Saturday, May 14

A love without a Lover


One man without another, is like a walkman without batteries. You have your real self, though, your real self is made of the same stuff that 'potential' is made of. Without a context to be in, you are not anything. Within a context, we are what we are. Of course, each context we are in, each group of people, will judge you in its own way. They will look at you differently, and you will accentuate some other part of your self. 

Some contexts will reject you. Some contexts will inhibit you, and not being able to express yourself, to participate and to do your thing, you will feel frustrated, and sad. A better context will accept you, as you are, and let you express yourself as you feel. Such contexts allow us to be happy. 

I have thoughts, and feelings, and plans, and projects. I see the Purpose of things, and I try to do what I do, well. This makes me excited, and often happy. When I manage to do something well, I am even joyful. But despite my projects, sometimes when I am alone, there is nothing. I sit, and I feel nothing. And to this, the world around me is indifferent. Purpose, and its shining light switch off, and there is nothing left.

It is a good thing that we have Memory. We can recreate a context, and hold on to its life-giving powers, even when we are not with other people. Understanding the contexts we are in, and remembering them when we are not in them, gives us life. They allow the manifestation of our being, of our true selves. Inside these spaces we live, but outside, Nothingness, a darkness and a death, are never far afield.

It is a good thing that we have memory.

I have a notebook. It is magical. I can speak through it when there is no one to speak to. I write, and writing I beat time, and distance. With writing, I speak across physical structures of isolation. When I write, there is a friend for me somewhere, who might sometime hear me. I beat death, I defy Nothingness.

I have my notebook, and the vast, heavy skies, that might otherwise press down and squash me, are held up.

What do you have?

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