Thinking Thoughts

Okay, I’ve been thinking about it a bit, plus I’ve been watchin’ some videos about finding-your-purpose and such. Who am I? Simply a guy that thinks, that’s it — and I don’t want to be anything but that. I will write those thoughts down or speak them aloud, but that’s it.

I understand that I’ll be tested and tempted to divert from this path — external and internal pressures will attempt to push me off. If I don’t budge I’ll be rewarded… eventually. And I’m okay with that. I like thinking. I LOVE thinking. It’s true that it currently provides me no income, no esteem or prestige — but I can do nothing else, I just want to think.

I understand that I’m still relatively young for a thinker, still working my way up in the world of thoughts. That’s fine, I get it — what kind of epic journey starts at the top, as there’s only one direction to go from there (Spoiler alert! It’s down). Maybe I’m an author, a blogger perhaps, a philosopher of sorts, or someday I’ll make videos in which I express my thoughts, who knows.

But what I do know, is that my journey entails thinking, and I’ll stubbornly dedicate many hours to my craft because that’s what I enjoy doing. And as is the style of today, here is my diss track:

Y’all just an amateur thinkin’ you’re thinkin’.
Got nothin on me, your thoughts just stinkin’.
Thinkin’ like Lincoln, I’m startin’ civil wars,
Your ideas so tiresome, folks droppin’ on floors.
While your sleepin’, dreamin’ you’re a winner,
I’m awake schemin’ ’bout, servin’ you for dinner.
What you don’t know, I’ve already forgotten,
What you got to offer, I know that it’s rotten’.
Just sit down son, listen to the teacher,
I’m center stage, while you’re in the bleacher.
Thoughts like a rocket, they’ll blast you into space,
Leavin’ you strugglin’, confusion on your face.
If I thought it worth it, I’d give you a lesson,
But I’ll just stop here, keepin’ you guessin’.

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Shrill Shower

I was in the shower, my mind drifting as it does, this time to something horribly negative. An untrusting thought, one in which life recklessly removes something I love. One of those thoughts that paint life as a bully, just giving me something so that at one point it’ll be taken away, prompting life to laugh at my pain. A useless, stupid thought.

But then a loud high-pitched sound came out of nowhere, well in fact it wasn’t nowhere, it was from the floor of the tub, a drain-stopper had fallen and made an oddly disturbing clank. But because of it, I was now aware. The disturbance shocked me out of my thought. I awoke from the daymare.

I no longer wandered down the dour thought-path after that, I simply went on with my shower. Oftentimes I get trapped by a narrow focus. I see an ugly part and remain transfixed, just staring. It’s so ugly! How horrible! But this time, the external world shook me awake. Why concentrate on the worst of what I can contemplate — what a waste.

This is waking up — popping the bubble that keeps us within a shallow perspective — to step back and see the larger picture — to no longer taint the paint of the world with a bleak blackness. For me this takes effort, as my mind tends to get covered with smudges that distort my view. It takes regular cleaning to see past the surface.

Good versus Evil

Do you know what evil craves? Power. Infinite power. The power to manipulate existence and all within it — to bend men and element to its will.

Then what is good? Good relinquishes power. Despite having measureless might, good lets go — allowing everything to run its course.

If a creator is good, what would he do? He would divest himself of power — split into a billion shards scattered upon a canvas, each more powerless than the next. Individually these droplets of divinity would roll around as condensation covered glass. Yet in concert these flecks of light broadcast forth a radiant glow, illuminating the solitude of space.

Then what would the devil do? Attempt to consolidate power. Full of fear he would manipulate all within his reach, exerting influence in order to tame whatever seems unpredictable. Corralling drops into containers and creating darkness in which to hide from the light. But an artist he is not, so chaos is what ensues.

What should you do? Be good of course. Let the flecks spray where they may. Do your carefully arranged patterns ever equal those of nature’s natural beauty? Never. Your stinted machinations are not worth the effort. Instead, allow the artistry to flow through you, guiding all that you do. As a leaf delicately falls from the tree, as water winds its way down a river, as glowing rays beam forth from the sun, allow your interactions with the world to simply pour out.

Remove fear, remove the desire to manipulate, allow the forces within your sphere to progress as they please. A brush touches paint to canvas, an artist moves the brush, ability as well as inspiration drives the artist — all of these aspects come together to form the masterpiece. You can’t do it alone, but by appreciating this, you become a willing part of the process that does it.

Release your resistance. Let go your control. Be good.

Orchestrated Existence

What we truly seek as individuals, is a harmonious interaction with existence. That is what happiness is. So as a musician within the orchestra of society, we seek to practice and perfect ourselves while integrating our developed skill with the whole.

But if we are an orchestra, who is the conductor? Do we simply self-organize — attempting to harmonize with our nearest neighbors? Do we listen for a melody we like and then attempt to implement it? Do we hear a tune in our head and just play, hoping it aligns with others?

We can individually improve till we become virtuosos, but without a common score, we’d be a cacophony. Does something maintain a rhythm by which we all march? Do we simply improvise until the discomfort of discord directs us into a coordinated composition?

Like any musician, we are not only players but listeners, enjoying sounds that flow out from ourselves, mixing and merging with the vibrations of others. And when our confidence rises we add in our own variations, altering the piece through finesse. As we improve our ability to operate our instrument and incorporate into the orchestra, we hear it — the melodic music of mortal being.

Illuminated Reflections

To follow Jesus is to fight the darkness, the grim, and shine a beacon of light and cheer into the world.

He sacrificed himself to the darkness so we can convict ourselves and repent – for we too have wielded the awful power of pessimism.

A power that spilled his innocent blood upon a wooden cross – a sullen sight to see. An image meant not to sadden or enrage, but the very opposite.

For once we repent, the kingdom of heaven is at hand. We see the light ourselves, and we as mirrors reflect its resplendent glory.

Dreamlike Days

Every day is a brand new day.
Imagination paints in the details.
Focusing on a particular fills in its blanks.

Continuity comes from chosen themes.

Ignore vague remembrances,
develop a preferred theme,
focus on details that delight.

Make each day the one you want.
Inspiration suggests a course,
but customize the path to please the palate.

Satisfying Dream

At first I believed the world a random place, my life ruled by chance. But such a scary philosophy, I could not maintain. Then a passive existence I believed, a pathway predetermined, unalterable. But such submissiveness I could not bear. Then I began to see life as a lucid dream, my mind’s designs manifesting in every moment. This was satisfying.

The mind must find a resting place, a foundation upon which to build. If it sits in shifting sand, nothing lasting can be built. This bedrock comes from a firm idea in which to place one’s faith. I had faith in randomness, but its nature was unstable. I had faith in predestination, but it did not suit. So now I invest in dreams, a nebulous source that’s surprisingly solid.

A hazy nature provides strength as it conforms to each situation. Anything unpleasant simply serves as reminder to mind my thoughts. Whatever happens is my own fault, but in a funny way. I work at shaping rumination lest I get what I don’t desire. What I wish should come to be, but if not, I’ve merely more minding to do.

Whether true it matters not, it simply serves as satisfying base from which to run. A mind must have easy answers to complex questions else it go round and round in constant quandary. What ease it is to explain every scene as mere mirage. And with haunting angst now exorcised, the joys of life reveal themselves. Nightmares become delightmares.