nope. haven't left yet. 'tis the "fertile emptiness" between the end of something and the beginning of something else. A couple of days ago I said goodbye to my friends in DC and now my body and soul is couched in all that is Jersey. the comforts of home leave me apathetic; horizons have shrunk; crispness and clarity of life now dull. my room swallows me. i know i cannot go back, nor do i really want to. neither can i go forward faster than this time that is given to me. i must be patient. listen to what this place has to teach me. know that something new will begin again.
***Check out new pics!
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1 comment:
We walk a straight line that corresponds with a linear form of
rationalization upon which the choice of our next step projects the restraint of our past. Only when we give wings to our imagination can we truly break free from haunting historical expectations of a one- way street. Disguised in the form of multiple vendors, our reason coupled with a questionable virtue we call self-preservation finds attraction on these bustling streets filled with pushers ultimately selling the common product of objective affirmation. A dead-end to subjective diligence perhaps? In part, we are but our
past and the influence of others. Alas, the rest of our existence
depends not only on circumstantial differences but follows a
heartbeat that plays coherent tunes to which transcending spirits
of sublimation and anguish make sweet love around the
distinguishable element upon which the warmth of tomorrow
shines—possibilities. The heart has its way of rejuvenating the
narrow street we tread upon so heavily with steps of the world by
the hands of constructed entropy adding vibrant value to grim
repetitions. But if the walls of linear habit and ropes of fear
tame the explosive dimension of human courage, can we ever cleanse
our static presence with art that defines the realm of ahistorcial
existence stripped away from power dynamics of an imbalanced system
of self-preservation? Without the vision and intent we cannot
crumble the walls of our dead ends and walk the streets of
affirmation transformed with welcoming pleasantries of creativity
inspired by the leap of faith concerning the desire to plunge into
the unknown realm of illogically reinforcing possibilities. A city
connected by such paths feeds its wondering inhabitants with the
courage to face one another beyond the predictable direction
leading to past mishaps. How do we intend to live in such high
times if our habits blind our recognition of self-oppressive
conditions that further burden the collective weight of hidden
apathy? Clearly, life is more than simply intentions. For what it
is the use of intentions if the way we intend to live in our
everydayness to begin with provides minimal goodwill beyond
anchoring stances of self-preservation? Is it then better to
strive with self-criticism and break from the habits of linearity
through the acknowledgment that acts of self-other deprivation
should not concur with consistency in the presentation of one’s
walks? Intending itself is an inherent malaise that should not be
distinguished from the habits of our imagination and explosions of
the heart. Sometimes, we just need to dive into the unknown
without the baggage of calculated logic based on selfhood. To give
up one’s sense of self-victimhood from linearity and breaking the
walls for others to roam is liberation manifest at the gates of generosity and non-linear self love.
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