Thought Fifty One

I often read, see and hear people speak of wanting to know the future. Destiny, questions of love or careers. Success and failure. Our lives have free will. This is something even the gods themselves cannot change.

In our lives, through our choices that we make moment to bloody stinking moment, our path is forged. Steel struck on life’s anvil, there we are forged to become who and where we are at this moment.

This creates what I call “the most likely outcome” in this reality.

Exposition dump completed, now I move into the thought I had today.

I can see the most likely outcome. From looking at person’s picture to speaking with them on the phone or in person. I often see it in those around me as well as myself. Most of the time I am silent because the act of informing them can influence and change it. Much like in physics where the act of observation changes the observed. Though I write these words, I do not wish to damage someone’s faith or psyche. I simply want to inspire them to think, to search beyond the tip of their nose, to have eyes to see, ears to hear.

The negative side of often being able to see “the most likely outcome” in this reality, is that you choose not to engage.

Why might you ask?

Because it is like knowing the end of a movie you haven’t seen. There isn’t any surprise. It isn’t quite the same level of fun when you know how it ends. Sometimes knowing is sad. Sometimes it is a burden to carry. Not everything in life is happy and rose smelling. Often you can see the hardships and suffering that may await someone.

The gods themselves don’t care. We don’t attract their attention any more than an ant does an eagle soaring high above the earth. Sure, if you are still in mind and body, and listen very quietly, you can almost hear their footfalls. Like the distant sound of thunder after a particularly large rain storm or watching the moon move through a telescope late at night.

Knowing this, I will walk forward alone.

It is simply speaking, easier. Easier for me and my heart. Easier to not be cut and damaged by the eternal dance that we all do. Driven by the biological to distraction. To burn our ephemeral time in discord and compromise. To damage as to be damaged.

I enjoy these quiet contemplative moments, where the thoughts flow through my mind like a river to the sea. There in the sea, I shall abide. The gods and daemons will swim below and above me. I will feel their passing and the shadows they cast. But I will not be afraid, for I am the sea and the sea is I.

Floating gently of thought.



Thought Fifty

Is it that we want to worship and give thanks to something greater than us? To experience more. To have the ultimate daddy in the sky that grants us wishes and makes our dreams come true? To not have to take responsibility for our own actions and inactions.

I was emptying the trash cans in my home and realized how much I enjoyed this house. I have been here a year and still find things I like about it. Feeling that gratitude, I almost gave thanks to a god I was raised with but have shed like a severe case of the flu. That god had nothing to do with my life and how it has progressed. No master plan, no destiny, only the most likely outcome in this particular stream of reality.

I don’t choose to not believe in as much as I choose to recognize some gods and shun others. Learning always from the people around me, I choose not to have belief systems as they require a support system. Like a table with three legs. You remove one, and the whole thing crashes.

Instead, I choose to find truths.

Truths in the line of a book, something someones says in a movie, in a business meeting where a different thought arises and disappears just as quickly. In a thought unbidden, in the sheer beauty of a moment, in a child’s smile or a firm handshake.

These are moments when truth stands before me, ephemeral in nature for those that have eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to feel.

I choose to be a traveler. To the places of truth far and away. To find what most never search for.

Right here.

In this place.

In this time.



Thought Forty Nine

I have walked through these darkened rooms and halls many times before. The ground wet and muddy outside of these shambling walls. The faces and names different, but still the same.

IMG_3202 2

In this one, I see an old gun in the hand of a dark one. She is lost in the madness of pain and eventually her own death. None will rejoice for none will see.

I walk into a room, the light dim. Only to have another extinguish the light and run away. The lost things swirl and grab for me. But I am not afraid. Fear too was lost to me long ago.

Walking forward, these tenuous things, they grab and swirl. With their claws, they rake and tear at me. Blood pools in each step as I walk. Swatting them away as the gnats that they are, I move forward toward an unknown place that lies ahead. In this though, I will remember. I will know all that I have known before. All that I have been and will ever be.

The road will be long and perhaps painful. This one has already been such. But I choose to embrace the pain. To make it my own, to welcome it’s transitory sensation and remember it as the old bitter friend that it is.

This new year I will walk alone.

The daemons and gods that haunt me, unfaithful companions of timelessness. I will think and write. Explore the hidden deepness in my mind and perhaps the madness that lay therein.

And I will remember.




Thought Forty Eight

It is said, that if we stare into a mirror long enough, we will see a monster.
We see a monster in the mirror because we are monsters.
Inside of us lurks a heart of darkness just as does a gleaming light.

We experience our reality subtly different from our brethren humans. At the same time, there is an agreed upon shared reality of experience.
When in this “shared reality of experience” we feel the togetherness with others and not alone.

How do you share the experiential you? Can we even do this?

If you could climb into the mind of another, would you? To walk among their den of snakes, the fear, and anxieties that knaw at corners of their mind.
IMG_3254 2Would it be here that you would experience the steel of their will? The strength of choice, the wild abandon of war? Walking with your back straightened and a tightness in your shoulders. Eyes scanning the surroundings knowing this is war.

War of the mind.

For we are all at war within our minds. Steel on steel. Iron willed boundaries against the fear and anxieties built up over a lifetime of trauma.

Your large war hammer gripped tightly in your fist, focus etched on your face. Launching forward swinging that great war hammer to destroy what you have killed so many times before.
The rictus grin of your face, the fire in your eyes, the destruction in your heart.

Screaming you swing…

Thought Forty Seven

When the man comes around – Johnny Cash

We are looking for an end. Part of the transmission of knowledge across time through our mythology. Christianity and Islam are just the newcomers from across the vast reaches of time.

Is it more watered down this time?


It most likely has always done so. Stories are told and retold in a thousand million ways. Changing a little bit here and there. The knowledge of a thousand million lifetimes lost among the ruins of time gets a little more lost. People numbing themselves with distractions that allow a person not to think at all.

The philosophers over the last five thousand years have advocated for us to think. To spend time in contemplative thought. To reach for something beyond just the simple distractions of meaningless nothingness.

When I was a younger man, I remember thinking the work I did had meaning. I sacrificed my time, energy and emotions for nothingness and distraction. On video games as well. Today the distractions are ever present at an even larger level. Our phones, the computer, television, video games, etc. Ad Nauseum.

When I was a boy, there wasn’t an internet. I read many, many books, and my mind soared to high and low places. My imagination ranged far and near. We hiked and shot our guns, we explored places without fear, knew each other and chose to ignore our faults and become friends. Though some of us lived with violence from abusive fathers that struck us and damaged our sense of self, we still persevered. To become survivors of the hell that walked in our daily path.

Eventually, we grew up and restarted this process all over again. Choosing a mate that would ensure we were punished and damaged as before. Surely this meant that they loved us, for they hurt us as all had before. But alas, they did not love. For they weren’t truly capable of love. For it was not taught to them as a child. The gods they knew were harsh and jealous. They knew love not.

The sins of the father (or mother)

We were just there to feed their crooked and damaged selves. For time and time again we were punished and damaged until there was nothing left of us to destroy. And only then in that moment would we walk away to begin again.

Like the knowledge being transmitted across time through mythology, we restarted this all over again. I see this knowledge in innumerable places. In a book I have read, in a line in a television show or a movie I’ve watched. Occasionally a lyric in a line of music listened to. In a painting at a museum or sculpture, I was able to touch. The transmitted knowledge is out there. Perhaps encoded in our DNA or the atomic nucleus within each of our atoms that make us physical.


And although I may never meet you, I will cast my words out into the sweaty malfeasant void that is the internet with the thought that perhaps it may inspire you, dangerous reader, to look inward for a moment or two of introspective contemplative thought, rather than downward at your cell phone.

Breath… One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, Exhale…



Thought Forty Six

Glassy skies above…

The age of romanticism that we live in. The deep sweet feeling that reaches inside of us and takes us to places where we have never been before. Or creates an indefatigable sense of loss. It would seem to test our sanity at times.

Socrates said, “Wisdom is knowing you know nothing.”

And we do. As I have moved through my life I have realized more and more how much I do not know. Of this, there are many things I would like to know beyond just wondering if it is madness or reality. It does test one at times.

As I laid on the floor, my respiration seeking to elevate, I felt my body ceasing to function. As my blood pressure rose and my respiration became shallow, I remembered to slow my breathing. The food I had eaten was bad and my body reacted to it. Rolling onto the floor pressing my face against the cold tile, I inhaled and counted “one thousand, two thousand, three thousand” exhale. Count again “one thousand, two thousand, three thousand” then inhale. Slowly over the next sixty minutes, I felt my body begin to ease out of the shock it was in.

All the while, a close friend stayed on the phone with me. I couldn’t talk because it took all of the mind function I had to control my breathing. But still, she waited, listen and worried.

Laying on the floor, covered in shit, I felt the biological parts of me. Animal, ego and still the sentience that was me stayed. Quietly aware of everything in the background. When the terrible pain finally faded down to a whisper of itself, I felt the normal me back at the forefront. The ego that I am.

I think I liked the feeling of less ego while just trying to control my breathing. Trying not to pass out and die choking in my own vomit. Covered in shit, lying face down on the floor, not sure when or if this will end, brings a bit of clarity.

The last time this happen, I did the same stupid thing. I ate some meat that had been in the refrigerator too long. My body is predictable in its reaction of explosively removing these toxins (bad food) from my systems.

I knew I would not die, although it felt like I was going to. This time and the last. But the focused state of doing only what matters, while knowing someone cares for you brings some peace. You are alone, but a loved one watches over you attempting to share your grief.

A last thought;

I read on Quora about grass. The story told about a man that had dead spots in his yard. He watered and fertilized, he fretted and tried, but nothing seemed to help. Until another gave him the following advice.

Do not focus on the dead grass, for it is dead. Focus on the living grass and over time, with care, it will fill and grow over the dead areas.

Our lives are like this. Focus on the areas that we enjoy, the areas that bring us light. Those areas will eventually grow over the dead spots. Then your grass will be full and green…




Thought Forty Five

The longer that I am here, the more that I realize that we are all alone. We wish to be by others, to see and be seen, to love and be loved in our totality.

But this is something that is beyond our grasp.

DonQiouxe-V5We can be by another for years and decades, but never truly know their spirit. Never knowing the maddening idea that is them. For even when we see them, we don’t. The secret lives that live inside of their hearts. The desires that reside below their conscious thoughts that drive them where they do.

These are not knowable things. For without them truly knowing themselves, how can we hope to understand them and share this knowledge with them?

I don’t think we can.

We can only seek to learn our own minds. With its dangerous minefields and sharpened rusty pikes on which we impale ourselves. A terrible and dangerous place that leads out into the unknown.

Perhaps this is why so many choose distractions over self-knowledge. Is that so painful that we would forever decide not to know? Of course, this would assume we consciously made this decision.

So it would seem.

I choose to embrace this pain. The little death that is sleep each night. The tumultuous dreams that haunt and sear. These are the parts of the night that become long. A second that lasts forever, a day that lasts a year, a year that is gone in a second.

But for the sweet release of the unimagined mind. A place that takes me far and away. To places that were lost long ago before these stars began to take shape and after the crushing collapse of a heat death universe.

A glassy sky,
A dusty leather jacket,
A long ago smoked and dried out cigar,
A skeletal hand buried in the white sand…

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