Friday, 24 October 2014


The present really is the most painful thing to me. There must be an element of the human spirit that knows how to read present occurrences better than anything else. Perhaps there's even an element that reads past occurrences better than anything else? Future occurrences? They read books, we read books, they exist in bodies, we exist in libraries.

There's a mammoth temptation inside. Inside this temptation is an ardor for basking in memories. Memories have become my joy.

And yet, I don't spend as much time as I'd like basking in memories. I have a fear toward this desire of mine. Solomon said not to beg for the days gone by.

And here I am examining myself again, I think. But can I truly examine myself. If I and myself are the same thing, how is this examination possible? Can any one thing examine itself? Analyzing words can be very dull, which I just demonstrated.

Isn't it pathetic when ephemeral things become our joy? Joy should be divine. Joy should be God made. Joy should be eternal.

For awhile now, I've been thinking about how selfish my writings are. Tonight I finally feel some regret as I sit here writing about myself. Looking inward can be so mesmerizing at times - the ecstasy of self-consciousness!

But is it good? Ethics and morality should never be subordinate to desire and pleasure. Oh look, it's my inner zealot who will likely disappear in a matter of 10 minutes.

Self-examination has its share of sorrow too, however. But is that so wrong? Perhaps I feel sorrow when I look at myself because I recognize my own spiritual waywardness? And with this learning, I could find resolves. That sounds plausible.

I have somehow managed to will this dark night of the soul. I do not stumble under a sky of new clouds; I comfortably will the existence of these clouds - a vain passion over Godly reason. Why am I doing this to myself?

If only I had eyes to see the God that my heart so desperately wants to love.

Apparition Chair

I had never found this chair occupied before. There was a slight feeling of hesitation when I glanced around the corner. But there it was, just as I expected, empty. I walked toward, collapsing into the chair. Nothing could take this chair away from me. Certainly not the people below whom I was looking at from the unusually skinny window nearby! I was on the second floor. And then I felt. It was obvious to me, unlike most of my other feelings. It wasn't just a banal surrounding, but it was pungent in terms of being. It started at the head and found its way to my legs.

These formerly dense bones have turned into withered feathers. The birds have forgotten how to fly. The sky holds me up, even though I have no understanding of its hands. I knew this could take me under no matter what I willed. The will did not matter, but how was that so? The words on the page had lost all readability. I no longer wanted to think about what I normally liked to think about. This spirit was taking over!

There's a loss of significance when I think about these chromosomes hiding in their cells, hiding even deeper in my body. They're these little arachnids blanketed by carapaces. And then I find myself practicing metacognition, where my fears wage war against authenticity. I have no thoughts, just neurons firing inside of my brain. I have no mind, I only have a brain. I have no spirit, I am just a sum of material parts - a collection of spinning cogs! This is a practice of horror, this reevaluation of things that I don't even believe in.

Thursday, 16 October 2014

The Darkness

The blood moon hangs in the sky to remind all star gazers of the danger that is wandering. Blood covers the doors to remind those who enter of the terror that must be brought upon them. Oh, how The Great I Am desires to forgive! I trust that He does. Exasperation is a thief - my energy being stolen for the sake of passion. It's the only passion that so obviously violates me, or at least, where I sense the actuality of the violation. And violation is ugly, but I won't hide the ugliness, because one day I won't even consider hiding. It's futile.

How can they think that the world is beautiful? It's a perverted obsession with aesthetics. You praise your wandering, yet you can't admit that your quest has no end. Oh, the vanity! You aren't even on a quest, you just pretend that you are! You're lazing in l'obscurité.

These days have been silent. My visions of the holy have vanished. I seem to be the most apparent thing to myself when others aren't distracting me. I feel sad when I see strangers walking by. We relate, but we deny any relation.

O Lord, how can I speak with grace in the presence of demons? Is it your will for me to speak of evil in the same way that I speak of good? May these words not choke the faith that I do have.

I can't seem to help but fear this state that I am writing in. With emotional pain comes physical pain - can I just have the first one? I don't know why physical pain seems so much more gruesome than other types of pain, but it does.

Friday, 10 October 2014

What Causes Mental Illness?

This is a mindful exploration that I have wanted to begin for awhile now. Not to say that I haven't been exploring already, I have, but this is the transition from non-physical thoughts to physical documentation. I want for my writing to contain some structure to it. It probably won't, but at the very least you'll be able to sense that I tried, insofar as my will may succeed.

The topic that I will be looking at today is mental illness. I think about mental illness every day, so it's an idea that holds space in my mind. For the sake of background information, I was prescribed SSRIs around a year and a half ago for moderate anxiety and depression. For those who might be curious, I took the drug for a very short period of time and no longer take it. Ever since this moment occurred in my existence, I've developed a deep fascination toward this subject.

Some thoughts on the matter shall be written out below. I know that this is a sensitive subject, so I hope that this writing will find the reader well. I do not intend for this writing to be condescending toward those who may disagree - it's simply a personal belief after all, which could very well be inaccurate. I do not claim certainty on a lot of the thoughts that will be shared. This is not intended to be academic, as this entry adheres to the non-formal creative writing format.

I suppose the most basic question to ask would be: what is a mental illness? "A mental illness is a medical condition that disrupts a person's thinking, feeling, mood, ability to relate to others and daily functioning."

Two words in that definition catch my attention: illness and medical. You might be thinking to yourself "Well, that's strange. Why would these words catch your attention? Especially illness, as it's right in the term 'mental illness.'" I find that both words catch my attention because words such as illness and medical usually refer to physical body concerns.

This brings me to a question: are all mental properties physical? And from here I have even more questions to address. Do people have both a physical brain and a non-physical mind? Do people only have a physical brain? With the assumption that the physical brain is the totality of mental properties, it would be easy to say that all mental properties are physical.

Many would infer that a mental illness is purely a physical problem. People with said belief might say that a mental illness is nothing more than a chemical imbalance inside of the physical brain.

However, as someone who believes in the reality of spiritual things, I think that this is one of the greatest faults of secular psychology - this idea that all mental properties are physical. I should also say that I am especially concerned as a Christian. I don't intend to delve too deeply into Biblical theology here, but with my conviction that The Bible is the Word of God, I certainly hold a conviction that immaterial parts such as the mind, the heart, and the soul are intrinsic to human beings because the Bible talks about the actuality of these things. Is it possible that the non-physical mind, heart, and soul could have some cause in the case of mental illness?

Make no mistake, I am not trying to say that all mental illnesses go beyond chemical imbalances. Perhaps a chemical imbalance really is the root of mental illness in some circumstances. But nevertheless, I am still left with many doubts and questions. What is the basis for determining a chemical imbalance? Is that basis trustworthy? Why is it assumed that just because particular chemistry can be observed inside of the physical brain, that that particular chemistry is the very origin of the mental illness itself? Is there something that causes neurotransmitter imbalances?

So what's the conclusion of the matter? I believe that the physical brain is perhaps connected with the non-physical mind, heart, and soul. And with that belief I think it's vital to be careful with how mental illness is responded to. I'm unable to provide an actual conclusion though. Lust of wonder leaves the fangs dripping.

Thursday, 2 October 2014

Trying To

Observation seems just as worthwhile as involvement. When I ponder the origin of relations, it seems to me that observation must have come before involvement. There is some degree of will involved in any form of involvement, n'est pas? No separate things just happen to become involved with one another. Internal observation happens before acted out involvement happens. I loathe involvement. I shouldn't at this point because I view myself as being an existentialist. I must be an existentialist within an anti-existentialist? My actions are opposite to my desires. I must be a modern day Paul. Or Thomas, perhaps?

Nobody truly fears the unknown. Of course, you can hold a fear toward something without knowing what it is. But you cannot fear the unknown in and of itself. If something is unknown to you in every plausible way, then how could you have a fear toward it? The unknown has no presence whatsoever toward individuals. I think that people fear possibilities, seeds already sown within their minds, but I do not think that people fear the unknown.

You know, it's not as useless as it might initially seem to think about the barns you see in the countrysides. They could be paper mache facsimiles after all! You think you know that they are barns, but do you know? I have used the word "know" nine times in this entry. Now I have used it ten times. Thanks Alvin Goldman for inspiring me to think about the actuality of the barns I see in the countrysides - I'll try to be better than Henry. I was going to write some angst-ridden words against you, but I have since put them aside. How could I stay angry at such charming philosophy?

People think it's good to laugh, but how many of the things commonly laughed at are good to laugh at? The sad truth is that there just isn't much regard for ethics and morality in entertainment. I wonder what people laughed about in Biblical times? Based on the verses I know that mention laughter, people laughed in mockery toward other people, laughed in a state of drunkenness, laughed in doubt of God, and laughed in awe of God. God laughed sometimes too. Although, I'm not sure why. I'm even less sure than I was before. However, it seems that God was laughing at his own creation in a mocking sense. God really isn't for some of us, it seems. I can't blame him for laughing, humans are fools. There's not an iota of secular humanism in that statement.

I want to be a shape. I am trying to be a shape. I want you to be a shape. You seem repulsed at my request for you to be a shape, is that true?

Friday, 26 September 2014

la Chambre

I entered through a white door to find myself in a familiar room. The room had four walls, as did the entrance. It was eight o'clock in the evening. I parted the drapes so that I could imagine myself being outside. Inside and outside never seemed as different to me as they did to others. But it is responsible to be outside, so I will pretend to be outside. I was always held inside of something. Never in, never out, always in between the hands of Time and the feet of Space. Those hands could only carry so much until they made it to Heaven. Those feet could only plunge so deep into the waters. I watched some minutes pass by on a digital clock. What an absurd thought that I am progressing at the mere sight of these shifting shapes! And the thought that I can tell that a minute has passed through the changing of a shape. And that I am certain that only one minute has passed after all these different shapes have changed form. And I even know the value of the shapes! These shapes mean more than shapes.

I encountered the beast when I was in the room. Me and the beast encountered each other daily. I walked across the room to find the beast sleeping, and stroked my arm across its body. A particular sadness toppled over me. The beast seemed subordinate to me when it was asleep, but when it was awake I became very helpless. I know that I can make the beast sleep or awaken, so it is within my control to will either one of these, but when I choose the latter it controls me. It controls me every time.

The only thing that can go beyond this room are these prayers. The prayers which flow from the mind and to God. I doubt both this mind and this God. Where is the floor?

Friday, 19 September 2014

God is Purpose

"Time is of the essence" echoes in my head, while everyone else here lacks the sincerity that I hold fast to. Just sitting in their chairs, biding time. And truly there's nothing favorable coming for them (but what about me?). And truly I don't know that. And truly I don't know many things.

As if sitting in this chair could bring me toward purpose. As if anything I may write could bring me toward that. As if anything they'd say could bring me toward that. There's no going toward purpose, that is, if I continue going toward myself. For if I was looking for purpose, that must indicate that I do not possess it.

But what if the purpose already exists inside of me? What if it's a simple task of uncovering? With my theology in tact, I suspect that these questions are excuses. I only want to make myself a god. "I have more control over myself than any other thing, and I want something to be a god, so I'll be that something, that god." Worship of the self.

God is purpose and that's why I sense distance from purpose. This occurs because I have not seen the fullness of God. Yes, the Holy Spirit may dwell inside of me, but my body is not the origin of that which dwells inside. That is why I can't go toward myself to find purpose, since the Holy Spirit exists beyond my personal existence.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit.

Where does this Holy Spirit exist inside of me? I'm not sure, I can't touch it, it's immaterial.

To conclude with some thoughts on the human soul. For a long time I have thought of the soul as something that comes into existence but becomes eternal. This is contradictory though, because the word eternal implies no beginning and no end. How can the soul begin to exist when there's not an end? And I do believe in the afterlife, so I do believe that there is no end, so how is it that this endlessly existing immaterial object could have a beginning?

I could have been wrong. Maybe every soul exists eternally, apart and within body, and it's a matter of individuals recognizing that they have souls?