I have been trying to get healthy all weekend, and have been rather energy-bereft... so I cannot report anything exciting. I didn't fight with my mother over my choice of careers, my best friend/lover didn't screw me over, I wasn't touched somewhere non-consentually, and everything, in fact, is ok.
It's kind of eerie, actually... I have gone through so much rapid change in the past few months... not all of it peaceful. It was a real roller coaster ride in parts... but now, my life is calm, my relationship is going well, work is fine, I have enough money coming in that I can afford to spoil both Kirsten and I, and still save away a few thousand a month...
In short, things are getting too tranquil. If I didn't have a such a nasty cold, I swear I would raise some hell just to liven things up a bit! This is a cry for help, LJ... bring me your drama, your conflict, your trials, tribulations, and passion... and save me from domestic bliss! ;->
I've been negligent in writing, been tired of being tired... Je suis malade.
You ask what the air tastes like on the other side? The same, but perhaps somewhat headier the higher you climb. Only your perception changes... how could it not? You look back through the blackened bars at whence you came, seeing only shadows, sometimes of others, sometimes of your former self... and your feelings for those on the other side become a mixture of pity and apathy. If they wanted to be on the same side of the fence, they would make the effort, of course... such is humanity.
Everything is calm... I am relaxing. After months of ups and downs, things have become entirely too tranquil for my liking. Odysseus, across the oceans and back, house restored, peace made with the gods that be... but to what end? A lifetime, drydocked? Twenty years at sea can be a long time, but could it ever be enough? At night, does the song of the sirens haunt the old sailor?
What is the point of happily ever after...? We know in our heads that it doesn't exist, even if our hearts cry like scared children otherwise... Life is a fight against entropy; a man trying to stand up straight while falling off a cliff, a child building sand castles on the shore... where is tomorrow, and what is the value of today? A queen, reclining luxuriantly on satin sheets, watching the light linger through the curtains... decadent, wanton. Enjoy the decay...
What is the point of a fast life without time to appreciate what we have? The colors swirl around us, unnoticed to those who rush by. What is the point of a life of comfortable observation, analyzed, but never lived? What is the point of the middle ground? A life of compromises... Where is the contentment... where is the way to live? There is none. There is only perception. Life is what you make of it... or what it makes of you. Life will rip into you... will take all that you cherish... will flay your skin with all that you love... life will kill you.
So, is glossy red your preferred color of decay? It's a beautiful color for today... but will it mock you tomorrow? Can we ever be the equal of our dreams, or will our dreams become the masters of us?
It is human nature to be essentially unfulfilled on some deeper level of the psyche... or at least, it is my nature. I have read a bit of philosophy in my time, but I can't say that I am an avid reader... I would, however, be a damn good philosopher myself.
I felt haunted by my e-mail the other night to my friend... I checked online for some of the basic elements in philosophy, and found exactly the answer for the question I raised... about just how Odysseus would feel after a short resting period after his long journey. It says volumes about me and about the human condition...
"Have I - yet a goal? A haven towards which my sail is set?
A good wind? Alas, he only who knoweth whither he saileth,
knoweth also what wind is good and a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and flippant;
a wandering will; fluttering wings; a broken spine.
This seeking for my home: ah, Zarathustra, knowest thou well,
this seeking hath been my home-sickening; it devoureth me.
Where is - my home? For it I ask and seek and have sought, but have not found it.
Oh eternal everywhere, oh eternal nowhere, oh eternal - in-vain!" -Nietzsche
Existentially, I am in a dangerous place... from this point, you could stare into the emptiness of reality and despair or fall in. Worse yet, you could adopt a dangerous
belief structure. Take a look at Nietzsche; he thought that the only answer to the great bit nothingness that stared back at him was in humanity's basic drive to dominate others... the will to power. While that idea might be fine for a bunch of Nazis (or some CEOs), it still doesn't resolve anything.
Take Nietzsche, for example. On the morning of January 3, 1889, while in Turin, Nietzsche experienced a mental breakdown which left him an invalid for the rest of his life. Upon witnessing a horse being whipped by a coachman at the Piazza Carlo Alberto, Nietzsche threw his arms around the horse�s neck and collapsed, never to return to full sanity.
Nietzsche wrote once about the last temptation that threatened his beloved Superman. "Where lie thy greatest dangers? In compassion." It is fitting that an act of compassion would be his undoing, since it fundamentally flew in the face of his soulless, anti-humanitarian Will to Power. Obviously, the conflict must have been too much for him... It is one thing to look into the void that is life with unflinching eyes... but it is another thing to pull back a piece of emptiness from the void and try applying that to people of flesh and blood.
I hear that Walt Whitman stares into the same void in "Leaves of Grass", only to come up with a better, more humanistic alternative than Nietzsche. I have wanted to read Whitman for a long time... now would be appropriate. Until I find a way to pull back from the edge, I think I will pursue those two great 21st Century philosophers... Ben & Jerry. ;->