Are You Sure?

Standing next to the ocean, a lake, a river, a mossy pond, the water feels good, feels like home, the water inviting your hand, your toes, your body, your mind, your whole self to let go… You don’t need to, it’s personal – to be algae, the tree on the cliff, the desert cactus. Maybe this is where you end up… This is where you end up, but to varying degrees. Why do you want this, is this where you came from? Small droplets of water on leaves, on desert cactus spines after rain, smaller vapour but condensed, the water moving through tree roots, carried in soil, in your skin, the orvallo, the Galician word for imperceptible water in the air, falling, mostly at night, landing on plants, on sleeping dogs, on the tiles of roofs… this ocean, this body, laying and moving perceptibly or not before you, grouped, attached, moving, swallowing your toes… I am an animal killing life before me before I die. I appreciate the life, I relish observed beauty, I want sunsets on mountain ranges to last forever but as seconds die so do we and there is no true end, only the eventual starkness, and it’s pristine beauty, but before that there is SO MUCH. We live, we die, we decompose, disperse, we nourish, we wait, condense, are sealed, exposed, taken up, taken in, used as materal, forever re-used as material, parts of what futurely lives and dies, sinks and swims, but never only water… What does water give off, around it – a power, an energy, an atmosphere, a visible airy soul around each globule, this is what you become with time, if there is enough time in this world. The scientific religion has destroyed the primal conscious thought of a special zone for after life, exclusively for those with consciousness, deers not allowed, through it’s proving, demonstrating, shouting about multitudes and manies, through time, introducing knowledge which renders us smaller, common, though no less beautiful, no less complex, no less perfect and perfectly situated, for what it can not destroy is the dea, the action of destiny, the super-physical draw of certain life to certain circumstance, the encounters along paths not consciously realized (destiny, kismet, fate, does one word suffice? This is an idea better shown, better learnt through experience) and it is a pity A PITY so much of this experience is vicarious. For if you experience you may understand and therefore enjoy your entrance in to water, into immersion. Who will not die? You believe that your soul is Tutankhamun’s re-appropriated? That is great, and now what? This knowledge is enough to satisfy your desire for high living? I believe that the fly who bothers me, flying in and out of my eyesight, threatening to land on my pages and lay eggs in my ears or behind my eyes is a prominent historical figure as well, existing next to me to teach me a vital lesson, to distract me momentarily which will in turn set into motion a grand, chaotic, climactic series of events, and so I don’t kill it, I don’t ignore it, but I don’t revere it as the only, I won’t devote my life into informing the world of it’s importance, I will (have the courage to) heed the lessons and live until…

Can you imagine that as you are right now, one bubble of oxygen or an other gas has risen from ocean floor, deep, deep, ocean floor, and is rising through gravity and friction towards the surface, and that it might be impeded by fish, shark, creature, plant, garbage or the hull of the boat? There is so much to also say it will rise, of it’s own accord in chemicals, aesthetics, the life and motion through the water around it, to live it’s existance as that one bubble before it is shattered while still in the deep, scattered, or opened, released into the new habitat where it is not foreign, it is not as one moving directionally and relying on open path, such the same as our earth, for there is larger, there is sharper, there is that one perfect obstruction of such a design to pass defenses and penetrate the heart of life, scattering what has been accumulated and joined through movement, stewing, existing in environments, but utilizing the perspective of that final starkness we can see that there is no negative, there is no problem, there is no positive, Ghandi’s teachings, is it really important? Or has there been life for longer than we currently think, have they thought that we would exist, can we envision a hopefully living future? These common ponderings are none but pauses, barely enriching, though enriching, the trajectory on which we continue. Argue that determination is important, that effort is decided and survival, important survival, depends on effort, and it will be shown in past that those who build the right structure live and that those who build will build and that those who do not build will not build and that effort is important as it is an existance, you can try to stop this and watch your self fail, or succeed through effort. What all of that was implying is that all scatters, all exists composed of cohesive differences, all moves, and though important, your efforts will finally be futilized through the movement of time and the existances surrounding them. This is all physical, there is no split. We are eaten, decomposed by, destroyed, absorbed by those existances which cause friction around us.

-Written by Samhil

MMmmm

Who did we come here to see? I come from European descent (not my self directly, and not from the mainland) and as we all sit here, work here, are here, die here, it brings up a nice question of “why the expansion?”. Not asked to leave our European homes, not forced to leave out of desperation, for the European continent and it’s African and Asian (mapped and known) neighbours have enough land and resources to ensure a full life of resource, opportunity, and adventure. Imagine a life in North Russia, West China, Northern Congo… Why the desire for uncharted land? Though plentiful, apparantly, and romantic, very, it was largely a collective individual leap of faith on to likely foreign boats to move with no hotel or guesthouse assured at it’s other port. It becomes a question, or a statement, about human nature and animal instincts, rather than a Geographical logic; I think that this (and it’s not the first nor will it be the last situation of this kind so) and others, goes past or astride of survival. Legacy? Escape? Luxury? A legacy of having left, a legacy of having started. The escape from the same, from restrictions, from culture, from comfort. Luxury of relishing the new flavours of self-determined taiiloring of style and quality. And one more reason… Love, a sense of destiny, a sense of gaining, finding “self”, focusing on an apparant lack of Narcissusistic self interest, but then comes aimless, then comes thoughtless, then comes greed, then come malice, and punishment, resign, lunacy, ego, control, disillusionment, loss. The boat must have had a distinct flavour – in hectic, in quiet, not the solitude being new but the uncertainty. After the initial excitement – the men first hearing in the bar, at the docks, the towns hearing, passing message along through skilled trade routes and young excitement and petty social rounds and the other first evidences – there came stories, corroborating stories, proovs, the actual occasional Good, the stories of furs from there and the sight of them, increasingly adventurous stories, stories of deaths, stories of marining, and of the people who lived there (enjoying their visit), identical land, identical shore, the trading and business, this new Business Commodity, some savage stories that all craved but also some powerful ones, this isn’t Rome and it’s historic conquering and warm open luxury, it’s not the high curiosity of style and curiously high standard of living but this is a new idea, their generation’s land, their hope for the new Empire of freedom and sustainability. And the prices go low, and the people get scared, as they do in the face of unexperienced binding scarcity, and it forces their dreams up into reality, they think, they speak, they plan and so little so little they realize an increasingly possible and realistic plan. They jump, and build up gets torn up and action happens, the hands are at the keys, goodbyes, practical spacing and weight are rapidly decided,realizations of how dear they held that hill, that room, that neighbour, that routine. And who cares? To who does it matter, their leaving? Only those able to see past the petty pain and illusive separation of physical distance. As hard as it may be to admit it, and as many would seek to ignore it, any end is possible through any means. So the boat rolls out unto the first night and more, and the days could be imagined as beautiful and exciting in so many senses, and it is all routine, normal, one more experience to bring over  before any dream of an easy sleep. And the completion of that task the only method of sleeping easy… Was there surprise at the dis-embarking? Surely there could not have been regret, true regret. Anxiety… on different levels, based in and corresponding to levels of preparedness, Watch what comes next: some straight to their land, dealing with the initial consequences like the second, or forming partnerships, bonds, communities, or setting on further to their logic of knowledge of quality in effort, or the high-strung march of those with interest, or the home, the setting so close, so organized, well planned to achieve productivity, comfort, or those who through plans too had scouted out materials and spot and achieved their ration through application and longevity, or there came a quiet, maybe, shrewd, surely, emblazer with an ethical passion and a relentless crushing effort garnering, growing, skinning their rewards, or those with different ideas, traditional ideas, coming to attempt the triumph of the past with magically studied insight. Yes, yeah, they loved the land, struggled with and in the land, saw the earth. But there were people here, who not all centuries of comers got to meet before they decided they were settled. Who were they, the strangers, where did they come from? Were they animals? It could be believed that many thought these people were more basic, a somehow non-exposed branch of humans, with no civilization; but concessions were made at every generalization – language, beliefs, culture & style, tradition, but so foreign for it was known that even the Indians, though they too were thought of as more basic, had many, many, many advances technologically, completely, religiously, and even if it was pulled from the least of the European’s knowledge, there was still the assumption that Indians engaged in Agriculture. This must have been the golden era of colonial European North America, pure and beautiful. So many people, but with no great engrained assumptions, the naiivish thoughts still taking stock, still willing to learn, an excitement over-riding the usual fear of those grouped together – the fear of penetration, of loss of gains – and the reservations were let go to reap the benefit of this new land. As an aside, maybe the Golden Era of Colonial European North America is yet to come –  with time’s effects of cohesion and condension, maybe this growing continent is not yet dense enough to be compared with gold. Going back, there was relationship between the farming new settlers and those who were here before, those with the knowledge of land, the bands of strong and mobile, or weak and hidden, largely interested in this new development, using what was brought new, understanding the longeviity, understanding the mechanics, not understanding what cruelty lay behind expansive desire and private, distinct conferences on the nation building potential of this land. What was wanted? Virgin land, loaded with resources. A stubborn human’s pleasure in murder as progress. The plague which granted technological freedom, an eschewing of those disgusting holds on progress and open ambition. This story has not ended – choices are yet to be made.

ℜiley J.A. Breen 1

Just a boy

The ultimate solution to that which plagued him would result in his demise. As unfortunate as this correlation was, at the time it appeared as an even trade-off. If this finishes abruptly it is because he could not focus long enough to bring it to a state of completion, or because it mirrored such a state of unsatisfactoriness that he could not allow it to go on.

I think he thought the problem of his age was an excess amount of information and a general inability to effectively engage with it all, or at the very least with the combination of information, so desperately sought after, that would provide him with:  i) a happy life ii) noteworthy accomplishments and positive experiences iii) a deep state of inner-satisfaction, or iv) some combination of the three. The information out there was boundless and the access to it multifaceted, but the truth, he felt,  was increasingly hard to discover, feel and integrate in to one’s existence. Perhaps, this was the core issue he and many others like him were facing. Not knowing what to do in the face of so little light can be discouraging, and not only that, he could not help but feel  a lack of support from those that were around him. He was supported though and in all sorts of ways. What he was not, was understood. In such short order, and with a limited experience with humanity,  he was not sure whether the right people existed to aid him, or if he was the right person to aid others. Things for him had gone amok.

His age was the one of paradox – The Age of Paradox as it would come to be known: where everything imaginable is available to certain castes of society, yet they feel an utter futility with life and many of its processes. They have opportunity undreamt by their ancestors, yet their energy goes towards evading their reality through a vast number of chemical, digital, and sensuous modalities.  He was either living an experience that men of the past would of defined as a paradise, or he was living in a materialistic hell and the paradox was actually an irony that was scoffing at the linear notion of progress.  Regardless, his time was the fruition of intellectual endeavor and physical labor, as it had been expressed from the moment in which groups of people began to plan and wonder, and he, himself, was well-positioned within the general fold of things – health, looks, intellect, ‘potential’, and ability, but was crippled by fear. He had been neutered by the very framework that he was designed to scale, but was now attempting to overcome.

Unaware that his development was unfolding at a fast pace, he dawdled around, often dejected, often unaware of his own capabilities relative to others.

Like the majority he now sought escape, and this aim would be fluidly abetted,  as many versions of it were readily available to him and to everyone. Once aware of his deluded perspective, he now recognized it as truth, and so it was. What was once humor encrusted in to an immovable cynicism, and just as it should be, hope had been lost.

He thought that he should of been happier in times past and that he should be happier now. This knowing compounded in to a feedback loop of forlorn guilt, augmented all that tormented him and soom nothing good could be found. He incessantly compared and contrasted himself with his surroundings and with depictions of human reality that he found on various virtual platforms. He abandoned the good for that which conveniently abated his troubles. Soon he found himself with everyone else, which would be fine for a time, but he could never tell how many were actually there.

Holding High Ideals

Do we know all among us who is right? Can we tell when there is abnormality, and to what degree? What is worse: a friend in folly, or a similarly oriented and sympathic enemy? Too many questions, but none are answered without prompt.
The Canadian rush for quality and security has left little time in life for loose pleasure, but is this a detriment? Can you answer these questions and know where these idyllic answers are coming from? Or is there an innate obviousness, going past culture, where collectively we see a folly and mock it, see a base and ignore it? We stand together, knowing possibilities, living with quality, and envying those not higher or lower but those who achieve quality through simpler, more direct, more natural means, not needing the crutch supports of mutual admiration and the comfort of societal cushioning. These Ideals in their purity might be fearlessness, freedom, the ability to discern fooliishness from stupidity, or to be able to see realistic distances, to be able to empathize with parasites, energies, and gods alike, and maybe these ideals exist because they are not only ideas, but observed realities, seen in those who pursued and pursue resources, yes, but who also work from an understanding that the breadth of life encompasses more than those narrow pursuits. So a successful entrepreneur tells you that relationships and family are the most important. So a seasoned lumberjack tells you that compassion, silence, and gentleness are key. So the enlightened leader speaks of the wisdom in poverty. So after all is done, there is no more to be said. What do you say now?

Feb 14, 2015

Sitting Inside, knowing where I Was at last year,

and knowing that what I learnt was important.

A ifferent style of life but now, there are

frozen sidewalks that need to be walked on,

crusty snows needing to be stepped on, frozen

rivers to be seen, office and shop lights to walk

past as cold stings in the Wind on the cheeks

and forehead, hands reddening, and one

entrance to walk through to feel warm dry air.

This was done, the experience showed it’s self as an improvement

to thought, the rivers crossed, the lights seen,

The air sought and found, the weight felt and shed before the moon.

900 Sword and Bones

Though we live in a formative time, where basic structure is being sought and created, there is still room for a calm, sensitive, classical and decisive appreciation for art, music, people, lifestyles, love, experience. Us Canadians aren’t known as world leaders in cultural strength, transferring little in style across the globe except our reputation and an envy among refined and restrictive cultures.  If the successes of A.Y. Jackson and Emily Carr were examples of the general appreciation among our country’s people for painting, why does that passion and understanding recede in the face of new ideas, Young efforts towards change, true opportunities for a change in philosophy, never allowing our perspective as a group to move past shelter, holding even narrow thoughts about food and sex? We have built our house, found the secure food source, and have had children, who are old and knowledgable and strong enough to take care of their own selves. So why the hesitancy towards culture, towards exploration of our potential depths? We talk of Italian food, we look at Diego Rivera with warmth, but have no interest in leaving the cushioned nest, bathed in blankets of fear and locked in by bars of comfort. Maybe this is the problem – our brave history of expéditions, traversing the country and of resources has created through rebound an insular culture, with a cozy state of near Victorian reserve. In pursuit of security, and through the attaining of it, we have lost our excitement, and with the loss of excitement, we have lost our appreciation of effort and of the risks we are able to take. It seems we have risen intelectually, have come to the edge of knowledge, and have stopped before the true passion could begin. And this is a cyclical problem; without passioned creation we will not have passioned appreciation. So let’s start with the land – though meagre in comparison with the size of the earth, this part of the crust we live on is a tray of diverse life, meritting exploration through it’s existance, and we’re fortunate in that from Alberta birch and hills to the Ontario lakes and snows, we can see  much in between uninterrupted and can know what we protect.

The Hermitage of Homosexuality

Who are those who spend time alone? The witches, the religious, the searching, the lost, those with heavy meaning and those with little, it doesn’t matter where they spend their time… on Greenland’s shore or an apartment in New York… in a manner isolation is a choice, usually – you don’t think the repulsive hermit or generally frightening witch can recognize those alienating steps they are taking? You don’t think the gays can see the outcast’s path they walk on? They are shunned, they are pushed out of the regular comfort boundaries, they are derided behind gentle and inviting faces, and many people who want to accept them or are convinced that they have can find their selves looking down upon them, and this is all natural. Homosexuality, as a definite alarms our instincts, as we see and recognize one of our own choosing not to continue the process which brought them, very obviously, to their being alive. Your two biological parents made you, and regardless of their presence or how they treated you, do you not enjoy your freedom of these faculties you have? I sincerely doubt homosexuality is often born out of the same feeling as “Life is not Worth being born for, I will consciously choose to stop that possibility for an other of my doing, while still being able to have sex.”

Then Who are these Magic Gays? Who are those outside spirits that shock? Maybe shock is not the right word – a survival, generational, linear rooted mindset would experience shock at seeing the two men kiss or the girl stroking an other’s vagina. But to have this sink in as being permanent, not two forcably isolated persons who’s reason has been broken or stretched by horniness, but rather a complete and necessarily conscious choice, deeply disturbs them, as deeply as planned suicide or patricide. This “feeling” which is felt by some who are confronted with homosexuality is recognized and accepted as existing by the conscious homosexuals, and it is in here where lives the hermitage of homosexuality – the knowledge of society, which is general and might include members of their own family and friends, rejecting their values and their lifestyle, this private or public rejection transforming into ignorance, segregation, scorn, disgust. To see this, to choose to continue in that contrary direction, an exponentially more solitary journey, and then to live this choice, is a sacrafice in the same scale as the builder of the Temple of St. Brendan, a hermit who offered his life to the solitude of Arran More. Is there power in solitude? Is the desire for potential power the primary fuel for this conscious move towards the path less populated, though it’s known that it will lead to the same destination? What kind of power can it be… surely at first sight there is the obvious lack of weakening which is brought on by the corrosive influences of general thought, common habits, the ability and opportunity to flow freer and blind, among the channels of your society, built by générations of individuals following the same path and trajectory, allowing only slight déviations in direction, and allowing at best for those not completely absorbed by the the velocity of the central channel, a life at the edges… but to take opportunities, one would be best off at the edges, prepared… There is also the power of visibility in solitude. No throng to rise above, to combat for vantage points, no obscuration from the various pollutions of masses. Is this enough to compel the gay voyager to stay on course, the faint vision of an enriching power? And, this is Under the assumption that the choice is conscious.

The link between homosexuality and magic is sinewy, better explained through the process of osmosis than through an ant entering an ant hill, for it is discovered and exchanged through experience, and it seems to lie in a field similar looking to the ancient beliefs of feminine carnal and spiritual power. But it can be seen that homosexuality certainly empowers practicioners with the comfort to experience life as different than allowed by largely restricting social values of primary culture expériences. Homosexuality is set apart, seen as a subculture, the same as a socially or popularly accepted criminal, a graffiti artist, Robin Hood and his gang, the innocent youth acting tough, the laughable eccentrics, with absurd ideas of progression and potential. The inner circle of central society is for survival, and for those enriching it’s qualities. Recognition of an other is acceptable and expected as it’s presence grows and infiltrates the membrane of that essential cell, but it’s presence is regulated and it is purgeable. The homosexual has made the decision – “This is more than temporary desire, nor is it desire born from exposure. This is Worth pursuing, I would be injuring my Self to live an other way.” And so they adopt the knowledge of the hermit, of the lonely, of the farmer, of the ambitious.