Presence, pretense

Last night the gang wanted to watch a movie. "It's not that late still" one voice decried. 

"Tell you what: we can go to bed now and wake up early to watch movies," I said. 

Not that I wanted to convey any wisdom, but I've always been a morning person. Oftentimes, as the day dawns, I yawn and peep through the windowpane the spectacle of morning. It's rare that I'm not up by then and watch the proverbial sunrise. 

That's how my day starts. Like a crossword puzzle solved in reverse, the world gradually emerges from the darkness it has been enshrouded since nightfall; sunlight brakes reverberating thru the foliage, and a new day takes shape. As it happens, you become aware of its layers and pigments, its cavities and dentures, all the weird dissonant accidents and imperfections life bestowed upon, largely dismissed by having been assigned a name, categorized, forgotten. How weird things would be without having someone named them? All phenomena, every insignificant bit of concentrated information captured, wondrous lands shrank down to microscopic, digitized sizes. The world of our senses is deceptive and it can very well fool us, distorting the nature of what is, has been or will be, as everything falls into one. We move lighting-fast through these experiences which amount to a fuzzy and curious molecular combo bouncing off a funky beat that beckons our existence. In this dimension we find ourselves trapped in, we're adeptly building more cells within the prison of our minds. 

I say "ours", because it's a collective mind, a gladiatorial arena of voices that resemble more a roar, and it's us in the middle of that bloodbath, centered-stage, glorified madness, lifting fists and shouting. It's our godsend right to revolt, be unruly, dethrone, fire, stir some controversy, spite others, tease girls, go out, fuck, fly, run, drink, kill, feed, rebel, morph unto another self, a brand new being born out of the chaos and perfectly aligned symmetry of things that surround us. There's really nothing out there; it's just like a mirage that your mind conceives of in order to amuse itself and shake the firewall of reasoning just to show off who's really in charge. It's scary if you study closely how your mind tends to deceive you in order to get served, how a distorted and wicked version of yourself behind the curtains of your mind is really in control. Gradually, you'll just have to wage an all-out assault on that animal dwelling within, it may seem larger and stronger than it actually is because your mind fears it that way. But you can make progress in small ways everyday, own every corner of your soul and tame the factions that defy your rule. Harbor no thought without a constructive purpose! 

And it's us, in the middle of all that has been made possible and all the impossible things that will come. It's fear all over again, stagnation and laziness; and procrastinating, once more; and being indecisive, again.  

As you fully awake to a new day that has just unraveled before your very eyes, sun rays light up the sky, ridding the night of its encumbered specters, like hands that go and unearth thighs buried beneath castles of sand on a beach that is now only a fading, light-years away memory. What to do with the memories as to what the future holds? Let's reminisce on things to come, I once said. Around the same time, if not since a lot longer than then, I began to visualize the energy that I invest into everything that my mind puts to motion (actions). I pace myself and see the one I am becoming, how time slows down in my being and how external forces do not have the same tenacity and incite the same carnage as it once did. It's how I manage anxiety. It's how time comes to a standstill. It's how I age gracefully, and how I approach everything that crosses my path. Layer upon layer of experience, I fill with joy, purpose, leisure, set in motion. The animated connections in the mind all echo back to the core, I scream out loud from within, so that no one can hear me, splashed all over these words, massacring an honorable silence, bred in secrecy, forged in loyalty: "Presence. Pretense." 

Life In Process

Writing is a process. It shouldn't take forever but it can't be taken for granted either. Unsung words, hidden plots, shifty characters, do not come to mind in a whole, no-can-do, no can food.

Things evolve overtime, at least if they're to adapt and survive... gradually they take shape, as some succumb to procrastination or boredom, once passion walks out the door, indolence sets in.

Just as you'd normally shine your shoes, make sure the shirt looks spotless, wear something new every other day... yeah vanity in this time and age fulfills (our drive to find meaning and thereof) a purpose. 

Then there are spiritual components, undoubtedly necessary to throw in the mix. Some of us, men in particular, have a resistance to words like "spirituality". They sound too "feminine" to our taste, as if it'd reveal a dark secret, somehow signaling that we're not man enough. It's our greatest weakness. We must never ask for help. But no one said anything against finding answers without asking for help. Asking for help and helping yourself sometimes are synonymous and you can have your cake and eat it. The minute you assume that your impenetrability is rooted in your ego and that you have a saying into how much do you want to invest on this fallacy, say, by not giving in and giving in... you'll be doing your heart a favor. Be glad you're capable of bowing down from an unmerited fight. Avoid toxicity in others like a bull fighter, not by running from it but by moving aside with poise and grace. To assume that we need to always be in control when, in fact, we're rarely so, is madness. Ironically, you gain back some control by realizing what isn't within yours, and working instead on a prison break plan. You'll need discipline, ferocity, patience and, above all, vision, if you are to move ahead amidst stagnation and indecision. Who you are is determined by your habituated rituals, your self is nothing more than a collection of selves you have picked up along the way, like curious objects that called your attention. Some of these habits have been poorly adopted, perhaps modeled after shady impersonators. We have to weed them out; you can only root out evil (no theosophy) by implementing and fomenting the good. Let's face it: it's not an easy task. Nothing is given us; we must earn it and sometimes even take it. But it boils down to how much you really want it and what are you willing to sacrifice in order to get it.
We're mostly driven, more often than not primitive, unruly creatures. That primal beast that lurks within shuns all logic. We're dethroned conquerors, fallen warriors. And I'm in an awkward position to argue since I gotta play the role of a good host.
These interior rebellions dwell underneath the surface, ready to sink deep and drown but not before entangling and bringing you down. You can peddle towards the isles of your mind but don't lose sight of the currents and winds that await. In pushing yourself through the misty turbulence, light will break, the perennial eye of the hurricane. Deal with whatever it is you design inside, question your mission often so that you don't find yourself lost in a foreign land, at the mercy of others' whims and detached from all the meaningful paths unfolded. Anywhere you look, there's an imaginary door you can open and go through... you'll find the other side not nearly as terrifying as initially conceived.
Be mindful: shit is never the same. It's may still be "shit", but never the same. If you can grasp the following adage, then you can get a sense of what it is: Nothing is as it was, as nothing is as is; all that is, all that was and all that will be, converge into a streamline, a singularity.

We have to sometimes realize that the battles we forge against ourselves, that greatest inner enemy, may be won one at a time, some will be lost but the war will never be over. And you can't offer a truce or be the first to show a white flag; show no mercy, march forward, dispose of anything that stands in the way of your goals. 

Appearing strong may convey confidence and to some extent you don't want to look too soft or readily available, but too much of a good thing can be bad. Appearances lie and those who are skillful in detecting deception or, as we call it, BS, will spot it dead on and make you pay for it instantly with indifference, politely excusing themselves out of the way. Appearing strong isn't the same as being bold. You can look one way and feel another; you aren't one. If the most trivial thing can get to you, what is to be expected if a real catastrophe were to take place? 

Oftentimes you'll see that many unfortunate outcomes materialize once we have feared them in our imagination. It's the closest you'll ever get to seeing the foreseeable future, pay close attention to the state of mind you're currently immersed in, here and now, and realize that the way you respond to the world around you echoes back to the most inner core of your being. It means, the situations that unfold in your next moments are directly linked to your current state of mind. Wholeness glues back together all the missing parts that you thought were out there.
"It's not as difficult to modify his nutritional habits" I tell her. "He doesn't govern himself and his taste for bad food will be matched by his hunger and the realization that there's nothing more than a nutritious equivalent to all the sugars, starches and processed foods he's used to."

Taking aim at our present focus can manifest our destiny, satisfy that unquenchable thirst for purpose that haunts and nags at our doorstep. As an urge, feel the selfish self thriving constantly, to be ever-so in the now, evolving, transcending ourselves. Explores in the outer spheres of our galaxy, alien fire stumbling through space like meteors in the vast emptiness of the universe. You can almost see the unraveling cocoon that slowly mutates into a higher consciousness, a far more evolved being, bit by bit, nabbing one piece at a time, thread by thread, drop by drop. A moment that follows another immediate passive present that has come to pass, and you'll can feel the pulse and rhythm of the world that surrounds you. It comes alive, one instance and unto the next adventure.  

There are things that are irrevocably damaged in life, and then there're things that can be improved. And still, things that are constantly so, blink by blink, your eyes open to a surreal and yet familiar reality made possible by lacing up the invisible knots of each now. 

Then there are the difficult things we all want to avoid in life. Cowards hide behind procrastination and laziness; courageous souls strive and revolt. You can't run away from your problems but you may walk with them. You have to deal with it like you would with a hostage situation. You can't run from it; you have to stay and work with it. You meet the captor half way, all the way, anyway you want but first understand what's the driving force behind his demands. Try to find out as much as you can, the terms of surrender, how many people, what they need to get by, and see through that the hostages are safely returned to their loved ones. You may be deceptive and if you have a chance to take out the bad guy, you do so without the slightest shred of remorse. The same goes for the ego. You can squash this bug. You can reach out and be more patience, alert, gentle... be more present. That's what spirituality is all about.