ira is for anger

Once upon a time, there was a world full of contrasts and colors... Now it’s the same everywhere you go, or it soon will be.

And don’t tell me it’s all for peace’s sake because that’s the most aberrant lie of all. It’s all for profit of some sort.
Everything that the world is doing, even when it claims to be ‘helping’, is in the hope of getting something valuable in return.

Nothing makes sense. Not one damn thing.

They keep sighing in wonder over the ‘internet revolution’ and how the world is now better connected than ever - the ‘wondrous’ virtual community... But what it really looks like in the detail is a barnyard of mumbling, screeching and cackling parrots everywhere. People feel that they’re free because they can express every stupidity under the sun and no one is allowed to stop them because of freedom of expression?

If freedom of expression was a person, I would shoot him dead in the head. You think that's violent? It's nowhere near violent enough for something so intrinsically destructive of the mind.

There was always a fine line between repression and freedom, and that line could be crossed through one extreme of either one. This so-called freedom of expression supposedly enjoyed through the medium of that wondrous internet revolution is now little more than a giant bubble of continuous noise. The consequence? Chaos of thoughts and ideas. No one can tell truth from lie because there’s just too much noise and no filter allowed whatsoever. It doesn’t help that a CONTROLLED media was heralded as the Speaker of Truth.

I can’t help but look at people in general these days and be reminded of those geese that are fattened in factories until their liver explodes. Isn’t that what the majority has become? We are so drunk on commodities that we can no longer find the strength to walk away from the poison even if dear life depends on it. We’re rather keep getting our liver fattened till it explodes.

Like geese.

Maybe I’m a freak of nature for a reason. Maybe there would be no reason whatsoever for me to exist if I was supposed to accept everything without ever questioning you and your neighbour.
And myself.

You think it’s crazy to question what thoughts are really yours and which ones aren’t? Think again.

I'll keep questioning everything till I start bleeding from the ears if I have to. Why? Because there is NOTHING ELSE worth doing in your reality.

The problem with people of my weird kind is that we tend to see the light at the end of the tunnel from the start.. We see the greatest things in the distance, and because we are dazzled by it, we often forget to walk the path leading to that light. In my case, I get frightened that I’ll make a wrong move and the light I always see at the end will vanish from sight. And so it is that I dither at a distance from the bright light full of fulfilled dreams and ideals simply because I am dazzled by it before I can even walk up to it.

Because... somehow - and I do not know how -, I have always known everything that mattered deep down... And I lose patience knowing what dwells on the horizon, rebelling against the fact that I still have to walk the path to it.

Every aspect of society is so deeply corrupted... and we are teaching children from the crib to play to the same tune.
I look outside the window and I see the pure blue skies, and what a contrast it creates between its constant splendor and our reality... The sky and its beauties shift from one day to the next, but in essence it has never changed: we keep changing our reality.

As surely as the sun is shinning today, I must be depressed, but I am depressed only because of the world. If I were to see a shrink to talk about my inner pain, their advice would include ‘stop thinking about the world and what you can’t change. Think about your own life and how you can make it better.” They’d remind me that the world is a harsh place and that I’d always be miserable thinking so much about what is wrong. They’d say I could drive myself crazy dwelling on what I can’t possibly change. I would surely say to them: “Fine, I’ll start focusing on my own life to make it better... But I don’t want to be part of this rotten system you all fit into. So what’s your advice for me, doc?”
The shrink would most likely chuckle by then and say something like: “Well, Aliska... You might not like the system but you need to find a way to live in it.”

This, by the way, is the blanket answer that really means you have no choice because you belonged to the system the moment you were born. It also means that you are required by the system to either play the game or turn a blind eye to retain your own sanity. So in the end, the real alternative to my state of intense depression and hurt is to revert back to being ‘blind’... But I was never blind to begin with!

Nah... If I ever was supposed to give in and play the game my own life would not have shaped the way it did.

I would not be the way I am now.

On normality and a faceless world

I feel incredibly sad and peaceful at the same time - is this normal?

But... Normality is just a blanket word to describe a category of people that happens to be in the majority at any given time, really. Change the people in majority and the definition of what ‘normal’ means will also change. So while there must be such a thing as normality, it is but a mere subjective notion linked to whatever number is greater, or stronger. That’s why, for instance, it was considered ‘normal’ for kids to start working before the age of 16 less than a century ago - because the majority adhered to that way of things - but it is no longer considered ‘normal’ today because the new majority is now of a different opinion or adheres to a different set of beliefs.

Some people are born more intelligent than others. Some people are born leaders rather than followers... There has to be a reason why they were born with the gift of intelligence to reason, but instead of using that gift to help humanity they choose to use it for all the wrong purposes. The more I ponder this, the more certain I grow that those who happen to have that intelligence, those who can see clearly the wrongs and still will choose to join in the decadence, are the ones that deserve to be most severely punished. Even more so than the dim-witted criminal who became what he became through the influence of a broken society. Why? Because the weak and the followers were supposed to be rightly influenced by those who happened to be ‘brighter’ or shrewder.


Everything is so fake, these days... Everything seems to have been designed to make you lose the plot. Take my shiny little I Phone, or the internet, or TV, or... Whatever. It’s all - all of it - created for one purpose and one purpose only: for profit of some sort. It’s all about business and making a return on one’s investment. One thing that’s been dying more than any other ideal or moral value has to be love. Why? Because love is free, of course, and not only that, it often works at a deficit. Loving means that you’ll probably end up losing more than you’ll ever receive - that’s why the true notion of love had to be scrapped from the people’s consciousness, to be replaced by blanket words, or business-like mindsets so dry we’ll soon be acting like machines - because machines are devoid of all feelings.

People in the workplace, for instance, are no longer called anything remotely humane - they are assets, or resources, or elements, or even pawns. Isn’t that why such terms as ‘human resources’ were created? Students have become customers paying in exchange for knowledge, and in the end, we’ve all become more dispensable than ever. And that is why we now live in what can only be called a faceless society.

One faceless society for a faceless world.

Thoughts on a Midnight Day

How can every single person be wrong about me?

I don’t know. It is as I said before: it’s not like I can detach part of me from myself to take a look at the way I am with people. On the other hand, there is no denying that the world is getting more rotten by the minute. Maybe what I’m witnessing in general is the gradual degeneration of people in their very nature and it makes me question whether in 50 years time there will still be people with a certain degree of deep knowledge - true knowledge that comes from within...
I look at my generation, and the younger ones, and I see emptiness. I see stupidity heralded as the new intelligence. Whatever we learn, it is halved and more irrelevant than ever; whatever we know, it is half what people used to know... I could go on and on. One feeling that never leaves me is that of having been robbed of the opportunity to know so much more than what I know so far - about things that truly matter, and not the useless kind used to fill brain space... And always it puzzles me to think that 2000 years ago, if not even further back in time, people who supposedly lived in shacks could come up with such brilliant logical reasoning and mathematical discoveries, for instance, but today not one person can do that.

That's why I doubt history. How can history make sense when one looks at our evolution? We were smarter, more creative and wiser at a time when candles were the norm. We are dumber, emptier and more deluded while living immersed in so-called advanced technology. It makes NO sense whatsoever.

Maybe I’m wrong... Tell me that I’m wrong, it would at least give me hope.

These days, everything is about a ‘new’ something. A new trend, a new era, a new technology, a new way of thinking, a new art, a new... world.

People have a tendency to want to fix what was never broken in the first place. I’m just looking around me and I don’t like what I see. It disturbs me greatly, that direction this ‘new world’ has taken - and we don’t know where we’re heading yet.

I just want to cry till I’m blue in the face. Why is this world always so cold?... We make it cold when it could be so warm... We spoil everything and then come up with the most charming of ideals... but these ideals are only far-fetched because we prefer to destroy things. It’s always a matter of choice, it always was, always will be. I know that, you choose to ignore it.

Sometimes it makes me wonder if I’m not really caught in some computer game where I’m the only real person and everyone else is part of a simulation... Why not? There is such a stark contrast between my own life, the way I think, and that of others around me that I can’t help thinking such silly things.

It might just be that nature spawns people like me for others to indulge in hurting them... I’m like some kind of Christmas present for mean people. I wonder what keeps me from not simply jumping out the window, to be completely honest. Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up paralysed rather than dead. I don’t live so far off the ground. Three floors are unlikely to kill you unless you happen to land straight on your head, or something. Maybe if I dived I’d pull it off. Not that I'd try, mind you.

Is it okay to just shoot a few idiots, just to unwind? I’d only shoot idiots, and since the world is full of fucking idiots who think they’re all that, no one would notice their absence.
I hate the world and its freaking neighbour. I hate people, I hate you and I hate everything else.

How come I am in love with the ideal of humanity?

I have no land, no wants, no roots. I am truly free to do as I please and though I am afraid at times, I know I have it in me to always challenge the fear. I’m like the wind blowing here and there, and never for too long. I am the ancient cliff slowly eroded by swelling waves.

We live under the illusion that human life is supposed to be enjoyable, for some reason. We live under the illusion that the aim would be to enjoy ourselves and forget about the rest. That is an illusion we created for ourselves, and it is not far off from being a major delusion. Even the rich don’t find peace or fulfillment, just as the poor or the outcast never seem to find an end to their suffering and struggles.

We imprison our own selves in bubbles of delusions we then pass on to our children as Truth. And the circle of lies only keeps growing.

The so-called study of history is proof of how capable we are of twisting things. What is true about history? What isn’t but a mere reflection of someone else’s view at a time and place where that person was of enough influence to impose it? History is being reshaped every day, and the truth itself drowns further into oblivion along with the dead who can no longer speak.

Truth dies the same way an old man lying on his deathbed with tubes down his throat preventing him from speaking tries to say something. He gargles a few times, people lean closer with puzzled looks. They eventually pat his sweating head and smile down on him. The old man dies with words lost in his throat forever.

That is exactly what happens to Truth.

Selves

Things that we say sometimes we don't mean. I want to be able to only express what I mean absolutely, but I get struck by the variants of my self. Each will take turn, it seems, to stress on a certain angle or perspective, or flawed perception at a time... I is not one, but so many faces at once.

I just wish I could keep only the ones that make sense, and rid myself of all the others.

Maybe the problem is that I saw and understood too much, too soon. It makes me feel as though I am 98 in my head... I do feel very old in my heart. Maybe I should have learned to pace myself... as though that were ever an option!

Oh, to be free, even for a moment... I wonder when the shift occurred in my head - when I suddenly began not to care about society’s expectations and contradicting rules on me. I used to live for others, so to speak, which means, roughly, that everything I ever wanted to do was mostly linked to that need for acceptance among my peers. In that light, whatever job I wanted to do was always linked to: 1) answering a social expectation dictating that such and such jobs are to be sought after, and 2) the conditioned belief that the settings and rules that make up the reality I live in are the only ones possible, if not the ‘better’ alternative.

Now that I’ve questioned quite a few social dogmas, I realise what a prison we live in, and though I can reject false values and the pointless race for more materiality, I don’t seem able to figure out a way out. Why? Because it ain’t so easy to break out of jail, is it?

This is one thing that made me bitterly laugh some time ago: how on the one hand, you get so-called scientists (which should really be called wannabe gods) telling us how people born these days into the western world will get to live a hundred years... Woohoo, right? Isn’t that fantastic?... On the other hand, society doesn’t know what to do with its older generations - you know, the pensioners who are losing their pensions. So governments are hard at work to tackle the pensions problem, you see, and the budget deficit and all that, and so they look into how much more money they can take from the common man. They don’t once stop to question their corrupted system, though.

They don’t once stop to think: “Okay... Hang on a minute... Do I really need, as a PM or government bitch, to get xxx amount of money a year, and three cars, and three houses, plus one in some exotic island?”

Nope. They don’t ask themselves that question. They care only that the population gives them enough money to support us all while the black hole of deficit must come from corrupted ways whereby a few keep helping themselves. They don’t stop to think that beyond the issue of corruption, there is also the reality of choosing not to be so greedy in terms of technologies... But... Isn’t it too late, anyway? Our generations alive today are hooked on comfort and easy ways, and not one is ready to make the ultimate sacrifice of reverting back - or at least slow down so the shadow of a social balance is naturally restored over time.

Science and technology are the answers to everything, suddenly, and we don’t seem able to think outside the box, as usual. Perhaps it is that two hundred years ago most people were wearing the blinkers of religion that turned scientists and researchers into witches, but I ask you: what’s changed today apart from a reversal of roles?

Scientists and researchers have become the saviors, the ultimate means to enlightenment, I suppose, while all other options or lines of thought are relegated to the back. In the end, we are not very advanced at all. The landscape seems to be more advanced, but no matter what we do, all that truly ever changes is the viewpoint of a majority.

If what we are taught in history is remotely true, then capitalism was a ghost waiting to be brought to life. The timeline of history itself shows that almost every step mankind took was wired toward that ghost, culminating to our modern days where capitalism is once and for all alive. To get rid of it, chaos would be needed for a time. It is always the case, no matter how we look at it. Shifts and social changes, especially abrupt or profound ones, lead first to chaos before a rebuilding phase can ensue, and that breaks my heart. I already know who is always going to suffer the most: not the greedy, and not the corrupt, but the common man. The little people.

Anyway... What do I know? To know anything these days, you either need to be branded an expert in whatever field, or to have studied x amount of subjects. Common sense and logic don’t even have to come into the equation because all you really need to prove your point is a majority agreeing with you.

Fact.

Drifts of thoughts

The inherent unfairness of life... I still don’t understand how there can even be one person wishing harm on another. This is not a question of naivety on my part, it is purely based on my inability to fathom how one could ever hurt another. Some people say that when you suffer greatly in your childhood, it can lead you to display urges for revenge through wicked actions later in life, but I don’t believe in this. It’s a mere excuse. And then I keep wondering: who was the first corrupted man on Earth? Someone must have turned bad and begun the vicious circle, which over time was bound to grow and take over the world.

Either you are human, or you are not; your actions speak for themselves, hence the belief I have that very few people out there qualify as humans. They are primates with human potential, but they are not yet true human beings. Perhaps they forgot to collect a conscience on the way out of the womb, who knows... It’s tough for me to see any sense in violence or planned harm on others, or even perverted actions ( be it murder, rape, war...), and I guess it’s not so different from comparing it to this: say one likes peppers but you don’t. Isn’t it hard for you to understand the appeal the other finds in peppers when the taste makes you heave?

I’ve never liked Voltaire - it always pained me to have to admit that he still wrote great things. I forever preferred Rousseau because when he wrote, whether he was right or not, you can tell his heart was in it. Reading him, especially his Confessions, feels like diving into his inner heart, because he wrote with it. Because all that matters is that you wrote with your heart. Knowing truly what you’re writing about... I don’t know. Maybe I just really know nothing.

Sometimes, I feel like facing people on a one to one basis, look into their eyes, and beyond words make them understand that life is about MORE than glorified titles we grant each other, or peer acceptance. It’s about Truth. Truth to the self, truth to the world...

I suppose it is that idealist core of mine working against me at times. I keep hanging on to that hope that people can change, somehow. That I’m seeing more than there is. That surely people can’t be that bad. Right. If I carried on in that line of thought, the world would really be a peaceful place, and murderers, liars and corrupted monsters for instance, would be a figment of the imagination, because surely people can’t be that bad. If the world were as I picture it or will it in my mind, it would be Utopia.

It isn’t.

And I have to learn to live with that reality.

And writing this makes me question, yet again, how comes I was born with such deluded hopes.
But delusions... are mindless people’s opium. My delusions are really about what ought to have been in a world worth living in.

I could not put it any other way.

Socially challenged as I am... I keep having to bite my tongue around people because if I don’t I’ll say something I’m not supposed to say or even think.

We invented or were born with the ability to create many social faces for ourselves for a reason. Take the mask(s) down and you are as vulnerable as a newborn within a society. Take the mask(s) down and you end up hurting others’ feelings by simply being too honest or blunt.

We really start off as mere products of our society, whether we happen to conform or reject it. I never realised until fairly recently how crucial that fact was in terms of shaping humanity. It may be that we are born with certain innate qualities or faults, but ultimately, it is our environment which will be the key as to whether we develop those innate qualities/flaws or not. The simplest example would be that of a child born in some remote place where chances of survival are low. Who is to know if that child wasn’t born with an innate talent for composing, for instance? His talent would never develop, however, because his environment would not allow it: he would either spend his life trying to survive, leaving no room for passions or growth, or he would die in the crib.

So I ask the question: how much of us is us? How much of I is actually I? How much is down to all the random vectors brought about by environment?

Changes in human mores and patterns of thought can never be rushed, yet they are - every single day. Changes are made so quickly that in the end it becomes wholly counterproductive. In an era where everything must happen right here, right now, allowing the necessary time for people’s line of thought to change naturally is seen as a waste of time when it is in fact paramount to long term positive evolution.

I live in a prison whose cells are only getting smaller and I have to take my mind off this reality.
Find a way out of this madness... Even if it means having to work a stupid job to get the money we’re forced to earn to survive. So be it. I’ll do it for as long as it takes, until that bloody money becomes enough to buy my escape, and then you won’t be seeing me again.

Oh no you won't.

I will not be part of this circus, and I shall not live the rest of my existence in a bubble of lies and deceit. By choosing to evade all that is fake and un-real, all that I lose is comfort.

I can live with the loss. I’ll learn, somehow.

Truth really is like a bad smell, or a scar. Once you find it, it sticks to you like a rotten layer of skin, it slashed at your heart and leaves a mark forever. Once you know, you can no longer unlearn that knowledge, can you? The difficulty in searching for the truth isn’t the blind search itself, it is the question as to how one will cope with the burden of a truth uncovered.

Knowing is based on the same difficulty. The hardest part isn’t to learn, it is about knowing what to do with such knowledge. So many people know so many things, yet they will squander that knowledge away, either by using it rashly, or not at all.

The notion of balance is at the heart of humanity, and without it, there can be no peace, no harmony. Only chaos. One reason we have thinking brains is to allow us to find that balance, a balance that can be found in nature, for instance, where each species completes another (whether to feed or help reproduction) via instincts. Man does not act on instinct alone, therefore he wanders blindly in nature, creating more chaos, but his thinking abilities are there to allow him to find his own balance.


I wonder if dark things aren’t supposed to happen to all of us for good things to follow down the line. I can’t tell, it’s too early in my own life story.

I really think sciences (maths and physics alike) are all about the mechanics of the world as far as the senses and nature is concerned, but there is another face of reality that remains out of our reach because we choose to blind ourselves from it. Reality is what we make of it, just like everything else. We cage ourselves in preconceptions and social agreements that dictate what reality ought to be like, but I question what lies beyond the cage. It’s one of the toughest tasks...

How do you ever get to see beyond social dictats completely? The very human traits we share (having a language, a culture, etc) also form the basis of a prison for the mind. It’s like a catch 22 situation, here. On the one hand, you need that prison to grow a minimal form of reason and human-like behaviour, on the other, it already condemns you to see only through society’s eyes.

I suppose the key is to be able to slowly take down every social dictat that keeps you in a mental cell, until no rule remains, and you are free to stare at what lies beyond the social cage... But when all the walls have been taken down, a giant, terrifying void springs up in their place, and it’s just as easy to get lost in a fog. I should know, for I have reached that place.

What am I, in the end, if not an explorer of the mind? Some people choose to visit the four corners of the globe, others will become expert in a certain field, like a language, subject or a craft, and I choose to delve into my own mind to uncover as many aspects as I can while I am one with that brain I was born with. If you only get one life, then to me it appears more important to get to know myself as deeply as I humanly can, rather than wasting time trying to get what is outside of me.

The core of passion

All these emotions in me... They are like a giant fireball. They could burn and destroy everything like wild fire if unrestrained. They really could... The only way I can ever let them out is by channeling them into stories... They can never be freed in real life because my conclusion is that people do not have what it takes to cope with pure, unrestrained passion in reality. Only I. I am one of very few, if not the only one, who was born with true passion burning within.

If only you people had any idea what true passion is about... You would realise that everything that you feel is nothing but a breeze compared to it.

Passion, intensity... I never thought these words would one day come to define me. And there is no use for them in this world! Is it any wonder that I should find it so bland and cold? All that there is... is the written world. I always knew, but of course I have to waste my time defying what can never be defeated: the rigid rules of reality.

Passion rips you apart from inside, it really does. One moment you’re flying, the next you come crashing down in flames. It tears your heart and every single neighboring organ in shreds, twisting, burning, until you’re left breathless on the floor, crying like a very small child.


All these dreams we have... an invisible monster always steals them from us. That much I’ve come to realise for myself. Everything you will ever come to dream about will never become reality, because the invisible monster will have stolen those dreams from you. And when you fall for the illusion that your dreams materialized... wait for it to morph into your worst nightmare.

I used to dream about so many things... not one of them came to be. Now I don’t even dare dream anymore. I prefer dwelling on the worst, even if it makes me depressed, but I know that by doing just that I manage to trick the invisible monster into leaving me alone.

Sometimes it doesn’t work, and when the monster remembers that I exist, he springs a surprise on me. He does the worst possible thing out of spite and sheer hatred of me: he makes me believe for a split moment that one of my old dreams could come to be... and then, just as I slip and fall for it, he destroys everything ruthlessly.

And then I’m left reeling, bleeding from within. And you can’t stop inner bleeding with an ordinary plaster. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it? You just have to keep living with that constant bleeding.

And always you will see me smile, and you will see me laugh, so that you will never even know how much of a prisoner I am. You will never see how much blood I have lost in my life, and how much I have cried over what ought to have been, but never was.

People then tell you that it is time to move on, and let Time heal the inner wounds... But I already know that even the oldest of scars can keep hurting just the same.

So what can you tell me that I don’t already know? Nothing. We’re all in the same boat.
Maybe you can relate, but so what? It will never make the inner bleeding stop. Nothing can.

The Other Side

Here stands a mirror that reflects all that was, is and will come to be.
Here is a mirror of all reflections, but at a closer look, the perfected images we see waver, and a distorted view of the world remains. Where we stop, others go on. It is as it should be.

Things happen, things break. I had much time on my hands. I looked at the pile of books waiting to be read in a corner, collecting dust on their clean covers. I picked one and almost finished reading it. As always, I’m left with the feeling that I haven’t had enough time yet to digest what I think I may have understood for myself.

Am I here to make friends? Am I here to matter in reality? I think not.

Am I here to make an impact? Maybe.

What would frighten me most would be to have an impact that was more negative than anything else... because I know now that I have a conscience, and that unfathomable notion is crucial, or so I feel. I never want for one split second to forget humanity, and the intricate meaning that it holds. Perspective is perhaps another crucial element needed when one attempts to make sense of the world. Without it, it isn’t long before one is caught putting that world into boxes that are flawed in some ways. Without it, we might as well be blind, or become so in the long run.
Perspective, patience and... Something else... These two are part of the key to true understanding, and they complete each other.

These strong emotions we feel within, this heart, as we call it; I have a hard time accepting the possibility that they would end after a mere lifetime, as though one life in itself in the greater scheme of Time was no more than an unimportant drop added to a sea whose current is random, has no aim.

The world in which we grow up and live... Everything seems to have a clear purpose, whether we have managed to find out what that purpose is or not in regards to particular things that exist. From animals, to birds, fish and insects; from the tiny rosebud to the ancient tree that stands mighty; all seem to complete another in a circle of life that carries on existing through a very well composed symbiosis of Life. And then comes us. Blessed or cursed by this mighty ability to think and question, we wander about this land, and everything that surrounds us seems to hold some meaning or purpose that we can find for ourselves; whether it is the purpose of things that we make ourselves (a chair to sit in, a cup to drink from, a house with a roof to shield us from the cold and rain...) or the discovery that the reason it rains is to allow plants to grow, for instance, or that the reason the heart beats is to allow blood to flow through the body and organs.

It seems that as we wander about upon this land, most things can be found to hold some meaning, except for ourselves. We keep on unveiling the meaning or purpose of all things around, yet our own meaning or purpose still escapes us.

The best we have are guesses and thoughts.

Theories.

Beliefs.

But nothing as factual as the purpose of bees feeding on flowers so that they can at the same time carry away their seeds to allow more flowers to exist.

We are left to dither endlessly, and we are forced to make up our own meanings and purposes, a sense of the latter at least. Somehow. Isn’t language the greatest attempt of all to bring meaning into our lives? Yet I am sure that words can never truly give justice to the thoughts we wish to express, or the impressions, or the feelings... They are ‘better than nothing’. Mere shadows of true meaning and bound to spawn more misunderstanding.

I stir clear from books and others’ writings for as long as I can, trying as I do to let my own thinking come forth before I confront my words and thoughts with that of others before me. I come with nothing new. Everything that does come from me - for I thought it for myself through my own reasoning at times, but not always, of course- has been thought before, and often through the use of better, clearer words or images. Most philosophical thoughts I’ve had have been reflected on before. Does that make my own reflections redundant or does that point at something deeper?

I like sciences, and I like to learn more about this world we live in. I find the quest for true knowledge most enthralling, to say the least. What I question is the place knowledge of the external world takes. The importance it is given, especially nowadays, where science is thought to be the means to all answers that we seek. More than a means, it becomes the end goal. If one can master all sciences to their fullest, one can hope to live longer, healthier, etc... That’s only one example.

But I keep wondering: who would want that? Why should I want to remain here for as long as I possibly can, afraid and angry that my time on Earth is bound to end at some point or other?

If there is an end - and human life holds quite a limited living time- then looking at the greater scheme of things or taking a bird’s eye view tells me that hanging onto dear life that might last 100 years if I’m lucky, is missing the point entirely.

What I mean is this: Time always flows in reality. It never stops, not even for a moment, binding us all to a constant present that becomes our past almost at the same time as the present is. The future is nonexistent, it is only a word invented to express the notion of what is to come and which we, thinking creatures, get to envision as a notion in our mind. There is only that present mixing with the past, rushing toward the unknown of future (though we may plan that future, it remains intrinsically unknown until it is there to be lived in the present). The present in itself lasts less than a second in time, meaning that most of our living time is constantly being engulfed in the past.

Such is the endless course of time that living to 100, or even to 1000 would mean quite little in the end, for all that our lives really are about are memories. I think to myself, if I get to 100 and look back, what will I see but an ocean of memories, and what could make me want to carry on living beyond that in a world where all I really am is past already? The only point I can see in such a cycle of life bound by Time is the possibility this gives us to grow and learn.

Spending time doing anything else is pointless, because I simply cannot make myself believe that this life on this land is the real one. It is the one where I learn to be me, and I learn to be my own person, hopefully the best I can be, and in doing so I hope to find the meaning of Life in the end.

I come to that conclusion because, mainly, we can find no true meaning or purpose for ourselves in this reality, but there must be one, except it has little to do with materiality, and everything to do with inner struggles and self-discovery.

Whether one starts off their inner journey by pondering the existence of a God, or by looking into themselves first, it seems that all routes eventually lead to the same point. Something bigger, something almost so intense that there can be no human word to describe it: the notion of something higher, perhaps what men decided to call God. Sublime perfection no human has ever really managed to grasp.

Oneness.

One glimpse

Sometimes, when everything in life seems to go wrong, the only way back up again is to let yourself fall further. I feel as though I am letting Life punch me right, left and centre like a rag doll; I let it smother me whole, hoping that I can survive its blows - because if I do survive then one day it will have to let go of me. And let me be.

Perhaps if the reality of a majority happens to be flawed then it is time for mine to become absolute in its perfection.

Je serai de l'esprit grand chimiste.*

I wrote this to myself when I was no older than 15. And I shall make it happen in reality.

*I shall be of the mind a great alchemist

Fera, Ferae

Growing up, I first wanted to be a vet, because I thought I loved animals. They were so cute and fluffy, you know, you just had to love' em. I used to go down to the local library and I'd sit at one of the tables in the adult section with the biggest books I could find on nature and wildlife. I remember feeling quite smug looking around me at all these serious-looking adults, and I was an eight year old planning my future trips to Antarctica, or Africa, or Greenland, or... Who cared, the world was my oyster! I'd open the books at random and find a beautiful image or picture that would spark my imagination and I would start making a list of what was written about it. I'd choose a place on Earth and I would make a list of the types of animals I would be able to find there, the vegetation, the trees... everything.

I was an explorer.

Yeah... Then I moved country kind of overnight. That made me more than a little confused and lost, I have to say. I got sick, I got depressed, I even used to dream how I would kill myself.

I won't lie... the years between my 19th birthday and the age of 24 are but a mist in my own head. I barely remember anything, and it's as though I somehow fell into a coma during that time.

Yet reality shows me that during that same comatose period (from which I remember next to nothing) I managed to get a Law degree, I also moved places about at least 6 or 7 times, changed countries twice, got better, got sicker...

Then I turned 25. I was back at university, this time studying something else. Something called journalism, but really the word no longer means anything in reality. It's all part of some bigger illusion, and I suppose to make it easier to understand I should say it is now the equivalent of BS. Trust me, I've actually wasted THREE years of my life studying it.

I'm an idiot.

A very, very naive idiot.

Then I woke up. I literally woke up from my 'coma' and the flurry of questions in my head has never stopped since. Those questions were always there, of course, but I was too scared and clueless to face reality.

And now I know. I know that everything we see is part of a sham we choose to believe in.
Indeed, unless you happen to be born mentally retarded, you are always making a choice, either conscious or unconscious, to see what really lies before you... or hide behind the lies society offers you so long as you abide by its rules.

There is only bullshit everywhere you look. People use all the pretty words and notions but in reality, they do the opposite. I dare you to face that absurd truth.

Politics... if you believe in that crap, or if you are one of those torturing themselves over 'who to vote for'... My, I pity you.

The economy... CORRUPT people invented a language of their own made up of bloody equations to make it too complex for the average Joe to understand! It's a modern invention that means nothing.

Charity... It was invented for the modern world - to make you feel better about the fact that you are living off the blood and crushed bones of others... and before I forget to mention it, there is no need to go all the way to some third world country to prove it, looking past your doorstep might just suffice. So go on, take out your poxy credit card and make a 'donation'. The Chief Executive of MyAss. org will be very happy to use it for their own profit.

The world we live in is immersed in nonsense and chaos often nurtured on purpose - yet saying it out loud makes you the loony in the story because the majority chooses to be blind...

I expect nothing from this world. But I'll be watching it.

I am possessed by my own memories. I cannot ever let go of them because if I did I would be faced with the giant void my present is. If I let go of the past, then there is nothing before me. I want to say that it is all my fault, all my own doing, but I have those diaries, and they show a pattern.

They show a pattern and the only way back to retrieve all the pieces of I.

What I actually fail to understand is why our own species is on this planet in the first place. Why it even exists at all.

Nature, the natural circle of life among all other species that exist on Earth, is an intricate clockwork orchestra. It is a blind justice out there, all about survival of the fittest, a constant battle against the elements, but in the end the balance is preserved naturally. Men, on the other hand, come into play wrecking the order, tipping the balance one way or another, changing everything with the excuse that our ‘intelligent’ status allows us to colonise the whole world.

They brandish religion or gods to justify our control over all things, battling even against nature itself to be the masters of the Earth. We spread, and spread, across region after region, leaving devastation in our wake. We are constantly forced to move to another part of the world to drain all the resources we may find, again leaving but destruction behind. That has been the human pattern so far.

We act so much like a virus would. We constantly adapt, growing stronger every time something attacks us or tries to destroy us... I could go on, and on. This is hardly an original comparison, is it?

Like a virus, or even a cancer, we spread, and spread - randomly. And people love this randomness! Much like pigs would, they take blissful mud baths of sheer randomness. Then they make their over-zealous minds feel good about it through delusions that justify their actions. Yet... still they expect me to take them seriously... They expect to be treated as unique individuals.

If the whole of human nature was supposed to behave like a virus, then I would not be questioning such behaviour. No one would be, actually. The fact that there is always a handful out there of people that will question our actions, away from most corruptions, shows at least one thing: It must be possible for the human race to tame its virus-like instincts and be more.

I just don’t know how. A handful against a majority makes a poor army.

The fact that we have the ability to think and be conscious of our own selves means that life is often hard to bear. Being aware of reality, of the impassive reality of death itself, and the atrophy of natural instincts in favour of logical thought means that the main greatest coping mechanism of the human species rests on imagination. Yes, that’s right, imagination. The power to let the mind wander free in an alternate inner world makes life in reality more bearable. It can also be one of the most pivotal assets to our self-preservation, thus limiting greatly the possibility of mass-suicide.

Why? Well, just imagine living in reality with no escape than pure reality, the cold and unshakable grip of gravity, life and death. Imagine not being able to escape in whatever fantasy that allows the mind to vent its frustrations, fears, or sadness, and only having your physical eyes set on the pure reality around you, always... A human being lacking the power of imagination would most likely grow so very depressed and disheartened that suicide would most probably prevail as the next course of action. It does not matter than one’s imagination is rich or quite simplistic, it is a fact that a person needs the ability to retreat within himself to be able to cope with existence itself.

And now I suppose I can understand why my pieces of Truth would be so hard for anyone to listen to; because they are too raw, too intense when the mask of illusions is removed from them.

Even if I lived a hundred years I would not get to see the end of this century. I could at most see past the 2070s, but then I would most likely soon die, or have become so frail and even senile that I wouldn’t know what is happening anyway. 2083 would make me a hundred years old, imagine that! And if I happened to live on even longer as one of the oldest people on this planet, I could reach the new century at the ripe old age of 117... Ah. Maybe by then they will have uncovered the secret of eternal youth, or perhaps a cure from death, meaning that soon the earth would be so full of people that the ones deemed more dispensable would be destroyed to leave room for an ‘elite’. Or perhaps only the rich would be able to afford that miracle ‘cure’. Or perhaps by then we would be able to freeze our bodies and pick a random date in the future to wake up and live the reminder of our lives.

Or perhaps nothing much will happen. Perhaps we will even regress, seeing as things are going these days.

I see reason, or my capacity to dwell on specific issues, as a stubborn, but shrewd, little creature living within my brain, while imagination is that wild bird spreading its wings across the sun. Everytime I look up I can see its shadow, a burst of colours, but I’m blinded by the light and can never really catch up with it. All that I do manage to grasp is a handful of feathers at a time.

Reason, on the other hand, is rooted to the ground, and though I never see it I can follow its tracks along the steep winding paths of my own mind’s labyrinth. With reason, I feel like a hunter- a truth hunter intent on understanding.

With imagination, I feel like the eternal child mesmerized by pure beauty and enchanting possibilities, running after the unfathomable, a phoenix of all charms that keeps bursting into flames only to be reborn and taunt me some more.

The box theory

In this realm - ‘real’ life or physical realm - all that happens, all that is thought, said or done belongs to a same spectrum which is bound by limits. One end of that spectrum is called gravity, governing all living forms as we know them, the opposite end is death or mortality. Thus we have:



Secondary spectrums are derived from the core one and include all that is done, thought or experienced. In other words, while I can experience, think or do many different things which might differ from other people who may be able to think, act or experience what would be alien to me, all experiences, thoughts and actions can be found on the same spectrum. This means that there is only a fixed number of actions, thoughts and experiences which can exist in reality. That number might not be quantifiable at this time but it must exist. There can be nothing done, thought or experienced that exists outside that said spectrum for all is linked and limited by the core spectrum Gravity-Death.
For instance, actions taken by man to defy gravity are all included with a secondary spectrum, which means that all these actions or thoughts on defying gravity exist in a fixed number and there can be nothing more beyond that number. Finding that the number of thoughts, actions or experiences keep growing only means that the fixed number- the total sum of them all- has yet to be reached. Thus, many things have been done or tried to defy gravity, but they are all within a secondary spectrum, which means that all that is done, thought or experienced always was and always will be but they highlight the limits of reality in the sense that there can be nothing thought, experienced or done beyond that spectrum.
If reality was put into a drawing it would be like a very stiff square box filled with a plethora of vectors constituting what can be thought, experienced or done. Within that same box we would find a set number of events that can happen and nothing beyond.

No wonder I can never truly feel free. I am neck and feet bound to that box that is reality. I am aware of the sheer number of random possibilities that can arise in my own life, depending on which actions, thoughts or experiences I go through, coupled with random events (All of which we shall call vectors moving about or clashing along the spectrum). Yet, no matter how many of these ‘vectors’ are in play I cannot ignore that this means limitation: intrinsic limitation of reality. The less interaction with the outside world, the fewer chances for vectors to shape your life one way or another. Some believe that they are free because they make choices, but those choices stem from random factors/vectors thrown in their wake which they then choose to ignore or follow.

For instance, Female A was born in a middle class family. Birth itself is already a random factor in the sense that there is no control over which family one is born into. Childhood is then grossly controlled by external factors such as the family or guardians. We usually define a person’s ability to choose ‘freely’ at the onset of adulthood, thus Female A would ‘choose’ to either go to university or go straight into a job (these are two vectors I picked among others as an example to keep it simplified). Female A having those two options in her life already suggests that these two vectors were already predominant, or rather they were both random vectors thrown in her wake. She might feel free to snub one option over the other or both, in which case a third vector or more would eventually come her way. If female A went on with her life and met people, she might feel free in her choice to develop a relationship with one person or another but in fact she would only be choosing out of a limited number of vectors depending on chance encounter and perhaps also her previous life choices. In other words, she might feel free despite the fact that her freedom is limited, but if freedom is defined as the absence of limits then the freedom we experience in reality is an illusion.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this, to be honest. My mind is racing with so many thoughts that it proves almost impossible to keep up with them and suddenly I become breathless within my own mind and collapse- the thread of thought is lost into the distance.

Why does it matter? Because I want to be free and I am a prisoner. A prisoner of odds, probabilities, random vectors and gravity. I want to reach outside the limits of reality. No matter what I do, think or try I will always end up on a path made up of vectors within that same core spectrum and its secondary ones. How can I not feel as though life itself was but a giant machine? Just like those role playing books I used to love in my childhood. At the end of every page there would be about three options to choose from and depending on which you chose your character would either live on or fall into a trap. Real life is the same, it’s just that you get more options.

I want to go beyond that.

I need to know if there is another realm than that of reality. Even if it is to find out that there isn’t. I need to keep searching because what is before me is already too predictable in more ways than one, even though I might not ‘know’ the detail, ie: all the vectors precisely or their total number. The latter are what mankind has been living through throughout the ages; what they overlook is that far from ‘pushing’ boundaries, they are merely discovering more vectors along the way. That reality box never expends, only our ability to uncover or understand what is already and always has been within in.

In other words what is or will be always was. We just couldn’t fathom it until then.

Now it makes me wonder about my self. If I can see how limited life in general really is, does it explain my careless attitude, my tendency to let time go by as though I never existed? The truth is that I feel as though I am waiting. Waiting for what exactly is anyone’s guess...

I feel as though I am waiting for something to happen, or perhaps I am waiting for something that is impossible to describe or second-guess. I almost feel at times as though I am waiting to wake up and be alive because this, so far, has not felt like real life, despite all the physical experiences of this world. Can one live a lifelong coma and never wake up? Can you be alive but gone already? Or is it that your eyes saw the light at the end of that tunnel and now walking the path makes you lazy? I look at people working, nurturing a certain social life, having families of their own, getting involved in things of this world and though part of me sometimes envies all this, I already know deep down it will never fulfill me.

Beyond the apparent differences lies complete similarity. Didn’t I always say that I wanted to be more? It would make sense in this case that I should evade vectors of all kinds, even if it means that I shall never really experience reality as most experience it. They go through one path or the other that is confined within the same limited spectrum. While I cannot escape it I choose to stand aside and watch others play along with the odds all the while chanting that they are ‘free’.

I’m waiting for a breach in the machine. I really, really want to see what lies beyond that bloody box.

Another Far-Fetched Theory?

I’m beginning to think that there is such a thing as being too human in this life. Too high a degree of sensitivity and empathy leads to a slow breaking of the heart within. The rest is destroyed by people like vultures feasting on your soon-to-be empty shell of a body. It is when by some strange mutation you were born lacking the feral survival instincts your peers still possess and let themselves be ruled by. Instead what you do have is an ability to feel so much that you couldn’t hurt anyone but yourself.

We’ve never felt freer and more powerful as individuals as we do now, and yet I assure you that only the settings have changed: we’re still enslaved, as much as our forebears were in the past, except that as cattle we are now better fed and sheltered - oh, and distracted by what is called ‘entertainment’.

But what is cattle for? And why encourage breeding in numbers while fattening existing members - literally?...

Globalisation turned out to be the most powerful element in ensuring that no matter how many people there are in this world they will be overwhelmed by that sheer number. Allowing all sorts of ‘freedoms’, letting loose the best as much as the worst, be it in behaviour or opinion, ensured that people would slowly become numb to everything they hear or see. The constant flow of information, the sheer volume of thoughts and random ideas expressed from every corner, build a sense of confusion and a disdain for truth based on an overdose of words and communication with no more time to think clearly- to reason.

Then came the time to set a few trigger words in people’s everyday language so that such terms would act as blankets for all behaviours deemed threatening in any way to the way society is supposed to work- according to those on top. Think the whole ‘extremism’ affair which in itself is such a loose term; it does not possess any positive or negative connotation as such. It literally means taking something to an extreme, that is all.

Today we think of it and ‘evil’ springs to mind so that even if someone tried to change things for the better the upheaval needed for that change would be killed in the bud by being branded ‘extremist’ or ‘terrorist’. How convenient.

Any way I look at it I see us trapped, cornered against a wall as big as the Chinese one. Like a brainless cattle we were herded and led exactly where they wanted us. Now comes the next phase, I suppose: a ‘collapse’ in the world economies. Why? Because you never realise how good you had it until they take it away from you and the mere threat of having the carpet pulled from under people’s feet used to wear gold-plated shoes will ensure that they will beg those in power to do ‘what they must’ to keep things as they are. In other words, we really were given a taste of freedom on a plate but society as shaped by the corrupt ones made sure that we would be the ones gladly surrendering it at some point, blinded and hooked on our comfort and easy ways like pathetic junkies. Those on top will get exactly what they’ve been working toward: total control over the masses who will offer themselves as slaves without even realising it. When this happens I suspect that very few will remain who will have the strength left to care.

And so here we are with a first timeline of steps taken to enslave a global world into mindless drones:

1) Letting people slowly believe that they are free: begins the loosening of morals and ethics in general. Birth of nanny states cleverly taking away people’s jobs knowing that without even an excuse of a purpose people tend to degenerate into oblivion.
2) Globalisation and all the consequences of it as many can describe so well, yet fail to see the correlation with the rest. A reminder of how many people there are, how many voices- a cacophony exacerbated by means of communication and the media- and how small each of us are, therefore made to feel powerless. Conformism is nurtured by the settings becoming the same everywhere.
3) Constant flow of information leading to desensitization, a general apathy.
4) The language is censored, albeit skillfully to instill fear in people without them being able to see through this. Terms are cleverly turned into taboos to ensure no one will be able to really stand against those in power or the way society works.
5) The fear factor is introduced first with a so-called economy downfall to trigger the psychological response of people eventually surrendering their say in the senseless hope all can remain as it 'used to be so far'.

I’m not that far off the truth, I know I’m not. I’m just too insignificant a person, lost amidst billions, to have access to proof. All I have is my mind churning out theories based on what I see and hear.