Suffocation

The world begs for remembrance. A child yearns for his cries to be heard. All the while we are continually moving along the paths that divide the course upon which we have set.

What causes us to move? Are we but images springing forth from the dirt to reap the designs of a greater being? Or are we greater than this?

What air fills our lungs? What thin image slithers into our bodies that provides the essential essence of life?

Without air, we cannot live.

Without words, we are dead.

Music To My Ears

Music--The transcendent highway beyond which lies the embodiment of every emotional state and philosophic endeavor. The vibrations against the eardrum allow for melancholic ideals to become unsuppressed in a quick, yet subtle instance.

The small insight that arouses the senses arranges our state of mind as though we were the tool by which it performed. As the drums continue to beat, we ask ourselves: Do we make music, or does the music make us?

Our appearance, our actions, our choices, seem to only be influenced by the strong and endearing essence of rhythm. Our humor, or character, even our clothing, are all guided by the beat of a drum.

If we are the originators of music, how then do we go about constructing it? Is it through self-indulgence of inner desires? Or perhaps it's the ubiquitous nature that surrounds us.

By no means do we make music... With only a quick glance at the color and style of your t-shirt, it's easy to see that music has made you...

Limbic State Of Mind

Emotions are the dials to which we set our life to run. In response to query or action, emotions are the driving source of both the ideal lifestyle, or of our deepest remorse.

It is only fair that these sensations are what appear to be our state of mind. Yet wise is the man who can control such impulses. The expression of such cogitation is the foundation upon which the indecisiveness of man can only begin to be comprehended.

Take for example your significant other. The cheery expression shared between the two of you, stimulates the mind and causes a smile to appear on your face. What then? Is this mishap a gathering of emotions set about against your own desires with a preconceived illustration of translusive thought? Or can that person truly make ill-conceived notion disperse with only the slightest of gestures?

It is not the mind that causes us to love. The feeling is instilled within us just as the right of survival. Love is not the action of having feelings, but the expression of said notions under and within the boundaries of uncontradictive valor.

A Dividing Line

What makes a good person "good?"

The demeanor by which we act is but an ambiguous sense of what reality holds for the life and value of any certain person. In a sense, what we hold to be "good," is the dividing line between reality and morality.

Friedrich Nietzsche once said, "The greatest narcotics of Europe were alcohol and Christianity." Although the repercussions of early Christianity are still felt in our day, it cannot be withheld that it has done just as much, if not more good--and so the point of view of some, becomes the judgment of others...

Is choice the process by which we conspire to achieve? Or is it the ability to judge what others beget through merits of their own unconscious valor?

If we are to contrivance the ideals of others as to make them our own, why then become individualistic if the portal of opportunity closes upon the slightest whim?

I Act, Therefore I Think

Mark Twain once said, "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." If the mundane intricacies of clothing can make us who we are, what have we to say about our own thoughts?

A man who does without thinking is foolish.

A man who thinks without doing is paltry.

If our thoughts can inadvertently lead to our demise or victory, why then do we not give them attention? I ask you, the reader, this one question: Do our thoughts guide our actions? Or do our actions guide our thoughts? The resolution may seem easy at first, but before you make your decision, think about whether it was your actions, or your thoughts that lead you to that theory--For a theory is merely a thought.

Upon spelling some whimsical nonsense without thinking about the implications of his words, some find later that it wasn't a bad idea. Yet there are others who contemplate their situations and later act on those previous thoughts thinking it was a good idea at the time.

The question remains: Should we rely on our thoughts, the only singular thing that can only be possessed by our own selves, or should we act, and let our thoughts and worries follow suit?

If the line between right and wrong are drawn with the pencil of our thoughts, our actions can only complicate the process...

Mishappiness

Is happiness a feeling or a thought? Is it found inside of a box, or outside of a home? Constituents of both sides feel they present an argument obtusely different from the last. However misconstrued the sight of it may be, happiness is only a word...

If my yellow is your canary, then your happiness is my guise.

"The soul is a sphere which retains the integrity of its own from if it does not bulge or contract for anything, does not flare or subside, but keeps the constant light by which it sees the truth of all things and the truth in itself." Marcus Aurelius

So what now of this intimate feeling? As I describe my thought, your object comes to life. But what of the ignorant who have not the experiences that suffice our precepts to integral parts? Is happiness a mere feeling then? Or is it something more?

When you step back to see the sum for its wholes, you find a feeling. You find a thought. You find a box. You find the outside. When you step back and appreciate it all, you find yourself...

Cot in The Middle

"When you are reluctant to get up from your sleep, remind yourself that it is your constitution and man's nature to perform social acts, whereas sleep is something you share with dumb animals." Marcus Aurelius

Now that what accords with the nature of each being is thereby the more closely related to it, the more in its essence, and indeed the more to its liking.

When we dream, our minds do not escape the life of which we take part, yet they build upon the precepts that fabricate our very being. It is however, the right of everyone to think of their future not as a far-fetched dream, but as a reality waiting to happen.

Let it not be forgotten for that short time in which we dwell in our dreams, we are invincible. We are untouchable. Our preconceptions are the imminent and foretold desire of our minds, yet we heed them not.

If we are to rest from our days activities, are we not also meant to be active in our minds?

The Dive

The water in which we choose to swim, is not always clear.

Dense and ubiquitous, our bodies find themselves conforming to the waters shape--not the other way around. When you enter the water, your vision is skewed and can become misleading through the trance of reflection and diffraction.

The question: What is gained from the dive into the liquid that hinders our vision, makes us conform to its shape, and stresses the body?

We emerge. And when we do, we are stronger.

You cannot choose the water in which you immerse yourself--only what you will attain from the sensations that lie beneath.

The True Marksman

A goal is not unlike the advancement of man: through time and progression, one learns what will help, and what will hinder the push to become that to which we aspire. Knowing beforehand what we seek, is only half the battle.

Decisions constantly surround us. Only we possess the sole power of choice and reason. Through their guide, we are allowed to seek or to hide from those things we seek, and that seek us. Knowledge is power, yet power does not always concede to the absence of will.

The target that lies ahead of us is the one we will it to be, yet some allow the target to will who they become...

No action should be undertaken without aim, or other than in conformity with a principle affirming the art of life.

Simplicity

It was an easy decision to get out of bed this morning, but every decision after that became lined with preemptive scrutiny and rational thought.

Is it safe to say that had I not gotten out of bed that things would have been different? Would that singular decision have affected the outcome of so many other concurring events in my life that the benefits would have outweighed the consequences?

Assume for a minute that you decided not to brush your teeth this morning... Apart from being despicably unorthodox and vile, it was still YOUR decision. Maybe later in the day you would regret it, but the decision, and the consequences, were YOURS alone. However the question still remains: Would it have made a difference?

Is the simple life led by those whom desire good and achieve it; who make decisions, and accept them? The outcome of our decisions should not haunt us, nor drive us to the scrutiny of others, but allow for a serene intervention of both feeling and thought to combine in effort to settle our existence in singular harmony. The consequences will always follow, but the decision, is only OURS to make...

Freudian Slip vs. Unfortunate Miscommunication

Marcus Aurelius said in his book, Meditations: "Train yourself to think only those thoughts such that in answer to the sudden question, 'What is in your mind now?' you could say with immediate frankness whatever it is, this or that: and so your answer can give direct evidence that all your thoughts are straightforward and kindly." As a philosophical philanthropist and leader of an empire, Marcus understood what it was to always be thinking, and never be caught off guard worrying about selfish or ambiguous impressions. This bit of advice could have saved me from embarrassment from the many times that I have been asked what I was thinking, and the only non-sensical reply I could surmise from the depths of the hollow inside of tubing within my head was, "I don't know." Teachers and professors have never been too fond of this reply. Of course, it is better to admit that one is thinking about nothing, than to shout "mother lover" during a political science class... Yes, I'm referring to myself. The question that was posed was whether or not the state senators represented the people fairly. Having watched the famous J.T. and Andy Samburg earlier that day, it was all I could do to not picture J.T. pouring syrup on a waffle... Now to the punch line: I responded, "I think the senators would do a better job with "mother lovers" (I meant to say motivating)... and from there it was quite the ordeal. However, the real question remains, how many times have we spat out any non-sensical catastrophe of words and wished we could pull them right back in? Was Freud right when he said we only say what we are thinking? Or was it just a horrible mishap that had my professor second guessing my intelligence? The world may never know...

The Irony of "Man"

After having a conversation with an old friend of mine the other day, I couldn't help but notice that as he talked about an emotional subject, one that any alpha male would be despised to admit, he continually and energetically used the word, "man" to end or begin his thoughts and conjectures. Does this astound no one else but me? There is irony behind the person who refuses to take advice, but insists on giving it. There is even irony in the fact that it drizzled in the late afternoon of Alanis Morisettes' wedding day. Yet I feel compelled that irony is best exhibited in the single, simplistic act of a man becoming emotional while irrevocably and inexplicably using the word "man" to describe his inner most concerns. Think about it... Have you ever heard the following phrases spoken between two men? "Thanks man." "I love you man." I'm sorry man." "You're the best, man." How interesting it is that the few times that a man becomes emotional throughout the day, or month in hedonistic cases, he uses the word man to describe his emotional serenity? In an arbitrary sense, the thought that the same word used as an adjective for being: tough, brave, resilient, honorable, and strong, gives rise to feministic ideals while lowering testosterone, keeps one asking, "How does it work, man?"

About the author...

Isn't interesting that at the back of every book, the writer feels that surreal inclination to label his/her work with a small photo and otherwise useless information? I ask the question: How many times have you approached one of these authors, and felt a sense of inner peace knowing that he got a bachelors degree in physical science at a community college? Or that the author of your favorite love novel went to France twice to, "receive inspiration" for her work? In light of this manner of thinking, I will presume to join the masses and describe a somewhat colloquial version of what it is to be me, while striving to keep with the hypocritical nature of my stance. Where to begin...