tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10869434941037401442024-02-18T20:45:23.970-08:00S T I L T Ssix thousand interwoven lies, truths, and shadowsAuthor Unknownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15934659489632498457noreply@blogger.comBlogger213125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-38692750347775123282014-11-16T11:37:00.000-08:002014-11-16T11:37:54.625-08:00FarewellThe two most recent posts were a little old, but I decided to publish them anyway. By a little old, what I mean is that I wrote them last week. This is my professional, uber-official, materialistic, shady business press release stating that I will be moving blogs. After 200+ posts, nearly all of them being self-reflective, I sense that it is time to move on. To put it simply, introspection has become rather miserable to me. Not to say that I have quit introspection all together, but I'm bored of it right now. A change of scenery (as far as scenery on the internet goes).<br />
<br />
I have already started a new blog. If you are interested, here is the url: <a href="http://sketchbookworship.blogspot.ca/"><span style="color: cyan;">http://sketchbookworship.blogspot.ca/</span></a><span style="color: yellow;">.</span><br />
<br />
This might be the end of <i>Stilts to Heaven</i>, which is a sad thought. For one thing, this blog has received a lot more traffic than expected. This idea of success is pompous though, it's meaningless in and of itself. But if you want to know a little secret, I am currently at 11,398 page views. I mean, that's not great or amazing, but it's more than I expected. Thank you to those who took time to read. I don't plan on deleting this blog (I am very susceptible to nostalgia, after all).<br />
<br />
I might be back, I might not be.<br />
<br />
Thank you and farewell,<br />
stiltstoheavenUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-79398939477599957122014-11-16T11:08:00.001-08:002014-11-16T11:08:15.172-08:00At OddsThe certainty I have of the present is not near as accurate as the certainty I have of the past. I've seen it happen, time and time again. The person I was during our exchanged departures was very wrong. Yes, he was very mistaken indeed. I remember not wanting to be that person, but I couldn't help it. No, that's not true. Perhaps the person I was at the time was beyond the control of the <i>will</i>, but that's not the only utility I had then or even have now. I did not know how to <i>not</i> be that person, the opportunity never seemed real to me. But no, that doesn't mean that I couldn't help it.<br />
<br />
The person I am now is the person I should have been when we departed from each other. If only I had been as forlorn as I am now! That sounds preposterous. Based on my reflections and writings, I have good reason to believe that internal willingness does not always bring forth external fruition. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm not actually the most charitable toward other people. Maybe this will serve as a reminder to myself and bring about something good.<br />
<br />
I remember saying a long while ago that "things really can get better," but with the things I now hold in mind, my doubts are greater than they once were. These things I hold in mind both come from personal and non-personal experience, that is to say, the experience of other people. I won't say that all hope is lost though. I don't believe that I am the origin of hope itself, and with that belief I assume that hope exists somewhere else, and since I have not been everywhere else, I think there is still a chance that hope exists. That's not the most rigorous logic, but I think it has some substance.<br />
<br />
I'm missing those times when my almost Gnostic tendencies raged inside of me. Not to say that I've shed them completely, but I miss when the spiritual was held in higher esteem than the material. I want the reality of the spiritual, but I don't know how to get there. Again, the will fails.<br />
<br />
Thinking back, I used to really anticipate the thought of Heaven and escaping the earth. It seemed like the most absolute meaningful thing that could happen to a person. Now, this isn't a scot-free ideology, but I think there's something noble to it. It shows the excitement of witnessing God in his fullness. I'm not in that place anymore, though a part of me wants to be. Back then I didn't want human life but I wanted human death so that I could have spiritual life. That being said, this inclination toward physical death certainly wasn't brought out of despair, it's simply that I held a belief that <i>the best</i> spiritual life came after physical death.<br />
<br />
And lately, none of these exactly appeal to me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-46966073239818542192014-11-16T11:03:00.000-08:002014-11-16T11:03:14.935-08:00Eyes of the OtherThe well has lost its depth<br />
in spite of the sun<br />
Some warm spit<br />
<br />
Looking across<br />
how beautiful it is to stop and look into the eyes of the otherUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-8648494139405354622014-11-01T22:38:00.004-07:002014-11-01T22:40:35.173-07:00Emotional PainIt hasn't been easy keeping my eyes toward the heavens these days. Where the eyes wander, that is where the heart is. Or rather, where the eyes wander, these are the places where I want my heart to be. And the eyes wander to a lot of different places, but since the eyes are not omnipresent, it makes perfect sense that the heart is not found everywhere that is desired. But if I look toward ultimate reality, I might obtain the eyes of eternity. A good heart cannot be found in the world itself, as it exists metaphysically. Looking toward ultimate reality, God, is the first step(?)<br />
<br />
Lately I've had this fear of falling into despair. Hopefully this present bridge won't collapse under the weight of future plans. I almost wish there weren't any plans. A world with only thinking and no action seems like bliss. I want for this night to be eternal. I just want to lay here and think so very intently or think so very little that I don't even have to think about it. But if God provides the day, the day has come. And as long as I come, the day is here ... <i>dasein</i>.<br />
<br />
Whilst moseying in solitude last night, under the dark sky and between the cold air, I began to think about the pain that I've been suppressing. This pain has been with me for a year now. I have found myself tempted to rid myself of the pain, but I don't even want to do that. It seems as though I'm psychologically addicted to emotional pain. The pain itself is the closest thing I have to the cause of the pain, and I want the cause of the pain so badly because it once brought healing to me, therefore I hold onto the pain itself.<br />
<br />
And is what I consider "the cause"<i> </i>actually <i>the cause</i>? Perhaps it's myself who is at fault? I am unsure. I'm not out to make accusations against other people, against other souls. It's just that it gets tiring praying, thinking, and writing about pain.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-960567920460525732014-10-31T22:11:00.004-07:002014-10-31T22:11:54.962-07:00The Irony of Assumptions and JudgmentsDon't make assumptions! You shouldn't judge others! There are more to these phrases than meets the proverbial eye, especially the myopic eye. These phrases don't mean to avoid assuming or judging at all costs; rather, the meaning found within is to not assume or judge with <i>negativity</i>. When people say these things, they are implicitly giving the person being judged the benefit of the doubt, which is in nature a positive assumption or judgment.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-64133376980337244712014-10-24T22:33:00.001-07:002014-10-24T22:33:33.719-07:00UnderstandThe present really is the most painful thing to me. There must be an element of the human spirit that knows how to read present occurrences better than anything else. Perhaps there's even an element that reads past occurrences better than anything else? Future occurrences? They read books, we read books, they exist in bodies, we exist in libraries.<br />
<br />
There's a mammoth temptation inside. Inside this temptation is an ardor for basking in memories. Memories have become my joy.<br />
<br />
And yet, I don't spend as much time as I'd like basking in memories. I have a fear toward this desire of mine. Solomon said not to beg for the days gone by.<br />
<br />
And here I am examining myself again, I think. But can <i>I</i> truly examine <i>myself</i>. If <i>I</i> and <i>myself</i> are the same thing, how is this examination possible? Can any <i>one</i> thing examine itself? Analyzing words can be very dull, which I just demonstrated.<br />
<br />
Isn't it pathetic when ephemeral things become our joy? Joy should be divine. Joy should be God made. Joy should be eternal.<br />
<br />
For awhile now, I've been thinking about how selfish my writings are. Tonight I finally feel some regret as I sit here writing about myself. Looking inward can be so mesmerizing at times - the ecstasy of self-consciousness!<br />
<br />
But is it good? Ethics and morality should never be subordinate to desire and pleasure. Oh look, it's my inner zealot who will likely disappear in a matter of 10 minutes.<br />
<br />
Self-examination has its share of sorrow too, however. But is that so wrong? Perhaps I feel sorrow when I look at myself because I recognize my own spiritual waywardness? And with this learning, I could find resolves. That sounds plausible.<br />
<br />
I have somehow managed to <i>will</i> this dark night of the soul. I do not stumble under a sky of new clouds; I comfortably will the existence of these clouds - a vain passion over Godly reason. Why am I doing this to myself?<br />
<br />
If only I had eyes to see the God that my heart so desperately wants to love.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-4087219296648825952014-10-24T21:44:00.001-07:002014-10-24T21:44:13.590-07:00Apparition ChairI had never found this chair occupied before. There was a slight feeling of hesitation when I glanced around the corner. But there it was, just as I expected, empty. I walked toward, collapsing into the chair. Nothing could take this chair away from me. Certainly not the people below whom I was looking at from the unusually skinny window nearby! I was on the second floor. And then I <i>felt</i>. It was obvious to me, unlike most of my other feelings. It wasn't just a banal surrounding, but <i>it</i> was pungent in terms of being. It started at the head and found its way to my legs.<br />
<br />
These formerly dense bones have turned into withered feathers. The birds have forgotten how to fly. The sky holds me up, even though I have no understanding of its hands. I knew <i>this</i> could take me under no matter what I willed. The will did not matter, but how was that so? The words on the page had lost all readability. I no longer wanted to think about what I normally liked to think about. This spirit was taking over!<br />
<br />
There's a loss of significance when I think about these chromosomes hiding in their cells, hiding even deeper in my body. They're these little arachnids blanketed by carapaces. And then I find myself practicing metacognition, where my fears wage war against authenticity. I have no thoughts, just neurons firing inside of my brain. I have no mind, I only have a brain. I have no spirit, I am just a sum of material parts - a collection of spinning cogs! This is a practice of horror, this reevaluation of things that I don't even believe in.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-59936412303166451202014-10-16T22:14:00.000-07:002014-10-16T22:14:58.843-07:00The DarknessThe blood moon hangs in the sky to remind all star gazers of the danger that is <i>wandering</i>. Blood covers the doors to remind those who enter of the terror that must be brought upon them. Oh, how The Great I Am desires to forgive! I trust that He does. Exasperation is a thief - my energy being stolen for the sake of passion. It's the only passion that so obviously violates me, or at least, where I sense the actuality of the violation. And violation is ugly, but I won't hide the ugliness, because one day I won't even consider<i> </i>hiding. It's futile.<br />
<br />
How can they think that the world is beautiful? It's a perverted obsession with aesthetics. You praise your wandering, yet you can't admit that your quest has no end. Oh, the vanity! You aren't even on a quest, you just pretend that you are! You're lazing in l'obscurité.<br />
<br />
These days have been silent. My visions of the holy have vanished. I seem to be the most apparent thing to myself when others aren't distracting me. I feel sad when I see strangers walking by. We relate, but we deny any relation.<br />
<br />
O Lord, how can I speak with grace in the presence of demons? Is it your will for me to speak of evil in the same way that I speak of good? May these words not choke the faith that I do have.<br />
<br />
I can't seem to help but fear this state that I am writing in. With emotional pain comes physical pain - can I just have the first one? I don't know why physical pain seems so much more gruesome than other types of pain, but it does.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-67407111994229779932014-10-10T22:03:00.001-07:002015-02-07T12:39:48.228-08:00What Causes Mental Illness?This is a mindful exploration that I have wanted to begin for awhile now. Not to say that I haven't been exploring already, I have, but this is the transition from non-physical thoughts to physical documentation. I want for my writing to contain some structure to it. It probably won't, but at the very least you'll be able to sense that I tried, insofar as my will may succeed.<br />
<br />
The topic that I will be looking at today is mental illness. I think about mental illness every day, so it's an idea that holds space in my mind. For the sake of background information, I was prescribed SSRIs around a year and a half ago for moderate anxiety and depression. For those who might be curious, I took the drug for a very short period of time and no longer take it. Ever since this moment occurred in my existence, I've developed a deep fascination toward this subject.<br />
<br />
Some thoughts on the matter shall be written out below. I know that this is a sensitive subject, so I hope that this writing will find the reader well. I do not intend for this writing to be condescending toward those who may disagree - it's simply a personal belief after all, which could very well be inaccurate. I do not claim <i>certainty</i> on a lot of the thoughts that will be shared. This is not intended to be academic, as this entry adheres to the non-formal creative writing format.<br />
<br />
I suppose the most basic question to ask would be: what is a mental illness? "A mental illness is a medical condition that disrupts a person's thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning."<br />
<br />
Two words in that definition catch my attention: illness and medical. You might be thinking to yourself "Well, that's strange. Why would these words catch your attention? Especially <i>illness</i>, as it's right in the term 'mental illness.'" I find that both words catch my attention because words such as <i>illness</i> and <i>medical</i> usually refer to physical body concerns.<br />
<br />
This brings me to a question: are all mental properties physical? And from here I have even more questions to address. Do people have both a physical brain and a non-physical mind? Do people only have a physical brain? With the assumption that the physical brain is the totality of mental properties, it would be easy to say that all mental properties are physical.<br />
<br />
Many would infer that a mental illness <i>is</i> purely a physical problem. People with said belief might say that a mental illness is nothing more than a chemical imbalance inside of the physical brain.<br />
<br />
However, as someone who believes in the reality of spiritual things, I think that this is one of the greatest faults of secular psychology - this idea that all mental properties are physical. I should also say that I am <i>especially</i> concerned as a Christian. I don't intend to delve too deeply into Biblical theology here, but with my conviction that The Bible is the Word of God, I certainly hold a conviction that immaterial parts such as the mind, the heart, and the soul are intrinsic to human beings because the Bible talks about the actuality of these things. Is it possible that the non-physical mind, heart, and soul could have some cause in the case of mental illness?<br />
<br />
Make no mistake, I am not trying to say that <i>all</i> mental illnesses go beyond chemical imbalances. Perhaps a chemical imbalance really is the root of mental illness in some circumstances. But nevertheless, I am still left with many doubts and questions. What is the basis for determining a chemical imbalance? Is that basis trustworthy? Why is it assumed that just because particular chemistry can be observed inside of the physical brain, that that particular chemistry is the very origin of the mental illness itself? Is there something that causes neurotransmitter imbalances?<br />
<br />
So what's the conclusion of the matter? I believe that the physical brain is perhaps connected with the non-physical mind, heart, and soul. And with that belief I think it's vital to be careful with how mental illness is responded to. All said and done, I'm unable to provide an actual conclusion though.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-80250844715467642282014-10-02T19:12:00.004-07:002014-10-02T19:14:46.831-07:00Trying ToObservation seems just as worthwhile as involvement. When I ponder the origin of relations, it seems to me that observation must have come before involvement. There is some degree of will involved in any form of involvement, n'est pas? No separate things <i>just </i>happen to become involved with one another. Internal observation happens before acted out involvement happens. I loathe involvement. I shouldn't at this point because I view myself as being an existentialist. I must be an existentialist within an anti-existentialist? My actions are opposite to my desires. I must be a modern day Paul. Or Thomas, perhaps?<br />
<br />
Nobody truly fears the unknown. Of course, you can hold a fear toward something without knowing what it is. But you <i>cannot</i> fear the unknown in and of itself. If something is unknown to you in every plausible way, then how could you have a fear toward it? The unknown has no presence whatsoever toward individuals. I think that people fear possibilities, seeds already sown within their minds, but I do not think that people fear the unknown.<br />
<br />
You know, it's not as useless as it might initially seem to think about the barns you see in the countrysides. They could be paper mache facsimiles after all! You think you know that they are barns, but do you <i>know</i>? I have used the word "know" nine times in this entry. Now I have used it ten times. Thanks Alvin Goldman for inspiring me to think about the actuality of the barns I see in the countrysides - I'll try to be better than Henry. I was going to write some angst-ridden words against you, but I have since put them aside. How could I stay angry at such charming philosophy?<br />
<br />
People think it's good to laugh, but how many of the things commonly laughed at <i>are good</i> to laugh at? The sad truth is that there just isn't much regard for ethics and morality in entertainment. I wonder what people laughed about in Biblical times? Based on the verses I know that mention laughter, people laughed in mockery toward other people, laughed in a state of drunkenness, laughed in doubt of God, and laughed in awe of God. God laughed sometimes too. Although, I'm not sure why. I'm even less sure than I was before. However, it seems that God was laughing at his own creation in a mocking sense. God really isn't for some of us, it seems. I can't blame him for laughing, humans are fools. There's not an iota of secular humanism in that statement.<br />
<br />
I want to be a shape. I am trying to be a shape. I want you to be a shape. You seem repulsed at my request for you to be a shape, is that true?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-30529960249925749352014-09-26T20:51:00.004-07:002014-09-26T20:51:56.893-07:00la ChambreI entered through a white door to find myself in a familiar room. The room had four walls, as did the entrance. It was eight o'clock in the evening. I parted the drapes so that I could imagine myself being outside. Inside and outside never seemed as different to me as they did to others. But it is responsible to be outside, so I will <i>pretend</i> to be outside. I was always held inside of something. Never in, never out, always in between the hands of Time and the feet of Space. Those hands could only carry so much until they made it to Heaven. Those feet could only plunge so deep into the waters. I watched some minutes pass by on a digital clock. What an absurd thought that I am progressing at the mere sight of these shifting shapes! And the thought that I can tell that a minute has passed through the changing of a shape. And that I am certain that only <i>one</i> minute has passed after all these <i>different</i> shapes have changed form. And I even know the value of the shapes! These shapes mean more than shapes.<br />
<br />
I encountered the beast when I was in the room. Me and the beast encountered each other daily. I walked across the room to find the beast sleeping, and stroked my arm across its body. A particular sadness toppled over me. The beast seemed subordinate to me when it was asleep, but when it was awake I became very helpless. I <i>know</i> that I can make the beast sleep or awaken, so it is within my control to will either one of these, but when I choose the latter <i>it </i>controls me. It controls me every time.<br />
<br />
The only thing that can go beyond this room are these prayers. The prayers which flow from the mind and to God. I doubt both this mind and this God. Where is the floor?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-17875825400522244452014-09-19T23:11:00.002-07:002014-09-19T23:15:55.299-07:00God is Purpose"Time is of the essence" echoes in my head, while everyone else here lacks the sincerity that I hold fast to. Just sitting in their chairs, biding time. And <i>truly</i> there's nothing favorable coming for them (but what about me?). And <i>truly</i> I don't know that. And <i>truly</i> I don't know many things.<br />
<br />
As if sitting in this chair could bring me toward <i>purpose</i>. As if anything I may write could bring me toward that. As if anything they'd say could bring me toward that. There's no going toward purpose, that is, if I continue going toward myself. For if I was looking for purpose, that must indicate that I <i>do not</i> possess it.<br />
<br />
But what if the purpose already exists inside of me? What if it's a simple task of uncovering? With my theology in tact, I suspect that these questions are excuses. I only want to make myself a god. "I have more control over myself than any other thing, and I want something to be a god, so I'll be that something, that god." Worship of the self.<br />
<br />
God is purpose and that's why I sense distance from purpose. This occurs because I have not seen the fullness of God. Yes, the Holy Spirit may dwell inside of me, but my body is not the origin of that which dwells inside. That is why I can't go toward myself to find purpose, since the Holy Spirit exists beyond my personal existence.<br />
<br />
Father, Son, Holy Spirit.<br />
<br />
Where does this Holy Spirit exist inside of me? I'm not sure, I can't touch it, it's immaterial.<br />
<br />
To conclude with some thoughts on the human soul. For a long time I have thought of the soul as something that comes into existence but <i>becomes </i>eternal. This is contradictory though, because the word <i>eternal </i>implies no beginning and no end. How can the soul begin to exist when there's not an end? And I do believe in the afterlife, so I do believe that there is no end, so how is it that this endlessly existing immaterial object could have a beginning?<br />
<br />
I could have been wrong. Maybe every soul exists eternally, apart and within body, and it's a matter of individuals <i>recognizing</i> that they have souls?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-34816133977335863572014-09-13T21:33:00.003-07:002014-09-13T21:33:36.624-07:00SymbolI should have doubted you. You had no stigmata to show, for your body was an untouched body. Perhaps that is why I wanted to feel you? And perhaps that is why you also <i>wanted me</i> to feel you? I collapsed in prayer when I heard the music. I had such faith that my prayers made it to you, though they never did. It was the act of folding my hands in a desolate sanctuary.<br />
<br />
The way in which Jesus departed from the world is certainly troubling. The body left but the spirit remained. That might sound pleasant, but it is not. And I do not believe that to be the Truth, for it just <i>seems</i> true to me. When Jesus was in the world, his presence went beyond that of a sacrament, for a sacrament is a mere symbol - Jesus was both the symbol <i>and</i> the symbolized. But as of now, we have the symbolized without the symbol. I want the symbol. It is a human tendency to worship the symbol rather than what is being symbolized. The symbol appears to be more <i>real </i>when it is placed against what is being symbolized. And even with my conviction that the symbolized is more important than the symbol, I <i>feel</i> that the symbol is more worthy of my attention.<br />
<br />
Alas, I am lost! I am losing. But have I lost? I am unsure of how to direct my attention toward the symbolized. Please, let me go further! These human eyes cannot see any further.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-54863674204621074192014-09-12T19:07:00.000-07:002014-09-12T19:15:01.001-07:00Is Self-Perception Innaccurate?Two days back, I heard somebody share the idea that "if <i>we saw </i>ourselves walking down the street, we wouldn't recognize that person as being <i>ourselves</i>." My reaction was one of sarcastic eyes and tired frustration. This reaction had no philosophical basis, at least, not one that I had understood at the moment. But the more I thought about it, the more I became advanced in having a clear understanding of why this inference frustrated me.<br />
<br />
I am not fond of this idea because it's naive toward the perception of others, the perception that conscious people have of other perceptions; the perception that a person has when they observe the observation that others have of themselves. For example, let's say that I commissioned a talented artist to draw a portrait of me. If I were to compare that portrait to what I see when I look into the mirror, I would think that the two images would be quite similar (in fact, I think they would be <i>very </i>similar). This is a good reason to believe that the perceptions we have of ourselves are accurate.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-81220254739014065642014-09-05T23:39:00.001-07:002014-09-05T23:39:48.409-07:00KnowingAs I should have been, given that the light sky had surrendered to the night sky, I was strewn across my bed last night. My eyes hastily decided that there was nothing worthwhile to see. Tiredness preceded insomnia, which was unusual, but certainly welcome. I was thinking about my personal understanding of God and how it seems so meaningless to me. I don't want to understand God, I want to <i>know</i> God. But that's foolishness because understanding and knowing are one and the same, at least, according to a dictionary.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I don't truly know God? What sight do I have to perceive divine intervention? What if "divine intervention" is built by the hands of my own subjectivity? And then somebody will tell me to look at the scriptures. Well, again, what if the scriptures were built by the hands of <i>other</i>s subjectivity?<br />
<br />
There is no knowing. And I don't really care to know. But I also don't care to <i>not</i> know. I don't care about either. It's faith and I know it's not dead because it's practiced in the world. Even though I can see that faith is alive in the world, it doesn't necessarily mean that I see that faith alive inside of me. And that's what hurts, seeing what is absent inside when you look outside.<br />
<br />
What care does God have toward the times I talk to him? My confessions, worries, praises, what could they possibly do for God? They can't improve him, for God is absolute. They are of no help to him, which I can understand, but they don't help me either. They don't improve me, based on the judgment I have of myself. I don't usually find joy in talking to God. I usually do it out of a fear of what God could do to me, for God can do anything that doesn't contradict <i>his</i> will.<br />
<br />
Notwithstanding the disorder, I still use prayer as a channel to find peace. I suppose there is some amount of belief in me that God is peace, even though it is a modest amount. I want to find myself in the supernatural someday. A small marketplace with vendors and a cobblestone pavement underneath. And the vendors won't be selling withering fruit, but the fruits of the spirit.<br />
<br />
But I'm not there and the world is hiding my soul from me. Oh, how weary you have become, once world of faith!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-26467909532452773152014-09-02T20:54:00.002-07:002014-09-02T20:54:24.520-07:00Stumbling EyesI wasn't born with eyes that look toward myself, and still I look toward myself so often. Perhaps my existence would be more Godly if I was unable to see my reflection, or see myself in any way at all. What is the purpose of self-consciousness? <i>They </i>created mirrors and <i>we </i>found rivers to stare into. And when we become bored of staring into the rivers, we'll travel across them and end up right where we began. There is only one earth. Towns, cities, countrysides, villages, states, and countries are just man-made separations. There is no <i>objective</i> separation! And spaceflight? Spaceflight only forces humans to become robots - metal for flesh and helmet for head.<br />
<i><br /></i>
"And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell."<br />
<br />
How many eyes must I rid myself of? And if my eyes are causing me to stumble, how will I have the clarity to see that I must rid myself of them?<br />
<br />
The phrase "kiss it goodbye" is ignorant. Any person who has experienced pain through a "goodbye" should know that. Those who have experienced pain through such a "goodbye" <i>did not</i> receive a kiss at the conclusion. What did they receive? They received <i>nothing </i>from the other, for the one in pain provided for themselves, likely provisions of banality. A kiss would have been so very fortunate. There was no comprehensible conclusion - in three words, <i>it was abrupt</i>.<br />
<br />
Internal ideas remain at the minor stage until they become appropriate external responses, that is, if it is possible for appropriate external responses to follow. If it is not possible for appropriate external responses to follow, than those internal ideas are eternal, without a beginning or an end (?)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-49491928661075750482014-08-14T22:54:00.000-07:002014-08-14T22:54:09.709-07:00Least Aware<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.940000534057617px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Perhaps the word comes to mind more often than it should, but <i>vanity</i> is appealing because it is visceral. It's so visceral that I can't even touch it with the tongue that I speak with, or the hands that I type with, or the feet that I walk with. I suspect that vanity is buried beneath everything we <i>know</i> to be evil but <i>believe </i>to be good. Our belief has buried vanity. It's not that we've even buried the evil of vanity, we've just buried the truth of our actions. But we don't see the truth because we believe that the truth doesn't want us to believe what we ought to. With the loss of truth comes the loss of ... I don't know how to talk about the truth.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.940000534057617px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.940000534057617px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Isn't it funny how we're all so black and white? We're comics, or at least, we try to be comics. That's what makes a good man in the 21st century, humor and cheer. An abode of delight and distraction. It's not often that I think about laughter. It's never made sense to me nor has it not made sense to me. Why <i>should I</i> feel pressure to be funny? The closest thing to laughter is either heavy breathing or asphyxia. Is laughter an in-situation veneer for future mourning?</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white; font-family: inherit;">It's interesting how we mature so that we can reach such "beloved destinations," yet when we make it to these places we become children again. I'm not sure if I'm simply jealous of the romantics or if I'm just unimpressed? </span><span style="color: white;">Observantly</span><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>speaking<span style="font-family: inherit;">, when people engage in romantic moments they become so very juvenile; juvenile in a way that they cannot be when they are on their own. The regress, the oddity, the naivety ... maybe if I keep writing I'll never worry about romantic relationships again? Real romance is even worse than Harlequin. And why do outsiders feel so inclined as to love the lovers? Lovers don't need love like the healthy don't need </span>doctors<span style="font-family: inherit;">, and like the anxious don't need fear, and like the depressed don't need gloom, and like the snakes don't need scales, and like the birds don't need feathers, and like the poor don't need less. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">It's frightening when you see the purpose of your existence. Being without purpose might be unsatisfying, but seeing your purpose is overwhelming. When you can only think of one thing that seems meaningful, one thing that will bring you joy, and it turns out that it's something that you don't even really want.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">It seems so foolish to me that tolerance is thought of as being "progressive." From my understanding, tolerance is used to try and escape the scenarios of being offended or offending others, yet it's this constant feeding of downright offense. We become trolls with tangled hair and grubby hands, as we feed both ourselves and others with the ugliness that we call "tolerance."<br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">Do humans crave tragedy? Do humans crave that which is epic? Do humans crave terror? Do humans crave horror? It's very honorable that we sit in front of TVs and watch people being killed with machine guns. It's very honorable that we enjoy ideations of pain, or worse yet, actual pain. It's very honorable that we laugh at jokes that God probably finds abominable. "Oh, but those television shows and movies, they're just fictional. It's all in good fun." Is fiction more important than ethics?<br /><br />And here I am, a bourgeois character sitting behind a keyboard, likely writing about things that I don't have enough knowledge or piety to write about. But, at the very least, I am aware of that.<br /></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;">Margaret Atwood, you were right.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-28807306932585822502014-08-09T15:35:00.000-07:002014-08-09T15:35:04.548-07:00Saint Augustine<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<i><span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large;">"O Lord God of truth, if a man is to please you, surely it is not enough that he should know facts like these? Even if he knows them all, he is not happy unless he knows you; but the man who knows you is happy, even if he knows none of these things."</span></i></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f6b26b; font-size: large;">- <i>Confessions,</i> book five, part four</span><br />
<span style="color: yellow; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<img height="399" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/df/Fra_angelico_-_conversion_de_saint_augustin.jpg" width="640" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-70904559374461072882014-08-09T13:04:00.001-07:002014-08-09T13:04:17.994-07:00LonelyBuilding a cathedral without windows<br />
So nobody sees my sins<br />
<div>
And these confessions would feel lovely</div>
<div>
If I didn't feel lonely</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's just that I'm lonely</div>
<div>
And you're just outside the door</div>
<div>
But I don't want to see you</div>
<div>
So I'll choose to stay inside</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The sanctuary suffers<br />
Where's the God in you?</div>
<div>
Where's the God in me?</div>
<div>
I'd like to believe</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
It's just that I'm lonely</div>
<div>
And you're praying on the floor</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
Do I fold my hands in prayer</div>
<div>
just to hold my own hand?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-37101744041377328892014-08-08T16:15:00.000-07:002014-08-08T16:17:26.602-07:00Do Trees Have Minds?Have you ever heard that question “If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear?” It comes from the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErS9HCh8GfE" target="_blank"><span style="color: cyan;">"If a Tree Falls"</span></a> by Bruce Cockburn. This question caused me to ask another question: do trees have minds? Below is my theory which, <i>very </i>generally speaking, argues that it is possible for trees to have minds.<br />
<br />
1. God has the greatest mind.<br />
<br />
2. With the greatest mind, God created the lesser mind.<br />
<br />
3. God created the brain as a more limited, physical representation of the lesser mind.<br />
<br />
4. The lesser mind existed before the brain.<br />
<br />
5. The existence of the lesser mind is not founded upon the existence of the brain.<br />
<br />
6. Therefore, an object without a brain can have a lesser mind.<br />
<br />
So, maybe we can hear trees within certain distances because the trees recognize the distances and provide the sounds because of this knowledge? Although, why are the trees not more generous in terms of distance? Why <i>these</i> limitations? I do not know and it does not really matter.<br />
<br />
Or does it? Maybe if we believed that non-human objects had minds, and God-given minds at that, we would care about them more? Then again, nobody who writes about care really cares at all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-68104615841841123582014-07-26T22:18:00.002-07:002014-07-26T22:29:22.446-07:00Hate & The Image of God<div class="MsoNormal">
When I choose to hate a person, the hate transcends the person. Past the person is the upper echelon, God. When a person is shown hate, God is also shown hate. Whether the hate remains internal or whether it is expressed externally, the hate somehow reaches God (?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, how is it that the hate reaches God when the hate reaches people? Does this mean that every person is God? How can the hate reach God when there are so many who <i>do not</i> reach for Him? What makes this suspected “domino reaction” able to happen? What makes this “domino reaction” unable to stop – and is it <i>truly</i> unable of being stopped?<br />
<br />
Some would infer that the hate reaches God when the hate reaches people because "every person is created in the image of God." But does that hold any weight to it <i>now</i>? What about the fall of man? Once the fall of man took place, was the creation of man in God's image impeded? The question remains: are people <i>still </i>created in the image of God?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-84437225812602760562014-07-19T00:20:00.002-07:002014-07-19T00:20:31.670-07:00Ante Meridiem: ForeverIt is nothing short of mesmerizing that the question mark looks just like a human ear - and yet, this is paradoxical because when you ask a question you do not know whether the consciousness in which your question dives into will respond with hearing or deafness, as you would if you were talking with a human you were well acquainted with - that is, unless the human you were well acquainted with obtained hearing or deafness without your knowledge of such. In my abode of questions, the disdain is penetrating.<br />
<br />
The problem with questions is not the lack of answers. The problem with questions is that the lack of answers may last forever. Forever is the phantom's fathom and this phantom is the human's fate. At any rate, the idea that the phantom possesses is the human's fate. How is it that I am able to speak of forever when I have no experiential recalling of forever? My question is stupid because forever and recalling are unable to synthesize.<br />
<br />
Your questions are not stupid. Well, what I mean to say is, the questions that you leave me with are not stupid. Am I coming any closer? Your ability to bury me in questions is brilliant. And in your brilliance, you inflict the type of pain that is often there even though I lose sight of it more often than I prefer. Will you always be there for me? No, you will not - reason being, always is synonymous with forever, and since forever is non-existent in this dimension, it would be pitiful for me to expect this of you.<br />
<br />
But I do expect this of you. Why do I expect this of you? My only response is a dead end - not a dead end, but a seemingly dead end to me. By faith I trust that eternity is written on my heart, and with that eternity the hurt seems more preeminent, in certain circumstances, than the healing.<br />
<br />
And what is the purpose of speaking with myself, anyway? It is such mediocrity and nonsense to create an illusion of the person who desires not to speak with me. Though, you did once desire to speak with me. And I know that this is not and could not be forever, but I still believe that it will and could be forever. It hurts to lose what once brought me victory.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-38015645596492361782014-07-07T23:24:00.001-07:002014-07-07T23:24:12.789-07:00Neon & PsycheIf this truly is the Kingdom of Heaven, then I can't remember entering through the doorway. If I did find that doorway, why did I not fall? The splendor of the Angels should have blinded me and caused me to stumble. And if I would have fallen, would I have found myself in Hell?<br />
<br />
I don't believe that I saw any Angels, though I remember seeing some neon signs along the way. Neon signs are visual lassos minus the gunfights. Do not fear fleshly bullet wounds - but fear the violation of the psyche.<br />
<br />
Angels aren't all that similar to neon signs. One carries you out of yourself and the other carries you into yourself.<br />
<br />
Please don't tell me that the Kingdom of Heaven is here. Every image that I've interpreted as being "God" has not been God after all. If the Kingdom of Heaven is on Earth, why is God in all His fullness not on Earth?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-48909916577112221062014-06-30T17:52:00.003-07:002014-06-30T17:57:08.248-07:00The Connexion Between Man and God<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 200%;"><i><b>God knows man in his
fullness, though man does not know God in his fullness. Would this make the
connexion between man and God problematic?</b></i> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 200%;">I will break down
this statement and question into three parts.
That way, we can take a concise yet detailed look at everything that the statement
and question have to offer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Part
One: God Knows Man in His Fullness<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">God has the full
understanding of humans, not only humankind as a general species, but humans as
individuals (Psalm 44:21). God knows humans <i>better</i>
than they know their own selves. It doesn’t even matter if the humans decide to
act in Godly ways or not (Hebrews 4:13). As the righteous Judge, he witnesses both the
non-actions and actions of the humans. By non-actions I am referring to the
heart, and by actions I am referring to the expressions of the heart. God sees
both the heart and the expressions, whether they be of darkness or light (Ecclesiastes 12:14).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Part
Two: Man Does Not Know God in His Fullness<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 57.75pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Humans
do not have the same understanding of God that God has of humans. The Bible,
which I believe to be the Word of God, says that nobody has seen God (John 1:18). The Bible
also says that God forms humans in the womb of their mothers (Psalm 139:13), knows the hairs
on our heads (Luke 12:7), and so forth. Such verses show God as the creator. But what is
the human? I suppose it would be easiest to say that the human is the creation.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Part Three: Would this make the connexion
between man and God problematic?<br />
</span></span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 200%;">Now,
why would I suggest that the connexion between man and God could even possibly
be problematic? I suggested this for one simple reason: these entities are not
the same – creation and creator. It </span></span><span style="line-height: 32px;">doesn't</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> seem fair now, does it? There is God,
and it is necessary that there is only one, who gets to know everything about
the creation. But the creation does not and cannot have the knowledge that God
has. How is it that the creation </span></span><span style="line-height: 32px;">doesn't</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 200%;"> have that God-knowledge, especially when Adam and
Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil - more specifically, when they attempted to gain <i>the knowledge that God ha</i>s?</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1086943494103740144.post-44106552149792255812014-06-29T22:50:00.003-07:002014-06-29T22:50:35.827-07:00Step / StopStep. This key <i>never</i> brings me what I want. Step. And although I never use a different key, I <i>always</i> expect the same outcome. Step. The outcome wouldn't be a problem if it were within the idea of what I had expected to come out. Step. The outcome should be the seed of my idea. Step. But why postulate when the answer is predestined to stray from such demands? Stop.<br />
<br />
You cannot accuse me of writing verbatim. This <i>is</i> a practice of repetitious deception - but it <i>is</i> <i>not</i> writing word for word, at least, it is not re-writing word for word. And in my practice of repetitious deception while not re-writing word for word, I act out <i>exactly</i> what I did before. I may not write exactly the same entries, but the heart of the content remains unaltered.<br />
<br />
I don't remember being in this place. The most dangerous of doors to open are the doors that close - and that's every door. And why should the doors be covered in blood when blood comes from the inside? The doors are the outsides which lead to the insides - the doors need our insides to let us inside. Just take my blood, and don't tell me that it might be forever. I can't seem to <i>properly</i> imagine anything that I'd want to last forever.<br />
<br />
The less you think of me, the more I become stripped of myself. It's as if my very being can only exist if you choose to let me exist inside your mind. I acknowledge that I no longer exist inside your mind, though I have bad faith that I still do. Without the belief that I exist inside your mind, I feel as though I am missing. I am gone until you come to me, and when you come to me, I come back to myself. The waiting is making me wilted. How long will you let me wilt for?<br />
<br />
A heart in its wholeness cannot be broken, unless it is given to only one.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0