For a while there, I fell into a wormhole. Dreams and reality began to stitch their final seams and the world outside academia bloomed into what would become my first grand awakening since the tragedies of my youth. This pixelated consciousness with sudden drop-outs and wash-ins of indescribable intuition and unnamed colour (all cast betwixt a sobering dose of yoga and bonfires and the dance that was called the pizza-shoppe servant) led my managers and my friends and my family to think I had gone insane. But while they wondered what was or was not going on inside my head, while the simultaneous upward climb and downward spiral of isolation brought me deeper into unknown territory, I stopped questioning and simply was. Had I been on hallucinogens at the time, it all would have seemed so much more logical.
Nothing to come before seems trustworthy enough to describe it, yet no reasoning outside of paranoia leads me to think I am alone, and while I thought it might have been the splitting at the seams, I now believe it was something that we cannot hold accountable either way.
"I am that"
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Roulette
I never truly met you, although I would come to tell others I had.
Lonely, with a wandering mind left ajar, we found warmth; luck.
Learning the geometry of curls left unfurled and evidence of libation,
Neither my mind nor my heart knew just how to talk to one another.
Ethereal, your presence; pixels enameled in what was once eternal.
Solemnly I feigned impassioned suavity, a hand extended in serenity;
Saccharine, this love; for what we seek is forever intangible. So be it.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Prime Roast Pictures
When I purchased my current pair of ear-buds from the coercive labyrinth of online shopping (Amazon), I was sold on the notion of canceling sound. Out of indifference I've kept them for over a year, but it's no surprise that $29.99 does little to shut out the world. Without music blasting through these bits of wire mesh and rubber, the cacophony of a coffee shop at lunch-hour is ablaze in my ears. For all intents and purposes I'll keep my ears plugged up; it is loud out there, and it's just as loud in my head.
Repossessed Dave & Buster's mug within reach, second dose of freshly extracted caffeine bouncing through my nervous system; I'm in the immutable middle ground of busyness and emptiness. I'm task-less and relaxed; pondering and people-watching. The walls and surfaces display a menagerie of colors, textures, stains and marks which only add to the quixotic ambiance of my surroundings. Pencil shavings, cherry grain, coffee rings, the smell of leather and toasted walnuts, and what looks like the sticky fingerprint of an abandoned morning-glory muffin-bottom fill my perspective. The crowd is building and the man sitting next to me is talking to himself in gibberish with a pinch of unprovoked laughter. This is one of my favorite places in town, but with the growing dissonance in my ears I can think of a few other places I'd rather be. It's surprisingly cold outside and I'm without a jacket. Provided I maintain the presence of an aimless, jacketless man, I have no place to be but warm and buzzed in my finely upholstered highchair, checking out the barista and contemplating my life.
I didn't come here to write, I came here to sip coffee and read the Avadhuta Gita – the enlightened song of Dattatreya (look him up). Somewhere along my path of accepting the transcendental non-duality of existence, my pocket vibrated; freaked me out a bit. Up to that point I had been engrossed in that book. Realizing it was not my consciousness extinguishing attachment to the tangible self, I picked up my phone and replied "why not?" to a request for this column. This leaves us both in the same place – 362 words into the smattering of my internal dialogue, wondering the exact same thing – "where's he going with this?"
Maybe it's my resurgence of interest in Eastern philosophy, maybe it's the fact that my college-bound self has yet to acclimate to my academic surroundings, but more and more of me is caring less and less. It's not a state of catharsis, but a quiet acceptance of chaos. At least that's how it feels this afternoon.
I've made some serious decisions in my life in the past week, decisions that will undoubtedly shape the remainder of my time at Keene. Things have been dreadfully slow at times and uncannily busy at others, but most evident has been the rediscovery of the creative undercurrent in my brain. I feel like a new person, and I'm terribly unfamiliar with this new me. I've had more outbursts of thought and reckless anxiety than I can recall in my adult life.
This seems to happen every fall semester. Keene erupts with new life, the nights become longer, and traffic builds on an exponential scale. New and old faces fill once-empty corridors and classrooms while the city and my psyche undergo fantastic transformation. These emotions resonate with seniors everywhere; after three years, the thrill of a beloved college town can fade with potentially trying times glittering on the horizon. It has for me, but I'm OK with it.
Serendipity, in all of her wisdom (and hotness, if you're thinking of Selma Hayek's character from "Dogma") has bestowed me with some curve-balls during my college years. The burden of transcribing a life into memories becomes harder with age, but it's also an incredible gift. With an increase of chances taken in my life, I've only found an equivalent trend in understanding.
READER'S NOTE: I acknowledge that by taking the column in this direction, I come off as a self-absorbed, semi-delusional, navel-gazing hipster to about 90 percent of the readership, and there's little we can do about it; you wanted a column, you get one.
You can laugh, but life is chaos. We all have limited control in our realities, and most of it is an illusion. Not an illusion in the sense that it's not there, but in that we only barely comprehend the complex system of control we're engaged in. Our understanding of everyday life is a sliver of the whole picture, limited by our culture, our age, our upbringings, our location; our path in life. The progression of existence is eternal and self-sustained but our choices in life factor into its progression with each passing day. We each have expectations and preconceived notions of the world, and these facets of understanding govern much of our lives. Of course, there are six billion hopes and dreams to compete with, and along the way many of them cancel each other out. Everything we do is accepting a part of our role in chance, and for every gain there is a loss, for every loss, a gain.
I still lose sleep over "what's next," but the less I let it bother me, the more I can sit back and watch the present moment unfold on its own. After all, the only person who sees my reality, hears my thoughts, and feels my energy is me. The only provider of sustaining judgment is I. Everyone sees the world differently. Beneath our perceptions though, there is something more – it moves, it breathes, and transcends our existence. But I digress.
Let chance happen. Let ambiguity take hold of you. Change your plans, walk new roads, think new thoughts, break free of your cycle, and make a new one. Find yourself; find meaning in the process. Ask questions and listen to the world. Be in the world. Remove your attachment to it and let it fill the space for you, be confident in solitude and embrace the possibility of chance. You might just start to see the world in a whole new light… or, you might be stuck fiddling with your ear-buds, wishing you had a jacket, and spacing out at a muffin stain on the table while trying to write a column that no one will read.
Repossessed Dave & Buster's mug within reach, second dose of freshly extracted caffeine bouncing through my nervous system; I'm in the immutable middle ground of busyness and emptiness. I'm task-less and relaxed; pondering and people-watching. The walls and surfaces display a menagerie of colors, textures, stains and marks which only add to the quixotic ambiance of my surroundings. Pencil shavings, cherry grain, coffee rings, the smell of leather and toasted walnuts, and what looks like the sticky fingerprint of an abandoned morning-glory muffin-bottom fill my perspective. The crowd is building and the man sitting next to me is talking to himself in gibberish with a pinch of unprovoked laughter. This is one of my favorite places in town, but with the growing dissonance in my ears I can think of a few other places I'd rather be. It's surprisingly cold outside and I'm without a jacket. Provided I maintain the presence of an aimless, jacketless man, I have no place to be but warm and buzzed in my finely upholstered highchair, checking out the barista and contemplating my life.
I didn't come here to write, I came here to sip coffee and read the Avadhuta Gita – the enlightened song of Dattatreya (look him up). Somewhere along my path of accepting the transcendental non-duality of existence, my pocket vibrated; freaked me out a bit. Up to that point I had been engrossed in that book. Realizing it was not my consciousness extinguishing attachment to the tangible self, I picked up my phone and replied "why not?" to a request for this column. This leaves us both in the same place – 362 words into the smattering of my internal dialogue, wondering the exact same thing – "where's he going with this?"
Maybe it's my resurgence of interest in Eastern philosophy, maybe it's the fact that my college-bound self has yet to acclimate to my academic surroundings, but more and more of me is caring less and less. It's not a state of catharsis, but a quiet acceptance of chaos. At least that's how it feels this afternoon.
I've made some serious decisions in my life in the past week, decisions that will undoubtedly shape the remainder of my time at Keene. Things have been dreadfully slow at times and uncannily busy at others, but most evident has been the rediscovery of the creative undercurrent in my brain. I feel like a new person, and I'm terribly unfamiliar with this new me. I've had more outbursts of thought and reckless anxiety than I can recall in my adult life.
This seems to happen every fall semester. Keene erupts with new life, the nights become longer, and traffic builds on an exponential scale. New and old faces fill once-empty corridors and classrooms while the city and my psyche undergo fantastic transformation. These emotions resonate with seniors everywhere; after three years, the thrill of a beloved college town can fade with potentially trying times glittering on the horizon. It has for me, but I'm OK with it.
Serendipity, in all of her wisdom (and hotness, if you're thinking of Selma Hayek's character from "Dogma") has bestowed me with some curve-balls during my college years. The burden of transcribing a life into memories becomes harder with age, but it's also an incredible gift. With an increase of chances taken in my life, I've only found an equivalent trend in understanding.
READER'S NOTE: I acknowledge that by taking the column in this direction, I come off as a self-absorbed, semi-delusional, navel-gazing hipster to about 90 percent of the readership, and there's little we can do about it; you wanted a column, you get one.
You can laugh, but life is chaos. We all have limited control in our realities, and most of it is an illusion. Not an illusion in the sense that it's not there, but in that we only barely comprehend the complex system of control we're engaged in. Our understanding of everyday life is a sliver of the whole picture, limited by our culture, our age, our upbringings, our location; our path in life. The progression of existence is eternal and self-sustained but our choices in life factor into its progression with each passing day. We each have expectations and preconceived notions of the world, and these facets of understanding govern much of our lives. Of course, there are six billion hopes and dreams to compete with, and along the way many of them cancel each other out. Everything we do is accepting a part of our role in chance, and for every gain there is a loss, for every loss, a gain.
I still lose sleep over "what's next," but the less I let it bother me, the more I can sit back and watch the present moment unfold on its own. After all, the only person who sees my reality, hears my thoughts, and feels my energy is me. The only provider of sustaining judgment is I. Everyone sees the world differently. Beneath our perceptions though, there is something more – it moves, it breathes, and transcends our existence. But I digress.
Let chance happen. Let ambiguity take hold of you. Change your plans, walk new roads, think new thoughts, break free of your cycle, and make a new one. Find yourself; find meaning in the process. Ask questions and listen to the world. Be in the world. Remove your attachment to it and let it fill the space for you, be confident in solitude and embrace the possibility of chance. You might just start to see the world in a whole new light… or, you might be stuck fiddling with your ear-buds, wishing you had a jacket, and spacing out at a muffin stain on the table while trying to write a column that no one will read.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Icy drops
Hear the cascades
Feel the damp air
Smell the absence of warmth
And the lull of autumn
As the fiery tendrils ignite
As the ether pulls and sways with color
As seasons change
And souls are found.
Be with the numbness
Absorb and amplify the sound
Tangle thoughts betwixt stillness and sleep
And release your mind
As the seeking spirits wander
As the solitude of company steps forth
As the faces of loved ones dance
And the room swells with life.
Strike a chord
Strum a wooden match
Simmer in waves of fidelity and memory
And be glad
As the leaf was one living
As the leaf now sings in freedom from substance
As its channels burst forth with color
And our eyes are but one of the mind's raconteurs
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Absorbing light.
Shades of color steep in the hot summer atmosphere
Like a menagerie of wheeled tea-leaves...
They float, as rays bounce beneath their chassis.
I can only suppose they feel safe from
Thick, invisible clouds
With their radios on;
Their electronic tumors blasting crackled voices into their brains...
A start, a stutter; a race has started.
Their eyes do not see me.
Their thoughts will not perceive me.
United in their motion,
Separated by their destination.
The spectrum cast upon my eyes shuffles them
Between panes of glass,
Moist air
and the Ether.
Ghostly, transparent shades projected
(Equally hurried yet juxtaposed)
Upon the trembling wavelengths of extending branches and paper-thin hands.
The ghosts and the tea leaves and the hands;
Seamlessly bound,
Without their knowing.
Like a menagerie of wheeled tea-leaves...
They float, as rays bounce beneath their chassis.
I can only suppose they feel safe from
Thick, invisible clouds
With their radios on;
Their electronic tumors blasting crackled voices into their brains...
A start, a stutter; a race has started.
Their eyes do not see me.
Their thoughts will not perceive me.
United in their motion,
Separated by their destination.
The spectrum cast upon my eyes shuffles them
Between panes of glass,
Moist air
and the Ether.
Ghostly, transparent shades projected
(Equally hurried yet juxtaposed)
Upon the trembling wavelengths of extending branches and paper-thin hands.
The ghosts and the tea leaves and the hands;
Seamlessly bound,
Without their knowing.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Last Column Ever. Kind of.
For reasons that I don't care to go into at the moment, I quit the college newspaper (The Equinox) early this winter. I remained friends with my editor, who begged me all semester long to come back. Regrettably, I was too stubborn (and busy) to do so, but for the last week (which no one would likely read) I decided to make one last appearance: enjoy.
_________________________________________________
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything worth reading, this I know. My name has not seen print since early this winter and as far as The Equinox and my limited readership was concerned, I had dropped off the map; vanished; died of unknown causes. While spending a semester of soul searching, the last thing I cared about was contributing to a school newspaper. For this, I apologize.
_________________________________________________
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything worth reading, this I know. My name has not seen print since early this winter and as far as The Equinox and my limited readership was concerned, I had dropped off the map; vanished; died of unknown causes. While spending a semester of soul searching, the last thing I cared about was contributing to a school newspaper. For this, I apologize.
Now, on the eve of another semester, my focus has shifted from the chaos of daily routines to the realization that in less than a year I will be on the street, searching and waiting for the next chapter of my life. There soon may come a time where I am not so privileged as to rant on paper and have the guarantee that it will at least be printed. So for one last time, with the help of the fine staff at The Equinox, I request an opportunity to rise from the grave and give my column the eulogy it deserves. I can think of no better way to do this than to rant about seemingly arbitrary ideals and the magnificence of existence. Sorry folks, but it’s the only way I know how to go…
Reflection #1: Learn to shut your mouth.
There’s no better way to learn about a person than to sit down and snap your trap shut. Open your ears for once; be focused and respectful, there is a lot to be valued in silent awareness. An old proverb says “He who talks most knows the least,” and in general, this is why so many people find me to be an imbecile. When our mouths are open, our perception is closed. Learning to stay silent, to become better listeners and to contemplate things more deeply is a life-long goal to strive for, and if you’re willing to bite the bullet, well worth the effort. In the famous words of Winston Churchill, “Eating words has never given me indigestion.” Just because your words aren’t heard doesn’t mean your values don’t exist.
Reflection #2: Never deny the power of love and understanding.
Sure, the world is chaos – wars are fought, lives are lost, seasons reach their finales and none of it seems to make any sense; life is overwhelming and often unfair. But compassion for another human being is one of the most powerful experiences to behold in the human condition, and it can fix a lot. This doesn’t mean finding your “perfect match” or becoming obsessed with roses and butterflies and corporate holidays. You are free to pursue a love-life (or lack thereof) to whatever extent you feel is necessary, but in the process don’t be afraid to show love and admiration for those who are important in your life. Instead of putting time and dedication into your Farmville crops, take time to realize the potential in all human beings to grow – there are a lot of ignorant things people do, but only love can conquer the worst of our habits.
Reflection #3: Our perception is limited to ourselves: make the best of it.
The world you see around you, the complex symbol structures that have risen from society, and how you understand it all is contained entirely within your brain and shared from person to person. To paraphrase Chuck Palahniuk, everything you are is composed of everything you have ever done and everyone you have ever met. What does this mean to me? Perhaps, that there is no such thing as an objective reality. Science majors out there please don’t take this personally, but even science is a symbol system that we made up. Even if it’s the best method we’ve got, it’s just another product of society. As much as our current view of the world has likely helped us progress, it has just as likely limited us in ways we can’t yet imagine. Hindsight is always 20/20.
Free your mind, don’t sweat the small stuff, take a deep breath, and don’t be afraid to marvel at the beauty of existence. In the wise words of Lao Tzu, “Ever desireless, one can see the mystery. Ever desiring, one sees the manifestations.”
Reflection #4: Never believe anything you’ve ever read.
That includes this column.
(As an addendum to reflection #4, lists are bullshit)
Peace,
Kevin M.
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