A Journal of Sorts
"when a man leaves off believing in imaginary property, then only will he make use of his true property" ~ Leo Tolstoy ~ rolling right along, the catching up has begun (again)... it's a birthday present I give to myself, as if I needed more cause for celebration... in silent memory of all that has gone before, lost and found... this rambling prose mosaic claims my soul (even if nobody knows) and gives reason to breathing fingers... missing sound, still it makes my world go round... I mourne possessions, true... the collections of songs I chose in meditative and creative explosions that were of the moment they occured and shall never come again, these experiences were taped and these tapes entrusted to others... and they are gone... like the original manuscripts and all copies of books you might have written... like your children, if that is the only creative action you've taken in this life... mourning comes and sometimes never goes... when you have recorded pieces of your soul perhaps then you will understand my loss and my mistrust in those who stole from me and my hesitation in recording any more so I slap myself into environments that do not nurture my creative muses and stifle the energy in my soul (call it spirit, anima, whatever fits your system of beliefs and methods of reasoning... translate me freely into your own mind... ask for clarification and confirmation readily as you feel you understand... let not language or thought process become an obstacle to communication)... I place myself in lucite where nothing can touch me, but all can see and I can see all around me... I've seen little to reach in, little to inspire me to try, nothing here in the immediate energy space that is me... when someone steals your true worth it doesn't matter that you have much more inside the loss is devastating and irreparable and going on is the greatest challenge what is lost is well beyond the material, even beyond the energy that was focused and expressed in the creative products (that soul thing, however it is called or defined)... what is lost is faith in humanity, faith in the human heart... to accept that someone could steal such value, such the life force out of you... and lie repeatedly to do it again and again until you stop it by stopping trust, by stopping faith... this is the greatest lose of all... as I near the anniversary of yet another profound loss of faith in humanity, I see the wounds left by the betrayals still fester in spots and the scars are still repulsive in polite society... I've never had much calling for polite society, but the trouble is, those of us who are outsiders are not easily found because we wander outside of social circles and limit our personal contacts... so here I am on the public web and maybe you'll find me and help me redisover faith in humanity |
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