Happiness: A Rant

I just feel like so much of my emotional responses are dictated by artificial experience: drugs, anti-depressants, alcohol, nicotine, money, clothing, the amassing of material wealth. Sure my brain fires off the appropriate chemicals, but that happiness feels so utterly fake - I feel cheated. Rarely do I ever feel truly 'happy', and usually it's when I'm far removed from the plastic society we're all so indoctrinated in. So what is happiness? Is it chemicals firing off and making me feel 'good'? It can't be that simple. I think happiness is experiential; it involves the 'spirit' as much as it involves the mind. And I think the more I rely on the material of mass society, the harder it will be for me to experience true happiness.

True happiness enriches, true happiness is ethical, true happiness is shared.

Friends, music, the earth - the three things that truly make me happy (most of the time.)

Reflections

Happiness comes slowly, as does healing. I'm doing the best I can, but it never feels like enough. I'm trying. I've been to the edge and back. It broke my soul and froze my heart. At times I am hollow, far from what was or could be - a wraith. But the momentary connections shatter my transparency. I am whole through experience. If only I were more consistent. Life is beautiful; I am beautiful. But to realize this requires an immensity of work, and yet reality continues to manifest itself the way it does.

The Coast

My dreads smell like campfire. Sand still permeates my clothes. The ocean waves welcomed us. We got drunk, sang to the stars, painted our names on the walls, argued the collapse of the world, and reveled in the companionship of our community. Acquaintances became friends. Strangers became the same. Time means nothing. The birds sang as I slunk to the floor and slept.

Last night excited me. The prospect of summer excites me. Friendship is anarchy. I am an anarchist.

Repetition

Time keeps repeating. Everything is circles on circles. Nothing is profound. The angst of existence. We are doomed to be ourselves. Always.

(Posted from my iPhone.)

Ineptitude

A recent excursion into the existential yielded less than I had hoped. Scribbled notes and uninspired idiosyncracies. The only result: ineptitude.

Where do we go from here?


(Posted from my iPhone.)

KILL SOCIETY

The path of self destruction is all too easy comfortable.

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Agency

I continue to flirt with the void. Ego death is both terrifying and gratifying. I exist.

Inner Dialog

I exist. And in another sense, I do not. Consciousness supersedes the physical.

I am always mediocre. I dabble in everything, but master nothing. Why this drive to achieve greatness, to be visible? I am lying to myself. To be is to be perceived; I want to be recognized -- to know I exist.

I am growing into the path before me. Everything is deja vu; it always has been. What defines tangible reality? Are my dreams any less real? Sometimes they seem more so than waking life.

Time is an illusion. All that exists is the single instantaneous moment of creation. This moment of existence speeds and slows according to the perceptions of the individual. All moments are intersecting qualities of the original moment.

I let my mind wander too much. My insides are constantly fighting. Facets of the same self, battling-- opposite and opposing. Will one part ever win? Or will another part rise to usurp yet again? How can I call my self the same as it was, when it is so entirely different? THE SELF DOES NOT EXIST.

Aether.

Abyss.

Aum.

Full Circle

Recent memory seems so long ago. How far I have traveled - the self is ever changing. I miss so much. It hurts to remember. But the excitement of it all is right there in front of me. Do I reach out? What will I become? IT'S ALL CIRCULAR.


(Posted from my iPhone.)

The Evolving Self

I feel like an entirely different person. I can see myself transforming, and I'm torn between the excitement of change and the solidity of what I already know. Change is inevitable; it is useless to fight it, but maybe I can guide it in some way. What road do I choose to travel? What goals do I choose to set? Who are the people that are most important in my life? These and other questions permeate my conscious and sub-conscious mind. Ever present is the unanswerable - who am I?

Paradigm Shift

Moving is a melancholy affair. Some memories never loose their vividness - or their sting. I hate to include a cliche, but it feels like theres a new chapter starting in my life. I'm just really unsure of it all; it seems so radically different from before or now. How much of the past will continue on in to the future? Everything around me changes; I evolve, and yet, a core remains.

To be is to be perceived. (Berkeley)

Language

Words bespeak a sadness; they are used to soak up the emptiness of unbridled time. We have all had that desire to go further, deeper than words, the feeling of wanting only to be done with all the talk, knowing that being allowed to live coherently erases the need to formulate coherence. (Zerzan)

Murder

I feel like I am just discovering who I really am. All those deja vu moments of pristine clarity are slowly culminating into a tangible reality. Is this the end of the dream? Or has it even begun? I find myself trapped in the past - clinging on to things that define(d) me. Whose memories are these? I am caught up in a melancholy transition of my life perception. The paradigm is changing; my future holds innumerable possibilities. Do I take the leap?

Murder the ego. Death to the self. Live in true expression.

Identity

I'm not the man I used to be.

Why is that?

Apocalypse

Do you ever get the urge to just destroy it all? To revel in the ritualistic destruction of everything you know and love? To fan the very flames of obliteration? To watch it all crumble into ash and dust? And feel incredibly right doing so? That urge permeates to the very core of me; it consumes me.

Lightlessness

Have you ever woken up and felt that everything is wrong with the world? I do not feel as if I am truly living. My life feels fraught with inadequacy. There is a part of me, a lightlessness, which pervades my reality. I have tried, for years, to kill it, but it only grows all the more steadfast. I am slowly learning to accept its presence - even to revel in it at times. To the outsider, it appears as though I have everything to look forward to. Why then do I feel all the more apathetic? Is it the world that is wrong; or is it me?

Sweep Me Up

I am the sole creator of my destiny.

Despite

Despite receiving threats, being demonized by the media, and harassed at all sides, I have no regrets surrounding my actions - my soul is collected. I have made new friends, strengthened my community, enriched my life with the experiences of others, and demonstrated the urgent need to usurp the current zeitgeist of wilful ignorance. Diversity is a necessity; monoculture is death. Solidarity.

In Reply

Collapse is inevitable. Consumer society and industrial civilization is non-sustainable. Resources are finite. There will be an end. And it will be soon. I've opened the eyes of a few, as I continue to open my own.

Anarchy is the harmonious melding of the individual and social. To have only one aspect is to be only half a person. I cannot sustain myself if I do not sustain others, no matter how blind.

Practicality is not always ethical in the greater sense. We need to listen to the earth and the older souls that tend it.

Collapse of Culture

Culture has lead us to betray our own aboriginal spirit and wholeness, into an ever-worsening realm of synthetic, isolating, impoverishing estrangement. Which is not to say that there are no more everyday pleasures, without which we would loose our humanness. But as our plight deepens, we glimpse how much must be erased for our redemption.

- John Zerzan