“You can make a rubber band slightly heavier by stretching it.”
Max Tegmark giving the best example of E=MC2 I have ever read.
We keep our focus on our level so much, that we forget to look up.
All things flow
about time. And Scotland shuts down because of wind, and I sit in a internet cafe and feel the world again.
The Absurd Life
All things float, or nothing does. I feel a strangeness in me. A return not to previous bad feelings, but something different. Its the sense of oldness. That all has been done, that all is ever so predictable. That every action from others is how I would expect it. But this is no-one’s issue. The issue is in me. Help Yourself. It can’t be forced. See the last 2 years have been years of nonstop lust for life. A lust that is nearly sexual in nature, the desire to fuck the world in a wonderful way, but no sense of domination, just flow. I’ve called it zen, being, and when i was at its heights, i literally had no idea what it would be like not to feel that good all the time. I look at what has caused the downfall. And its all me again. Because i haven’t stepped into the traps of life-drugs, haven’t grown obsessed by a love, or allowed chemicals or achievements to overpower me. I have taken alot on, and feel the starin of that pressure at times. But thats not it either, I have always loved pressure. So the reasons are still murky to me. And I know with all thats in me that the tripping balls on life feelings will come. The feeling that no matter how predictable the world is, there is joy in every small moment. Sitting on a bus and the sun peeks out. The taste of a tomato and mayonnaise toast sandwich. A kiss. The feeling of muscles screaming in the gym, or the wheezy crunch sound of rugby tackling someone. The sound of perfect techno, or mixing two tracks together to make something new. The moment when you stand in front of a crowd of people and explain your visions and dreams. Talking to my sisters about teen life and my brother about his most recent crazy sexual escapade. Being a pillar for mum. Being a pillar for others. Thats what i live for. And want to feel flow again. I hurt people over and over my entire life. A penance needs to be repaid. Irish guilt secularised within me. I see a world in turmoil and see the possible paths that lead from here. See the fact that the world will be so different in a handful of years and so excited I am alive today. Because this is the moment we all decide where the world goes; chaos or a new world. When a drunken man tells me he is proud of me, and I hug a friend who needs one, I feel two sides of a feeling; embarrassment and pride. Because pride in self is always best as an action, pride in your doing something. For someone. Being given words always feel undeserved. Its the action of someone who was sad a minute ago, smiling now. That is all thats needed. I can fly, can be an animal again, flowing and being of the world, connecting with people and being a living examplar for how stress and unhappiness can be bent to your will. But I dont know if i need to remember the old zen ways, or rediscover them. Because the collection of actions that led to the original zen of being is not something i can recreate. Such was the newness of the expereinces that August. But it must come from wihtin me. Because in the end that has to be fine before i can help anyone else. In the mythology I have creatd for the new world, I return to the well, fall down it to the very bottom. And then I can look up again, at the starry night sky, and feel the flow of all. And rise out of the well again. To go to another myth, as Camus says:
The absurd man says yes and his efforts will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is, but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory’s eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.
I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one’s burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.
Occupy Well-Being
From Jules:
looking at Occupy, I realized the two movements have now come together: both the revolutionary anarchism of 1968, and the human potential movement of the 1970s. Occupy is now the revolutionary arm of the politics of well-being. The protestors take classes in meditation, in well-being economics, in ‘emotion work’ and performance theatre. The personal is tied to the political.
Tuesday Poem
| 1. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock | ||||||||||||
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