Because of Vanity

Boxing is one-dimensional; you can only use your fists to hit your opponent and only from the waist up. No accidentally poking one of your opponent's eyes, no illegal kick when on the ground; boxing concentrates most punches on the front half of the head and the body. In mix martial arts, more forms of aggression are allowed. You can use different combat techniques in order to succeed. It's closer to how reality is. MMA is what boxing was for our predecessors. Why are champions willing to absorb such cruel amount of punishment? Not only is it fighting an opponent that has trained all his life to unseat you a daunting effort, an underdog can simply outclass and crush a champion along the way, like that champion has crushed many others before. Your number will come up. 

You'll no doubt get punched, even brought to your knees in the climb to the top. But you'll get up and put some fear in your rival, enough to make him/her desist from their goal, help them see the futility of their mission, overthrow all the kingdom that they held within of reigning over you. You will crush a dream as you succeed and are crowned and put on a pedestal, take position in your throne. Because that's what you had envisioned. That's the plan: destroy your enemy, demoralize it and dehumanize it until he or she wants to run for their life and never again have to fight you. It is why rarely an opponent who is beat, will triumph at a later time again. Usually, winners come with winner-edge mentality, and that is just a lethal among his/her skills than any other. 

It happens similarly in war. We set the rules of engagement, in our way of dealing with the enemy, there are human rights we should guarantee them but the enemy does not play by the book. They represent a brutal, sectarian vision that is enforced upon those that come across their path; women, children, men young and old, suffer under their reign. Thousands of innocents have been killed; only when a fraction of those senselessly slaughtered take place on European soil, the world takes notice. Human suffering isn't quantifiable, but it's naive to think that we haven't underestimated and undermined the consequences. Of course, we've provoked this tragedy, the Iraq invasion leftovers, toppled with the craze and awe such barbarism evokes, when Western heads began to roll, decapitations were filmed and distributed throughout the net, we were naturally appalled and infuriated. Little has been done; a lot of nothing, actually. If any high ranking officer in the army, they'll tell you that air-strikes alone will not be enough. Whatever the decision may be, taking the offense with probably mean to have soldiers on the ground, rooting these vermin out. 

Often the argument ensues over the mistake we made in Iraq. Well, this isn't like Iraq in any respect. People forget: the Iraq war was a colossal mistake, cynically manufactured and executed it by unconscionable men who took advantage of the mass anxiety terrorism at 9/11 scale would generate. People were erroneously led to believe that Iraq was to blame for 9/11 and it is easy to see where that misconstrued foundation would spell doom for eons to come. The Iraq invasion was a mistake, but the military campaign to topple Saddam Hussein was an astonishing success. 

It took the U.S. army, navy and the air forces to take on such a formidable foe, an enemy whose army rank among the top ten in the world. 

Unlike Iraq, Daesh (a more proper and insulting way of addressing ISIS) is a band of criminals that resembles more a well-administered militia than a conventional army. It is too strong for any tribal gang to confront alone but insignificant to face an army. In some instances, when softened by air-strikes, their men are known for breaking lines and running for their lives, though they've been warned deserters will face capital punishment. 

It may signal that a lot of those fighting aren't in a rush to get to Paradise. It may signal that they really aren't as fearsome as previously thought. 

The hardcore line may be too busy recovering, adapting to the constant onslaught, all the fronts that they suddenly find themselves commended to, rebuilding an infrastructure anew, retreating to harness their aim and live to fight another day, but finding no truce, no mercy, no way out but death. It may throw them into a desperate corner; if there were more sinister plans in the works, it would've been evident by now. 

When we fall asleep and aren't making sure that they have no breathing room, no space in between sentences spoken, no solace, no respite, then these creatures of darkness will crawl back to the shadowy villages from where they stemmed and torture their women and rule over their fellow men in peace, so long as they no longer pose a threat to the civilized world. Ironically, for that to happen, we can never stop working with those who gave them the power in the first place and making it better for them, polishing our image, showing that we may hold a mighty fist to exact vengeance on those who threaten us and our allies, and we can also extend a hand to those who are willing to work with us. It's either be with us or not. 

We can't lower our standards, stoop to their level, it's reasoned. It's noble, to us; but they can't afford to play nice. What may seem noble to us, it's a weakness to exploit for them. That's why they surround themselves with children and live among civilians, therefore less likely to be targeted -which we see as cowardice when they see women and children alike as inferior to men. They don't aspire to build a better society for their people, on the contrary they're on a path to destruction, annihilating any form of ideology other than theirs; they butcher innocents, rule by fear and bring misery to an already ravished land. They behead, shoot and bomb people, they incinerate captured prisoners, those who do not share their beliefs are disposed of; they threaten our very way of life. 

We can't just find and destroy "the enemy". We have to know such enemy, its strengths and weaknesses; we need to go after those that serve as bloodlines by flooding them with cash. We need to cut their resources in infrastructure and recruitment and choke the channels of communication that regenerate their capabilities and satisfy their needs. 

Bring them hell wherever they may hide, seek and take them out. They'll soon degrade in their capabilities but they'll still be a menace. We also have to confront somehow, some way, the big players that are sponsoring terrorism with oil money. All nations in the world have in the past tried and failed; but only those who failed and raise up in puny arms against a giant are not just delusional; they're not fighting to win but they can still inflict a blow or two, If you want to toy around with your prey, do so at your own peril. It is better to go in there and take them out like they would in a conventional war. That's why nations have armies, to deal with this sort of thing. A coalition of key players, along with the Muslim Nation, can rise and do away with this filth that's polluting that no man's land stretch between Syria and Iran. They're not even fighting in some key cities; their men ran scared even though they were warned there'd be consequences if they did. Like in a match, your strategy should be: take down your opponent, if possible cause enough damage so that he or she doesn't get up, knock them out. In real-time warfare, the aim is the same, to target the enemy in every way that may hurt them. To play nasty because niceness is reserved for those who surrender. People should know when they're conquered. 

The same goes for the individual, in many ways, as you can face your problems by facing your fears, by taking a shot and amassing territory. You can quietly rule over your woman. No need to make the other men do so with theirs. That's why they come to men like us. We love being in control and mighty and not all of us West thinkers give two fucks about raising hell in foreign lands if they think that they're going to intimidate us. Some of us are ballsy and we'd proudly get you in touch with your masochist side, make you feel like the underdog and sore loser that you actually aspire to. We can bring all that misery you seek after in the apocalyptic sense of the word. You harvest the seeds you plant, and such an obsolete and doomsday view of the beautiful world we inhabit, bears no ripe or edible fruit. 

Do things that in the eyes of others within yourself will make the most visible impact: health, fitness, diet, sleep, mindfulness, impeccability, plans, nowadays. 

Vanity is of the utmost importance today. 

On A Pedestal

Silence, I've never heard such a thing. Perhaps pleasant sounds, a river running untamed, birds in the deep forest, falling leaves carried off by the wind. 

It's quietude we really seek, cars hissing by, rain fallling. But never silence, unless it's the awkward kind, tension that mature lovers are unfazed by. Or the silent kind of cruel treatment, given off to signal something's amiss. It's the way some people bond. 

Silence you can hear yourself breathe. 

New Age music playing in the background, soundscapes, nature's majestic symphony, earplugs coupled with noise-reduction headphones to obliterate the loudness of sound in this sleepless town. 

It gets quiet enough that you get to hear your own thoughts. Quiet the mind, and you'll get that rare breed of silence. If momentarily only, you get hear the sound of the universe. It's the language God speaks in.  

If there's anything that the present teaches us is how wrong we were about preconceived notions in the past. 

What's next is a spinning cycle, as far as introspection woes;  in life we chase relative ghosts, rehearse tired dreamscapes, events seethe a spectral mimicry. No one wants to stop at once, just increasingly decelerate to a standstill. Extricate unquantified, egalitarian patterns in servitude of others to measure up the constant void, with vigorous, thorough action. So as to rattle the golden-ridden parasitic cage of ribs and vessels encompassing in sync an out of tune symphony. 

Lavish gifts ferment awaiting our appraisal, words of kindness screeching rodent-like sound bites. Freedom enslaves us. To be of service, as in bowing to save our head, holding a begging  bowl in the back and a smile upfront to receive the piercing dagger, come to the aid of the ungrateful. 

This world is in need of lending hands to awash the blood and sorrow. Lives of quiet desperation had at least the quiet part to contemplate. Mask the pain with colorful pallets, as it dwells inside, it dissipates...   

Let go and be inflexible. 

Keep actively and animated in the pursuit of nightmares. It takes a long walk but it doesn't move at all. It breathes the air like a mirror to your nostrils, it exhales fully back in. 

Kind of kindness no one's used to. Follow the light, my shadow. Make mistakes. Say the wrong thing. There are worlds all around us that do not venture out, fixed mental confines like walls raised all around us. 

It's been years and we still get the same childish response; the fact that we're attracted to one another is no reason to be rude. The fact that you're rude reveals this hidden pull, niceness doesn't stick as the glue of unpleasant bliss. You can't be civil and in love all at once. Revert to a childilike state, if you're in for a spanking; a lingering stare like an axe to the frozen iceberg of her proverbial heart, unsung, untamed, let this silence be the language in which we speak to one another. 

Most of our lives are lived in our minds.
We don't have to be enemies, we just can't be friends. Would that make us strangers all over again? If so, it'd be less stranger than what we are right now. We're strangers to ourselves; what is left for one another? We may unmask ourselves and hidden underneath would be another covert operation. Let's be in the unknown, not even aware of our mystery, embracing anonymity.

We can lick and makeup each other's wounds after the mating ritual. It's either love or hate, no middle ground; a double-headed serpent, pulling in different directions, feeding off the same the same appetite. Never did love proceeded falling for it, but we loved each other before falling for it. I'll dig in your mine, a precious stone. True lovers keep their mouths shut, food for this fabulous serpent tastes better that way. 

No one hunts with a full stomach. It's hunger that drives. 

When love affairs turn sour, as everything usually does, then you have to see each other for who we truly were before going blind. You shouldn't feast on what you crave. Just feed it like you would a pigeon. No se puede alimentar a un león con alpiste. 

Flirting is enticing. Just not bold enough, if done right, lock eyes with a fistful of hair fixing her skull in place. 

Luck is in knowing how to throw the icy dice, see where the annexed ego chips fall the next time around. 

We see each other every other day. I am always there. Not always seen. But it's easy to see me, and I feel like I should probably not go anywhere. I feel stuck in place, but comfortable; as if I've had grown accustomed to the agony it feels to be there, miles away, I'm a toy, we all play mind games. We all have fucked with each other mentally, somehow, some way. No need to place me on a throne, a savage by all rights, just a careless brute with a spark of wit, tall, strong, bossy. What else is there to want? You know, I'm not gonna kiss your ass.
I'll be cordial in a domestic manner, it's completely okay to just be there as if there were nowhere else in the planet where you'll like to be. I love falling in platonic love. It can be scary sometimes, but it's just fun as is. No need to drag others along into our discord and asymmetry. The way in which I deal with royalty is, bowing will save your head. If you look somewhat rugged, a bad ass... guys like me can have all sorts of adventures, so long as they happen out of that place. Accidents will always occur, but I am strong-willed. This year along, I made muscular gains, quit smoking cigarettes eight months ago, cold turkey. It's been so much easier on my wallet and my health; I gained more muscle mass, not much but yeah, it's obvious. I've stepped up my workout routines, five to seven times from a few minutes of intense lifting, push-ups or pull-ups/chin-ups, squats, dumbbells, two or three sets, 8-12 reps. It all adds up to less than forty five minutes, these mini-workouts fuel me and keep me energized throughout the day. The fact that you may choose to exercise in a minimal window of time, compensate by straining the muscle to the max, pushing yourself.

Were you curious enough to follow my writings? No way, I think you're just madly in love with me and this is never gonna happen and you know that that's the case and you rebel against this assertion of mine and we say absolutely nothing because we're all cool kids who feel nothing at all and have everything under control even if we drink a little more than our share every other day. Actually, I go stretches of not drinking, not even coffee, three days in a row. I am capable of depriving myself of anyone or anything. I've lived a rather sedentary life, with no real goal other than sporadically writing, exercising, sometimes even domestic travels. I have two beautiful baby boys, one is nine and the other is almost 3 yrs. old. If you care to know. They both live with their respective moms. I pay dearly for each one of them, handsome child support lump. I enjoy the small things in life. My life is a glorious mess. I use literature as a escape, a subterfuge, here I camp under the dark sky, only shadows thrive here. 

Dream Machinery

Courage is in the face of uncertainty.. that fear will strike a blow in our subconscious.. that we may fear what's coming next. And that, regardless of the fear, we choose to live our lives as they were, as they've been, as they'll always be. 
There's no other way of living it up this moment, leisure all over the place now that we can afford a day off, and still procrastinate some more afterwards. Nothing defeats the purpose of not aiming always for the higher ground, and not necessarily pursuing an end; we sit idly and our collective minds come up with adventures that materialize, if the effort is put in place, at the right time, under the right conditions, a bit of luck provided. 
It's what makes these terrorists so menacing: they're wrong but they're purposeful. To exemplify, I once met a man in a bar that always wore the same pair of shoes, drank one cheap pitcher of beer and went to sleep in a room with no more space than a bed. No one is likely to adopt such hermit. Yet he worked everyday, saved every dime earned and, in time, amassed a small fortune and a few years later left to his homeland to never again come back. Simple as it may seem, his actions were aimed at an endgame, and that, for him, made it all worthwhile. Terrorists dream too, not about things we dream of, but absurd fantasies of doomsday, seeing those who they most hate suffer in unimaginable ways. 
Let's put things in perspective: sad as they may be, terrorist events are desperate attempts to disrupt the lives of those they despise bitterly; it is abhorrent our way of life, to them it is appalling the freedoms we enjoy. It is an exercise in futility, the inevitable outcome of waging a war that has already been lost. The enemy does not compete; it runs, it hides, it's barbaric and should be destroyed. The way you deal in fear is by dealing them the same hand. An eye for an eye, it is not enough: we have inflicted far worse on them. And the enemy has endured far more punishment than it can deliver in a lifetime; those slates aren't even. We just see that our way of life is far more precious than theirs, and, in some ways, it is. We have a better system in place, better weapons, more fun and sense. 

The Western governments value human life, as is the case with everything political, to an extent. That's why they do not engage in indiscriminate bombings; though sometimes it's unavoidable, usually they try to minimize civilian casualties. The enemy doesn't play by these rules. So, in dealing with them, we should judge them with the same disregard. Our laws restrict us, it is as if we were fighting with one hand tied behind our back. The rules of engagement should be reserved for more fair adversaries. We shouldn't degrade ourselves, by lowering ourselves to their level; we should continue to take every precaution to avoid unnecessary loss of innocent lives, but in taking them out, in rooting them out, we cannot stop short of brutality. A barbaric force can only be defeated if similar tactics are taken. Think of the infamous worldwide leader of the Cali cartel in the 90's, Pablo Escobar: it wasn't until the Colombian people began to employ his unscrupulous methods that they eventually got him. The Spaniard conquistador Hernan Cortez landed in Mexico with just a few more than five hundred men soldiers (and one hundred sailors), but saw in the ships used to sail into the New World also the possibility that many among his men had of leaving that unknown and scary land behind, and not have to face a million Aztecs. How resolute and determined was Cortez to usurp the Aztec riches? He sank them. In battling the Aztecs, that ambition was foremost the precursor of his great success. But what also contributed to their ultimate demise was the Aztec ritual of having to capture their rivals in combat, tie them up and execute them later on at a special ceremony, where everyone in their society would finally see the fate of those who dared cross them. While that may be an allusion to a stale political process in which we find ourselves in order to deal with people, as in the case of the Spaniard conquistadors against the Aztecs, only out to kill you. See, the Spaniards did not require to extend the same courtesy. They had a take-no-hostages policy that, in the end, helped their cause and spelled the Aztecs' demise. 
Nonetheless, it's not necessary to use a cannon to kill a mosquito, as Confucius said. More than a military effort, it is first and foremost an intelligence and humanitarian effort. We can both target the enemy and come up with solutions to those in need. How these people fair out is going to determine the world our kids will inherit. Human decency doesn't grant anything less. 

A terrorist attack is a rare event; there are greater demands. But when it does happen, it spreads fear, like rabies. Let's not make things more than they need to be. Propaganda is one sure way for tyrants and corrupt politicians to implement their stark agendas. The public is emotionally engaged by the atrocity, and laws that do not take into consideration how good we've had it so far and just how lucky we are, are enacted. In Rome, because of a terrorist attack by pirates, laws were enacted that allowed safe passage for dictators, men the likes of Pompey and Julius Cesar, who would ultimately deal the final blow in cementing a legacy of warmongering and expansionism. 

These men would've never climbed through the social ranks in the hierarchy of power as absolutely and unabashedly as they did had it not be by the fear that those pirates who sacked the ancient city of Rome, sealing their fate and the fate of the empire along with them.

In France and Belgium, for example, these things are happening, and far from helping defeat their foe, it is hurting the people who want to enjoy their life, no fear for what's next. Of course, the government wrestles with keeping us safe. But our liberties shouldn't be sacrificed in the process. 

We can live in obscurity only for so long before we revert to medieval means, dark age ways, do away with all that we hold dear and make life worth: freedom of choice to be out there, happily living our lives. Sure, we can do without a few protests, and no one advocates for anarchy and debauchery, living the quiet life that better suits this period of mourning, it kind of makes sense. I, too, am sick of our lust and narcissism, but it looks better than turbans and burqas. That's freedom, too: tolerating the tastes we found most appalling of other cultures. Ridicule is psychological rape. As a society, we may not easily choose to wear a suicide vest and blow ourselves up, killing scores of innocent people in the act. But how many lives do we destroy by ostracizing an individual or a particular group of people? In fact, we're fueling those same vengeful feelings. Instead, aim at educating them otherwise; I know, it sounds like a horrendous idea, but education takes less of a considerable effort than unemployment or delinquency. It's rare to see an educated person go down that downward spiral path. 

More than a cultural event, it's a personality trait that we all share. In Muslim extremists, it is taken to its highest expression: the cult of the martyr, the scripture, mosques and spiritual leaders, media, press. We can see the influence religious groups have. Take the church, for instance; Christians, in general. In a theocracy, difference is, one religion overrules all others. In many instances, one faith trumps all others. And just in Islam, there are oh so many varieties, tribal leaders have slaughter one another throughout the ages because of obscure, ancient texts that promote genocide, infanticide, plagues, all in the name of a hypothetical being that is either too self-absorbed to see its own narcissistic spectrum or just blatant mambo jumbo. At the core of the very proverbial heart of the essence in matter of fact of the jihadist complex lies ignorance. 

Let's just say it out loud, "Our enemy is ignorance." 

Sure, we can play nice and toy around with a vicious predator, pretend it's our pet, keep it chained and hesitate to give it the final blow. That ISIS has be destroyed or incapacitated to the degree that it no longer poses a global menace, it goes without saying. But let's use some mystical antics, some religious analogies here, starting with the following: 

What if ISIS weren't the problem? What if it wasn't even one of the bigger problems? Our leaders make it seem more formidable than it is. How hard is it to find a few cowards among thousands of refugees?How cowardly of the Republican front to fear such a minor possibility. If they haven't tried anything yet, it is because they have it in store? No, actually, as soon as they can, they strike, and they take pride in their savagery. If it's up to our leaders, fearsome doctrines are upheld, we must be in a state of alert, we are at war; let's be wary of these people. It's the same rhetoric on the right.
Beware, the voices of doom. We must not lower ourselves to their standards. We must not cave in to the fear they're trying to inflict. These are the arguments we hear from the left. 
In fact, ISIS thrived in the lawlessness that followed the Iraq invasion but its seeds had long ago been sawed and sponsored in theory, backed by an abundance of riches, as only major key players can afford through anti-US propaganda, by building mosques where anti-Western semantics are the norm, in order to distract their own people as to what the cause of their misery is: their failed theocratic systems which foment ignorance and preach intolerance towards other religious minorities, instead of implementing actual social reform which would prove to be sacrilegious to even consider. ISIS wouldn't be ISIS if it weren't for all billions of dollars that big players in the Middle East put forth towards an ideology rooted in hatred, bigotry and injustice. It dictates the way of life in the Muslim world, it is their daily bread, it breeds and shelters the very notions that one day, just like that other day in Paris or that almost faded memory of 911. 


Our fears made us give in too much political sway that eventually led to the invasion of Iraq. But they also made us wary of a more effective way of dealing with its transgressions and leftovers, among those ISIS the latest. What good is it to eradicate ISIS, if the Saudis are still pumping their oil might into breeding the next generation of jihadists? The same goes for Iran. Even among themselves, Muslim nations cannot agree (Sunnis and Shiites, the two major branches of Islam, are still engaged in an age-old battle that began since the very foundation of Islam over who's cousin adviser will be the caliph). They do, however, coincide in one final delusional truth: their problem lays not in their faulty ways, but in the West. The US is the Great Satan. And so forth. 

That people should submit their will to a few fanatical spiritual leaders who will somehow deliver them in the after life. What if a week passes by and you don't get pay, you go and find out why. If they tell you that you should work for free in order to enjoy life after you die, what would you say? Yet the same principle is expected of us under some religions: don't question dogma, submit to God's will whatever that might be, and then you'll be rewarded in the afterlife. Some of us, however, can't spare that much. Consider, if only for a moment, what if this very life is all that we got? In that case, we have two choices: either get depressed or make the best of it. In that whole parallel religiosity dimension, things are governed by nonsensical plots, excessive uses of forces, in essence, fear. 

We believe because we're afraid of the consequences of the non-believer, of the nihilist, of the infidel: the wrath of God. Things had theologically simmered down from the murky biblical passages with the introduction of the New Testament. In many ways, the Old Testament has little, if anything, to do with it. Christianity isn't the faith professed in the Bible; Jesus himself was a Jew. 

After all, the adage that Exodus 21:34 asserts in the Bible, it is rebuked in the New Testament by Mathew 5:38-42. In the latter, cruelty was paid with cruelty. But we don't circumvent the law in order to bring some outlaws into justice; we don't rape rapists; we don't kill innocents just because they do not share our believe system. 

Buddhism talks of a middle path, a middle ground, neither abnegation nor indulgence, all in moderation: the middle path can be applied here. Usually, you find people on the extreme side; some people engage in workouts daily, chronicle their progress, eat, drink, live all centered around their physique routines, measured in sets and repetitions, all they talk about is how much are they benching, a fitness jargon that it is new, but you can't help learn a few gimmicks and have mixed results and adopt only what makes sense to you. A sense that can be gradually upgraded, bettered. The minute you read about the different types of bodybuilding are really out there, the more immersed you are with that which you desire to achieve, the more likely that you'll find ways to incorporate working out into your daily routine. Exercise should be like taking a shower, going to work, being in a relationship. It pays off big time. You may feel bored or uninspired at work, but you'll never have a really bad day at the gym. And how your day goes, when you're walking around in a strong and built body, then it fills you not just with confidence but the actual strength to take on anything and everything that stumbles down your path. It's a lazy thought that separates us from taking action. In taking action, we put in motion this fine machinery of dreams. Nothing looks and feels quite as good as being fit. It feels good and it looks even better knowing that such a good feeling can be translated to looks; in essence, you always look the way you feel. 
You can take a day off, a month in the summer max. Now I don't like going to the gym. I take the gym with me wherever I go. At work, I have a simple tool: a 40-pound dumbbell; at home, a pull-up/chin-up bar. At varying intervals, I run for a block or two, then slow down to almost walk; then sprint for a block if there aren't too many pedestrians, the earlier in the morning, the better, more than forty blocks before I go to work. From 86th street in Lexington to 42nd and 2nd, it usually takes me fifteen minutes or so. My point is, my life doesn't revolve around terrorism. I deal with it like everything else; I don't have time to spend more than a few minutes ushering about human injustice. 
My workout routines are not the same. If I expect results, I crack at it throughout the course of a day. At home, I do pull-up/chin-ups, three sets, ten to fifteen reps each. The key factor is to push your limits in substantial ways, to be consistent, drink plenty of water, sleep enough, eat well. Sleep, in particular; some of us don't make it a habit, the good sleeper takes just some planning and life is always so much better when you rise with the sun and go to sleep not too long after it sets. Usually by ten I am asleep, and I wake up at 5AM every morning, except on days when I'm off, I'd get up at 6AM. I'm sort of a morning person, and if I can put in a few dozen of blocks run, then I feel elated and energized to take on the world. Except, I meditate too. Meditation is the only time I spend physically inactive. I immerse into quietude, mute the world around out with earplugs, silence is the best therapy for the mind. 

It's nice to be nice, but some prefer harsher ways of dealing with them. And if some of those fellows decide that any day is a good day to go and kill some innocent civilians, then it is not up to us to concern ourselves with the potential of their innocent in turn; after all, they hide among civilians with the purpose of avoiding being taken out on an airstrike. They should not use human shields, but they do; we all heard how it was a woman who covered Osama Bin Laden before he was killed. That's just as much cowardice as the biblical Adam defending himself by pointing the finger at Eve when God finally decided to show up in the Garden after the fact. 

Quantum Mess

If I suddenly close my eyes, would you disappear? If your eyelids are shut, will I? What if you walk out of the door and not out of my life? What if you walked out of my life but still linger in my mind? How do we know when we're really apart, as we sleep, or go about our personal affairs? How long is too long apart and how much is too much together? As we lay next to each other mindlessly and absent in every other way but physically? 
Why do we cling so helplessly to that which we often disregard once it's ours? We only want what we can't have, so they say, but what we want more than that is actually having it; what we already have, sometimes it is taken for granted. That's why we're always in search of that elusive item of vanity, attending the best venues, mingling with the cool crowd. What becomes too familiar is no longer exciting, even if at one time we valued it above all else. 

What if I realize it was nothing more than an illusion? It's illusory enough to make sense of this dreamlike state of affairs our lives have succumbed to. We suffer ghosts that might materialize out of thin air and come out of the mist, but when fear does show it's face, you realize, it is nothing more than an elaborate sham, the by-product of our feverish imagination. 

The fact that we are no longer together. The fact that we're apart. It's an illusion since we're all part of the same thing and you still live and we live in the same planet. It's good that we had what we had, and in realizing that we were really never too close or too apart only helps to defeat this delusional that onsets a stream of negative currents of energy. We focus on our departed loved ones as if they were really angelical, somehow their absence makes them more divine, less bore some, more exciting when, in fact, it's our lack of resolution, our own vacuum, that sucks us in, as if melodramatically missing someone would somehow make us a more noble creature. 

Animals don't dwell in the past. Somehow they intuit that life is hard enough as it is for them to spend any energy on something that is not going back to the way it was, even if the loved one, the missed one, were to materialize out of thin air and knock at our door, as some of us have sometimes fantasized. But we're not animals. And we obey silly rituals of mourning, things and experiences affect us more deeply, therefore we enjoy things more fully. If only we were grateful, and simply let go, abandon the futile effort to restore everything to an immaculate state. We can, yes. Not to stop feeling, no. But to stop feeling so intensely, if such feeling, of course, harms us. Feel as intense as you may, so long as you're not harming anyone, especially yourself. 

But so what if we were? We miss and hurts and sucks to be without the other. And it's a face that we may not promote to the world, no one really knows how much each and everyone of us suffers, but we'll have a good laugh about each other for just how silly we can be and actually are. So, I tend to look at myself with humor, and I go about other things in my life. But at no moment, nowhere, are you far from my mind. 

The law of entanglement, I should appropriate, and not just for pseudo-scientific purposes, but also as an emotional therapy. This form of appropriation leads to a spiritual healing that may be closer to universal truths than that whole mindless notion of romantic love. In its scientific form, the law of entanglement is referred to as "Quantum Entanglement", or what others call the Law of Attraction. It simply posits that the frequency with which our own energy radiates attracts or repels similar or opposite forms of energy. For instance, we may notice how by fearing something might happen, it actually ends up happening. We may experience only that which our minds deem conceivable. We may be thinking of someone and then, suddenly, hear from that person; we may encounter that person on our way to work, or receive a text or a call from them at that very moment. We're all interconnected. Nothing is really apart; as nothing really is together. We're part of the same thing. 

Taking, for instance, "Superposition", the fact that a single particle can be at more than one space in time at any given moment. We are here and yet, we're not.

So, if I close my eyes, I can see you again, just as I saw you every time I opened them back then, when you were still here, and mine. And if I go for a walk, away from all the things that remind me of you, I may forget to leave behind the most important thing there is to forget, my mind. Because the things that remind me of you are things that do not take a space and time but a thought, a concentrated bit of information that mutates, evolves and migrates in and out of mind, as is the case with everything. Particles appear and disappear, and may simultaneously be in different places all at the same time. 

That quantum mess is only conceivable if we make the connection that that is precisely the system under which our minds function. Out of all the chaos that surmounts, we strive to find meaning, meaning that is not there but only appears as we conceive of it, as we apply it, day in and out throughout the course of our lives.