This is a revolution.
When I sat down to write this I was without any inspiration. Truth be told, the reason I chose to write again had nothing to do with a need to express my thoughts. It was because I saw it as an opportunity to build some income, seeing as I was recently laid off from my current job. Also, it would be a great way to kill some time during those long days that I can't seem to fill anymore. For three days though, I sat here, staring at a blank page, expecting to conjure up a creation that would move and inspire someone to think, and then they would continue reading. Quite the exercise in frustration to be honest.
“There must be something that I'm missing, something deep and powerful that moved me to share my thoughts, express my feelings.” I thought to myself. In desperation I reentered that dark recess which I'd put away years ago. I read through every blog entry I had ever entered as a teenager, and it was, to say the least, inspiring.
I realized that it used to be I wrote as an outward expression of myself. My thoughts were my tool to try and bring people to understand me, because I was insecure with who I thought I was coming across as. Time passed, though, and I grew to appreciate what I am and not expect others to praise me so I could feel accepted.
Both good and bad have come from this metamorphasis of my conscious state. I live my day to day life without a dark cloud betraying whatever emotions it is that I'm truly feeling, causing everything to remain bleak. Some would describe the old me as someone lost in depression, but I would say it was more of an oppressive state that I was trying to escape.
The bad? As Alex DeLarge, your humble narrator in “A Clockwork Orange” lost his beloved classical music, I lost my passion. The spark that allowed me to express so much in words and art was erased by my own Ludovico treatment.
And I lost her.
“I will never forget you,” I whispered. “I can feel your presence here and always, but don't let me lose it, please.” I walked down the dirt path alone on a quiet summer day. The only physical beings that I could share the moment with were the creatures of the marsh below, but I was empowered. I had drawn her soft features on a lined piece of paper as they came to me, and I knew no matter how alone I felt, there would always be someone to guide me. It was as if a stranger had come to me and said, “Aaron, you've changed my life.” My feet didn't touch the dirt, they flirted with the surface of reality.
Some might say I'm nuts, I really hope I'm not though. This doesn't mean I wish she didn't exist, because it isn't really my choice, and for that matter she more than likely saved me so I will not ever deny her. Hopefully I will never forget, neither.
You have no power over what you create, this is why God gave man free will, because resistence is futile. Only progression exists, even resistence is an attempt to progress towards acceptance of the same ideals. Maybe if people stopped seeing life as a duality, a fight between dark and light, positive and negative, and more so as presence or absence, we would not fight. Would we learn that love and hate are not connected? That hate is not the opposite of love, but what is created in its absence? Realize then that there is not just one, but infinite possibilities of truth. Because if there isn't an opposite of yes, well, what is there to argue?
Just now as I wrote that last sentence, I smiled. I hope you did the same as you read it. I have found my passion again, I have learned that the multiple truths that are able to exist without duality allow me to use my clear state of mind to power my passion. I have solved my Ludovico complex by destroying duality.
Rest Easy People.
