Some Thoughts, Sparking Out
Morning Thoughts #90
The “getting it out of my system” has encountered the kind of delays typical when the system itself is a maze. Whatever I do that passes for maturity has thus far been freestyle.
On the run again, the sun chasing me down, only to be trapped within. What a subtle move I pull! Always: one last sun run! Is that the nature of ferreting out what is and is not addiction? Addiction always calls for the one last excessive hurrah. But don’t other things call forth too? Or at least potentially – those things never or under-experienced? What should be eventually done with but has so far not been done enough – isn’t the Buddha's approach to find final peace through temporary overexhaustion? Spiritual weightlifting towards fit meditation: maxing out youthful temptations, exhausting forth into stable maturity?
It is valuable wisdom to discern, among the inner voices calling you forth, what it is that you need to do more of and what is the voice tempting you to one last unnecessary binge. The “one last” designation should always raise our alarm bells, so let us wake up. Oh Lord, will I always posit a future for my cryogenically frozen unborn memories? All of those early life goals I’ve grown beyond – milestones, now miles past, passed but not photographed. Is the question this: life lived out to the edge of endurance or passed on at a peak – a sprinter with or without a baton?
In me – and I mean this most innocently – I find there exists a need for daily consummation. Many a writer knows this – the relaxed feeling at the end of a creatively productive day. I wonder if this is really just a symptom of our body signaling that, in fact, we’ve had a reproductive day? Oh, the delight and the danger possible for a body that has fully bought into some ideal of the mind!
What electrical stations we are – channeling our energies just so! What are we tricking off into paths of sidelong production? All of civilized society, it seems to me, is the outgrowth of strategic damming. And anyway, what do I want? The one last surge, the overload of sparks, that my slowly leaking youth may burst the dam of these days pleasantly repressed to a gentle lull away?
I’m not sure, but I know the voice that will lose its words before it loses its sounds lurks somewhere in there. What can I articulate with one last shout, and what should be turned away from without another thought? What was put off and off – because it was never wanted – and what was delayed because it took more courage than was available at the time, thinking I was safely stashing it away for braver days? And now, today’s program: to electrocute the procrastinating chutes, until my hair stands on end – may that feeling never end! Or maybe it’s that I knew all along: I am this, I am not that, and that it’s unwise to question the sure and longstanding shunning of alternative voices that tempt down a path my soul knows I don't have the spiritual shoes to climb. Forever to cast it off, or maybe it begins tomorrow.
Well, anyway, there is so much more to find out than just the brand of yourself.