Blood greases the wheel

There are companies which are the very definition of the drab Dutch businessmen portrayed in so many paintings. Bland, nearly tasteless. Faceless. The same type, again and again. Charismatic but not overly so. Smart but not intelligent. Academic rigor but not intellectual curiosity. Bland.

And those of us who find ourselves in trapped in such places…we slowly drown. Slowly fade until we have nothing left. And wake each day, filled with a low level dread. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the next twist of the knife you never quite see coming.

A corporate culture not quite toxic. But only just barely.

I don’t have answers. I only have questions.

The truest wish I could ever state is this: I wish I were independently wealthy. Not so I could live it up and party. But so I could take care of the people I love in the manner they should be taken care of while not having to grind away at a job.

Because, honestly, after working for the last 30 years with little beyond continued life and some material possessions as a result, I am just tired of it.
And there is no end to it, without some massive upheaval of circumstance. There is only the maintenance of this or a devolution resulting in worse circumstances.

Arguably, I have a good job. But really, it pays just enough to keep my head and the heads of my loved ones above water. Which I know is amazing, seen from outside. And isn’t that sad? To aspire to just getting by.

What have we become? When the hope of something better is fiction. When the now is an endless slog to an uncertain future.

I’m weary beyond bone. So tired that my body spontaneously creates wounds. Aches, pains. In deep response to a continued existence. What is the answer? I don’t know.

Too tired to write

What can I say? I have almost no energy for anything like normal things. Ideas are sluggish and inspiration has relocated to another town. I feel as abandoned by poetry as poetry must feel abandoned by me.

I’m tired. Humanity seems caught in this endless cycle of thoughtless evil. And there doesn’t seem a way to stop that. Knowledge and knowing are different things. We seem to have embraced annihilation. Where the only thin hope comes from destruction. Which isn’t to say other ways weren’t tried. They were. And derision and deafness were how they were received.

If I’m tired, I can only imagine….

I get the rage. I support the movement. I wish I could be fired up. But we’ve been here before. And humanity continues to fail these basic tests.

Fear wakes the leviathan

When infection and rot eats the heart of a tree it must be cut down. When that tree is left to fester, it’s infection spreads until not one healthy tree is untainted. When this happens, do we let the trees poison and infect the land? Or do we burn it out?

Nature burns down forests to renew them.
Our nation has fostered rot at its heart for too long. Its time to burn it out.

What echos forward

I have been trying to write for over an hour. For me, that’s a long time. Usually 10-15 minutes and an idea or seed forms.

All I can think about is something I already wrote. Just this mantra, over and over

“This is a broken world.
But You are not broken.”

I may be broke. I may be damaged. But this world has not broken me.

I find this repeating in my head often lately. I find it’s more true today than when I wrote it. It’s like past me was reaching out to future me with a truth that I needed.

This IS a broken world
But I am NOT broken

Dream within dream, awake whole

It is first through the dissolution of self which allows us to become truly individual. When we cease seeing through the singular lense of our ego, when those concepts dissolve, we are free to be our truest selves. Both connected to the all, the totality of being, and as a self defined beacon of being. Found at last, without selfish desire. We are allowed behind the scenes and setpieces of physical reality and instead can experience the endless wonder.

But the most important bit, is to come back. To once again inhabit the physical self, limited, but with a knowledge of the possible. It is in the knowledge of the possible that we can begin to see the impact the all.

In the infinite expanse, sentience may not be unique. But you, the individual you. The truly connected and, most importantly, awake dreamer are. You are unique in all the worlds. Each of us is unique in all of the worlds. Don’t see this as platitude. As opiate dreams for the positivity mindful mafia. Instead, hold a truth inside of you.

Carry it with you. Each day you are aware, is a day that you are perfection. The perfection of being singular. Of being all. Each day which is too hard. Too rough. When external life and the demands it places on us for mere existence. When these things drag you away, dream. And remember. You are more than your shell. Than this vehicle of meat and sinew. Revel in being.

You are alive!

“Post”-Quarantine Blues

I’m getting super stressed. Not because of the quarantine. I’ve adjusted to that. Gotten used to working from home in a t-shirt. Prior to this, outside of gym workouts, I haven’t worn a t-shirt in literal years. I’m comfortable. If I’m having a bad time of it, I go and hang out with my cat. I go outside and just soak up the sun.

I don’t have any of the social interaction stress. I don’t have to put on a false front. I don’t lose 2 hours a day to driving to and from work. I get more work done. I enjoy my work more.

But they are making us go back into the office. Effective Monday, May 18th. Because Americans are idiots. Because “the economy” is more important than lives. Because they only know how to fight the last war. Because politicians care more about their electability than the people they are supposed to be advocates for. And because corporations only care about the appearance of what is right and not the actuality of what is right.

So I’m stressed and not sleeping. I finally crashed Wednesday afternoon and woke up at midnight. Missing my posting deadline.

I hope you are all doing better. But, I’ll be honest, I can’t see how it will be better for a long time.

Drift heavy under lidded eyes

I no longer yearn for a past I can never have. For a life given up, no matter how much my semi-worrying off hand comments may make it seem otherwise. I want things now just out of my reach. Things in my life and in my future. Which sometimes seem so far away. However, I know that they are not. Nevertheless, I can’t keep from straining forward. As if attempting to reach that last inch to that last leaf, so far above my head.

It is still good to acknowledge though. That that darkness in me will never flee, though now they are merely half serious jokes. That I once loved deeply. That I again love deeply. That what was will never be again. And that’s ok. What is, is much better than an ephemeral dream. No matter how beautiful.

Seeing is just the beginning

Death doesn’t take or steal
People do that
We do that

Death is a herald of transition
A gateway from one state to another
In its best guise, a traveler
One who walks beside the living
Ready and able to ease the transition

We think to bargain with a power who is powerless to stop. We think we are alone. We think that physical existence is the everything. We have forgotten as much as we have learned.

We have discarded information we cannot prove when the method of proving is a thing of narrow invention. One designed to show that even the “real” is not wondrous. In a petulant rejection of what was.

We invent things and say that they are all there is. Because it’s a less scary world, when we have or can obtain, all of the answers. And perhaps we could actually achieve that. If we stopped attempting to force things we don’t understand and cannot measure into the the twin boxes of impossible.

If science were so pure, it would not start with the rejection of the wisdom of our ancestors. It would instead ask, how can we learn these things without also destroying their beauty.

Death does not bargain. Life does not care. Storms do not rage. We attribute what is in ourselves to that which is alien to us. We narrow things down to only. Instead of accepting that while a process may be observed, the process is not the thing. The component parts are not the thing entire.

Wake up
Wake up
Wake up

Your eyes and heart is waiting

Just thinking about consent

When I am with someone there are things I am ok with nonverbal consent. A hug is ok. Touching hands is ok. Touching me in any way is ok. But I say that upfront. I give consent upfront. Anything beyond that and I need your consent. Not a nod of the head or an ok. I need explicit specific consent. If this is BDSM, then I need you to consent to the scene. If lifestyle BDSM, then I need you to tell me that you want me to act as a master does. (I will as pertains to my self and my actions, but as those actions pertain to you, I will obtain consent each time unless you consent to the larger thing. Eg, you want me as your master). I require it. It isn’t something I can take or leave. Or allow the moment to take away control. I am control. I don’t waver. Much as I may want to. I will constrain my self to what you have verbally consented to.

I understand that many don’t understand this. And it’s made relationships in the past extremely difficult. Those pauses where they would wait to be asked into my bed…ending in a kiss and a goodnight. Maybe that feels extreme to you, my readers.

Let me assure you that it isn’t. It should be the rule of the day. Consent should be understood and made to be as social law. Think of how safe you would feel if you knew that things would never be taken farther than you consent to. What would that world feel like?

I can’t make it so everywhere.
But I can make it so around me. So I do. Would that a critical mass of others did as well.