Sunday, April 29, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
The Mountain
Cascade off in avalanche as they whip against the wind
From the bottom of the mountain
A polluted river drips
Heavy drops falling with the beige
Red, glistening drops of blood
Paint the grass with life
At the base of the mountain, a round cushion remains
Sopped in a red-brown haze, the river's remains
Above this, a great brown tree
A piece of its trunk, sawed off in a round
Though brown, it crackles with blood fire
As hot as the sun, striped black from its burns
On top of the tree, a caressing canopy
A raincoat of yellow, seemingly left by a child
Thick and soothing, the yellow sits
Directing the rivers flow downward, feeding the grass
Atop the canopy, a dome
The very top of the mountain, the creme de la creme
The Superdome of nature
Without the dome, the mountain would lay incomplete
It presses against the canopy, causing it to sag
Its almost as if the mountain is sad.
Why sad, you say?
The mountain is uprooted from its stable position
Amid a white mecca of plastic snow
Grabbed by a fleshy human
Who simply wants to eat his Cheeseburger.
Who Am I?
A seemingly simple question, no?
No.
It pains me to have to write in language, the ever liberating constraint on us all, to tell you about this. Language makes me me and you you and dictates the divide between all things. At the same time language allows us to communicate, we control its contents, what means what depending on how we require a word to fit our needs.
Anyway, using language, I guess I am a human being. What the hell does that even mean? Aren't I an animal? It doesn't really matter, when it comes down to it. I'm probably both, with humanity defined as a unique animal just as a frog is a frog and an ant is an ant.
Enough about the futility and frustration of language. Onto more important things, i.e. my search for myself.
I'm certainly not the same person that I was when I was three. Or twelve. Or sixteen. Oh god, sixteen...that age where you are so stuck on defiance that you don't realize the people who truly care about you at the very deepest levels.
While I'm not the same person that I was during those years, I have maintained some consistencies. I still remember those years, was formed by those years. Most of all, my parents formed me. They fell in love and ultimately created me, an act of compassion I will be forever grateful to them for. I am so goddamn happy just to be alive. On this earth. Breathing this air. Struggling to breathe this air through my infected lungs. Because they dared to breathe, I breathe now.
So at a very base level, I am the result of my parents, and all their social interactions - their lifetimes, their journeys and adventures during their times as teenagers. They had parents too, and so on - on and on back to their parents, and their parents, and their parents. Its really truly amazing when you sit back and consider the sheer number of ancestors that we've all had. So many parents before us to create who we are now. Even more incredible is that we can take all that history, the millions of years that it took to create us, and still change. We can strive to change ourselves through hard work, determination, habit, social interaction, and everything in between. Your story is unwritten despite this ridiculous, unlimited history.
Before me came my parents parents parents parents parents parents...parents. Who were they? I wonder. I wish I could go shake their hand. Hug them. Hold them in my arms. Imagine how powerful that moment would be? Who were they? Imagine how differently they must have lived their lives? And yet I bet they understood how to love. Even Bonobos know how to love.
Speaking of Bonobos and chimps and all things apes, think and consider for a moment that they came immediately before us in the millions of years of evolutionary history. And what came before them? And them? History is an amazing time capsule of our genetic history. Millions of years have led up to this moment, to now, to make us who we are today.
The great chain of being throughout history leads back and back, through the birds and reptiles and dinosaurs and fishes and even mere bacteria. Molecules. The first molecule.
What came before that? What was life? Was life? They say cliches are cliche for a reason...HOW DID IT ALL COME INTO BEING?!
I wish I could go back to the beginning of time and just scream this question. It wouldn't matter who heard me.
The ironic part about all of this is that I have a little bit of the beginning of time inside of me. Some part of that original moment of creation is still a part of me now.
God is a part of me now. God is within me. He is my consciousness, my love, and my light.
I guess thats who I am.
No.
It pains me to have to write in language, the ever liberating constraint on us all, to tell you about this. Language makes me me and you you and dictates the divide between all things. At the same time language allows us to communicate, we control its contents, what means what depending on how we require a word to fit our needs.
Anyway, using language, I guess I am a human being. What the hell does that even mean? Aren't I an animal? It doesn't really matter, when it comes down to it. I'm probably both, with humanity defined as a unique animal just as a frog is a frog and an ant is an ant.
Enough about the futility and frustration of language. Onto more important things, i.e. my search for myself.
I'm certainly not the same person that I was when I was three. Or twelve. Or sixteen. Oh god, sixteen...that age where you are so stuck on defiance that you don't realize the people who truly care about you at the very deepest levels.
While I'm not the same person that I was during those years, I have maintained some consistencies. I still remember those years, was formed by those years. Most of all, my parents formed me. They fell in love and ultimately created me, an act of compassion I will be forever grateful to them for. I am so goddamn happy just to be alive. On this earth. Breathing this air. Struggling to breathe this air through my infected lungs. Because they dared to breathe, I breathe now.
So at a very base level, I am the result of my parents, and all their social interactions - their lifetimes, their journeys and adventures during their times as teenagers. They had parents too, and so on - on and on back to their parents, and their parents, and their parents. Its really truly amazing when you sit back and consider the sheer number of ancestors that we've all had. So many parents before us to create who we are now. Even more incredible is that we can take all that history, the millions of years that it took to create us, and still change. We can strive to change ourselves through hard work, determination, habit, social interaction, and everything in between. Your story is unwritten despite this ridiculous, unlimited history.
Before me came my parents parents parents parents parents parents...parents. Who were they? I wonder. I wish I could go shake their hand. Hug them. Hold them in my arms. Imagine how powerful that moment would be? Who were they? Imagine how differently they must have lived their lives? And yet I bet they understood how to love. Even Bonobos know how to love.
Speaking of Bonobos and chimps and all things apes, think and consider for a moment that they came immediately before us in the millions of years of evolutionary history. And what came before them? And them? History is an amazing time capsule of our genetic history. Millions of years have led up to this moment, to now, to make us who we are today.
The great chain of being throughout history leads back and back, through the birds and reptiles and dinosaurs and fishes and even mere bacteria. Molecules. The first molecule.
What came before that? What was life? Was life? They say cliches are cliche for a reason...HOW DID IT ALL COME INTO BEING?!
I wish I could go back to the beginning of time and just scream this question. It wouldn't matter who heard me.
The ironic part about all of this is that I have a little bit of the beginning of time inside of me. Some part of that original moment of creation is still a part of me now.
God is a part of me now. God is within me. He is my consciousness, my love, and my light.
I guess thats who I am.
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