Writing

Sometimes, I feel as if I can write endlessly, on and on and on and on, the words leap out of me quite wonderfully, I feel like a true writer, slightly misunderstood, for even I can see that the words I write are quite absurd, they often defy the boundaries of logic, I try to walk the fine thread, walk the line, those who can listen intuitively will feel what I am writing, and that is what is most important to me. Often I find myself overly contemplating how I will make ends meat in this unforgiving world which values a fast pace, rate race style acquisition of material wealth, I feel myself succumbing to my insecurities, for this is what that is, it is the feeling that one lacks security. I cannot help but think of Alan Watts, the master, sensei, philosophical thinker who articulated various Eastern spiritual principles and teachings to the western world, he was one of the pioneers in this field I would say, with a truly unique voice, a way of speaking of things, he was a gifted orator and writer. One of his books, The Wisdom of Insecurity refers to exactly this, the modern human tendency to feel as if he must surround himself by innumerable possessions in order to feel secured, completely attached so as to be comfortable in ones conceptual patterns. This inclination, to want more and more stems from insecurity, a sort of misinterpretation, that life must be stripped of it’s purity, sucked of it’s spirit in order to have a feeling of accomplishment, but this is rather nonsensical. What if, life is fundamentally unpredictable, insecure one could say, if one wants security in this spontaneous life they are interfering with the life process itself, control, wanting to have everything be graspable, is the main source of human anxiety, we feel as if we cannot let go, for if we do, something truly inhuman will arise, but it’s quite the opposite actually, something incredibly human can come from this. What is it that we fear? Even when writing this, I’m scared of something, I was careful, quite thoughtful with my word choice, and felt I needed to satisfy a criteria of sorts, but what if that is illusory? Absolutely an invention of the human mind, which is fallible, and not fixed, the mind changes, the life cycles change, life is an unpredictable and spectacular movement, ceaselessly, would it be reasonable for me to propose that, this is human nature as well? Maybe not reasonable, for reason will find this idea preposterous, but perhaps, it could make sense, for even my reason, the higher reason, the philosopher’s reason, not the skeptical philosopher who denies all life, but the true philosopher is the person who refines his vision in order to see life crystal clear, an honest and profound exploration of truth, who attempts to delve into life, investigating it’s mystery and doing so wholeheartedly. Philosophy is not a pretentious comprehension of life which leads one to reject life, and deem it to be arbitrary and meaningless, real philosophy is absolute immersion, no questioning the reason, we are here, there is a significance, thus one should discover it, speak to the angels and ask your questions, but ultimately it’s you that must discover what your truth is. This philosopher uses a higher reason, reasoning that life cannot be fully expressed in writing, cannot be entirely experienced through pen and pencil, it can be channeled and expressed in stencil, through various creative means, but life is not to be subjected to imprisonment into a particular definition, art is not to define, but to explore, to navigate the waves of creativity, surrendering to their transient nature. So I guess, the point of this whole thing, is more so the pointing to something, one can feel it physically as well, if they place an intuitive awareness over their heart, they can feel a sort of flow of life permeating, a center, a pinnacle where love exists and spreads through you if one opens the passage, the energy channels must flow beautifully or else they stagnate, and create disease. It’s a listening to it, and not overdoing it, just as it is with these words, I don’t want to overly confuse myself or frustrate myself with the incompleteness of words and theories, so I must stop now, I hope this hasn’t been too disordered and discombobulating. Words, and writing for me are like helpers, they bring out certain things from within me, and imprint them into this web, enmeshing them with infinite creative pool, uniting these ideas with all the others that have been expressed through opening the passage of creativity within oneself, these ideas are timeless.