Monday, January 23, 2012

She's a Brick Wall!

Normally I center a post around a poem that I've written, or some big piece that's inspired me in some way; as it ought to be for the most part. However I've considered, what is it that's worth writing for? Is it already in us, or is it out there and inspires us to write? Oddly enough it seems akin to the Learner's paradox, insomuch as we can only write about what we've got in us; thank God for sense perception right?

This being the case it didn't surprise me to much when I hit a brick wall during my morning  routine. I stared at that sheet of paper and wondered. What do I write? There seemed an immense wall of memory foam standing between me and all those glorious ideas that were just waiting to be picked at. While this seems a comforting image, don't be fooled, memory foam can be dangerous!

This is my opinion is where it comes in handy to know a little green man named Yoda. His advice is that we recognize the force between us and the rocks and the trees, and the ships, wherever the force is there is some connection; which ultimately means limitless possibilities; another point is that whenever you focus on one thing for to long you inevitably get lost inside of that one thing.

For instance, Luke Skywalker is in the cave at Hoth, he's focused on not being a sandwich for the abominable fuzzy wuzzy. It's only when he allows his mind to flow that he can choose the right option for escaping. Otherwise he's stuck there just trying one option that doesn't work and inevitably ends up in the stomach of an abominable fuzzy wuzzy. Curiosity compels me to ask while on the subject of fuzzy wuzzies, have any of you ever seen one?

Thus I am drawn to this conclusion. This morning when i was staring at the paper for eons I was to focused on what to write, and not on the experiences that I've had, not enough on life itself. We can only truly take stock of something when we allow it to become significant to us, and the only way to do that is to allow for our senses to flow, don't stick; unless you want to become AFW snack food!

This that is in my head doesn't really
Give me the chance to think myself dead, I
Consider it, but no sooner than I
Act, it pulls away like some man that would
Drag me to the bottom of the cliff I
Attempt to ascend; such thoughts do
Make me wish I were at home on the mend,
Resting, than on this damn perilous slope,
Cowering from deathly height. Such a thought
Compels me to beg I were neither here,
Grasping at this thin root, as though it were
A life line that held me here in this world,
Beg I might to escape my place of peril,
Yet hoping beyond hope to overcome,
Defeat this terrible trial that so
Taunts my emotions, stretches me as thin
As butter that is scraped over much bread.
Such hope undoubtedly gives ecstasy,
Filling me with a greater sense of worth,
Providing me with all the confidence
Needed to sustain my courage, and face
It head on. Tis the thought that for every
Season's hardships were overcome in this
Act of endurance that keeps me aflaot;
Summers heat were not enough to scorch me,
Winter's chill not enough to mar bodies
Youthful grace, nor looks; Autumn's crisp light air,
Were not enough to take life from my veins,
Not enough to strip the leaves from my hide,
Nor could spring rains carve a path down my
Unwavering back, etch no deep gullies,
Shall not shape my body cannot bend it;
Such is my hope, that I'll overcome my
Fear: I shall not succumb to this hard till.
All this makes me consider my peril
With new eyes, brings life to my limbs, strengthens
My sinews, and overcomes dreaded fear,
Doubt, and all uncertainty with them, have fled!
So powerful is the thought of success
Tthat it would even, I'll garner it would,
Best death himself; that hooded figure grim,
Eyes of red, bones of polished marble, and,
Even that breathless scepter of his make,
Were no match for such confidence as this.
Yet all at once I pray and hope, nay, beg!
that I not miss my mark, fall headlong
Into his dreaded grasp. Such fear will be
Quelled when I at last accomplish this feat.
But tis a long way off; shall I go meet
It headlong, look not back on what could be?
Or act with doubt, fear, and uncertainty?  

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