Sunday 16 November 2014

Farewell

The two most recent posts were a little old, but I decided to publish them anyway. By a little old, what I mean is that I wrote them last week. This is my professional, uber-official, materialistic, shady business press release stating that I will be moving blogs. After 200+ posts, nearly all of them being self-reflective, I sense that it is time to move on. To put it simply, introspection has become rather miserable to me. Not to say that I have quit introspection all together, but I'm bored of it right now. A change of scenery (as far as scenery on the internet goes).

I have already started a new blog. If you are interested, here is the url: http://sketchbookworship.blogspot.ca/.

This might be the end of Stilts to Heaven, which is a sad thought. For one thing, this blog has received a lot more traffic than expected. This idea of success is pompous though, it's meaningless in and of itself. But if you want to know a little secret, I am currently at 11,398 page views. I mean, that's not great or amazing, but it's more than I expected. Thank you to those who took time to read. I don't plan on deleting this blog (I am very susceptible to nostalgia, after all).

I might be back, I might not be.

Thank you and farewell,
stiltstoheaven

At Odds

The certainty I have of the present is not near as accurate as the certainty I have of the past. I've seen it happen, time and time again. The person I was during our exchanged departures was very wrong. Yes, he was very mistaken indeed. I remember not wanting to be that person, but I couldn't help it. No, that's not true. Perhaps the person I was at the time was beyond the control of the will, but that's not the only utility I had then or even have now. I did not know how to not be that person, the opportunity never seemed real to me. But no, that doesn't mean that I couldn't help it.

The person I am now is the person I should have been when we departed from each other. If only I had been as forlorn as I am now! That sounds preposterous. Based on my reflections and writings, I have good reason to believe that internal willingness does not always bring forth external fruition. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm not actually the most charitable toward other people. Maybe this will serve as a reminder to myself and bring about something good.

I remember saying a long while ago that "things really can get better," but with the things I now hold in mind, my doubts are greater than they once were. These things I hold in mind both come from personal and non-personal experience, that is to say, the experience of other people. I won't say that all hope is lost though. I don't believe that I am the origin of hope itself, and with that belief I assume that hope exists somewhere else, and since I have not been everywhere else, I think there is still a chance that hope exists. That's not the most rigorous logic, but I think it has some substance.

I'm missing those times when my almost Gnostic tendencies raged inside of me. Not to say that I've shed them completely, but I miss when the spiritual was held in higher esteem than the material. I want the reality of the spiritual, but I don't know how to get there. Again, the will fails.

Thinking back, I used to really anticipate the thought of Heaven and escaping the earth. It seemed like the most absolute meaningful thing that could happen to a person. Now, this isn't a scot-free ideology, but I think there's something noble to it. It shows the excitement of witnessing God in his fullness. I'm not in that place anymore, though a part of me wants to be. Back then I didn't want human life but I wanted human death so that I could have spiritual life. That being said, this inclination toward physical death certainly wasn't brought out of despair, it's simply that I held a belief that the best spiritual life came after physical death.

And lately, none of these exactly appeal to me.

Eyes of the Other

The well has lost its depth
in spite of the sun
Some warm spit

Looking across
how beautiful it is to stop and look into the eyes of the other

Saturday 1 November 2014

Emotional Pain

It hasn't been easy keeping my eyes toward the heavens these days. Where the eyes wander, that is where the heart is. Or rather, where the eyes wander, these are the places where I want my heart to be. And the eyes wander to a lot of different places, but since the eyes are not omnipresent, it makes perfect sense that the heart is not found everywhere that is desired. But if I look toward ultimate reality, I might obtain the eyes of eternity. A good heart cannot be found in the world itself, as it exists metaphysically. Looking toward ultimate reality, God, is the first step(?)

Lately I've had this fear of falling into despair. Hopefully this present bridge won't collapse under the weight of future plans. I almost wish there weren't any plans. A world with only thinking and no action seems like bliss. I want for this night to be eternal. I just want to lay here and think so very intently or think so very little that I don't even have to think about it. But if God provides the day, the day has come. And as long as I come, the day is here ... dasein.

Whilst moseying in solitude last night, under the dark sky and between the cold air, I began to think about the pain that I've been suppressing. This pain has been with me for a year now. I have found myself tempted to rid myself of the pain, but I don't even want to do that. It seems as though I'm psychologically addicted to emotional pain. The pain itself is the closest thing I have to the cause of the pain, and I want the cause of the pain so badly because it once brought healing to me, therefore I hold onto the pain itself.

And is what I consider "the cause" actually the cause? Perhaps it's myself who is at fault? I am unsure. I'm not out to make accusations against other people, against other souls. It's just that it gets tiring praying, thinking, and writing about pain.

Friday 31 October 2014

The Irony of Assumptions and Judgments

Don't make assumptions! You shouldn't judge others! There are more to these phrases than meets the proverbial eye, especially the myopic eye. These phrases don't mean to avoid assuming or judging at all costs; rather, the meaning found within is to not assume or judge with negativity. When people say these things, they are implicitly giving the person being judged the benefit of the doubt, which is in nature a positive assumption or judgment.

Friday 24 October 2014

Understand

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. All said and done, I'm unable to provide an actual conclusion though.

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?

Saturday 13 September 2014

Symbol

I should have doubted you. You had no stigmata to show, for your body was an untouched body. Perhaps that is why I wanted to feel you? And perhaps that is why you also wanted me to feel you? I collapsed in prayer when I heard the music. I had such faith that my prayers made it to you, though they never did. It was the act of folding my hands in a desolate sanctuary.

The way in which Jesus departed from the world is certainly troubling. The body left but the spirit remained. That might sound pleasant, but it is not. And I do not believe that to be the Truth, for it just seems true to me. When Jesus was in the world, his presence went beyond that of a sacrament, for a sacrament is a mere symbol - Jesus was both the symbol and the symbolized. But as of now, we have the symbolized without the symbol. I want the symbol. It is a human tendency to worship the symbol rather than what is being symbolized. The symbol appears to be more real when it is placed against what is being symbolized. And even with my conviction that the symbolized is more important than the symbol, I feel that the symbol is more worthy of my attention.

Alas, I am lost! I am losing. But have I lost? I am unsure of how to direct my attention toward the symbolized. Please, let me go further! These human eyes cannot see any further.

Friday 12 September 2014

Is Self-Perception Innaccurate?

Two days back, I heard somebody share the idea that "if we saw ourselves walking down the street, we wouldn't recognize that person as being ourselves." My reaction was one of sarcastic eyes and tired frustration. This reaction had no philosophical basis, at least, not one that I had understood at the moment. But the more I thought about it, the more I became advanced in having a clear understanding of why this inference frustrated me.

I am not fond of this idea because it's naive toward the perception of others, the perception that conscious people have of other perceptions; the perception that a person has when they observe the observation that others have of themselves. For example, let's say that I commissioned a talented artist to draw a portrait of me. If I were to compare that portrait to what I see when I look into the mirror, I would think that the two images would be quite similar (in fact, I think they would be very similar). This is a good reason to believe that the perceptions we have of ourselves are accurate.

Friday 5 September 2014

Knowing

As I should have been, given that the light sky had surrendered to the night sky, I was strewn across my bed last night. My eyes hastily decided that there was nothing worthwhile to see. Tiredness preceded insomnia, which was unusual, but certainly welcome. I was thinking about my personal understanding of God and how it seems so meaningless to me. I don't want to understand God, I want to know God. But that's foolishness because understanding and knowing are one and the same, at least, according to a dictionary.

Perhaps I don't truly know God? What sight do I have to perceive divine intervention? What if "divine intervention" is built by the hands of my own subjectivity? And then somebody will tell me to look at the scriptures. Well, again, what if the scriptures were built by the hands of others subjectivity?

There is no knowing. And I don't really care to know. But I also don't care to not know. I don't care about either. It's faith and I know it's not dead because it's practiced in the world. Even though I can see that faith is alive in the world, it doesn't necessarily mean that I see that faith alive inside of me. And that's what hurts, seeing what is absent inside when you look outside.

What care does God have toward the times I talk to him? My confessions, worries, praises, what could they possibly do for God? They can't improve him, for God is absolute. They are of no help to him, which I can understand, but they don't help me either. They don't improve me, based on the judgment I have of myself. I don't usually find joy in talking to God. I usually do it out of a fear of what God could do to me, for God can do anything that doesn't contradict his will.

Notwithstanding the disorder, I still use prayer as a channel to find peace. I suppose there is some amount of belief in me that God is peace, even though it is a modest amount. I want to find myself in the supernatural someday. A small marketplace with vendors and a cobblestone pavement underneath. And the vendors won't be selling withering fruit, but the fruits of the spirit.

But I'm not there and the world is hiding my soul from me. Oh, how weary you have become, once world of faith!

Tuesday 2 September 2014

Stumbling Eyes

I wasn't born with eyes that look toward myself, and still I look toward myself so often. Perhaps my existence would be more Godly if I was unable to see my reflection, or see myself in any way at all. What is the purpose of self-consciousness? They created mirrors and we found rivers to stare into. And when we become bored of staring into the rivers, we'll travel across them and end up right where we began. There is only one earth. Towns, cities, countrysides, villages, states, and countries are just man-made separations. There is no objective separation! And spaceflight? Spaceflight only forces humans to become robots - metal for flesh and helmet for head.

"And if your eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into the fire of hell."

How many eyes must I rid myself of? And if my eyes are causing me to stumble, how will I have the clarity to see that I must rid myself of them?

The phrase "kiss it goodbye" is ignorant. Any person who has experienced pain through a "goodbye" should know that. Those who have experienced pain through such a "goodbye" did not receive a kiss at the conclusion. What did they receive? They received nothing from the other, for the one in pain provided for themselves, likely provisions of banality. A kiss would have been so very fortunate. There was no comprehensible conclusion - in three words, it was abrupt.

Internal ideas remain at the minor stage until they become appropriate external responses, that is, if it is possible for appropriate external responses to follow. If it is not possible for appropriate external responses to follow, than those internal ideas are eternal, without a beginning or an end (?)

Thursday 14 August 2014

Least Aware

Perhaps the word comes to mind more often than it should, but vanity is appealing because it is visceral. It's so visceral that I can't even touch it with the tongue that I speak with, or the hands that I type with, or the feet that I walk with. I suspect that vanity is buried beneath everything we know to be evil but believe to be good. Our belief has buried vanity. It's not that we've even buried the evil of vanity, we've just buried the truth of our actions. But we don't see the truth because we believe that the truth doesn't want us to believe what we ought to. With the loss of truth comes the loss of ... I don't know how to talk about the truth.

Isn't it funny how we're all so black and white? We're comics, or at least, we try to be comics. That's what makes a good man in the 21st century, humor and cheer. An abode of delight and distraction. It's not often that I think about laughter. It's never made sense to me nor has it not made sense to me. Why should I feel pressure to be funny? The closest thing to laughter is either heavy breathing or asphyxia. Is laughter an in-situation veneer for future mourning?

It's interesting how we mature so that we can reach such "beloved destinations," yet when we make it to these places we become children again. I'm not sure if I'm simply jealous of the romantics or if I'm just unimpressed? Observantly speaking, when people engage in romantic moments they become so very juvenile; juvenile in a way that they cannot be when they are on their own. The regress, the oddity, the naivety ... maybe if I keep writing I'll never worry about romantic relationships again? Real romance is even worse than Harlequin. And why do outsiders feel so inclined as to love the lovers? Lovers don't need love like the healthy don't need doctors, and like the anxious don't need fear, and like the depressed don't need gloom, and like the snakes don't need scales, and like the birds don't need feathers, and like the poor don't need less. 

It's frightening when you see the purpose of your existence. Being without purpose might be unsatisfying, but seeing your purpose is overwhelming. When you can only think of one thing that seems meaningful, one thing that will bring you joy, and it turns out that it's something that you don't even really want.

It seems so foolish to me that tolerance is thought of as being "progressive." From my understanding, tolerance is used to try and escape the scenarios of being offended or offending others, yet it's this constant feeding of downright offense. We become trolls with tangled hair and grubby hands, as we feed both ourselves and others with the ugliness that we call "tolerance."

Do humans crave tragedy? Do humans crave that which is epic? Do humans crave terror? Do humans crave horror? It's very honorable that we sit in front of TVs and watch people being killed with machine guns. It's very honorable that we enjoy ideations of pain, or worse yet, actual pain. It's very honorable that we laugh at jokes that God probably finds abominable. "Oh, but those television shows and movies, they're just fictional. It's all in good fun." Is fiction more important than ethics?

And here I am, a bourgeois character sitting behind a keyboard, likely writing about things that I don't have enough knowledge or piety to write about. But, at the very least, I am aware of that.

Margaret Atwood, you were right.

Saturday 9 August 2014

Saint Augustine

"O Lord God of truth, if a man is to please you, surely it is not enough that he should know facts like these? Even if he knows them all, he is not happy unless he knows you; but the man who knows you is happy, even if he knows none of these things."


Confessions, book five, part four

Lonely

Building a cathedral without windows
So nobody sees my sins
And these confessions would feel lovely
If I didn't feel lonely

It's just that I'm lonely
And you're just outside the door
But I don't want to see you
So I'll choose to stay inside

The sanctuary suffers
Where's the God in you?
Where's the God in me?
I'd like to believe

It's just that I'm lonely
And you're praying on the floor

Do I fold my hands in prayer
just to hold my own hand?

Friday 8 August 2014

Do Trees Have Minds?

Have you ever heard that question “If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear?” It comes from the song "If a Tree Falls" by Bruce Cockburn. This question caused me to ask another question: do trees have minds? Below is my theory which, very generally speaking, argues that it is possible for trees to have minds.

1. God has the greatest mind.

2. With the greatest mind, God created the lesser mind.

3. God created the brain as a more limited, physical representation of the lesser mind.

4. The lesser mind existed before the brain.

5. The existence of the lesser mind is not founded upon the existence of the brain.

6. Therefore, an object without a brain can have a lesser mind.

So, maybe we can hear trees within certain distances because the trees recognize the distances and provide the sounds because of this knowledge? Although, why are the trees not more generous in terms of distance? Why these limitations? I do not know and it does not really matter.

Or does it? Maybe if we believed that non-human objects had minds, and God-given minds at that, we would care about them more? Then again, nobody who writes about care really cares at all.

Saturday 26 July 2014

Hate & The Image of God

When I choose to hate a person, the hate transcends the person. Past the person is the upper echelon, God. When a person is shown hate, God is also shown hate. Whether the hate remains internal or whether it is expressed externally, the hate somehow reaches God (?).

So, how is it that the hate reaches God when the hate reaches people? Does this mean that every person is God? How can the hate reach God when there are so many who do not reach for Him? What makes this suspected “domino reaction” able to happen? What makes this “domino reaction” unable to stop – and is it truly unable of being stopped?

Some would infer that the hate reaches God when the hate reaches people because "every person is created in the image of God." But does that hold any weight to it now? What about the fall of man? Once the fall of man took place, was the creation of man in God's image impeded? The question remains: are people still created in the image of God?

Saturday 19 July 2014

Ante Meridiem: Forever

It is nothing short of mesmerizing that the question mark looks just like a human ear - and yet, this is paradoxical because when you ask a question you do not know whether the consciousness in which your question dives into will respond with hearing or deafness, as you would if you were talking with a human you were well acquainted with - that is, unless the human you were well acquainted with obtained hearing or deafness without your knowledge of such. In my abode of questions, the disdain is penetrating.

The problem with questions is not the lack of answers. The problem with questions is that the lack of answers may last forever. Forever is the phantom's fathom and this phantom is the human's fate. At any rate, the idea that the phantom possesses is the human's fate. How is it that I am able to speak of forever when I have no experiential recalling of forever? My question is stupid because forever and recalling are unable to synthesize.

Your questions are not stupid. Well, what I mean to say is, the questions that you leave me with are not stupid. Am I coming any closer? Your ability to bury me in questions is brilliant. And in your brilliance, you inflict the type of pain that is often there even though I lose sight of it more often than I prefer. Will you always be there for me? No, you will not - reason being, always is synonymous with forever, and since forever is non-existent in this dimension, it would be pitiful for me to expect this of you.

But I do expect this of you. Why do I expect this of you? My only response is a dead end - not a dead end, but a seemingly dead end to me. By faith I trust that eternity is written on my heart, and with that eternity the hurt seems more preeminent, in certain circumstances, than the healing.

And what is the purpose of speaking with myself, anyway? It is such mediocrity and nonsense to create an illusion of the person who desires not to speak with me. Though, you did once desire to speak with me. And I know that this is not and could not be forever, but I still believe that it will and could be forever. It hurts to lose what once brought me victory.

Monday 7 July 2014

Neon & Psyche

If this truly is the Kingdom of Heaven, then I can't remember entering through the doorway. If I did find that doorway, why did I not fall? The splendor of the Angels should have blinded me and caused me to stumble. And if I would have fallen, would I have found myself in Hell?

I don't believe that I saw any Angels, though I remember seeing some neon signs along the way. Neon signs are visual lassos minus the gunfights. Do not fear fleshly bullet wounds - but fear the violation of the psyche.

Angels aren't all that similar to neon signs. One carries you out of yourself and the other carries you into yourself.

Please don't tell me that the Kingdom of Heaven is here. Every image that I've interpreted as being "God" has not been God after all. If the Kingdom of Heaven is on Earth, why is God in all His fullness not on Earth?

Monday 30 June 2014

The Connexion Between Man and God

God knows man in his fullness, though man does not know God in his fullness. Would this make the connexion between man and God problematic? I will break down this statement and question into three parts. That way, we can take a concise yet detailed look at everything that the statement and question have to offer.

Part One: God Knows Man in His Fullness
God has the full understanding of humans, not only humankind as a general species, but humans as individuals (Psalm 44:21). God knows humans better than they know their own selves. It doesn’t even matter if the humans decide to act in Godly ways or not (Hebrews 4:13). As the righteous Judge, he witnesses both the non-actions and actions of the humans. By non-actions I am referring to the heart, and by actions I am referring to the expressions of the heart. God sees both the heart and the expressions, whether they be of darkness or light (Ecclesiastes 12:14).

Part Two: Man Does Not Know God in His Fullness
Humans do not have the same understanding of God that God has of humans. The Bible, which I believe to be the Word of God, says that nobody has seen God (John 1:18). The Bible also says that God forms humans in the womb of their mothers (Psalm 139:13), knows the hairs on our heads (Luke 12:7), and so forth. Such verses show God as the creator. But what is the human? I suppose it would be easiest to say that the human is the creation.

Part Three: Would this make the connexion between man and God problematic?
Now, why would I suggest that the connexion between man and God could even possibly be problematic? I suggested this for one simple reason: these entities are not the same – creation and creator. It doesn't seem fair now, does it? There is God, and it is necessary that there is only one, who gets to know everything about the creation. But the creation does not and cannot have the knowledge that God has. How is it that the creation doesn't have that God-knowledge, especially when Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil - more specifically, when they attempted to gain the knowledge that God has?

Sunday 29 June 2014

Step / Stop

Step. This key never brings me what I want. Step. And although I never use a different key, I always expect the same outcome. Step. The outcome wouldn't be a problem if it were within the idea of what I had expected to come out. Step. The outcome should be the seed of my idea. Step. But why postulate when the answer is predestined to stray from such demands? Stop.

You cannot accuse me of writing verbatim. This is a practice of repetitious deception - but it is not writing word for word, at least, it is not re-writing word for word. And in my practice of repetitious deception while not re-writing word for word, I act out exactly what I did before. I may not write exactly the same entries, but the heart of the content remains unaltered.

I don't remember being in this place. The most dangerous of doors to open are the doors that close - and that's every door. And why should the doors be covered in blood when blood comes from the inside? The doors are the outsides which lead to the insides - the doors need our insides to let us inside. Just take my blood, and don't tell me that it might be forever. I can't seem to properly imagine anything that I'd want to last forever.

The less you think of me, the more I become stripped of myself. It's as if my very being can only exist if you choose to let me exist inside your mind. I acknowledge that I no longer exist inside your mind, though I have bad faith that I still do. Without the belief that I exist inside your mind, I feel as though I am missing. I am gone until you come to me, and when you come to me, I come back to myself. The waiting is making me wilted. How long will you let me wilt for?

A heart in its wholeness cannot be broken, unless it is given to only one.

Sunday 15 June 2014

Boxcar Jumping

I really like jumping from boxcar to boxcar. It helps me to forget about the totality of the train. Ha, the futility of totality. Totality of what? All of your haughtiness and pride created from your assumed "completeness." It's absolutely hysterical to me. But I'm lying to myself, right? Oh my, I shouldn't be awake right now. The boxcars are passing moments, and the train is my life in general. I'll carefully study every boxcar I jump on top of until my eyes feel the scorn of investigation. I'll just repeat, and repeat, and repeat. And I'll believe that repetition is change, while metamorphosis is only metaphysical. How's that for being forlorn?

Sadly, the healers are the ones who hurt us. I suppose I brought the pain upon myself by thinking of humans as "healers." God is the healer, and I know that, but I still don't believe it. And I'm still waiting. Maybe the waiting will end once I believe that God is the healer? But is that likely at this point? I've made so many prayers to the Lord, and I've talked to both myself and others ... well, more than is necessary.

It's true that you reap what you sow. What a fool I was when I had the seeds in hand!

Friday 13 June 2014

Vain Anticipation

I can't even pretend that consistency exists. What a hoax, a scam, a facade! Just a way to pretend that I'm blessing myself when I'm cursing myself in actuality. The very crevices of my consciousness wrote The Ethics of Communication a long time ago. I did not write on pages, but on my heart, mind, and soul. But despite my factual writings, nobody has seemed to have read them. And that's where the shipwreck takes place. I am a ship and your absence is the sand.

Yet sometimes I don't even desire consistency. After all, I am fond of ambiguity. I never want the existence of physical or supernatural objects to simply fit inside of test tubes. To desire such would be, in my estimation, sophomoric. Perhaps it's my lack of interest in consistency which stimulates my interest in entirety?

That being said, consistency and entirety are by no means opposites. Allow me to rephrase: it is my lack of interest in consistent partiality which stimulates my interest in entirety.

When I refer to entirety I am going beyond the physical wholeness of an object. I am asserting that an object which truly holds to entirety has the ability of not being diminished, no matter what circumstance comes upon it. The object is not only whole in the present moment but holds the ability of being whole for all of eternity.

Why would God write eternity on my heart when I am not whole?

Do you ever feel like you're being besmirched while waiting? Waiting seems to take me to places of lunacy. But really, waiting is harmless on its own. Waiting does not take me to places of lunacy. The ends in which I wait to come to fruition, the telos, are what take me to lunacy. I become so desperate for them. I keep on letting them hurt me because they once healed me. Will they heal me again?

So what is it that makes waiting so difficult? Why does it really matter if I'm being held back from the telos for a duration of time? True waiting cannot be eternal. Untrue waiting is just anticipation. I'm afraid that my waiting is vain anticipation.

Tuesday 10 June 2014

A Bottle

I want to be a bottle.
And I want to be the liquid.
I want to be the bottle in your hands
because then you'd fill yourself with all of me.

I want to be broken.
And I want the shards to cut your hands.
I want to be the one who makes you cry
because then I'd know that I made you feel.

What happens when I become a bottle?
I begin to understand that I can't fill you.
And I begin to understand that I can't make you feel.
God, please don't let me be a bottle.

Friday 30 May 2014

The Memory Museum

It might seem accurate to infer that the human mind is parallel with a museum. The mind latches onto remnants of the past, as a museum stores authentic artifacts. But the mind is the criminal of museums because its objects lack verification. Making matters worse, the mind not only displays what it desires to display, but it also displays what it does not desire to display. What does that make the mind? The mind is a haphazard museum; the chaos extends beyond the control of self.

There is a certain cruelty to memory. Truly, the mind is more similar to a cemetery than a museum. Letters written and received between friends are like epitaphs. And looking at photographs is like searching under tombstones. What do I have if I have a letter from you? Or a photograph of you? I mistaken the remnants as wholeness. I pretend that you are here. Yet nothing within me can cause me to truly fall for the delusion I set before myself. My foolishness seems indefinite though. I am unable to get over you. I refuse to accept any conclusions. I refuse to move on as I wrap my arms around the monument.

Ecclesiastes 7:10 Do not say, “Why is it that the former days were better than these?” For it is not from wisdom that you ask about this.

Saturday 17 May 2014

Grecian Isle

Why does every god look like the same god to me? I had never thought about that until this evening - every god looks like the same god. The gods merely drag me by the feet and lend me over to melancholy. If you will only worship what ceases to disappoint you, then you will find nothing to worship. If I worship humans, I worship flesh and blood - close and fragile. If I worship a supernatural being, I worship what is incomprehensible - distant and eternal. Worshiping humans feels awe-inspiring. And when other humans worship me? Well, that makes for a good day. O God, I understand that it is vanity. I understand that the feelings are fleeting. But do you understand that I am so empty without their praises? Why do my idols refuse to idolize me? It is because I have turned them into statues. They cannot idolize me because my praises have immobilized them. It would be foolish for me to ask why idols cannot properly take the place which you hold. But God, why I am unable to worship you endlessly and bask in endless awe?

Tuesday 13 May 2014

O God

O God, why must I be impotent when I desire freedom? O God, why must I be affected by the plight of Adam and Eve? O God, why does my mind reach beyond reality? O God, why do I lose my appetite when your daily bread is placed before me? O God, why does my soul cease to starve? O God, why are your messengers so dreadful? O God, why must it be a cross that I must bear?



/// painting: Sebastiano del Piombo ///

Friday 9 May 2014

Relations

The LORD was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and he was grieved in his heart. It is with much uncertainty that I ask "what was God's existence like before creation?" Did God create out of loneliness? Was he in need of the company of Adam? Or the company of Eve? Surely he was not in need of planets? Surely he was not begging to be worshiped? The verse from Genesis is profound because it not only makes me wonder about the past of God, but it also makes me think about relations.

Relations are, at least in a sense, pathways that lead to evil. This is not to be mistaken with the inference that relations are evil; I am merely asserting that without relations, evil could not be committed. Let us begin by looking at the human subject. The human can only commit evil through the recognition of separate objects. Recognition itself is a form of relation because it is an act of acknowledgement toward objects that are separate from oneself - this is achieved through consciousness. Without the recognition of separate objects, the human would be unable to commit evil. If the human was to begin in a state of true isolation, they could only direct their consciousness toward themselves. And by doing so, they would be unable to commit evil or even good for that matter, because there would be absolutely no authority outside of their own self. The only exception to this claim would be the possibility of the human conjuring up what is "good" and what is "evil" for themselves, but this would be virtually useless since these moral standards would not extend to any object outside of their own existence. Ultimately, God creates moral standards that the human ought to adhere to, thus when the human commits evil acts, these acts are made as bad relations toward God; the human is intended to relate to God through good relations.

When Lucifer gave up his identity as an angel, he did this through the recognition of his own pride and also God's majesty. When Peter denied Jesus, he did this out of a sense of shame for being a Christ follower - he denied the very thing he once followed, the very thing he once had a divine relation to. When the human commits evil, they hurt God. It is because of the relation that the human has with God, since they are one of his creations, that they are able to commit evil in his eyes.

Perhaps God can commit no evil because he once existed on his own? God was once without relations, in true isolation - this was his starting point. This was the starting point that the human never had. This is the starting point that the human lusts after.

Monday 5 May 2014

The Fear of Self

I think about the caves with the mysterious green pools, the dangling measures of sharpness, the hours of blackness, the minutes of light, the echos. And I think about the mouths with the glue-esque saliva, the clattering teeth, the partial vacuity, the lack of visibility, the evil utterances. Caves are mouths of outward nature and mouths are caves of outward human identity. Outward nature and outward human identity seem to place me in a position where I must become an archaeologist of consciousness. In the cave of outward nature, the dominance topples over me. Bats flying over head, cutting my ankles on the stone, my body becoming colder as the mist surrounds, the helplessness of being held inside. My intentions become meaningless. No motion on my behalf can overcome the dominance - there is no ability that is of help. With my recognition toward the cave of outward identity, I scramble to chisel all of the evil out and hide the scraps by burying them under the saliva. My regrets echo while my redemption makes no sound. My identity as a human is plagued by intentional motion - my ability is of bad meaning. Whether I am under the control of the mouth of outward nature or controlling the cave of my outward human identity, the fear of self becomes present in both situations. I either become fearful because of my lack of ability or I become fearful because of my ability. It is the same end with differing means.

Friday 2 May 2014

The Pendulum Existence

My new album The Pendulum Existence is now on the world wide web! You can download the album for free by clicking the link below.

http://stiltstoheaven.bandcamp.com/

Wednesday 30 April 2014

Godsbox

God cannot be put in a box? I believe that God cannot be put in a box by humans, but I also believe that God can indeed be put in a box. God can be put in his own box, outside of the intentions or commands of human beings. God must always be inside his box because his identity is never altered! In some ways, God does have limitations. But the difference between the limitations of God and the limitations of human beings is that God chooses his limitations, having full authority over who he is, while human beings are subject to outside forces. We are either placed in a box by God or Satan, forces that are separate from our own existence. However, God exists in a box of his own. That being said, humans have more freedom than God, at least in one sense; humans have the ability to do that which is evil, and that is something that God cannot even be tempted by. But why would God give us an ability that he himself does not possess? Why would he give that ability to such fools? Was he casting pearls before swine?

Thursday 24 April 2014

Desire, the Leader

Dawn breaks, place around my neck a black cape. It's an escape to fantasy, away from blasphemous restraints. They say blasphemy is normalcy, but I just don't see. I see conveyor belt humans coming out straight for me. Coming out straight for me with their steel hearts and socialism. Existence is a prison, look, there's the bars that build it. The bars look like their hearts. Their hearts look like desire. The heart must confine us? "Desire is your leader, so be well on your way. We have no time to trust." His dreams collapse when the day ends. Weakened stilts, without vigor, and poorly built. Surely he can dream again? But no, he spends all his dreams on the daylight leaving him empty in the cold night. Oh look, there's dusk. The definition of fright.

Monday 21 April 2014

The Red Paint Faction

Reaching is meaningless without grasping. That is, reaching is meaningless without grasping if the end justifies the means. Reaching is a means to an end - the purpose of reaching is to grasp. Reaching is meaningless without grasping if you believe that the end justifies the means. Does belief justify the end or the means? It doesn't matter what we believe - no, you're mistaken! Why does it matter what we believe? Without belief there would be no action. It's not even that you have to believe that your actions have positive or negative consequences, or that your actions are positive or negative in and of themselves, or that your actions even exist. You simply have to believe that you exist. Existence precedes essence? I'm sure that these ideas draw outside the lines of existentialism though. There's action in every moment but we never even see it! Why surrender so soon? I'm staying as far away as I can from that white flag, thank you very much. Maybe I'll even use the colors that I drew outside the existential lines with and drench the flag in paint? How does red paint sound? Red is furious, red is glamorous, red is profound, red is enduring, red is real. There's my commercial, I can see it in the cinemas! "You're not doing anything. They're not doing anything. I'm not doing anything." Now what's that supposed to mean? Why are we giving up so quickly? Can't you see the hourglass? Can't you see my beautiful red flag? I doused it in paint, all for you! There's still time - well, only God knows. If anyone is not doing anything, it's either the unconscious or the dead. And I'm not even convinced that the unconscious or the dead are inactive; I think quite the opposite in actuality. I mean, I'm talking about them right now, so both have some form of essence. That must indicate that they're doing something? They're existing in my consciousness, they're existing in my world. Their essence is among my perception. It doesn't even matter if they're unaware of their existence or lack of existence, they still exist to somebody. That being said, my mentioning of the unconscious and the dead is very abstract since I am writing in very general terms. When I mention the unconscious and the dead I am not mentioning anyone specific. I guess after all is said and done, you don't even need to believe that you exist, you just need to exist. But why does the importance of actions rely on something as boring as existence? Every person who has ever lived exists! It baffles me how any of us can be genuine, if that truly is within our reach to begin with. I wonder, did God create everybody in the beginning? Maybe every person who has yet to live is already living - already living within the imagination of God. Maybe God has a storage room full of souls? Perhaps every soul that has yet to exist is already existing, though not existing in this world at the present moment. We're all just scattered among the earth. And I guess we don't truly know the place in which we came from?

Wednesday 16 April 2014

Entry #176

"We are 'taken out of ourselves' by the loved one while she is here. Then comes the tragic figure of the dance in which we must learn to be still taken out of ourselves though the bodily presence is withdrawn, to love the very Her, and not fall back to loving our past, or our memory, or our sorrow, or our relief from sorrow, or our own love." 
- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed



"The belief that rational and quantifiable disciplines such as science can be used to perfect human society is no less absurd than a belief in magic, angels, and divine intervention."
- Chris Hedges, I Don't Believe in Atheists



"A God who let us prove his existence would be an idol."
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer



‎"If there is no God, then man and the universe are doomed. Like prisoners condemned to death, we await our unavoidable execution. There is no God, and there is no immortality. And what is the consequence of this? It means that life itself is absurd. It means that the life we have is without ultimate significance, value, or purpose."
- William Lane Craig



"All the idols made by man, however terrifying they may be, are in point of fact subordinate to him, and that is why he will always have it in his power to destroy them."
- Simone de Beauvoir



"I am no longer sure of anything. If I satiate my desires, I sin but I deliver myself from them; if I refuse to satisfy them, they infect the whole soul."
- Jean-Paul Sartre, The Devil and the Good Lord



"As I walk past a smile I cast, fervor in my stead. But my bones like plastic, do buckle backward now. I lay in this field by Judas and anticipate the plow. I cannot be forgiven, my wages will be paid. For those more lovely and admirable is least among the saved."
- Josh Dies of Showbread, Matthias Replaces Judas



"I'm fighting the war rather than war itself. I'm caught in the midst of no redemption. I'm fighting the war rather than war itself. Some say there's hope in this, there is love. Show me her eyes, I'll feel her hair.
I'll be back to déjà vu. Over and over. The same dream. The same question. Will I ever forgive myself?"
- Mike Hranica of The Devil Wears Prada, War



"Having a tree growing up out of me / Is often a worrisome thing. / I'm twisty and thorny and branchy and bare / But wait till you see me in Spring."
- Shel Silverstein, Headache



"Bring your secrets to me. Just give me your hands and I'll let you feel the wounds they put in me. If you believe in me how can I be dissolving? If you'd believe me, I'd tell you everything."
- Davey Havok of AFI, 37mm

What is True Faith: An Opinion Piece

A few weeks ago I came across a quote that has resonated with me longer than expected. In fact, upon reading the quote I did not expect that it would resonate with me at all. I am a human being and simple distractions captivate me, so I sometimes read quotes. Following my reading of the quote, I have asked questions in regard to what is being communicated. I am in no way saying that the quote made me ask questions, but I think that God did. God must have noticed that I read the quote and decided to ask me questions based on the information that I perceived. The quote reads as follows: "True faith produces a life full of actions, not a head full of facts." As soon as I had finished reading this I was simply repulsed. But why? My reasons and objections shall be written out below.

The quote encourages Christ followers to not use their minds. You may think that I am jumping to conclusions here, but bear with me. Well okay, I am reading between the lines. However, I feel very confident in thinking and stating that this quote pushes the agenda that "good Christians are mentally lazy." Why does the author assume that faith and thinking are so distant from one another? Why does true faith cease to produce a head full of facts? I would have felt more comfortable if the quote had said "True faith produces both a life full of actions and a head full of facts." But it does not say that, it says "...not a head full of facts." I think that the mind is an important part of the human spirit, but this quote is all action and no theory, and that does not sit well with me. I like theory - perhaps I like theory too much? I know that God wants more action from me, but I do not think that theory is necessarily vain.

The emphasis that this quote solely puts on action makes me rather skeptical. Make no mistake, I think that true faith and actions are connected to each other. James 2:14-17 says "What use is it, my brethren, if someone says he has faith but he has no works? Can that faith save him? If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and be filled,” and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body, what use is that? Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself."

Taking that into consideration, I have never seen anything in scripture which indicates that a head full of facts is not a consequence of true faith. And I am back to the unanswerable question, the question that I did not expect to pose: what is true faith? Hold on, that question is basically right in the title. Oh my, the forgetfulness. Four hours of sleep is simply not adequate before writing an exam and having two job interviews. Okay, getting back on topic. Faith and actions are separate from one another, but somehow true faith relies on actions? But do the actions rely on true faith? Can the true faith be described apart from the actions attached to the faith? What is true faith in and of itself?

Tuesday 15 April 2014

For Better or For Worse

Comparisons are just futile, are they not? You constantly witness people shifting their negative perceptions by comparing their bad situations to those who "have it worse" so that they can feel more positive and happy; sometimes you even witness people shifting their positive perceptions by comparing their good situations to those who have it "better off than they do" just so they can feel glum. Those who do the former are known as the "positive thinkers" and those who do the latter are known as "the complainers." The positive thinkers receive accolades for their bright attitudes, while the complainers are looked upon with disdain. But why should that be so? They are opposite extremes - both dangerous, I think. Both seem to lose and fall victim to tragedy. It is merely a lose-lose situation! You are either obtaining happiness because of somebody else's existing woe and misfortune or you are becoming sad because you cannot see that goodness exists in your own life. I like complaining and it turns out that I am losing?

Thursday 10 April 2014

To Live is Christ

I can only die because I live. I could only live because I did not live. I could only exist because of reasons that were outside of my own existence. In a sense, my individual life is susceptible to that which is not intrinsic to my individuality. Why does a person live when they are obligated to die? Death becomes the most apparent to me when I am tired. Jean-Paul Sartre said "Life has no meaning the moment you lose the illusion of being eternal." Personally, I forget that I am going to die often times, and I think that others hold fast to that same forgetfulness. But that is such an irrefutable and alien action, is it not? I am getting closer and closer to dying, yet so often I pretend that dying is merely a bad dream, or rather, that my vision of dying is simply an image of an unrealistic bad dream. Truth be told, it just makes me cringe writing about this topic. I could never accurately write about something that is completely out of my own existence and experience. But that is what death essentially is: being tossed out of my own existence and experience, at least, what I have perceived to be my own existence and experience. How many times have I aimlessly written about personal fascinations? Yes, it is that second word: many. I would hate to lose the experience of getting all tangled up in these thoughts. Some might say that such an experience is destructive, but I am basking in enjoyment. Make no mistake though, this does not always happen when I write. Do you see the ending? Do you see the death of my writing? It ends with Christ. I did not consciously intend to get to that point, but my river of ideas seemed to flow to the correct dam. Philippians 1:21 says "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." This is one of the most profound sentences that I have read, yet I do not know what it means. At least, I cannot conjure up an explanation for that sentence. However, something very personal tells me that it is truthful. May Christ be my conclusion.

Sunday 6 April 2014

A Prayer in the Dark

These everyday walls become like everyday sins. Always there, and never in sight. There's nowhere I want to go, except for where I've been. We're never quite free and we're never quite chastened. These words are not adequate. So I'll say a prayer in the dark.

Friday 28 March 2014

The Fiend, Cacophony

Why assume that cacophony must exist in a single moment? Why assume that it is unfettered? Perhaps cacophony truly is unable to be transmitted through numerous moments? But no, I will refute such an assumption (albeit without proper evidence). It may seem dull and it may be long lasting, but it is still cacophony. It just does not want you to know how destructive, evil, and detrimental it is.

Have you ever been fearful about making it to Heaven? Last night, I was considering the possibility of acting on my lying and inauthentic nature for the duration of my human existence, and only becoming truthful and authentic once the afterlife takes place. It is terrifying for me to realize that I could only be morally virtuous once I reach Heaven. Beyond the celestial gates, I still imagine guilt being present, the guilt which reflects all of my transgressions.

Guilt is such a perceptible aspect of human consciousness, so how could I imagine anything different? Perhaps it is vain to hold expectations in regard to Heaven? Not only am I afraid of lying, but my soul is in the lions den. What I mean to say is, I am scared of all the evil I have harbored. My heart is held in Hell's Harbor. Each type of evil is a lion, and my heart is the lamb. I may never fight off all the lions. God may never fight off all the lions for me, either.

To conclude, I am not fearful about making it to Heaven. I am afraid of human existence and I infuse my fears toward human existence into my ideas about Heaven, thus making me mistake Heaven as a fear. Heaven is not a fear, yet I tend to believe that my fear will meet me there in its entirety.

Therapy Galaxy

Does a mental illness start in the immaterial mind and find its way to the material brain, or does a mental illness start in the material brain and finds its way to the immaterial mind? Is this a black or white question, or is this a grey question?

Wednesday 26 March 2014

Suppose That

Suppose that I left some words on a page. Suppose that I left those words for a few days. Suppose that I write what I unconsciously left. Suppose that I escalate as if climbing some steps. Suppose that I will put forth a question. Suppose that I will make mention of God's invention and divine intervention. Suppose that I will ponder upon the problem of evil. Suppose that the answers I've seen don't seem to equal the truth. Suppose that the truth could set me free. Suppose that freedom is not enough for me.

Why throw the skin over the bones? It only keeps a man further from his soul.

Monday 24 March 2014

Peter's Floor

Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin. As a result, they do not live the rest of their earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God.

As I reflect in dim solitude, I merely fail. In what ways do I fail? I fail to expand upon this remnant of scripture, or rather, this remnant of the voice of God. Though I have heard about the idea of suffering for Christ before, it seems as though I have come to the place where I am truly listening. Listening to the idea? Perhaps. Let these words shake me! I feel like I am close to shaking. My mind imagines a certain desperation for extreme feelings. I do not feel enough! What am I trying to say? I suppose that my question to God would be "can your children absolutely overcome suffering while remaining on the earth?" I am unsure if I would like to completely overcome suffering. Why do I have an attraction toward suffering? I detest physical suffering, but I cannot say with a clear conscience that I am so opposed to the other types of suffering. Perhaps I have not truly suffered before, in any way? I may have been close to suffering physically, but what are the standards by which suffering is measured? Suffering and God are two propositions which are of interest to me, but it seems as though I have not experienced either of them. And I was close to making that mistake - again. Do you remember? Hint: when I asked that question on March 20, 2014. I was close to mistaking my interest toward suffering for experiencing suffering, and I was close to mistaking my thoughts about God for God himself. No matter how many times I leap toward Heaven's floor, I keep on looking to a sky which holds me under.

Saturday 22 March 2014

do you mind?

Is it strange that I think of the mind as being held inside the head? As far as I am concerned (perhaps psychology will prove me wrong), there is no evidence that proves that the mind is located inside the head. Of course, the brain is inside the head, but why assume that the mind is inside the head? Does the immaterial mind exist at all? If so, where does the immaterial mind exist?

Friday 21 March 2014

Singular Existence

Many moons ago, I wrote about the topic of my own existence. (laughs) Okay, I must admit, I have talked about that on more than a few occasions. And it is not because I am selfish (or is it?), but instead, it is because I want to work toward a good existence. My existence is undoubtedly progressing, at least, it is in some ways. Physically? Yes, I become older with every minute. Emotionally? Not really, I feel sad often times. These are not intense, extremely low moments of sadness, but it is a dull sadness. A dull, ongoing sadness. Spiritually? God knows better than I do. Mentally? One can hope. I am beginning to read more. Bought a book today: The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir. Regardless of these thoughts, I am on a search for God (Jeremiah 29:13), and these writings are the chronicles of my sojourning.

What did I want to write about? (yawn) That must be the beauty of grammatical calisthenics? Words perform front flips and back flips and dives, and they end up getting lost inside the abyss of foam. Or rather, the abyss of white. This page is white. The screen is (mostly) white.

Singular existence is so absurd to me. I never imagine myself as only being one person, nor do I usually imagine myself as being Graham. I do not imagine myself as being an individual or a singular soul. For years I have tried to convince myself that I am many souls. Individuality does not make sense to me.

I have learnt that this is dangerous. By assuming that I am more than one person, I have fallen into the assumption that I am every person. I have fallen into the assumption that every existing person must be like me. I have assumed that every person must share my convictions, beliefs, attractions, etc. Some days I think of myself as God, perhaps? Now, I do think that God has specific desires for humans in regard to convictions, beliefs, attractions, etc. That being said, I also believe that he gives people freedom to choose. To choose what he desires or to choose what he does not desire. This is purely a subjective observation, but I am also asserting that: God has specific desires for me that he does not assign to others, God has specific desires for others that he does not assign to me, God has specific desires that he assigns to all. But, humans do not have to choose God! Oh, the woe! Freedom is a formidable young brute, you know. Surely everything will not turn out well if there is a choice between good and evil?

At the end of the day, freedom is scary. Freedom does scare me. And I literally mean that when I say at the end of the day. It is in my states of physical tiredness that I experience great spiritual epiphanies, where some deep realities begin to surface. A reminder to myself: I am merely one individual. And as one individual I need to be careful with how I approach other individuals. More so, God's individuals. There are so many details! So many bits and pieces to this life. May I not mistaken myself as being the whole, but may I recognize that I am only a part.

"Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in Heaven and you are on Earth, so let your words be few."
Ecclesiastes 5:2

Thursday 20 March 2014

Untitled Blip

How often is interest mistaken for experience?

Your Doubt is Your House

A blue sky overhead. The clouds are smeared by the hands of God. Get in the car, and I'll drive you to your doubt. Your doubt is your house. All along, you thought that getting lost was your only aspiration. You thought that getting lost would be your comfort! But there's no home for comfort, because your doubt is your house. Neither in practicality nor in confusion, because your doubt is your house. Streetlights can't brighten your mind. Tell me, where is your house?

Monday 17 March 2014

A Man and his Jar

The skies adorn themselves in black, as the man sits behind the jar. He forgets about the windows. What purpose does a window have if it cannot be seen through? And though the man sees the jar, he does not recognize the capacity of the jar. It is too shallow to appease his thrills, and it is so deep that he loses sight of his desires. The jar is a distraction, a false welcome, a detrimental remedy.

As God said in Genesis 3:19 "...for dust you are and to dust you will return." Maturation is sad when you think about it. In some ways, a person is more free when they have less freedom, when they are a proverbial child, when they are blatantly held under safety restraints. It is when a person is told of their freedom, when a person recognizes the capabilities that they posses, that they lose freedom. They lose that wonderful sense of being limitless. And is limitlessness not hope? Limitlessness must be hope. At least, limitlessness in Christ must be hope. Could limitlessness be freedom?

Without any knowledge of the self, he began as a worm. And as his soul was pushed through space and time, he became a bird. He could fly. The taste of dirt was launched out of the ordinary. As a bird learns to fly, a bird also learns of the harsh winds. He knows of his mortality. He knows of the passing seasons. He knows of sin.

I beg to be limitless in Christ. No words have yet convinced me that I have absolute freedom. No words have yet convinced me that any mortal creature has absolute freedom. Do mortal creatures have some freedom? To my estimation, they do. But when was some ever enough?

Thursday 13 March 2014

A Year Ago: Seattle Memoir

To my Seattle trip friends,

I have put extensive thought into what I want to write this evening. Despite extensive thought, I still must admit that I am unsure of what words may spill upon this page. I never became exactly sure of what I wanted to write. I have ideas that I want to project, but I lack conclusions in regards to which ideas will be projected. Nevertheless, this will be an open and honest moment of writing for me.

I would like to begin by saying that even a year later I still think about all of you, and miss everyone that was a part of the trip. I miss those spirits that I was once in the midst of. Truthfully, I took it for granted, and failed to accurately see the present opportunity. For that I am sorry. I guess there really is something spiritual about community after all, and about working together? I must apologize for my sulky attitude on the trip. I still have regrets about my attitude throughout the year at Bible school and on the Seattle trip. Personally, I did not do the best of jobs in regards to my attitude. And that's something I still struggle with: not complaining. In spite of my shortcomings though, you were all very gracious to me, and I do sincerely thank you for that. In fact, I should thank God for that: all good things come from God.

Remember the diary we all had to contribute to? I still look at mine, as nostalgia rushes through each sentence that's printed on the pages. Ha, remember when Ben pretended to be Rocky Balboa? I have fond memories of the parks in Seattle, and want to see Hope Place again someday. Oh, the memories of sleeping in a closet with a statue of the Virgin Mary sitting outside (solace, really liked it actually). I have fond memories of the conversations that took place. I have many fond memories, and not enough vigor to write them all down at this time. Do you feel the same? You know, I really wish that I was better at talking on the spot, off the top of my head. I think I could have contributed more to the conversations (maybe?). Sometimes I said more than I should have. Never have I been great at verbal communication, though I do like to write a lot. I need time to clearly articulate my thoughts.

The experience in Seattle was ineffable. I cannot properly explain the trip, nor can I make the trip "real" in the same way that it once was. "Worthwhile" is the most accurate word that comes to mind - it was a worthwhile trip, I thought. What did you think? To conclude, I would like to impart some words to those who were a part of the Seattle trip. You know, I'm really at a loss of what to say right now. I don't want to write a banal or cliche ending. I guess what I want to say is this: I do believe that God has worked through all of you, and I sincerely hope you all keep looking to him. Hope you all remember that he is the source of all good things, and works through us as people, as vessels. A good friend told me awhile back "Christ lifts us when we can't walk further." I hope that these writings are edifying to you.

Oh, I almost forgot. Some web links from the blog I kept during Capernwray, which have to do with the Seattle trip (if you're interested):

http://grahamgoestocapernwray.blogspot.ca/2013/04/back-from-seattle.html

http://grahamgoestocapernwray.blogspot.ca/2013/04/recent-memories-from-seattle.html

With sincerity,
Graham Scott Wall

Monday 10 March 2014

03 / 10 / 14

The words you speak could never fill my cup. There truly is no conclusion for the pages being written. I've spent weeks observing you and how you aren't here. My eyes become a little wider as the hours pass. The less I see you, the more I remember you. And the less I hear you, the more I listen to you. The glass looks emptier each day. He needs your words to fill the cup.

Sunday 9 March 2014

Love, Germs, and Confessions

I want to write, but not now. 10:30? Wait ... 10:30 PM? THE TIME IS RUNNING OUT GRAHAM! Why do people throw that saying around like there's something special about it? Time is always running out. There is nothing surprising about that characteristic of time, as far as I am concerned.

What is love? I remember addressing this question on a different blog when I was in grade 12. I have more ideas about it, although it still remains as one of the most mesmerizing questions known to humankind. I think that love is a verb. And that's why I'm unsure if somebody can actually "fall in love." In regards to the saying "I will always love you," I feel inept committing to that. I do not love all the time, therefore I do not always love anything. Does anybody always love anything? If so, how is that possible? I am an ambivalent sinner, so please cut me some slack. But don't cut my slacks, or else I won't have any trousers to wear (wink face).

It's painful making these confessions, and there are even more confessions to write. Maybe one day I will be able to always love. Regardless, I'm still trying to figure out what love is! What makes a romantic relationship genuine? What does a God honoring relationship look like? What would I have to accomplish to reach the peak of genuineness? What makes a relationship sacred? And ... why do I assume that "love" is synonymous with "relationship?"

Has my openness with numerous people closed the opportunity for a genuine and sacred relationship to occur? I can be a germ or a virus. I've learnt that I have to be so careful with how I share my emotions, feelings, thoughts and experiences with others. I've taken advantage of people by opening up to them. Does that scare you? It should. You don't even have to lie to take advantage of another person. Never take advantage of another person (especially of the opposite sex) for the sake of making yourself feel better! It's so vile and greedy. It will hurt you for a long time. Oh, it's 11:06 PM. I don't want to conclude without sounding sincere. I don't want to conclude without making display of Christ. You know, I'm still trying to find out who Christ is. Perhaps the more I acquaint myself with Christ, the more I will acquaint myself with love?

Saturday 8 March 2014

A Blood Stained Hair In The Pages

I waited for the day to end, the thought that began the day. And as I waited, my prayers waited. And as I wait to fall asleep, my prayers wait for me. I have run to all four corners of the world beneath my hands, and yet, you are still absent. Nobody is missing in action. People go missing in a state of not being in action, simply because they are missing. At least, their action has nothing to do with my action. There is no action to be found, only stillness. Was that not banter infused jargon at its finest? No, not its finest - its weakest. Waiting is when time claims a dominant position over a human - dimensions are draconian.

Friday 7 March 2014

Touching the Heavens

Well, here is where I take my arrows and shoot down eloquence. How do you feel? Did you have a good day? Did you have a bad day? Did you have a mediocre day? Fast forward, here is my question: how often do most people have a G.R.E.A.T. day? I seem to be alone when I grieve over the idea that the world does not have to be the way that it is. God, it did not have to be this way!

It is difficult for me to say that the days are "good." I like to say that the days are "okay." After all, I live in a world that exists between Heaven and Hell. This world is surely multifarious. But getting back on the correct train track of thought (sort of, hey, I bet my mind's train track is named Thomas), do you find it sad that these days are not great? What if you could have the ecstasy running through your veins all the time? Just imagine that! Sounds pretty cheerful, does it not? It has been a long while since I could say that I felt some pure ecstasy.

I suppose I should not assume that everybody does not have great days too often. But how can somebody truly enjoy themselves in this world? More specifically, how does a follower of Christ truly enjoy themselves in this world? Christ is gone and he was only on this earth for 33 years. How sad is that? The one who is supposed to be our source of joy (Romans 5:11) lived half as long as the average human being (67.2 years). The disciples probably understood the presence of God differently than I do. They probably understood it better than I do. Living in this world of random, material, temporal objects is bewildering. What can a follower of Christ achieve in this world? The world, though physically full, seems spiritually empty. And now that I have said that, I realize that is what I wanted to say this whole time. Or rather, I am finding what I wanted to say.

Why does the physical often seem so much more real than the spiritual? I want the spiritual! No longer am I able to be satisfied by the banal, fleeting shards of mortality that were once so gleaming. I have not always felt such levels of dissatisfaction.

October 27, 2012 was a cold night. I prayed to God for forgiveness that evening. After that had taken place, I remember laying in bed, asking God to take me away. In a sense, human existence had become meaningless to me. It seemed beautifully meaningless. This is not to say that I felt no ecstasy. I was extremely excited to be forgiven by God (I thank him now as I write this out)! I felt ecstasy, yes. But it was spiritual ecstasy. Though my feet touched the dirt, my soul seemed to touch the heavens.

So when will I get to touch the heavens again? This whole article has been a word salad. Who needs structure though? Structure is a facade that humans use for the sake of feeling better about themselves. There are better ways to feel better.

Thursday 6 March 2014

Vase Soul

The air I breathe is transitory
and I am obsessed with strangers
It took years for me to realize
that I only last for years

Every voracious drive
lends me over to disappointment
And that is all I seem to find

The soul is a vase
that holds flowers
And the heart lies
when it says that the flowers never die

Withered petals close their eyes
and fall from desperate heights
Reaching out for their life
while life refuses to hold their hand

I was not made for the transitory
These strangers must fade away

Wednesday 5 March 2014

My Own Gospel

"Spiritual people" are some of the most frustrating people. What is worth noting, and what is also very ironic, is that the peacemakers are the ones who tend to frustrate the hell out of me and make my blood boil. I use the word "hell" here because my frustration conjures up evil thoughts among other impurities - not of God, but of the evil one. But perhaps the peacemakers are not to be blamed? After all, I am really only referring to one individual here (entirely based on their writings, I have never met this individual). By no means am I a warmonger. I would consider myself to be more inclined to act on peace rather than violence. At least, peace seems more attractive to me than violence does. Please know that it is my desire to be a peacemaker (insert obligatory smiley face here). And please know that I do fail.

Whatever the case may be, it sickens me how some people use God as a guise to promote their own gospel. Yet in all my feelings of intensity I have forgotten to ask, what I think is, a very important question. Do I use God as a guise to promote my own gospel?

I may never find an answer to this question. It is just so hard to see these days. As we live inside of these black clouds, it is extremely difficult to know the truth. How do I know the truth?

Sunday 2 March 2014

May(a) Cell - F

It's hard to actually imagine myself as myself. I have to try to be myself. I shouldn't have to try to be myself, this should just be natural! Shouldn't it? It's so rare that I am myself. I should just be myself, but instead, I try to be you. And in a sense I'm happy that I try to be you because, well, I really admire you. I take artifacts of your presence, and throw it underneath the husk that people recognize as being "Graham." I obsess over those artifacts. I was looking at them today. I hope I'll see more of you. Would I miss you even more if I didn't pretend to be you?

A Distaste for Unity

All of us must be lonely. The only reason we bring ourselves alongside others is because we are lonely. People cannot make it on their own. We cannot make it on our own because we are not our own. The lonely man tears the joy out of himself, while those of unity tear the joy out of others. That sounds terrible, but is it not true? The choice between satisfaction and morality - morality loses. Who gives up quicker, the lonely man or those of unity? Until I see God, I will be lonely. I may not always feel lonely, but until my soul separates from the flesh, and until I see God, I will not be entirely separated from loneliness. Unity is a chorus of birds, and loneliness is the nest that they abandoned.

Friday 28 February 2014

The Window to the Soul

I cannot fathom how terrible it would be if God did not exist. Would morals exist?  Would purpose exist? It is my assertion that some people, many people, do not want God to exist so that they can have humanistic freedom, so that they can rid themselves of their conscience. Who exactly do we think we are? What a way to bastardize goodness! Humanistic freedom does have an end, and its name is death. But I suppose an individual in favor of humanism wouldn't have a problem with the temporal. As for me, I don't want what is temporary! In a sense, I don't even want what many call "freedom." I don't want the ability to choose between good and evil any longer. I want freedom from sin. If the eye is the window to the soul, may my soul be launched from the catapult and make its way through the window. May my soul no longer exist between vice and virtue but reach the point of absolute, irrefutable virtue. God, I ask a lot of questions. And I've found some answers to my questions, so I thank you for that. But why do the personal moments with you seem to be so lacking? I just want to feel joy! I just want to tremble with fear toward God! I just want to suffer for Christ! I just want to personally encounter you.

Wednesday 26 February 2014

Stop Walking

The conscience is a river of purity. Immorality is a land of barrenness. Walk around your conscience, and you will be walking with the devil. Do not walk around your conscience, for you will be walking with the devil. You have walked around your conscience! And you are walking with the devil.

Monday 24 February 2014

Thirst of the Spirit

Am I thirsty because I exist in the absence of God? Is my thirst due to the knowledge that the presence of God has not been revealed to me in its fullness, and that the fullness of the presence of God is what I am searching for?

Wednesday 12 February 2014

Colour Book Mind

Jejune, just like the last June, it traps you. Light bleeds and it passes through the vacuum. The vacuum opens its mouth and spews away all our moments, the minutes, the days, the words we say. Say, haven't seen her for 9 months. My memory's a paint brush. Stroking and filling all of the empty spaces. But when the paint vanishes, than what's the replacement? Could her existence be mistaken for that of an apparition that I'm facing in my lonesome? Is my lonesome an abode that basks with all the broken? And is broken synonymous with permanence and indifference? Is indifference the separation between what is and what isn't? If separation died, the enemy would be an anomaly, and the anomaly would be a modern force in hypocrisy. The mistake I chose to make was viewing myself as the victim. We're all enemies therefore we all exist in a prison. We think the man in the cell is unknown to freedom, yet freedom is the reason he dwells in his cell. And I suppose the man knew freedom too well?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0e3tNLqJrc&feature=c4-overview&list=UUVi8qTehZSFY-Hmxb4etQ-g