Time and Reflection...

Time is precious, yet how we waste it--or rather misunderstand it? We are given only an allotment and than it is gone. It is the same with life; we have only one life and when it is lived, that is all--the fat lady has sung--it is over. We live life, but most often do not stop to process it, chew on it, revel in it. Instead, we are pulled and stretched to the far ends of the earth by responsibilities and obligations, but we forget to go out our back door. Where are the pauses, the spaces for reflection? If life is simply a set of things to get through--why are we here? It will be little more than an endless mass of cyclical nothingness. We must stop. We must learn not only to live, but to be. We are here not simply to experience, but to sit and stew in those experiences. We must meet with life, but than we must also stop and allow it to meet with us. Current culture does not lend itself to this mentality, but we must fight. We must fight for space, for time, for reflection--for sanity. We cannot allow modernity to rob of us our right to be...we must rebel--otherwise, what is life?

Fragility

Life is intensely fragile, temporal. We are here and then we are not--thus is the nature of life and equally so--death. We blossom and live, sometimes until the winter comes and our lives are spent, but at other times our petals close or are closed prematurely, never to open again. It is not always predictable--death. It comes unwelcome and un-looked for, yet come it shall, for us all. But, victory it does not have--that has been reclaimed. Humanity--we mere mortals--are indeed fragile, but equally so are meant for a life beyond this bounded universe. We are meant for more, and death indeed releases us to that which we were intended...the sting of death shall not endure forever.

The giving tree..

My days are done, my life is spent
And at the pearly gates I stand

Brightly shining glory surrounds
Amazing, the beauty abounds

A voice speaks out:
"Did you believe
that I loved you?"
It asks...

What shall be my answer?

Inevitable moratlity and eternity

We are mortal, we must accept this. Although, it seems we spend much of our lives avoiding this reality. We seek means by which we may escape the inevitable--pain, aging, death, etc. Yet, it is these very things which make us human. We are made like a wheel, as said Mr. Tuck--and death is a part of the wheel. However, it is the portion after that part of the wheel that baffles and even terrifies my finite mind--eternity, infinity--forever. How does one even begin to grasp such a concept? I use to lay awake at night, in my childhood, pondering this idea of eternity and was often brought to tears by the sheer overwhelming vastness that infinity imposed upon my poor finite mind. I still cannot truly comprehend such incomprehensibility, yet I know this--I am mortal, yet immortal--how then to reconcile such a paradox? Perhaps this: live, die, and find out what comes next, for to wonder will only drive us mad...we can know only so much about the next life and the rest is simply conjecture. So live, but live well.

The madness

The world is madness. School is madness. I love it, yet loath it simultaneously. I am at my best and my worst during these mad months of study and full life. How is this at all like real life? It's not, but it is. We are learning--learning to live, learning to live together, expanding our minds and growing up in the process. It is amazing to watch each other grow. It is amazing to watch yourself grow. But, oftentimes, as I grow and acquire more responsibility, I realize I am simply waiting for someone to find me out. Eventually the world will discover that I am just one big fraud. Adults, whatever that term means, feel similarly--or at least those I have discoursed with upon the subject. I have been told that this feeling of being a "fraud" lasts your whole life, we must, however, become better and more efficient at faking it. "Make it to fake it" as they say--whoever "they" are. Perhaps that is my best option--fake it. The madness will continue as life progresses and growing up cannot be stopped, and I must learn how to bear it all and somehow become an adult--no, screw it--I will grow old, but who says I have to grow up? Society--screw society and convention.

The Facade

I am exhausted. I loath the front I don depending on the situation. I hate "being that person," whoever she is, that I am required to be--or rather feel I am required to be, depending on who I am around at the time. I feel as if I am playing a part, faking a role--always. Eventually they, and I'm not sure who "they" are, but eventually "they" will find me out and realize I'm one big fake--pretending to be something I am not. Who am I really? Where is the she that is me? Is she lost amidst the various persona's which I display on a regular basis. Is she struggling from split personality disorder or lack of exposure to the sun? Who knows. Social situations call for such things--right? We prattle on with our small talk, not really concerned about the question we just posed, or the person, but rather worried about the meeting we have later that day. We smile and feign laughter, pretending to care about the story being told. I'm sorry, am I being cynical? Forgive my honesty. People do care, I care, but humanity cannot care to the extent we let on--it is too exhausting. I know it's polite to express interest in all of those with whom you interact; it's a good social skill, but it's dishonest. I cannot truly decide which is more worthwhile: feigning interest or being honest? I just know I am reaching a breaking point, and sadly I have only just begun the process required of me. It cannot be maintained. But, a compromise must be had because I cannot be a total ass to my fellow human beings, but I owe it to myself and to everyone else to be honest with myself and them--I just don't care that much--or rather, I care enough not to pretend any longer...better? No, but honest. I feel as if I try so hard to care about everyone that I end up being fake with the world. Which is better?

Expectations and attitudes

Expectations can ruin life. We enter situations with preconceived notions and understandings, only to come out disappointed, at least I do. I always have expectations--despite adamantly attempting to avoid them--and I am always disappointed. These lofty expectations, because they are always lofty, raise me up to the heights of anticipation and generally plummet me into the depths of despair, with equal weight and gravity. Accompanying these feelings of expectancy, are specific attitudes, which are directly related to the aforesaid expectations. I hate, rather I despise that I allow the delicate balance of my psyche to be determined by circumstances. It's maddening. I am not determined by my circumstances (this is self-medicated jargon). Yet, I cannot seem to escape the expectations that affect my mood, which result from my circumstances. "Life is a choice," a phrase which I have often heard quoted and misused, but it is truth. It is a choice to develop expectations, although I am beginning to disagree with this more and more based upon personality differences. But, it IS a choice how one chooses to respond to said expectations, which results in a certain attitude and outlook about life. I am not my circumstances and I CAN choose not to be controlled by them...easier said than done. Solution--don't have expectations--no. Solution--learn to react to said expectations according to reality--yes.