Showing posts with label Justice?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Justice?. Show all posts

Monday, July 24, 2017

Life hacks

I have no idea what to tell you. I can tell you what I know from personal experience, which I'm afraid doesn't count as a universal rule. Bet let me compile a list anyway.

  • I don't think this level if existence is fair. I mean, how can anyone talk about fairness when there are kids with cancer, or leukemia? How is that in any way fair?
  • I don't know if there is any kind of higher order or justice. Judging by the fact politicians who destroy the lives of millions live just fine and thrive, there is no justice, human or otherwise.
  • Good deeds are not rewarded and bad deeds aren't punished. Just look around you.
  • Nothing happens for a purpose, or if it does, don't delude yourself that you know what that purpose is.
  • People are greedy, lazy and hate responsibility. Although they can do the greatest good, more often than not they'll choose to crawl in the mud and fling shit at each other. It's easier.
  • Love can't save you, because it isn't love unless you know yourself first. Knowing yourself is a life-long pursuit and not for the faint of heart.
  • Understanding doesn't exist. You can't understand others when every person grew up in a different way, trapped in their bodies and their senses, with so many different traumas, prejudices and cultural and religious norms clouding their judgement. Compassion, on the other hand, does exist.
  • Death isn't the answer the same way life isn't the answer.
  • I don't think anything we do makes the slightest difference on a greater scale. I mean, we count less than an amoeba's fart on the grand scheme of things, and I doubt there's a grand scheme of things to begin with.
  • Art matters only if viewed from within the human experience. For another species, our art probably means nothing.
  • Life is probably completely meaningless. What you do, or don't do, changes nothing on a large scale. I don't know if it's always been like this or something sealed this world in a bubble outside the reach of what I understand as divine. But that's how it is.

Okay then. If you take all these things out of the equation, what are we left with?

We're left with each other. And we are left with ourselves. 

My opinion? There is absolutely nothing I can do except keep on trying, because effort is what makes you build character. By character I mean what the Victorians meant. Honesty, self-discipline, commitment, and conviction. Character is in turn what makes one accept whatever life throws at them with a modicum of grace and dignity. And that's about the only power I have in my possession. That, and the ability to make the lives of the ones I love a little better by being in it.

That's my take on it, and it helps me sleep better at night. Take it or leave it. I can only talk about myself anyway. I am trapped in me. I'm sure you understand.

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Forgiveness


Twice in the last week I've had to deal with the matter of forgiveness. I thought I was dealing with it. In reality it seems I had just pushed the anger and hurt away, at the back of my mind.

The first person I have to forgive is my father. I am working on it. It's next to impossible because forgiveness is a very special animal. It's easy to forgive when the damage inflicted to you by a person is minimal, or you have found a solution and it does not affect you anymore. But when the damage done has shaped your life to what it is now, and the past choices of that person still echo in your present situation ten years after his death, then... then you want to take the ossuary with his bones, fill it with kerosene and light it up. You are sure it will make an excellent fire, and that's the only kind of gesture that reflects your true feelings for him. 

There are those who say that once a person is dead, we should forgive them and move on. I consider that a grave oversimplification. So because they're dead, that means they didn't screw you over royally when they were alive? Hitler is dead too. Should everyone just forgive him because he's dead? That's the weird trip you get into with forgiveness. You can't forgive them when they've wronged you, when their decisions destroyed parts of your evolution and potential. They can't be absolved just because they are gone. The consequences of their actions are still part of your life, so forgive them how? And that's the paradox, because that is the exact case that forgiveness is needed.

If the person you need to forgive hasn't wronged you or hurt you, then you don't need to forgive them. You simply need to get over your ego. Forgiveness is needed when that person has left scars so deep that shaped your whole life. It's required when the damage done to you can't be undone, when their decisions have affected you deeply and profoundly and stolen from you your most valuable possessions; time and compassion. The one is the currency of life, the other is the currency of humanity.

If my father had been less of an asshole, my life would have been very different. He, too, would probably still be alive. I wouldn't have lost 14 years of my life trapped in a job I hated, without getting any stamps. I wouldn't have been forced to return from UK; I would have been able to get an MA and would have been working for the past 15 years in a job that would have paid me and given me social security. I would not have to deal with his sister taking me to court because she wants to appropriate more of his possessions. Perhaps I'd even have a companion. When your life has stability and security job-wise, it's not a giant leap to find someone. Right now I am where I am, doing what I am doing, and know that this man is more than 50% responsible for these things. I have a mother who's alone and slowly getting older and can't deal with everyday life, no job, no MA, no relationship, no previous job experience... The list goes on. I got social security for the first time this year. I am 39. And he has the nerve to ask for forgiveness when he has destroyed me, he has the nerve to think he can be forgiven when he ruined my life. Just because he died. So a bonfire with his bones seems an excellent idea. Right?

The problem with forgiveness is that it takes a leap of faith, a gigantic motherfucker of a leap of faith. You need to forgive someone exactly because they did those things to you. You need to say, "I will deal with this mess and I will do it on my own terms". Because this is how you take the power back in your hands. As soon as you decide there is something you can do instead of being angry and accusing the other person of how they destroyed your life, you stop being a victim of that person or situation. From a "waaah waaah oh poor me" mess, you become the "come any closer and you'll see if this bitch has any fighting left in her" kind of person. Because truth is, that bitch (me) has a lot of fighting left in her. But she should do something better with that fighting spirit than bash the head of a person who's dead. 

I am trying very hard. Trying to let go while what I want to do is somehow get hold of him and yell at him, stomp him to the ground. Trying to forgive when I see children with fathers who are there for them, who care, who help, who try to understand. I stare at those fathers, with their failings and mistakes and good intentions and wonder what planet was my father from. I wonder for the umpteenth time why, as I wrote in my previous poem, "I was raised by wolves". Why there wasn't a single safe adult in the family I grew up. And what the fuck it is that I'm doing here. 

And now I have to forgive him. How the fuck am I supposed to do that? 

I am just so tired. But I need to keep going. There is no time to lose. There just isn't any time for self-pity. I need to stop being a victim. And the only way one can stop being a victim is, curiously, by faith, and by letting go.

The lyrics of the very beautiful song are here: 

Chelsea Wolfe- Sick


This suffering brings me closer to you
and time is broken and moves slow
your pure heart, your white light
I should be put to death for ever being cruel to you
you washed me clean like no one ever could
come closer now and step right into
the wide mouth, the sharp teeth of the one you love
I'm not the kind of sick that you can fix
don't you worry about me baby
I've got no enemies and I've got no time
the song, we carry on
even though you pushed us down
we carry on
when you try to blind my eyes I can see tenfold
It's nothing that my heart can't take, 'cause your hate has made me strong
and stronger men than you have tried to break me
stronger men than you have tried to break me
leaning toward the golden days
forget about the older days
and everything we left behind
to stand here in another life
we carry on, even though you held us down
we carry on, with the song
we carry on, even though you pushed us down
we carry on
 

Monday, June 13, 2016

Burning down the Heavens II


I had a very long conversation with my best friend today. He's psychic, a holistic therapist and a specialist on behavioural disorders. He's also a quiet person with the patience of a saint. We are lucky to have known each other for more than 23 years, and he's one of the reasons I am still alive and relatively sane. 

Now, my friend and I share a lot, although we're also different. But one of the nicest things we can do together is divination. Why? Because our minds work in a similar way, we use similar methods and more than anything, we share the same core of information. When we close our eyes and connect with something, we connect with the same source. We share the same myths of creation, the same understanding. One could say, we're cut from the same cloth. Countless times his dreams and divinations and poems have verified my dreams and divinations and writings. Maybe the reason we love each other so much is sharing the same madness, each verifying the other's delusions, each embracing the other's illogical point of view. Maybe we're both sad fools than need each other's comfort to feel life is worth living. But it goes a lot deeper than that, and it's so accurate that it would have been scary if it wasn't exhilarating.

In my dreams I find answers that solve knots in your waking life. With your constant questions I discover the joy of giving you the right answer. And when I miss a piece of the puzzle or need help, you reach deep and provide me with it, because you can. You can do so many things, and through your constant feedback I discovered I too can. I can do countless things because you've showed me how, and in some cases because you've reminded me that I can. I can understand and heal and forgive and give advice and grow a thick skin, and know when to keep my silence. I can give you pieces of myths before any myth was created, because you too can take sneak peeks at the time Creation was still timeless. I can connect with the Heart without batting an eyelid, in the same way you can download answers without any instrument of divination. I can evolve and become a different person and ignore all odds, because the only real superpower we possess is the power of change. I choose to become what I want and not what my past dictated; you chose to overcome the past and ignore all odds and be who you are. And look at us now.

As the path becomes clearer by the day, and the stress is replaced by quiet inside, I look at the night sky and smile. The stars are always above, watching us both, and you and I know so many things no-one else does. We know what exists in no book, internet site or newsflash. We're the lunatic chroniclers of a world drowning in pain, blood and greed, and we can still discover pieces of ancient magic in the smallest thing. We rekindle that magic with our breaths and our fingers, our poems and writings, our dumb jokes, our friendships, our four hour long phone-calls, our odd conversations. We fight the good battle, the best fucking battle; the lost battle of idealists in a world brimming with mental cancer, violence and injustice. People can die but ideas are hard motherfuckers, the stuff from which not legends, but myths of Creation were made. We carry the banners of ideals in the battlefield of everyday life, through rivers of sorrow and disappointment. We don't carry them only when it is convenient. We keep carrying them even when our knees tremble and our backs bleed from being constantly stabbed and each breath is torture, when reality spits us in the face, when friends and lovers betray us for those very ideals, when death takes from us what little life has left us with. We carry them through madness and loneliness and we carry them through deserts and mountains. I only have one wish; that when my time comes, I'll be buried wrapped in those glorious banners. May the Heart make it so.

We know so much, you and I. And we'll burn down the Heavens. We'll bring down immortals and open holes in the fabric of this sad, rigged reality to let the Light shine through. There is nothing we can't do, nothing we can't face. We've proved it a thousand times and we'll do it a thousand more if we have to. There is nothing else to do, no other way. We'll pull through, move on, get it done.

I love you. Sleep tight. Tomorrow is another day, another struggle, but for now, sleep tight.
May the three Ladies watch over you. I'll make sure they will.
Goodnight.


Friday, April 01, 2016

Memory

 
I haven't gone anywhere near Dir en Grey for two years now, maybe more. When I do, I remember you are gone and get depressed.

We amass knowledge and experience during our lives. Look at you. You played a mean piano, ghost-composed or contributed to the songs of countless bands I listen to, supported noble causes in so many ways, and now you are gone. All you got was 37 years of life. Your creations are still alive, yet your knowledge and talent are gone forever. The languages you spoke, the music you made, the foods you cooked, the way you made love, gone with you. There is a hole where you used to be and it can't be filled. 

I keep losing people I considered friends, either because they die, prove themselves superb assholes or just follow different ways. Every year that passes finds me with a smaller circle of friends. But if I want to be 100% honest, no-one can replace you and no-one will replace you. Some people are one in a million or perhaps one in a billion. What do I know? I don't know. You were one in a billion for me.

Lately mortality is a weight that pulls me down, it chokes me like an anchor hanging from my neck. I do the best I can, I say to myself. I do the best I can for reasons unknown. I don't know why I go on. I just do. Even when everything seems completely pointless, even though I know the knowledge and experience I amass and the effort I've put in bettering myself will be gone with me, I bite the bullet and push on. What will change if I give up? You never gave up. I won't give up either. I'll keep pushing, if only to make those who hate me cringe their teeth. I push on just to rain on their parade. One of the best reasons I had ever read was this, by the gracious Steven Barns:

"I had a student ask why, if nothing ultimately matters, we should care about anything at all. Well, that’s why no world religion will take you all the way to clarity: there’s no social benefit. However, encoded within each major religion seems to be a hidden path to dis-assembling the ego walls without turning you into a bum, madman, or wandering Saint. It seems to be the inculcation of core values at a young age, such that the residual ego shell still functions appropriately even after you’ve shed the illusions. It’s tricky stuff.

My guess is that the gate of Adulthood—responsibility for the core values held by the culture (my version of this is body-mind-spirit) MUST be passed before deeper, more secret teachings are offered. Most will try to go straight for the goodies. But religions are what Buddhism refers to as the “large boat” while direct experience of the divine is the “small boat”, not for everyone. I don’t recommend it. I just speak about it because, as I realized yesterday, this blog is my version of Literary Autolysis.

But more directly, try this: a baseball game doesn’t “matter”. But if you decide to play, you learn the rules and play hard, to the best of your ability. If you don’t want to play, you lose the right to complain about the results you get in this world.

The challenge is to be “in the world, but not of the world.” To play hard, to learn the rules, to clarify our understandings, and then to move on.

To say “it doesn’t matter” falls right back into dualistic thinking, and logic breaks down a bit. “It matters/it doesn’t matter.” They don’t exist separate from perception.

If you can’t play hard, work hard, care for your family, engage with your community, preserve your body, provide goods and services, and grasp the fact that we can know NOTHING other than the “I am”—then please, please, please don’t try this. Don’t use “nothing matters” as an excuse to ignore your worldly affairs.

Remember the chakras? Master the lower ones BEFORE you get to spirit. Otherwise, I promise you, rather than clarity, you will be lost in illusion, and feeling holy about it. Obese, broke, and lonely…and feeling smugly superior to all us idiots who act as if the world is real. And then secretly weeping at night, confused as hell: with all this wisdom, why am I so miserable?

Trust me: you don’t want to go down that road."

Perfectly put. Thank you, Mr. Barns. Taken from here:  

And one more Dir en Grey song, because it soothes my soul... Like you did.

 

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Burning down the Heavens




Life is degrees of hard and absurd. Maybe it’s the planets. I can rephrase a famous poet’s last words and say I had a lover’s quarrel with God, not the world. 

These aren’t good days. These are days to stay indoors and avoid all electrical appliances. Psst. Wear a helmet too, just to be sure.

Life is also degrees of unfair, and the only actual source of solace and comfort are friends. You can pray all you want, light all the candles that you want, but there will be no answer. Or maybe I am persona non-grata, and the rest of you are fine with the Almighty Asshole, so don’t listen to me. Pray on. See if He gives a fuck.

I scratch my head as I am considering ways of burning down the heavens. So far I’ve disregarded three plans and I am looking for possible flaws in a fourth.

I am also considering having more tattoos and blowing my brains out, but those are just silly thoughts, the exasperation of the slave that has been a punching bag, a toilet girl, and ashtray and a mule for her entire life. Oh, did I mention free therapist/ healer as well? Write that down under everything else. Now look at the title, it has my name, my photo, and the 'mysterious' inscription ‘idiot-sucker-moron’ next to it. In impressive big red letters. With the additional information/clarification “desperate to please” noted just under that. What a CV.

I valiantly offer my middle finger and piss on the shadow of every power hungry pantheon of the planet. I am so sick of you, you fucking pushers, pimps and bullies of human despair. I shit on you. I defy you. I deny you. I’ll make you pay, Spider Jerusalem style. I swear I will, even if it takes away everything I have. I haven’t got much left to begin with, since you took it all away. Sanity isn’t compatible with the kind of life I am left with.

I refuse to live here. I want to pack my stuff and leave, go away to some plane that isn’t governed by deities with a small dick and a big opinion on themselves and their equally small-minded Renfield-like followers. Those sad idiots do the dirty work for free, they are so narrow-minded and easy to control that they create a living hell in a place that was supposed to be neutral ground aspiring to heaven. And I see these humans everywhere. Everywhere. They are the threshold keepers, always knowing better and deciding whether you are to be allowed in the ‘elite’ or not. They are the priests, or the defenders of normality in various positions, telling you what is normal and what isn’t natural and God looks down upon you and will burn you for it. They are politicians, licking the asses of each other and the asses of multinational corporations and banks and stepping on the backs of everyone else. They are even the rude person who steals your place in a queue, the neighbour that minds your business instead of theirs, the parent who raised you to be unhappy for the rest of your life.

By the curses of my grandmother, I fart in their weddings and shit on their properly mowed grass. They can go suck my fuck.

I want an exploding vagina. I want big fucking guns and ammunition. I want lethal boobs. I want to rid humanity of a few dozen deities who drink the blood of the innocents and revel in our pain and entrapment. I want to squash these bloated leeches who are feasting on our dreams, our happiness and our good fortune. I want to stomp and dance on their corpses. I want to find a way to bring down the veil and release the planet of this tyranny. First and foremost I want to release myself from their tyranny. 

They say if you want something, really want something, you might get it. I won’t leave this to chance. I'll work towards it. We’ll see. You’ll see. You have been warned.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

“All those born with wings.”


It is time. Tonight.
That the wind blows like a gale, like a curse, like a threnody.
It is time.
For me to spread my wings. Ebony black, darker than the heart of darkness.
To take flight.
To roam the skies between the blind screams of the elements.
I shall land on those rooftops that despair has proclaimed her own, and her ragged flag, invisible to all eyes but my own, is dancing to each hellish gust.
I shall enter from locked windows and darkened mirrors, unseen and unheard. I shall answer your prayers. Tonight.
Feed on you.
Feed on your hearts.
Feed on the reek of your sins.
Feed.
Tonight.
Till all that is left will be something so mutilated, so torn, that won’t pass for human remains.
Till your true nature is revealed. Rotting sacks of meat. Nothing that could be called a soul residing in you.
There.
Do you see me on the floor, wiping my mouth?
Between the dark blood, and entrails, and the broken bones sticking out from torn limbs?
Do you see my knowing smile?
Do you know my name?
No?

It is time.
To enter in places where there is no hope.
To touch the brows of those dying alone.
To kiss the cheeks of children crying even in their sleep.
I’ll wipe the blood from my lips before kissing them goodnight. I shall leave no trace.
And if I cannot save them anymore I‘ll steal them from you.
I’ll whisper in their ear.
Suicide. What a tragedy.
Surely not as bad as the so-called life they had.
And my sister, the shepherd of the lost, will pick their souls from the crossroads, and embrace them like you never did.

I’ll mix poisons in boiling cauldrons and feed them to you secretly.
I’ll feed you when you think yourselves invincible. The purest milk from my breasts.
The source of feelings becoming the source of death.
Vagina transformed into a grave.
You will pay.
By the blood from your veins you will pay.
For the blood of your children that you shed with such ease you will pay.
No-one can stop me.
No-one can make me spare you.
Tonight that the wind knows no rest, I come on wings as black as the negative of matter.
Bare like the moon.
Black like my Sun.
Because you called me back.
You raised me from the river of Lethe and named me.
You gave me my wings.
You armed my hand.
You sharpened my sword with your outrageous crimes.
No land will hide you.
No god will save you.
You are mine.

“And her name was like a blackbird, like a night bird crying out in the most desolate of all deserts; the human heart.”