waste, and that I need to put in some serious work in order to achieve my dreams. Time is ticking.

To be continued tomorrow, on Day 2.

~ Rebel Spirit.