My Ephiphany
"History is not a set of "truths" to be memorized, history is an ongoing process of interpretation and learning. The true richness and depth of history come from multiplicity and complexity, from debate and disagreement and dialogue. There is room for more than one history; there is room for many voices."
excerpt from
HERE.
For the Thanksgiving truth click--->
HERE
Today I had a long conversation with my mother who always seems to be my voice of reason. Her ability to observe my actions and thoughts and share her life's experiences is priceless. I am so blessed for the balance she gives me. In listening to her I quietly pondered my ego. That lead me to ponder the social ego that my ego seems to be in battle with. That war has shown itself from many angles. From the internet, to people I know and associate with, to the radio, to the tv, sports, even from within. A subconscious violence is running rampant and is showing itself in many arenas. It seems this moment in time has become a riot where words become artillery, to name one reflection of many. I didn't realize the mental and intellectual anger from people in general these days. It has been frolicking about as many winds. When I noticed it within myself in my own actions, words and general mind-state I could then see it everywhere with the exception of a few places/people. I remember this feeling well. My mother said I am on burnout. She said I've absorbed enought and it's time for a break. This is a state of mind where without thinking one flails for some form of individual self preservation. With all humility I see how I have compromised deeper truths that have no words to explain. I have compromised them for "voice". Along the way I lost sight of the golden nature of silence. It is not within my spirit to sling mud and I have done so as of late in many different directions. I see that by doing that I have ignored my own processes. I have abandoned my path. It is not my path to defend my thoughts and feelings. It is not my path to impose my thoughts, feelings and truths upon others. I have seen this place before while deep within academia and focused on intellectual pursuits. It left me as drained and burnt out as I feel now. I abandoned academia for sometime and decided my education was of a different breed. Yesterday these words rang within my mind like clock bells in a small town.
"Most words evolved as a description of the outside world, hence their inadequacy to describe what is going on inside of me.
It is not necessary to always think in words. Words often keep me from acting in a fully intuitive way. Fears, indecision and frustration feed on words. Without words they usually stop."
I had forgotten why. I will not walk that path again. I read "The Alchemist" recently and was puzzled by the ending. Actually agitated because at the end of the journey of the main character I thought there was a magical answer. I thought there was a reward for the adventure or the process. So when the main character got to his destination and realized he had to go back to the beginning I was agitated. Not at the story but at the realization that this was a reflection of my own process. Thus, I must return to my beginnings and find substance in the process, not the outcome or final destination. My revolution is not external. I do not wish to change the world, this country nor other peoples minds. It is honestly against my nature from a giving and receiving perspective. And when I go against my nature my thoughts become jumbled, incoherent and reactionary. Intern I am unhappy. My revolution is from within and needs no affirmation from what is outside of myself. It is time for me to return to my source. My source is not expressed by words but expressed by what I create, my art. My art is my total subjective haven. Art and intellectualism are to very different animals and for now I choose not to shape-shift betwixt them. As I acknowledge that my thoughts once again become clear and full of vision rather than the despair of being misinterpreted. So I wash my hands of politrix, the media, and discourse. I am officially on sabbatical.
This thanksgiving for me and my family is a day in mourning as with the Native Americans. Last night I listened to somecommentary on this holiday. It was filled with Xian theology and I was at the edge of despair on how this holiday has been mutilated to serve a theology rather than be a time of reflection and honesty. We cannot give thanks without honesty. My family is at a difficult time because there are some that are not with us this holiday. It is not a time of rejoicing and celebration but for reflection. It is the first thanksgiving I can remember in my life that my mother is not cooking nor will we be going to a family members house for dinner. Never before has this time of the year been so ambiguous. It should be for thanksgiving has become American folklore and the truth within it is ignored. This time is blinded by turkeys, and compromised by untruths. One day of the year set aside for giving thanks seems pretentious to me. Every day should be greeted with such a sentiment.
And that is my last social commentary for some time. I want to "kiss life" like
ETCETERA.(<---click) It's so necessary.
Really it all ain't that deep. Truth be known neither am I.
Thank you mother!
onamentaltimeout.
