Anger and deception

Dawn is a special time of the day, its fiery veil hanging at the feet of the world to be slowly lifted across the skies by the invisible hand of time. As light prevails over darkness, so does the clarity of thoughts in the mind, but just as dawn is replaced by daylight, that clarity of the mind soon fades into blindness again.

The mighty sky

A fire crack

Bellowing cry

Of passing crows

Over the track

And the blue skies

Field of sorrows

And blooming tears

Along the sighs

Of winds and piers

Lost in a mist...

we live in such an illusion-based reality that it has become almost impossible to get back to the source of anything at all. I, myself, was born in the midst of a society completely immersed in make-belief and lies concealed under big words that inspire nothing but confidence and idealism. We yearn for big ideals such as freedom and justice and equality, and children will spend most of their time growing up in schools drilling ideal definitions into their skulls.

Those children become adults faced with the biggest sham there ever was: while such big words are held high like flags waving in the wind, the reality of how society works is based solely on how good a lier you will prove, how deep your pockets are, and on who you know, of course. Such blatant hypocrisy I suspect is inherent to human nature, always trying to step over nature and prove ourselves more worthy than the rest- more intelligent. Well if intelligence was based on consistency and logical behaviour then we would score quite low.

What I do come to realise is that in the great scheme of things man has barely begun to move away from a very primitive animal bound by its instincts. We’re not human yet, as many seem to believe and define it, we’re still in the process of becoming humans. There is still a long way to go until we finally shed away the remnants of feral behaviour poorly disguised under fancy materialism and a technology that can only be a reflection of our true potential as humans.

One day perhaps we will achieve the full state of human being, but until then we are in limbo. No longer complete animals, not yet liberated from our feral instincts.

Then again, what do I know? I only know as much as my limited perception of reality allows me. I look at the millions of other lives around and I struggle to imagine them as three dimentional people who actually are as alive as I am with lives of their own, doing other things at the same time as I am writing this. The whole concept of never being sure that everything around you is as real as you think you are is quite disturbing at times.

What if only a few were in fact real and the rest part of some simulation? No, that would be crazy. I can’t think of a reason good enough to grant myself the priviledge to be real over billions of others who would in fact be an illusion. That brings me to the conclusion that we are all very real, only stuck in a limited state of perception of our reality. Added to that is the padded version we are born into these days where illusions overwhelm our senses from every corner.

Television, movies, the internet, the telephone and all its gadgets... Big corporations and massive companies that have taken over our main means of survival, who feed us, cloth us, entertain us no end... We do not really become adults anymore, not in the independent, autonomous way. Parents let go of their grown-up offsprings only for society to take over and continue the chaperoning process, concealing its control under the illusion of choices in life when really there are so many choices flooding our heads that we end up unable to make any proper decision.

Ensuring that all basic needs are met and making sure that you are aware that others are worse off all the while dangling the promise that your life could get so much better in front of your nose gives way to apathy to change things. Because ‘it ain’t so bad, really’... Place a few rich kids who seem to have it all, fairy tale stories from rags to riches and you can feed the masses hopes that it could happen to them, too. Just like that singer who now earns millions, or that movie star, or that model who just happened to be spotted while shopping in Primark or something. Yes, YES! This could happen to you, too! believe! You must believe that it could happen to you, that what you see really is what it is.

Please.

By the way, who actually believes, still, in that whole ‘credit crunch’ business? I certainly don’t. Funny how the term just appeared the very day the so-called crisis started, as though whoever came up with it from higher up the social ladder knew it would be the perfect term to stick into people’s minds like the latest trend and whatnot. Now, of course, you hear that term everywhere, as one would talk about the weather, and whenever something is wrong, well, let’s all put it under the handy umbrella ‘credit crunch’ provides so conveniantly.

The whole environment worldwide ‘concern’ is another excuse to put shades on what the problems really are and at the same time it ensures that most people are busy worrying about what isn’t the issue. They’ll be too busy recycling their left-over brussels sprouts while driving two or three cars to think in depth about what could really be going on under their noses.

Oh, and while the ‘intelligencia’ and the ‘rich’ keep busy flying solo in their privet jets all the while buying land in third world countries to spend even less money on food and commodity production - though we’ll still be paying more and more for it-, don’t forget to cut down on your plastic bag consumption cos’ that’s really bad for the environment.

I just wish I could somehow have a bird’s eye view of the whole mess, of our world as a whole, so it would make sense, instead of being limited with my own tiny perspective. I can tell that things are not what they say they are and I can only offer ideas as to what is really going on...and that’s very, very frustrating.

A mind's realm

Perhaps both Carroll and Orwell were right in the end. Concision must be one of the keys; not to make an idea easier to grasp but rather to allow words to keep their true meaning and everlasting strength that will get to you. And perhaps the careless overuse of words without thinking hard enough as to what we truly aim to express has led to writing perdition, which in turn leads to every word written to become weak and meaningless to the ear and the eye.

Ideally, one would have the fluent knowledge of every single language that exists in the world and gather every word that would complete the other fully… Then we would, maybe, achieve a perfect language and perfected expression of the mind. Perhaps, if one was to express anger through words and convey that feeling completely, they would use many different words from various languages whose words contain subtle variations and would add the forever lacking element preventing us from truly expressing what we had in mind.

Creating a universal language based on the best of every existing languages would symbolize the highest state of an ideal called harmony, or cohesion. From then understanding would flow much better and there would be less room for hostility. I suspect that every single human being, apart from the mentally weaker, perhaps, understands the other perfectly well intrinsically; it is the words we utter or write that lead to confusion. They are never a good enough medium to convey a thought.

But what is a thought, and is any of my thoughts different from you or my neighbour? What if we all had the same core understanding within, the same pattern of thought but languages and the choice of words from the start only serve to create a widening gap between my understanding and yours?

Within the realm of my own mind, it seems possible that it is truly an infinite realm in the sense that my mind goes on as another person’s mind begins and so on. And so it appears that the realm of reason might well transcend all that is material and palpable but we end up negligent of it because our eyes are not merely the windows to the physical world, but the very means of self-deception drowning us in constant illusions.

We seem to think that reality can only be perceived through what can physically be seen, touched, heard or experienced. Therefore reality is what it is according to a very limited state of perception, limited by the physical realm. The mind can transcend all rules and coupled with the power of imagination it knows no limits. Though it would be deemed removed from ‘reality’ because imagining a flying horse is not possible- it is not part of our physical reality- why could it not still be what is real and what we actually see with our own eyes the true illusion or dream?

The laws of gravity tends to prove that we, as beings in the physical world, are indeed real and the flying horse born out of my imagination is in fact the illusion or dream. Gravity gives to our living experience a sense of consistency and a sound base as to what can or cannot happen. If an apple falls from the tree it is doomed to reach the ground unless some physical factor prevents it from doing so- such a my hand catching that apple as it falls. On the other hand, it seems that one has yet to see a horse flying away through the skies. Because the mind is never constrained by any rule and only limited by the unknown, it can defy every single physical limitation and one would readily add that in any case what is spawned from the mind can easily remain just inexistent- a figment of the imagination.

But then… If I truly believe that the mind’s realm is indeed as real if not the only real realm, then I shall put all my energy into making that horse fly. If one has a strong enough dream or thought then one is likely to pursue it to the end, and this in turn might explain the strive people find within themselves to create or better what surrounds them, for instance. One man dreamt that one day he would fly, and others after him also shared the same dream.
Today we can fly.

If the realm of reason, coupled with imagination, is capable to fuel man’s drive to make ideas and dreams a physical reality then what is more real in the end? Is the core of reality born out of our own minds and then translated into a physical reality? Is it really impossible that what I see within my mind could be more intrinsically real than what my own eyes show me everyday?

16.30: Sitting under the apple tree
The sun merging with the sea
Spreading its fiery wings
In endless whorls and rings

Of doom, a hazy dream
Rocking the flawless beam
Of dying light and shimmers
Within the mind of dreamers

Under the apple tree the wings
Of birds, a cloud of feathers
In the misty grim lingers
Beyond the earth and sings

For all to hear and see
But blind is the heart
And misled to depart
From the dying apple tree

inner thoughts

The little girl within is always so frightened and she doesn’t even know why exactly. Life itself petrifies her. People and society in general puzzle her. She feels so vulnerable, drifting along a path she never meant to take while lacking the human chapter on adaptation. So she always questioned everything and could never find a clear answer, but she kept trying because she is stubborn and doesn’t think there would be sense in doing anything else but question if understanding is still out of reach.

Others begin to question things at some point in their lives, but soon they seem too disheartened to keep going. Why can I not give up myself? Why can I not "simply" accept things as they stand? Why can I not believe in spoon-fed truths and why do I feel that powerful need to find out for myself even if it means that in the end I will unveil very little?

As I began reflecting on my true self it soon became clear that there was never one side or two that made up a person, but rather a myriad of sides much akin to that of a rough diamond buried far too long in the muddiest of waters. Because my own self fascinates me I end up mesmerized by all the simplest of things from nature to the core of humanity where each component that forms it is another mind made up of another myriad of facets so different and so alike at the same time.

And then I keep seeing God on a deathbed and I worry that society could now go either way: either bury the illusion once and for all and become so much more or crawl back into its nest much like the little girl within me is dying to do to escape the cold, ruthless light of Truth beyond all illusions.

But one life. ONE life. That is all we have. One life. I want to make sense of that one life I have, the only one I’ll ever have. I want this more than anything in the world, and therefore I will transcend any fear I may have. I want to see beyond that veil of illusions pulled over my eyes since I was born and I want true knowledge, the one you gain by going through any reasoning yourself- not a borrowed version or shortcut to knowledge.

Can it be done? I do not know, but I sure will let you know, though I doubt anyone truly ever wants truth.

Truth, in the end, is another empty shell of a word full of ideals that sound good to the ear but that very few have the guts to search to the end.

Stream of consciousness

The trouble with too much imagination is that it is bound to take you further than reality and therefore there is always a painful crashing down period.

I went to see the new batman yesterday. It’s hard to believe that heath ledger who played an amazing Jocker, is dead. That such talent killed itself, just like that, and all the world has left is one last breathtaking performance immortalised on screen.

There is something about feeling too much or being so sensitive, somehow, that every simple beauty or glimpse of what is hardly ever noticed becomes an epiphany of some sort, yet pain is as much emplified for no logical reason. As feelings keep burning lungs and spirit the mind grows weary and a mental torpor slowly eases its way through the body itself until the light is so faint that you stagger down the well you knew was there all along, but you can no longer avoid it. 

There is so much beauty through the pain of living that it is bound to kill a spirit in its bud when one dares to gaze at such spendor for too long. Written words are a painter’s brush forming infinite combinations of colors to mirror the hues of rain and sunlight. Alone they are little more than shadows of what they ought to become. Together suddenly the world is set alight and there are no limits. These days words seem to flow out of my hands and I watch the threads of thought slide along those lines without even knowing whether it is really me writing or something beyond my own self already. When one achieves greatness of any kind, does it mean the soul must have gone to other shores where only splendor and perfection prevail?

 Like a vessel the body translates or convey what little can be from those unphasomable shores and withers slowly under the strain, much like the one who one day built wings so he could reach the sun.

But what do I know? What am I? If there is but one thing I am aware of it is how tiny my body is amidst the ocean of life. But my mind? How far does it stretch? How far can one venture and be certain that it is not in fact an illusion of infinity? What if what I saw for infinity was only a trick of the light too bright and I kept flying in circles? Who would warn me? Who would even notice?

Sorrow tires me yet my mind feeds off it. The contradiction is again sublime. If I was made of words I would want to be a poem.

Why do I keep writing even though the writing itself is far from perfect? Because the process is the closest one can get to their own sense of perfect, which is always subjective in its very nature. Yes, of course the notion of perfection is subjective... The process of creating new lives, no matter how fictional, awakens a new lease of hope and opens the mind’s window to let your inner eye wander as free as can ever be. And so it is that with every page of any story I feel more of a sense of being alive than reality could ever grant me. But then there are the eyes to see what is real before you and life as it is is rarely more than one long cliche after the next. 

That’s why I used to love watching movies or read fantasy stories. They would open my inner window, you see. Throughout my early years this was enough for me to revel in my own little worlds but then as I grew older I was forced to stare reality in the face and that tiny window was no longer enough. Hanging onto it as I grow old now would blur the fine line between reason and folly, I suppose. As long as I find the strength to question myself I cannot be so bad. The day I take my own word for anything I will know that reason is morphing into something much darker, a shade closer to nothingness, perhaps.

Interlude

It’s 6.53am on a misty sunday morning. The cat sits on the window ledge and watches the world go by. 

I went to the library yesterday and got an old book on ‘wonders of this world’. All I can ever do is look at pretty pictures, lose my gaze into immortilised glimpses of natural beauty. I see high mountains lost in a hazy mist, drifts of blue ice and snow whiter than any snow I’ve ever seen; streaks of the greenest grass and oceans of golden sand... The most striking of waterfalls that seem to break free from canyons in majestic curtains of bubbling water crashing down the most mesmerising of valleys... 

And all this I see through the pages of an old book and I will probably never get a chance to witness such beauty myself. Yet as I take a stroll in the park nearby I find small patches of what I choose to see as wilderness and as I forget the spoils around to focus on one tiny glimpse of beauty I am again overwhelmed. Peering through the dense foliage of a weeping willow by the mossy lake I find myself in the midst of a distant land and further down that lake turned river lie the neverending green valleys and their untamed waterfalls. I glance over my shoulder and I am back to reality at once. 

Reality and its tall, grey buildings, the screeching of cars, the unseen smokes and broken skies. The patches of grass lose their sheen and return to their puny-looking selves, dry and stumped on far too many times. The pebbly paths no longer lead to wilderness unspoilt but back to greyer walls and colder grounds made of concrete and asphalt. My eyes have grown weary and my mind is tired. I can no longer pretend to see what is not really there yet I have so little strength to follow what the eye within only can see.

On religion and a theorem of thoughts

I cannot rely on the idea of a God for it would always be stained by conditioned beliefs. Even if there really was a God then we would know nothing about it or what it truly entails. The concept is so far removed from our reach that it is pointless to try and comprehend something so hypothetically infinite and grand when we can’t even comprehend our own selves.

Proportions, probabilities and the laws of physics, the three Ps that made the world. If one could get to the roots of all three and from the source work their way up to the results then many answers would be unveiled. But to get to the source, ah! Many scientists got close enough, yet not quite. They were also blinded, just like the rest of the world, by seductive answers or discoveries, mistaking science, which is a tool to knowledge, for knowledge itself. They also care very little about the fact that what can be done shouldn’t necessarily be done. But what do I know? Demanding ethics is probably too much to ask and always has been. However, using the word has always seemed so pretty and fluffy for a majority. Let’s face it, notions and values are devoid of deep understanding and what they are to most of us are mere blanket words, empty shells of a word that sounds like something right yet we just don’t know why they sound so pretty to the ear or the eye. That in itself is enough to make them what they are to us today: empty words filled with ideals.

Note that I could never deny the existence of something higher; I mean, why not? It’s just nothing to do with the way we’ve pictured it so far. More importantly, I’m not about to try and find out as it would go completely against my theory that unless I can truly comprehend my self in outward circles (starting from my own self, perception, reality, substance...working my way from that base and moving up to the next level which would probably be my immediate surroundings; “thy neighbour” and so on) until I eventually get to the top through logical reasoning and true understanding, enlightenment. 

Of course, the likelihood of ever getting to that all-understanding awareness is tiny if not impossible in a lifetime but then to me it only means that we just aren’t meant to dwell on bigger questions until we can find ways to work our way up. Perhaps a chain of philosophies through times is the key so that the answer can eventually be found along the spectrum of time. Why bother with my theory? Because to me it seems the only way to minimise error and avoid ending up with even more supositions. Just like algebra or quantitative methods problems, if you start off from a flawed base then the proportion of error only keeps growing as you carry on trying to resolve the problem- perhaps I should say the margin for error? It is a fundamental mathematical reality.

When anger meets the mind

I want to belong to no country, I wish to have no nationality or homeland. The world is my oyster and with it comes a sense that there are no borders, no frontier or boundary that could ever be imposed on me and my mind.

God is money, didn’t you know? If there really was one out there he was buried a long time ago. You can find god in every purse, every transaction you make, in every note or coin you play with in your hands. That’s such a conveniant tailored-made deity, really. No need to think too much about it, everything is written on the label, or should I say value? Thanks to the money god we can even put a price on abstract notions and human beings can also be purchased in more ways than one. Of course, I am bound to take the view of a pauper, I must necessarily be biased on the subject. I can see the in-betweeners, those who get on with it all, the middle class family always adapting to the current. There’s no blame to be placed on them but I could not feel sorry for them for even when they stop to think they rarely let thoughts or conscience dictate their actions. Denial or charity is their outlet. 

Of course I am generalising. I’m only human and I can’t find the strength to go deeper than appearances on that matter, not yet anyway. There is a forgotten voice in limbo, lingering on throughout the ages which the world is forced to ignore if it is to carry on the way it does now. That voice is the sacrifice believed to be necessary. That voice comprises everything you can’t adknowledge within yourself when your mind realises how wrong things are.

We’re all so isolated in our own little life that it often takes a disaster to wake us up from that dull, self-centered torpor. Even disasters nowadays aren’t strong enough to get through most people who have been utterly desensitized. You only realise how much society has been mechanised and rendered faceless in a way, when even small issues force you to take action that requires interaction with society. Everything is now a business of some sort, from the so-called religious establishments to the schools and the state. Everything must bring profit and be viable or it will be thrown away. Even charities are a business: to be worthy of their time and pity you must meet a certain degree of helplessness or get lost.

We don’t live to enjoy life. We live under the rule of money whereby ‘hapiness’ and enjoyment are dependent on how much you have in the bank, regardless of what you are as a person. Whether you’re a monster or a saint it is the amount of money you have that defines you. Thus even individuals have been rendered faceless. 

Thoughts on a cold Thursday morning and the world

Every so often you wonder how certain people get to certain positions or jobs . You wonder how they manage to get where only the few selected best are meant to be when they obviously have nothing much to offer. Every now and then you realise that a member of their family knew someone who knew someone... Even better: they have parents who are already recognised for whatever it is they do. Others get to the top so quickly it can be quite dizzying. Then you realise that many have sold their integrity as one would their worthless possessions in a market. And then you wonder how come so many people with so little skills or suitability to the job ever got to where they are. 

Actors are a good example on how pointless inbred “talent” is imposed as though it was a God given right. Hence you can see how many of already famous artists’offsprings suddenly pop out in the limelight no matter how talentless those children prove to be. That’s life, I suppose. However, faced with the facts one can only come to realise how much harder the struggle for a better life already shapes itself from the start: the starting line is already tipped in favour of a category of people and the rest must fight so much harder no matter how naturally more deserving they might actually be.

It can be a good thing, in a way, for it pushes you to better yourself all the time and you are less likely to take anything for granted. But that’s only if you’re able to learn from past experiences otherwise bitterness and envy can take over your better side. Or you can let yourself be corrupted and pretty much lose your own self just like the rest.

I can’t help but think in matters of fairness. There is a flag in my head flashing painfully every time something unfair occurs. It is far too idealistic and indeed probably naive to think that our world could ever be based on something more than relative fairness whose degree relies on luck and social position. Universality and equality might share differing meanings but they both share the same burden: inadequacy in terms of numbers. The fact that people can think for themselves AND feel means that notions such as universality, equality and peace can only remain distant ideals. There will always be at least one person too selfish to keep their wants in check and that will always be enough to spread to others like a gangrene. Thus people are as much prisoners to the laws of probabilities than any other object or number.

The world as I see it

diary time and other thoughts...


There was a ray of morning sunshine but it has now been covered with a thick layer of dullness promising more rain and it is cold. When will it be summer, I wonder? If I’m stuck in this town then at least give me warmth and sunny skies! Instead I’m stuck home watching the rain pouring down my window. 

There is never enough wine to numb the pain of living. No, actually living is the wrong word. I should say ‘thinking’. When one thinks too much they’re bound to feel pain. There are moments of blissful lucidity followed by a sense of helplessness. There is also the sense that you might be completely wrong in your reasoning and yet this makes you already different from the rest. People who do the best and the worst in the world always seem to have one thing in common: they think they know. They can’t be wrong. Even when they are. If there is one thing I understand now it’s that there isn’t a right or wrong answer, a black and white spectrum. There is only a grey area and only the best you, as a person and as a member of a society, can do. This is exactly what we need to understand, beyond the rain and the inward tears: do your best to the best of your abilities. If you can remain true to such a motto then you can’t go far wrong. You might still be mistaken in the end but your good will was there. there was a conscience.

Void is chaos

Void is chaos. Chaos is a blurred line between control and delusions. Delusions are a first step leading right back into that giant gap within the mind. Welcome to nothingness.

08/06/08

I’m afraid. I’m scared, terrified. Everything around me has taken the colours of blood, pain and evil murmurs. I am still me and yet my thoughts have lost grip of their coherence. I have no control left over what I feel or ought to feel and the same ideas, same thought patterns keep dancing before my eyes, no matter how hard I try to chase them away.

It’s a slow procession of illogical beliefs which have taken over my better judgement, and the more I fight against those wild elements, those figments of non-sense, the worse they seem to get. It is a very strange thing that is happening. I am very aware of those alien thoughts and while I remain the mistress of my self I can no longer prevent what can only be called obssessions. Obsessive thoughts that lead straight to imbalance. These pages will have no sense, I’m afraid, for they are my only means to reject such ideas away from my head.

Paranoia is also starting to overwhelm me and I am afraid of everything around and within me. And those thoughts won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They won’t leave me alone. They’re very much my own thoughts; I am the one formulating them in my head. There are no outside voice or anything of the sort: it is me. What makes no sense to me is that I just cannot think of anything else and that scares the hell out of me. I had to stop writing as though I knew what I was doing because I fear everything I thought I understood merely stemed from obseesive patterns of thought. I thought my mind was free but it is in fact held in a cage and it can do nothing but turn like a beast prisoner of its own iron will.

Nothing much makes sense these days. I look out the window and see the shades of sky, from mournful greys to incandescent molten gold, and I see the world contained in one single tear falling from above, crashing onto the frozen ground and scattering its precious power.

I have no desires, no drive to do anything. I haven’t washed in days. My hair is greazy, my appearance foul. I wish it was a simple matter of snapping out of it all. But it isn’t, I’ve tried.

I feel like the devil is out to get me, I feel possessed against my better judgement. Can’t you see? I am trying so hard to rationalise what makes no sense in my head... I’ve lost it completely, haven’t I?

They say that if you were losing your mind you wouldn’t even know you had. I take solace in that only, yet I still cannot explain what is happening. If I am simply being silly, then why can’t I snap out of it?

For the second night in a row I felt scared as I went to bed and stared at the things around me, almost expecting- again, against my better judgement still present in one side of my head- something to happen. Religious beliefs have taken residence in my head, too. I want them out of there but they won’t buldge. It’s been months now. I made the mistake of sharing such crazed thoughts with mum and since then it has felt like I have somehow released a demon out of its cage. I made it all more real than it ever had been. I am afraid that the sound part of my brain might be losing power to the degenerate side... I can sense the fine line between the way I feel now and how easily I could slip further away from rationality if that happened.

I think I am evil and that I should die. It’s the only way to make everything stop. There is no other way. I should end it all before it’s too late. Before I lose it completely and can no longer distinguish reality from fantasy. Before the sound part remaining let go and I am left with no more logics or power to rationalise my thoughts and actions. I want to keep away from anything remotely religious for fear that it will only exacerbate my delusions. I need help. Yet every single person arond me believes that I am fine. they’re obviously not living in my head 24/7. I want out of that head just for a few days, even a minute. I want it to shut up for a moment, just a moment... I need rest.

I think the whole world is set against me and that the devil is trying to destroy me. Then there is my sound presence of mind that keeps telling me that this makes no sense whatsoever. First, what is so special about my person that the whole world would tire itself against me, and why would the devil, which is merely a metaphore for all things bad, go after me, the pathetic drop in the ocean?

I try to rationalise those crazy ideas and although I can see how illogical they are I can’t get them out of my head. That is my problem. No amount of rationaliation seems to be enough... Thus I am left scared and ambushed by my own self. I had so many things to write, such nice stories dear to my heart but how can I write when all this is happening in my head?

I cannot not believe in God, either. I keep agreeing with all those people who find logical arguments against its existence and yet I keep believing. Is that simply a glimpse of how powerful human conditioning can be? Blind faith that can never be erradicated... I am left thinking that perhaps I should destroy everything religious around me. There are pictures of Christ above the door and I find myself thinking that I should burn them, that it would liberate me. It’s a very appealing idea right now. Then I get that thought that if I did just that I would be giving in to what the devil wants me to do. So I should resist the urge. But how long can I resist when I feel so obsessed? I want to go to church, not to mass, but simply walk inside one and drop on my knees. But I’m afraid that it is all in my head and going there won’t change a damn thing. Worse, still, I would end up even more obsessed. It’s all my cousin’s fault and only now do I realise that mum was right all along. She had advised me not to go, warning me that every time she saw members of her family something bad happened to her. I didn’t listen and she said those things and now those things won’t leave me in peace. I need to snap out of it. If I could, though, I wouldn’t be writing this. I am doomed. Cursed. DOOMED.

Suite a 10.37am: Perhaps what is really happening to me is far removed from insanity and merely the painful stage of discovery that leads one to Enlightenment or Knowledge. I’ve had the logical understanding dawn on me slowly which is that one is to depart from comforting, man-made beliefs if they are to see beyond illusions, toward the wondrous fields of reason. Where men are strong enough to believe in themselves without the need of religious cruches. Where men can let go of fables and tales, hints of ‘deraison’ that feed the need for supernatural explanations whenever something lacks clarity or basic knowledge. The fact that I must let go of everything I thought I knew or took for granted is eating at the very core of my person and without the shams enveloping me like a feel-safe cocoon there is only me left with the rather cold and distant comfort of my brain as sole companion in my quest. My conditioned being finds itself threatened and therefore every last remnant of conditioned beliefs are heightened to a degree that feels close to insanity. My conditioned self is the one fighting against the process I put in motion. It is hanging on so hard and entering in such a violent conflict within me that I feel too overwhelmed not to be depressed. But my depression is my inability so far to process too deep a sense or feel of others’pain and what I can see is going wrong around me. Unless I can find a way or ways to reconcile every discovery I make for myself with the ability to cope or shoulder the weight of such discoveries I will not make it very far and will end up consumed by helplessness. I must find a way to put everything into persepective so that I can focus on the quest itself- not the idea of changing anything for I would need to reach destination before even attempting to venture solutions. In this I suddenly find solace again. It is shaky and weak and I could lose sight of this thread fairly easily, still... But if I could just focus enough!

Nobody said it was going to be easy to let go of everything you ever thought you knew... It is in fact more painful than physical distress. I might be playing a dangerous game with my own self but what else could life be about, honestly? There is only this life and I will have the rest of eternity or a black hole of endless sleep where nothing ever exists again to get my peace of mind. This existence will only last years against a backdrop of nothingness. Why should I be worried? Why shouldn’t I gamble my very sanity if there is nothing better to do? If living a blind life according to the rules of biology and man-made ethos morphed into a worldwide propaganda called Religion isn’t something I can do even if I wanted to, then I will go else where and wander till I drop. I must first be able to deal with the isolation, solitude and sense of weirdness my quest is sure to entail. If I fail to find a balance, to reach some sort of acceptance as to the concequences then I’m afraid my quest will be little more than a short trip to ‘derision’. 

All those thoughts, the religious obsessions...They’re still in my head but they are in fact the expression of the threatened conditioned part of me emerging violently as I attempt to break away from all that I do not know as true knowledge. I found the key! I FOUND THE KEY. Now that I understand why I’ve suddenly become so obsessed with beliefs that were in fact burried deep into the core of what make up my social persona I can focus on finding a balance or a way to make peace with it to resume my journey.

I am no evil entity, nor am I a devilish spawn, but my uncanny sensitivity makes me so aware of the ills around me that it morphes the compationate side into depression, the exacerbated state of helplessness one plunges into when they can see but cannot act.

Perhaps I am only turning in circles in vain, focusing on futile things everybody already knows about but they will be the futile things I come to understand myself, beyond the superficial sense that one understands even the simplest concept. I will no longer call knowledge what was handed to me unless I have made the effort to go through the steps that lead to that particular knowledge. Hence, it is highly likely that at the end of my own life I will know very little, but what I will have come to know for myself will be glimpses of true knowledge, away from illusions and erroneous steps leading to what I can only call ‘pre-fabricate’ knowledge. And even if this is all a waste of time and even if it leads me nowhere in the end I have a thirst for something that I won’t always have with me: my brain. It is the one true mystery of life and people waste time trying to comprehend the existence of god, a notion even more out of reach than any other mystery left for us to uncover! Why is it that, beyond logics, people seem so determined to find the answers to the existence of God and his so-called plans or purpose, when they don’t even know themselves? Is it because it is always easier to pick at something further removed from ourselves than finding the courage to face what is starring us in the face? It all comes down to ignorance which feeds our reliance on even more far-fetched explanations. I therefore must conclude that the question of god is irrelevant to man’s development. As I will keep digging beyond the surface of everything that is obvious and taken for granted I must expect more turmoil within myself...since I am my own guinea pig, in a sense. But hey, better be my own experiment than anyone else’s!

I suddenly feel so liberated!...Until the next hurdle, that is.

The world is governed by the rules of probability and chance ensued by the latter. Forgive my lack of clarity and wrong choice of terms when it comes to rather more scientific arguments...I am no mathematician nor am I a scientist, I only go with what seems to make sense. I believe in logics. LOGICS. The world is one maze of a jigsaw that looks very much chaotic at first glance, but if one is to take the trouble to look more closely they are likely to find that there is no such thing as chaos in the sense we understand or define the word. There is something that we see or can identify which we call chaos but haven’t we in fact given to the word a misguided definition?  We call chaos what is devoid of sense, what is truly random, an amalgam of randomness...here’s the dictionary’s definition, actually: “A state of total confusion and lack of order.”

But I claim that what we call chaos is little more than another mistaken thought on what we think we are seeing for what presents itself as chaotic might well simply be beyond our grasp.

And now : “Chaos theory is a scientific theory about situations that obey particular laws but appear to have little or no order.”

So, really a term like chaos has very little meaning and is a blanket word that covers aspects of what we cannot comprehend. But there must be order in the most chaotic shamble. As much as words like ‘all’ or ‘tout’ in French which I grew wary of very early on.

Because I believe in logics I must be able to see that everything around me -everything- follows some logical line and if I am unable to distinguish it from ‘chaos’ or nonsense then it is merely because I lack the understanding or necessary knowledge.

I grew bitter towards everything remotely mathematical and used to have nightmares about geometry. What I only come to understand now is that geometry, maths, physics and other scientific fields are tools one needs to use if they are to sharpen the logical side of their brain. The downside of it all is that such tools gives man the false sense of power over nature and life itself. However, scientific discoveries and the tools they provide in our quest to understand our world are never more than tools that should be used towards helping along the way. They provide no answer in themselves. They do, however, easily swell people’s heads into thinking that they hold the key to better understanding. 

Well...One should never let himself be fooled into thinking that a shiny tool- the means- can replace the answer- the end. The main risk in doing just that is what is happening right now: we lose our ways so much that far from seeking answers from within we keep skipping fundamental steps towards true understanding and we are blinded by the very things that were supposed to help in the first place. Therefore science has now become the means to a very different end whereby comfort and technology are in fact what we should be aiming at.

Now onto another side of me that has long disturbed me: the sense that I am arrogant. I feel very much deluded in the sense that I have that core belief that I am menat to do something extraordinary, somehow. As though I was that special. Well, perhaps it is a necessity to have a proportion of the human race deluded into thinking that they have something special to do or should at least what they can to leave a ‘trace’. If enough of us are enclined to think such things then the probability that one true genius will emerge from the mass is greatly improved. Makes sense. So, really, if I loathe that side of me for being so full of myself perhaps I should make peace by reminding myself that, if anything, I am in fact part of a bigger natural process within which the best can be harvested. In this I suddenly find the idea of being a mere grain of sand much more appealing. Then again, I was always secretly swayed towards the argument for humanity over the individual.