We dine for invitations. We theatrego for conversations. We read for knowing. We attend the photo-op. We befriend the ego-boost. We marry the solitude-preventent. We balk meals, stories, truths. We slay and ignore the possibility for experience, kinship, vow, love, and ourselves. They who fear to be alone will never be anything but lonely. (Thomas Merton) What we do, we do with multiple motives. When we do, we are doing multiple things, trying to acheive complex ends. We are not simple, or directly willed, even those of us who seem to be. Rarely do we eat and nothing else. Sit and nothing else. Hang out, and enjoy company, and nothing else. We talk, watch, ponder through most of the food that goes into us. We never just sit. Always ticking. Our relations with others are intertwined with all sorts of self-objectives, far beyond simply to relate. We want to be fulfilled, comforted, assured out of loneliness. We want to have fun. As though we go to something or someone and demand a product that can be distinguished and wrapped in a nice bow for us called fun. Forget the person or thing itself, and taking them as they are, good or bad or whatever. We carve through their form until we can extract what we wish to take from them, and engulf the finding in our bottomless emptiness. The proof that we are not innocent in this double-intentioned way of life, is found no further or complex than in our ever.present.anxieties. We wait for something outside to finally, just a bit more, one more second, bring us the peace we have always looked for. And sometimes it does. And then it passes. We turn from ourselves and the mysteries within. And then we wonder why we find ourselves beguiled. tut-tut. (/Daily Epic.)
Posted on: Mon, 04 Nov 2013 22:07:54 +0000
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