Threads of Happiness

1.
I am not misunderstood. I am simply not understood. I feel bereft of my humanity under the questioning gaze of those I love; and of those I barely know. To stand exposed yet impenetrable, expressively transparent yet reflectively inexpressible, is to be cold; and dark; and lonely. I do not feel hatred emanating from this scrutiny. Nor is there anger, or disgust, or sadness. Simply a lack of understanding.

To find harmonious responsiveness is to fulfill a longing. There are many aspects of my daily effort in which I am accorded respectful tolerance, and some in which I feel a cooperative acknowledgement; but there is also an integral element of my personal being in which, when shared, I am frequently left feeling cold; and dark; and lonely. It is my nature to ponder the possibility that my thinking is askew. It is my nature to consider the odds of normality (or conformity?) vs. abnormality. It is my nature to seek affinity. And it is my nature to repel affinity...

...To repel affinity by being difficult; disagreeable; dissatisfied; obscure; caliginous; cryptic; contemplative; determined. I have worked to not be these things, but in these efforts I (eventually) interpret my behavior as (at the least) untruthful and (at worst) delusional. It at first appears to be a functional form of dishonesty and/or delusional behavior because it is behavior preferred by those who are otherwise at a complete loss to understand or explain my difficult behavior. And because others prefer it, this untruthful, possibly delusional behavior appears to strengthen relationships. But when I see it for what it is, it turns more dysfunctional, thanks to the addition of anger. Instead of being rationally difficult, I have now added a degree of volatility to my disagreeable, dissatisfied, obscure, caliginous, cryptic, contemplative, determined behavior. And this is why I work to choose and practice truthfulness. And this is why I am, (more often than I would like to be), cold and dark and lonely.

I can see you now... with that puzzled look... tilting your head to the right... squinting your left eye... raising that same corner of your mouth... wondering, "just what the hell is he talking about?"

2.
There is satisfaction in completion, though completion is an illusion; a wisp of a thought that provides closure, yet as soon as my head is turned, becomes invisible vapors leaving those realized desires open and unfulfilled. Regardless, when it is time to move on, the dreamy tendrils of accomplishment allow one to believe. In some cases I come back, knowing there is more work to be done. But in these cases it becomes a new task; a new desire; a new dream. I do not lose the satisfaction originally perceived. In this way I am able to continue.

I find it an invigorating and necessary process to work toward completion; misconception or not. To take this piece and fit it here; and to persuade this element to sidle up alongside a potential mate; and to slide this segment down further and nudge this part up a tad to strengthen the whole; and to realize that the potential mates are less compatible than I believed; and to make the difficult decision to banish, or even destroy, the weaker of the two; and then to add; and to rearrange; and to renovate; and to do it all over and over, until...

Until, there is satisfaction in completion.

3.
Dear World,

I should be more attentive to your comings and goings. I should learn how better to prowl in your darkness, and to prance in your light; to slither in your grasses, and to swim in your deepest seas; to migrate to far off lands, and to float gently down from your tallest trees; to be pummeled by your torrents, and to be carried by your winds; to ebb and flow with your tide, and to wax and wane with your dreams and desires. I have missed out on much. Throughout most of my first four-and-a-half decades my thought, my focus, my concentration has been on the ways of Humanity, specifically as those ways have impacted my personal microcosm. For this last decade my thought, my focus, my concentration has turned inward, seeking transcendence, and wisdom, and Truth; and in turn my active effort has been directed to encourage others in this same regard. Today I am learning that you World, have much to offer in this very regard, and that I must turn outward to learn inward. And I am sorry for my self that I am only now coming to this realization.

I at one time thought I was better than you. There are many days in which I still do. I am not. I never was. I never will be. On my best days World, I aspire to be you.

Walt Whitman said,

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume, you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

I will believe that this is your song to me; an invitation that I am unable to return in kind, until I fully understand. I will never fully understand. So on my best days World, I will sing it back to you as best I can. My nature will never live up to your nature. My dreams and desires will never flow as seamlessly as your dreams and desires. My effort will never match the intensity and the efficiency of your effort. My focus will never encompass the depth and breadth and beauty and immensity of your centeredness. My transcendence, my wisdom, my truth will never move beyond, (perhaps), the outer edges of the central hub within your infinity of discernment. My song, my discordant song, will never span the range of your talents; from your most peaceful lullaby to your most strident concerto, in this moment, in this thought, I am in awe.

Come later today, come tomorrow, there will be moments when I again suffer the delusion that I am better than you. If, World, you are the tiniest bit aware of my mostly insignificant indiscretions, please remind me of this moment, now, in which I aspire to be you. From your perspective, I realize that I am indeed "mostly" insignificant; but, also from your perspective, no matter how tiny my significance, I will never fully occupy its potential. I will always have room to grow. And this is what you ask of me. For our dreams and desires to mesh and flow in tandem, this is what you require of me. This is what you require of every living thing within your realm; which in turn requires every living thing within your realm to learn and grow and dream and desire together; as one. Because...

"For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

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Happiness all too brief

The two lines immediately below, (and repeated or paraphrased throughout), are from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot. These two lines have inspired all that flows and scuttles within.

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

My legacy found dark held by the depths
A riddled wraith of what was meant to be.

Those joyous youthful shouts of love and life
Concealed the truthfulness of destiny

And though I still work hard to find the light
I find its shades create an urgency

A hurried fear of what lurks in its gloom
My haste illuminates mortality

Is this the only light I am to find?
Impassioned, lonely, touched despondency

Or...

Is it the only light there is to find?
A reasoned flame of what is meant to be.

"I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

Even in the gloom of darkness yawning
When one is lost in thoughts of nevermore

If one discovers where the shadows sleep
A creviced lambency comes to the fore

Even in the grip of widespread whimsy
When one is lost in hopes of evermore

If one discovers where the shadows creep
A pockmarked, hazy earth comes to the fore

Even in the strength of public blessing
When one is lost in now forevermore

If one discovers where the shadows leap
A lonely, mindful flame comes to the fore

"I could have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

Instead I am a cinder all too brief
First flaming bright then dying dark and cold

Instead I am a song sung out of tune
A ballad left unfinished and untold

Instead I am a vulgar thought or deed
Beholden to my nature to uphold

Instead I am a question never solved
A riddle still too young yet now too old

Instead I am the madman on the fringe
An unseen fool left laughing uncontrolled

Instead I am a teardrop holding on
Not ready for the dust to re-enfold

"Instead I am a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas."

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Arrogant Happiness

This week's headline:

PASSION TRUMPS ARROGANCE.

And I believe that in my lifetime, it will do so considerably more often than not.

Arrogance is interpreted.

Passion is felt.

Those most arrogant are most oblivious.

Those most passionate are most in touch.

Both the arrogant and the passionate define reality unrealistically.

Be the Passion misguided; or irresponsible; or uninformed; or shortsighted; or completely irrelevant, it is still Passion. Which means it is likely to be felt as sincere; and deep-seated; and strong-willed; and powerful; thus exciting more passion.

Be the Arrogance from perceived reason; or logic; or discernment; or comprehension, or power; it is still interpreted as Arrogance. Which means it is likely to come across as aloof; and condescending; and presumptuous; and overbearing; thus provoking more passion.

Passion remembers reinforcement and reward.

Arrogance forgets itself.

I am often chastised for excessive passion. And I am occasionally chastised for arrogance. From where I sit it feels like my incidents of arrogance would outnumber those of passionate excitability. Apparently my perception of reality is---unrealistic.

As long as there is factional passion, I believe widespread interpretations of arrogance are inevitable. So if arrogance is an unavoidable interpretation, then perhaps I am arguing for a universal arrogance (from comprehension and reason) first, followed by a purposeful passion. You would think the arrogant, being arrogant, could understand the power of passion and make it purposeful. So I have to ask the question, "Does arrogance necessarily exclude passion?" If so, then I am arguing for the power of passion to continue its assault on arrogance. If so, I see no other way.

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Convergent Happiness

I believe it can be consensus opinion that I am not in the future; and I am not in the past. I believe we can all agree that I cannot time travel. Yet my mind can dwell in the past; and my mind can nest in the future; though I remain in the moment. But if I am my mind---if my mind cannot "be" apart from me---then is my mind a delusion only when it resides in the past or future? Or is the entire concept of "mind" a delusion? Or am I indeed spanning temporal reality? I believe that my mind, when I perceive it to be in the past or in the future, is a projection of momentary anxieties---anxieties working to create an illusion of control. This is why, if through focused effort, I am able to anchor my mind, to me, here, within this moment, I am able to glimpse a moment of peace.

And in the next moment? My mind wants to wander; backwards; and forwards. I must work---my mind must work---in every moment, to stay tethered to that moment. When my mind drifts, I, of course, have no choice but to follow.

And when we stray---when I stray, from the moment---I am unable to recognize the futility of control; I have lost all possibility for momentary peace; and I often find anger; or disgust; or fear; and I sometimes find sadness. This is the path to negativity.

And when we stay---when I stay, within the moment---I am unconcerned with control; I glimpse momentary peace; and I often find joy; or trust; or surprise; and I sometimes find sadness. This is the path to positive creativity.

Now that I understand, for the moment, the inseparability of myself and my mind, is it such a large leap to grasp the oneness of all sentient beings. And from there, is it a much larger leap to know the interdependence of all living things. For some, these are contentious topics; I believe this is so because some are unable to incorporate into their thoughts and plans the reality that when one faction, or when one individual, or when one sentient being, or even when one living thing drifts, we all must, (to varying extents), follow.

And when we stray, we are unable to recognize the futility of control; we have lost all possibility for momentary peace; and we often find anger; or disgust; or fear; and we sometimes find sadness. This is the path to negativity. This is the path we are on.

If we were to stay, within the universality of the moment, we would be unconcerned with control; we could glimpse momentary peace; and we could more often find universal joy; or trust; or surprise; and we would (and should) sometimes find universal sadness. This is the path to positive creativity.

Having learned from the past, we should live in the moment, for the future.

This is not a Philosophy. To work on a philosophy for daily living, would necessarily require me to influence others. To work to influence and convince others to follow a path to positive creativity---the staggering enormity of this endeavor---would, (if not necessarily), quite likely require me to remove myself from the moment.

This is a Spirituality. To work on a spirituality to incorporate into my daily living, would necessarily require me to influence from within. To work from within to follow an individual path to positive creativity, I believe, has the potential to help other individuals return to the moment by being there with them, and, as necessary, in their service. Occupying this moment together allows for the possibility of a shared glimpse of peace.

This is not a Philosophy. This is a Spirituality.

This is an individual Spirituality.

This is an imperfect, individual spirituality in search of Perfection.

I am forever working.

I am forever straying.

I am forever learning.

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Confessing Happiness

I am a barbarian. Or, if you prefer, a troglodyte; a philistine. I am here to confess. I am a bad man. I am a degenerate; that is, "a person who reverts to an earlier stage of evolution." I had evolved. I had become more refined; more cultured. This week I took a step backwards. This week I found myself feeding at the trough. After more than 2,438 days I consumed Fried Fast Food. Yes! I had 2 Buffalo Chicken Strips and a Small Order of French Fries. I am embarrassed and ashamed. I am glad no one I knew, saw me. Regardless, I am guilty.

Granted, I did my research first. I found a $5 snack pack with only 470 calories, 20g of fat, 2.5g of saturated fat, and 0g of trans fat. That's Total! For both chicken and fries! That's less, in all categories, than the lower fat Kettle Chips I (more and more frequently) allow myself to consume in one sitting. So why do I feel the need to confess. Why do I feel criminal? And remorseful? And wicked? And wrong?

Perhaps it is because I feel like it is "another" step backwards. A few months ago, I allowed myself baked oven fries. About a year before that I allowed myself the aforementioned (pernicious) lower fat kettle chips. A few months earlier still I gave in to the siren song of baked potato chips. And before that? Yep; it was mashed potatoes. And earlier still? It was a plain baked potato. And the Chicken? I can trace that back to my sister-in-law's most delicious fried chicken 4 years ago on my birthday. There have been other lapses. I have even advanced from going five years with no salad dressing to now taking regular advantage of Raspberry Vinaigrette.

Where will it stop?

At this rate, one day when I'm 75, I may find myself before a heaping half-empty plate of chili-cheese fries, not knowing how I (or they) got there.

And think about it. The fact that I did the research proves beyond any reasonable doubt that it was not simply a moment of weakness. Nor did I get caught up in the heat of the moment. There was no frenzy of fast food fanatics forcing me to go along with the crowd. Nor did I do it out of anger or any other negative emotion. This was planned! Premeditated! A clear-crinkle-cut case of first degree felonious assault on an unsuspecting bag of fries and two defenseless chicken strips. I am a miscreant.

I have been worried for years that each concession to the seductive enticement of progressively prepared potatoes would lead me down this road to fried perdition and right back to the fast food fold I am so fond of. And there I was; mid-afternoon Wednesday; furtively watching the door hoping not to see familiar faces while savoring the salty crispy goodness of french fries and fried chicken strips. I am weak.

Despite the tongue-in-cheek tone, I do feel guilty and I am uncertain how to proceed. Some would say, (and some have said), that, in moderation, the occasional relapse is not a worry; especially since the nutritional content is actually an improvement. I might argue that it is not the incident, but the ever-broadening continuation that is concerning; and less fat now is not less fat down the road if it leads to more fat. Duh! Some might say I should deny myself fast food friedom and return to the kettle chips; but I might argue that this regression has made me aware of multiple regressions stretching back to the beginning, and perhaps that is suggesting that I begin again, allowing myself a daily snack of only 29 reduced fat, (small) baked cheese crackers. I went cold turkey (literally and figuratively) once; I can do it again.

But then the bad man inside my head reminds me that undeterred by the healthy habits and the dramatic turnaround in blood profiles, my arteries still desired the company of three additional stents just a year ago. So, (as the bad man's logic goes), why not enjoy a few flavorful, fried delectables along the way.

Some would say, the bad man makes sense. And some of them would argue that he is not a bad man; merely reasonable. I might argue that if you have one rope with two knots and another rope with two knots and you tie them together then it is reasonable to surmise that 2 + 2 = 5. And in the case of my stents, (since one is inside another), it is reasonable to infer that 7 = 6.

So...

  1. I can continue eating french fries, leading to who knows what.
  2. I can return to oven baked fries and/or kettle cooked chips and risk further relapse.
  3. I can go all the way back to 29 tiny cheese crackers per day, accompanied by cold turkey for lunch and dinner.
  4. I can listen to the bad man and believe that no matter the effort made, soon 7 will equal 9; or 10; or infinity.

I don't like the bad man.

But I most certainly liked those French Fries.

I don't want to listen to the bad man.

But I do hear the call of more French Fries.

I am the bad man.

And I know my way around a guileless bag of French Fries.

Perhaps though, if I stop, I will keep infinity at arms length.

Or perhaps not.

Either way, my mouth will still water each time I remember those French Fries; this past Wednesday; November 2nd, 2016; from 2:32pm until 2:49pm. They were tasty...

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