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january 2006

Letting Go5:04am saturday, 28th january
…and suddenly, I learn to let go. Perhaps it is a fleeting thing, that my sticky soul will catch hold of these obsessions once more, but just this moment, I am free of all things. I imagine that enlightenment is like this, to the nth power, and I wonder if I ever want to feel that weightless; but this is enough, I think even that it is better than I’ve ever had before; though maybe that is a remnant of the illusion. All my life, I have had such trouble in letting anything go — all those women that I loved, I imagine that in my heart that I never fell out of love with any of them. Or out of lust — or was it not even anything like that, not love, not lust, only addictions, any of them? Only raw obsessions? That I can imagine of myself, too, for when the madness came, it had fruitful ground in which to grow. Who is to know such things? We only understand what is before our faces, what is passing casually in our span of attentions, and imperfect is our comprehension of anything. So this moment: it must be enough.

…and the minute ticks, and it is over, back into the dwellings of the sad house of my soul. Back into the worldly cares, where my heart forgets exactly how for those seconds it managed to be desireless. Perhaps it shall return, the sensation that all things were — not that all was right with the world, but that the world understood me for that little space of time, and nodded to acknowledge my existence. I cannot consider that the feeling itself was an illusion, for it lacked any decoration, none of the hazy deliberations of dreams gone by. I think of it now, that I am earthbound once more, that time could not touch me for that little consciousness: I landed this quick, but it was not a crash down to the depths, for I knew what it was to be flowing with time for once, and not against it, and when I was released from release, my velocity was not sudden stop. Strange how things happen, here in the outer regions of the ordinary. Sometimes wonderful.

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Resound12:58am tuesday, 24th january
What shall resound in me,
or has all inspiration surrendered?
Sound within sound,
hidden from the casual ear —
or is it merely a creation of imagination?
I cannot tell whether
I am being clever, or if it is instead
a roundabout way of being foolish,
stupidity with a diploma.
For I think that if nothing
comes from nothing, how is it
that it all began, and if something
was always there, how can it be
that it all began? How did it happen?
Or why is it that
there is something, here,
instead of nothing, an infinity
of emptiness? Is that not more sensible?
All these questions I ask,
once I thought I could answer them,
and did, in fact, come up
with aphorisms to cover all my bases.
But as the poet said,
I was so much older then,
I’m younger than that now.
I come up with more questions, these days,
but ones I do not obsess about.
There seems to be more sunshine
that preoccupies me.
I believe that is a kind of wisdom.

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Mood Swings1:00am friday, 20th january
Up, down, up, down. Though perhaps not to dwell so low, or to soar so high, as I have known myself to go, I’ve been on some pretty large sweeps of mindset of late. Yes, something of the bipolar thing. Right now, as I write this, I am on a relatively even keel, but in me I feel I can go either way in the course of some the hours — that I am in flux, still, on my way up, or on my way down. Which is sort of an interesting metaphor. I read in this zen book, a long time ago, that the Chinese word for cat was more like “catting” — the action of being a cat. Perhaps we should keep this in mind, that we are all of us, “humaning”, that nothing remains in stasis within us. Maybe that’s the lesson I’m to learn from the throes of these misdirected passions. Enjoy whatever you can while you can, for nothing stays. On the flipside, whatever trial you undergo — it shall pass. But whatever it is, I hope these swings find their gravity, and settle. As soon as may be prudent.
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Archangel Michael1:35am monday, 16th january
I remember pretty far back, to before I thought I was the Archangel Michael, that I didn’t want to be Michael. It was not some noble reason why, like I felt I was not worthy enough, nothing like that. For I had thought I was one as the Most High, after all. It was merely that I had thought that Michael was going to lose the War in Heaven. I misread it: “And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was his place found anymore in heaven.” [Revelation 12:7-8] And I had thought it was Michael’s place that was found no more in Heaven. I didn’t want that happening to me. I tried to pass off the name, as like it was a title, to various of the people floating around in my head. Various Michaels in real life whom I’d known, who were now cartoons. And to Jim Morrison, and to Jesus Christ himself. I myself didn’t want to miss out on the stuff that Heaven surely had for me.

I remember, just before I was kicked out, I was lying on the floor, as I frequently did in those days, and there was this voice. It boomed, as if to sound like a bell, or at least, a tolling. It repeated, “Michael. Michael. Michael.” As if that was what I had been made for, as if that was my fate, no matter what flailing about I did. And I remember for a long time, that I felt as if I were a doomed man, though I believe it started before that voice. That I was Hellbound — up until my conversion, that was. And I guess it was something from up above that did it, but something turned it around: I understood that Michael won the War in Heaven, and that was with me when the delusions convinced me that I was he, born on earth. When I won the War. So I guess the moral of the story is that perhaps one need not shy from one’s place in the universe, however horrible it may appear to be. It may not be so very bad, once you’re there. And in fact, God might have a surprise or two for you, once you suck it up, and face your destiny. He did me.

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Creep1:27am thursday, 12th january
The world creeps into our reasoning: we do things for it
without thinking, now, about what we are actually doing:
maybe to lose something without knowing what it is we had.

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Busy1:40am friday, 6th january
I suppose it is only right that I have highs as high as I do (no, nothing drug related), seeing as I have lows as low as I go. I wrote about the funk I was in, and now I am writing about things that cause me to tip in the direction of grandeur. My friend asked me, regarding the research I am doing in information theory, if I thought anyone else in the world was thinking what I was thinking. And I could say yes without hesitation. He asked me how that made me feel, and I described these highs I have, from time to time. Being high on ideas — I mean, literally buzzed from thought. Who knows? I may actually have something. But I have found that being on the road is what counts, putting one’s self out there, in the mix, whatever that might mean to you, and your talents: that’s the whole point of this thing we’re going through. Even if you never feel the high from it. For in the words of Bob Dylan, he not busy being born is busy dying. Life will end up happening to you, if you don’t happen to it.
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Beginnings5:49am monday, 2nd january
We begin.
Night spins threads
that weave through even the light,
and some small song within us
remembers the quiet
of the darkness, even as the
blaze of the noonday sun
screams of light.
We have been here before,
but not like this,
and we will be here again,
but no, nevermore like this,
not so, not so: the river
pours through all our dreamings
and washes them
to the shores, some that we reap
a hundred fold, some
to be dashed among the rocks;
and the river forgives nothing,
forgets many things;
and the river does not stop.
Have we become lost?
For I believe we will be found.
Have we become wrong?
For I believe we will be righted.
Have we become hopeless?
For hope in us shall awake.
At the very end, all we
who knew the darkness
shall breathe of light.
The end is not where it all ends.
We do not stop there.
We begin.

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