Synthesis
Watching the river of Time
This permeates my writing and speech. It becomes too fluffy and drifts too much, which provides ample room for de-railing and useless material. What little I post on this forum is a victim; I never really address the issue at hand, just dance around it. Painstaking revision is almost always necessary. How can I condense all the needless thoughts into clarified expression? It doesn't seem to come naturally for me.
Examples:
Examples:
Contemplations on Death.
What is it? the final Rest.
Where does it lie? It lies only to the living, not yet denying the splendor of life. It lies at beginnings and ends of our Journey.
How does it exist? Passively as the unseen driving force behind mortal motivations.
When do we meet it? Every fiber of our being contains death – every action and iota of thought is soaked in survival, even if ‘survival’ means self-annihilation to preserve one’s dream (I believe that dreams possess life, empowering others to make their own reality) - until the end when fear fades and existence becomes sanctified through content. I believe this runs contrary to most people’s beliefs about Death, that we meet it bitterly at the very end.
Why does Death exist? Balance. It is unreasonable to expect Man, in his imperfect glory, to slave for a dream unto eternity – it would be a cruel fate. Some of us are taken prior to others; I believe this is a sacrificial move to advance humanity out of decadence. To say that Death exists to punish those who “deserve” to die is conceited because rewards are given out of service to personal paradigm. Who among mortals has the right to declare someone worthless, bereft of life’s grace? Attempting to take the Judge’s mantle is beyond arrogance…I don’t think a word exists in any language to translate such sheer absurdity. Each must be judged in their own light instead of another’s shadow.
Death and Justice seem to be equivalent; therefore, is not Death a Judge and Lover, Friend and Foe, Jester and Sage?
Paradox is never-ending in this odd World. I want to laugh. Laugh and cry.
*Note: I do not regard death as an entity, but an active force; written one boring afternoon*
What is it? the final Rest.
Where does it lie? It lies only to the living, not yet denying the splendor of life. It lies at beginnings and ends of our Journey.
How does it exist? Passively as the unseen driving force behind mortal motivations.
When do we meet it? Every fiber of our being contains death – every action and iota of thought is soaked in survival, even if ‘survival’ means self-annihilation to preserve one’s dream (I believe that dreams possess life, empowering others to make their own reality) - until the end when fear fades and existence becomes sanctified through content. I believe this runs contrary to most people’s beliefs about Death, that we meet it bitterly at the very end.
Why does Death exist? Balance. It is unreasonable to expect Man, in his imperfect glory, to slave for a dream unto eternity – it would be a cruel fate. Some of us are taken prior to others; I believe this is a sacrificial move to advance humanity out of decadence. To say that Death exists to punish those who “deserve” to die is conceited because rewards are given out of service to personal paradigm. Who among mortals has the right to declare someone worthless, bereft of life’s grace? Attempting to take the Judge’s mantle is beyond arrogance…I don’t think a word exists in any language to translate such sheer absurdity. Each must be judged in their own light instead of another’s shadow.
Death and Justice seem to be equivalent; therefore, is not Death a Judge and Lover, Friend and Foe, Jester and Sage?
Paradox is never-ending in this odd World. I want to laugh. Laugh and cry.
*Note: I do not regard death as an entity, but an active force; written one boring afternoon*
Dr. King's famous speech, I have a Dream, is the embodiment of altruism. His passionate dream for equality is a dream to be coveted and shared among humanity as a whole - more precious than a dragon's hoard and more timeless than Chaucer's Tales. The benevolent effects of King's dream are obvious: development and enhancement of philanthropy via acceptance. As a keystone, acceptance will begin the foundation of love's temple. This temple, however, is not reserved for any one group or caste - it is a place of homage for all humanity. Upon the pristine marble floor of acceptance, humility will raise its mighty pillars of universal appeal. Basking in humility, forgotten will power struggles between bourgeoisie and proletariats lie on the broken steps of human greed; the pitying demeanor of those in power will morph into gazes of deep affection and appreciation as all realize that humanity speaks with one voice - compassion. From the pillars of understanding rise the separate-yet-united walls of equality, granting all contained within equal measure of life's bounty. Everyone is human; everyone should treat, should love like all are family gathered 'round the table of human joys and passions. Standing strong upon the walls of humanity's intrinsic equality rests the summit of altruism: philanthropy. This austere, venerated, and ubiquitous virtue will breed humanitarian morality for ages - affecting not only the present world but the course of future generations as well.
Remember the impact of Humility; celebrate the wondrous mutuality of Acceptance. Act for the dream of Altruism, that the world can see only benevolence. To appreciate what is, is to develop the instrinsic values belonging to every human.
*note: This is gobble-de-gook and not reflective of my views. Created to appease the state and win $500; the prompt was something to the effect of demonstrating how King's speech affected society and show how pride in it can be shown, or something*
Remember the impact of Humility; celebrate the wondrous mutuality of Acceptance. Act for the dream of Altruism, that the world can see only benevolence. To appreciate what is, is to develop the instrinsic values belonging to every human.
*note: This is gobble-de-gook and not reflective of my views. Created to appease the state and win $500; the prompt was something to the effect of demonstrating how King's speech affected society and show how pride in it can be shown, or something*
The normal man, your Average Joe/Jane, is the epitome of unenlightened behavior. There is nothing different, no special factors to set them apart. There is no desire to expand the Self, only contentedness with the current perception; therefore, the man is intrinsically limited. Such a man cannot find true happiness because everything is two-dimensional, no concept of depth or time. The route to happiness, while varied, must include a form of uniquely similar insight; one must perpetually discard everything old and traditional, anything old, bent, and worn to gain anything of benefit. Only when everything is nothing can the mind grow. Therefore, one becomes simultaneously a half-empty and half-full chalice awaiting the sweet wine of truth. By becoming less themselves and more Other-things, individualism is aquired - the realization of Place is only evident after one has travelled far and wide. Furthermore, casting aside the shackles of Ego allows the third dimension to grow by opening the mind to new possibilities and perceptions, typically with the mindest that one is a single stone among many, yet without the single there is no many. Thus, the old yields to new and clarity of thought is realized; however, 'now' becomes 'then' instantaneously, everything gained is lost and the cup returns to only half-full, half-empty.
Trees in a serene forest becomes something more, yet not; the mortal eye was unveiled - if only for a moment - to see the luminous shroud of sunlight embracing the golden boughs, the gife of Life made visible. This wondrous sight is lost after only a heartbeat as the mind's eye closes again; to retain the awesome perception of depth one must look again for a little while longer. The bark that was once rough and unrefined becomes smoother and more dynamic as one's eyes see deeper, glimpsing the particles of creation comprising the tree's skin. The relapse into similarity is not so harsh this time, once can still remember the radiant sunlight surrounding the entity, thus is time perceived - growth is aquired and depth assumed, the glass of knowledge has gained an ounce. One now knows the tree and sunlight are inseparably one entity: the tree would not be nearly so splendid nor the light so beautiful without each other. Through this medium of all-is-One, the hidden patterns of life's design are shown to the mind's eye with more clarity than before; the tree's image a little sharper and yet nondescript - everything is different but nothing changed. The mortar between the bricks of Truth's emple has strengthened the foundation, granting structure and understanding for those within. The sunlight has become so much more radiant as the mechanics of its creation are understood and not just known, the forest vibrant with life and leaves singing a celestial choir as the strings of their collective Self vibrate ever the faster from insight. Slowly, the mind's eye becomes raptured with the instantaneous infinity of thought and wraps itself with the intricate patterns of reality's fabric. At the end of his journey, the man has become much more than himself: he has envolved into a being of metacognition, aware of his own relation within everything else and takes blissful refuge in the innermost sanctuary of consciousness - enlightenment. The great oceans of reality and time flow around him now, a product of his own insight and imagination. Thus does the endless river of Life flow.
*note: This was revised several times, the subject is slightly more clear as a result. Written for a grade in my English class*
Trees in a serene forest becomes something more, yet not; the mortal eye was unveiled - if only for a moment - to see the luminous shroud of sunlight embracing the golden boughs, the gife of Life made visible. This wondrous sight is lost after only a heartbeat as the mind's eye closes again; to retain the awesome perception of depth one must look again for a little while longer. The bark that was once rough and unrefined becomes smoother and more dynamic as one's eyes see deeper, glimpsing the particles of creation comprising the tree's skin. The relapse into similarity is not so harsh this time, once can still remember the radiant sunlight surrounding the entity, thus is time perceived - growth is aquired and depth assumed, the glass of knowledge has gained an ounce. One now knows the tree and sunlight are inseparably one entity: the tree would not be nearly so splendid nor the light so beautiful without each other. Through this medium of all-is-One, the hidden patterns of life's design are shown to the mind's eye with more clarity than before; the tree's image a little sharper and yet nondescript - everything is different but nothing changed. The mortar between the bricks of Truth's emple has strengthened the foundation, granting structure and understanding for those within. The sunlight has become so much more radiant as the mechanics of its creation are understood and not just known, the forest vibrant with life and leaves singing a celestial choir as the strings of their collective Self vibrate ever the faster from insight. Slowly, the mind's eye becomes raptured with the instantaneous infinity of thought and wraps itself with the intricate patterns of reality's fabric. At the end of his journey, the man has become much more than himself: he has envolved into a being of metacognition, aware of his own relation within everything else and takes blissful refuge in the innermost sanctuary of consciousness - enlightenment. The great oceans of reality and time flow around him now, a product of his own insight and imagination. Thus does the endless river of Life flow.
*note: This was revised several times, the subject is slightly more clear as a result. Written for a grade in my English class*
Cypher of Souls
Raging hearts beat many drums,
beats deafen pposition,
forget pacts of brotherhood.
Who beats that drum, I wonder?
Rythms of men strong in verse but
weak in spirit would ravage all sentiment
to save their own,
cadences from men strong in spirit
yet lacking verse bequeath Durer's Melancholia -
birth fear for your laws, homes, and
kin - for these men
decimate passion, decimate relation
to save their own.
Why trust lightless paragons,
why trust strength borne of death's reach?
why trust blind sight?
No passion, no voice, no vision
inspires more life, speaks louder, sees farther
than the nonpareil soul -
same wellspring of hmanity imprisoned,
seeking asylum from false glory and repuation.
Trust neither book nor man beyond Descarte's denial
to create sublime worlds; the answer
lies within - let none control the beating heart.
Who beats that drum, I wonder?
Raging hearts beat many drums,
beats deafen pposition,
forget pacts of brotherhood.
Who beats that drum, I wonder?
Rythms of men strong in verse but
weak in spirit would ravage all sentiment
to save their own,
cadences from men strong in spirit
yet lacking verse bequeath Durer's Melancholia -
birth fear for your laws, homes, and
kin - for these men
decimate passion, decimate relation
to save their own.
Why trust lightless paragons,
why trust strength borne of death's reach?
why trust blind sight?
No passion, no voice, no vision
inspires more life, speaks louder, sees farther
than the nonpareil soul -
same wellspring of hmanity imprisoned,
seeking asylum from false glory and repuation.
Trust neither book nor man beyond Descarte's denial
to create sublime worlds; the answer
lies within - let none control the beating heart.
Who beats that drum, I wonder?
