It’s a conversation with myself. That’s what all this is.
And when it stops being that, when it becomes something else, the knowing fades.
When you have too many ideals, how can you expect to be satisfied with the non-ideal?
Perhaps the most valuable side effect of pursuing self-mastery is that you quite literally begin to see that which others do not.
Having been where another is, and having transcended it by way of understanding, one is able to understand the other with brilliance.
This morning I awoke to feeling the pressure to do something I don’t really want to do. My mind was telling me this pressure was coming from the outside: another person. But I know that’s not really true.
The moth don’t care when he sees the flame
He might get burned, but he’s in the game
And once he’s in, he can’t go back
He’ll beat his wings till he burns them blackThe moth don’t care if the flame is real
‘Cause flame and moth got a sweetheart deal
And nothing fuels a good flirtation
Like need and anger and desperationNo, the moth don’t care if the flame is real
The Moth & The Flame – Les Deux Love Orchestra
What is your intention?
Who, are you?
And why, do you speak to me?
Are you trying to guide me?
Why do I feel such a wave of reassurance in your presence?
I know what you look like. I know your essence.
An incessant buzzing.
Trite nonsense, spinning, and weaving,
Identified as foe rather than friend, in its 4am callousness.
Two hours of sleep yesterday, four hours of sleep only now.
To awaken to such irrelevance: it almost seemed malicious.
I bite my tongue as the compulsion arises to speak to you directly.
In doing so I would betray the impetus behind this desire for a pittance of immediate gratification.
To do this would be immature and unserious.
The blindfold goes on.
And now I can see, what I had lost that night.
Not seeing it, but recalling its scent.
I was fallen. Beautifully so.
I had tumbled into a stark reality.
I wake up, and before even having cleaned the sleep from my eyes, despair and silence swallows me whole.
It’s relatively late already, which surprised and irked me slightly, even though I’ve no place to go, nothing to do, and nobody to see.
In the thick of it.
Why does a human being seek?
Is finding the losing of oneself?
She said sudden understanding is in the revelation of not understanding.
She said, from “her tomb”, that when she’s not writing, she’s dead.