For Everything There is a Season…
I have been posting less often because I have other things I have to do and blogging became very time consuming. It’s windy outside and I’m wondering what I’m doing with my life. Where all the time goes, where all the time went. I’m not sure. I’m not sure I understand time.
It’s invisible, much like many things that we worship. I think we worship time. We think about the past and the future so much, we might as well worship it. When in fact the only time is right now. How do you feel in this moment? Is everything OK in this very moment? If you can say yes, then time is an accessory.
I have been sitting on a wooden chair for three and a half hours. That’s a lot of time. I’ve been doing work this whole time and now my butt hurts. Literally I have to get up and move so I can not be in pain.
But what is the real pain I’m experiencing? It’s not the three hours, they whisked by. It’s this last half an hour, where I have been thinking about how long I have been working. And sitting. And staring at a computer screen. You might have the same feelings about your life.
So I changed chairs, I’m on a recliner. I think it may help the pain in my ass. Although the real pain my ass is this computer. I think about getting up and dancing, but I won’t. Not because I can’t, I’m in my living room. But because I’m not happy enough. And now is not the time.
“For everything there is a season turn, turn…”
I’m in a bad mood, not even bad, just a mood. Maybe I would call it pensive. Truthfully I’m a little hungry on this new diet, I’ve been working for too long today. I’m annoyed at my mother and the weather and life all around.
“Oh yeah, life goes on…long after the thrill, of living is gone.”
Believe me in this time, in this today, the thrill is gone.
I saw a girl with no shoes on today; she has no fear. It’s the end of October in Michigan: people are wearing boots. I want to be barefoot too. I hate wearing socks, that’s something I don’t know if I ever told you. And I lose socks, constantly, there is vortex in the universe that has all my socks in it.
And I lost my electric toothbrush. That’s not like losing a sock; that was expensive. I mean where could it have gone? It’s probably in the trunk of my car, there’s a bunch of mysterious crap invading my trunk.
It’s the little things that become big things, things that don’t matter that much occupy space. And they take time up, precious time in our minds. I could be spending this time thinking of more important things. But I can’t. I’m avoiding my life right now. Avoiding the things that matter.
There’s some stuff I said at home that I regret saying. I feel hurt that I hurt someone else. That’s all I want to say about that.
“Everything is gonna be alright, rock a bye, rock a bye…”
There are prayers playing in the background, my mother is listening to them with her head covered. I understand a few words here and there. Why don’t I pray? Apparently it works: there have been scientific studies that prove that those people who pray for others heal better in hospitals and stuff. I saw it on Oprah.
So I suppose if I pray for myself, it might work.
I’m stuck, stuck in this world. Neither here nor there. I’m between praying and not praying. I’m in between caring and not giving a shit.
I can’t really watch the news anymore, can you? It’s terrible what’s going on in this world. This very website you are reading this on could be destroyed in a cyber attack. What’s happening in Syria is horrific. I want to move, to another planet.
It’s got to be better somewhere. I hear the word, “Namastang,” in the prayer my mother is listening to. They are saying “Namaste” to god. “Namaste” has become very popular lately because of yoga. I’ve even seen rock stars put their hands together and say “Namaste.” I think it means the god in me acknowledges the god the god in you. I think all these things are the meaning of all these things, don’t write me letters about how I misrepresented religious stuff.
If we would all recognize the god in each other we would all be better off. Forget praying, how about we recognize. I don’t mean it’s bad to pray, I just know a lot of people who pray a lot but can’t see the god in other people.
It’s not like I recognize the god in say, like Donald Trump. If anyone forgot to get a soul it might be him. But really, even he is just a person after all. A misguided fool he might be, but there is a part of him that is even god-like. I think if I can see the god in The Donald, I can see the god in anyone.
I mean when you think about the scum of the earth, like maybe child molesters, even they contain a part of god. Perhaps if they were treated like they have a soul they would have never become sickos. I don’t know if I’m one to talk, I am in favor of castrating child molesters and rapists.
Where is this going anyways? Where am I going with this? My mind is wandering aimlessly today. It’s extremely dreary outside, as if I’m in a horror movie and something bad is about to happen. I want to go back to bed and hide in my covers. Sometimes I have to fight that urge, the urge to hide in my cave. To be depressed. Some days I have to fight depression. It’s hard to fight with your mind, using your mind. It’s an inner struggle. Man vs. Himself we would say in literature class.
Fall is beautiful, but sometimes it is sad. As if you have to say goodbye to the trees, they have a small death. It’s as if the environment goes into hibernation, and the world expects me to stay awake.
The leaves are crumbling on the grass, and I’m trying to stop myself from falling down too. I would like to be like a burnt orange leaf in the wind. Struggling to find a place to hide before someone burns me.
What’s the point? You might ask that…I wish I knew…