Saturday, October 22, 2011

Fingers on the keyboard, fire under my pants

I see my fingers on the keyboard… And it looks both comforting and promising.

Q: How do you know a past life in regard to Japan is resurfacing?
A: I try to read a simple text in Japanese and get a motherfucker of a headache. Like the hunchback of Notre Dame is playing drums on my skull with many ample-sized elaborate hammers, or someone has strapped a length of leather around my temples and is squeezing slowly to check my cranium collapsing point. Nice! I also get restless, fidgety, depressive and distracted. It’s the perfect conditions for studying hard.

(Right now the only hard thing I want to bother myself with, in the sense of scrutinizing and studying, is hard candy. Or that other, occasionally hard, interesting thing. End of period, beginning of ovulation. Armies of nekkid elves and imprisoned J-rockers inside my head will be taken care of before the end of the week).

I wonder why I see such complicated dreams lately. I take no drugs save for the occasional over-indulgence in chocolate. But my dreams, oh my fucking gods. Last night I surpassed myself again. I do remember pushing a bathtub with wheels and two women inside, holding oars, towards the sea… I also remember stealing some heavy silver and gold rings from the queen of vampires, and having to carry them… And I am not sure if I really want to remember much more. It seems I am having too much fun with True Blood. And as always, I am partly aware of the reason why my dreams are so complicated. As for sharing with the rest of the world, uh-uh.

There are things that can be shared and those that cannot be shared.
I have just acquainted myself with some new pen pals I cannot write to. What the heck can I tell them? That the energy of the one of them is totally incompatible to mine? They will probably think I am nuts. I get a headache just by reading her letter; how the hell am I supposed to answer and keep regular contact? The other has just moved out of one oppressive relationship to the next one. I am supposed to keep my mouth shut. What in the blue blazes? I know I must not say a thing, but I’ll be damned if I don’t itch with desire to tell her to stop picking the wrong kind of person to get involved with. Yet I cannot do that, because if I do, I’ll get into the wrong kind of conversation with her. Which means, telling people what they need to do “for their own good”. But what people do, even if it is a poor choice and for me it’s self explanatory why, it’s still their business. Why?

*Because I was not asked for my opinion.

*Because I would be seriously enraged if someone told me what to (not) do.

*Because each has to discover the truth for themselves. Even if I tell them what they should do and why, experience cannot be communicated. Perhaps they would do what they were told, but would still be as clueless as they were before I told them. One has to experience in order to understand and some of us experience and still don’t understand.

*Because telling others “the right thing to do” is one hell of an ego trip. It makes one feel important and all knowing and useful but offers nothing to both the giver and the receiver of advice. The one that gives advice tries solving other people’s problems instead of their own, retaining the delusion that their opinion is the only “right” one. The one who receives the advice has no initiative, no responsibility (“it wasn’t my idea, they told me to do so”) and feels very comfortable doing nothing, since someone else does the thinking for them.

*Because, at the end of the day, I cannot keep a neutral perspective and not get emotionally involved in a situation that is not my problem or responsibility. And since I get involved in the wrong way it is best not to get involved at all, until I learn to keep a neutral attitude and believe, truly believe that everyone is safe no matter how poor their choices are. Even if their choices lead them to death, they are still safe. Energy is never lost, merely transmuted. They’ll be back, much like the Terminator, to try their luck again. That’s the game of life and I should bother with my cards instead of telling others how to play theirs.

Nice thoughts. But I wonder if I’ll be able to practice what I preach… :-(

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