As always, it’s the time, the time, the time.
It remains merciless in its speed, and barrels down the hallway of our existence like a rambunctious child, unaware that something may be in its way.
In order to steal back time, I am trying to be slower. I am in an attempt (perhaps in vain) to lap up the seconds on my platter and make them mine once again.
In the same irony of a snake eating its own tail, we long for our lost time to be returned to us. Perhaps, though, it was never ours to begin with. Perhaps we are not owed anything from this vain essence.
I remain afraid, of course. While I see merit in a facade (joy is much more easily marketable) it is hard to deny the dark looming presence of our futures. We also have to deny the pain within ourselves for a more palatable version to be consumed.
Our hungers are strange. Some appear ancient, some seem modern, a product of the incorrigible pursuits of man. The contemporary dilemmas also stem from these age-old desires. We cannot seem to cut the umbilical cord of our mothers that connects us eternally to the caveman frustrations of our ancestors. What if we had started with peace?
We may never know a life without the gentle hum of struggle. Violence is an ingredient in our blood. It is in us, and we seek it out. What do we do with this unquenchable, archaic appetite, without extending pain to others or ourselves?
These sensations should not be banished entirely, lest they escape with even more fury. But can they also stay?
I believe in the transformation of these hidden places within ourselves. First, we must acknowledge that they are there to be improved upon, and not some foreign apparition separate from us. It can at first stretch the ego to realize that the strange sensations that make us feel “unlike ourselves” are indeed ourselves.
Despite the discomfort, these carnal leanings are more pure and honest than any priest, or enlightened being. We just can’t deny them, or lie to ourselves, insisting that they do not exist.
As long as we are alive, they will be our companion. They may not display themselves boldly, but they are there.
What should one do? Give into sadness and dismay, dismissing happiness as secondary, and dismantle the hope of joy? Of course not. All these emotions are on equal ground and have a purpose. We must only listen to the whispers within our bodies, and take the reins with the confidence of a skilled rider. We can enjoy and understand the woes within ourselves, without being consumed by them.
So I want to say this: allow the sadness, the regret, and the guilt, to exist within yourself. But prune them in the garden of your heart. Thorns exist on the roses, but they do not harm the roses. The sap that entraps the fire ant does not harm the tree.
All these things we deem as negative are also there to protect us. Of course, the discomfort in our bodies is undesirable, they are not our first choice of chemical.
Despite this disagreeability, understand it, use it, and treat it with the same respect and reverence as joy, euphoria, and connection. They are all here to stay.
Right now I am experiencing a lot of fire within myself, and one could call it "violence".
But maybe it is a moral interpretation from the actual thing: intensity.
People looking it from the outside will be judging it (because they are afraid).
Or maybe IT IS violence, but its not cruelty. Its and expression of a feeling of empowerment, of making things even, on doing whats right.
I hope you are enjoying your fire, Reylia