Filthy Box

Daemon!

Shit man, you scared me!

Where were you?  What are you doing?

I’m in the Thought World. I’m inside this weird place again. This… box! The writer/blogger/artificial box into which I place myself each time I sit down to write something.

Take my hand and step out of that box. I want to see you naked.

Naked? Ok, Maestro. Thank you.

Are you cold? Take this blanket.

Where did you get that blanket?

It’s an authenticity blanket especially made just for you.

Really? Wow!

You should wear it every day, when you enter the Thought World. You will feel light when wearing it.

Yes, I feel light already. Like I can be myself. No need to pretend. You know this WordPress platform is not a place where I want to lose my authenticity.

It’s a public place. No wonder you feel vulnerable.

I always wondered how it would feel like to be 100% authentic in public.

You can experiment with that.

Thank you for the blanket, man! If you can, please remind me to put it on every morning after I get up. You know how easily I forget these invisible things.

Why don’t you create a blogpost on this subject. Then the idea will root itself more firmly into your awareness.

Good idea.

And one more thing. Don’t go back into that filthy box.

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Back to Blogging

After many months of non-blogging, I decided to start blogging again today. Is it because I have something useful to tell the world? No.

The few people who will actually take the time to read this will probably get nothing out of it. Then why make it public?

Because I don’t go out much and I have a need to get myself “out there.” I have a need for exposure. Blogging makes me feel that I am an active member of society. Ha! ha!

Why am I laughing?

The phrase “I am an active member of society” makes me laugh. Active. As if.

Does society want to witness my act? I know it wants my submission. It also wants my money. And yes, it probably wants me to act appropriately. But is this what I want to give out to society? No.

What I want to give to society is a piece of my mind. I don’t think society wants to hear it. Thus the reason why blogging exists. Whether or not anyone reads it, the act of blogging is a public act. The perfect medium for an introvert.

I’m not interested in acting. I just want to BE. And it seems that in this world, the only way to be accepted is to act well. How about being real?

If being true has become offensive, then today I declare myself an offensive person. Does that make me a terrorist? Probably.

They can come and kill me if they want. I don’t care. I care not to suffer but I don’t mind dying. I think I’ve seen pretty much all that this world has to offer anyway. So let us all gladly surrender and move on to something better.

A blank page offers the opportunity to start fresh. There are no limits to how many posts I can publish in one day (is there?). So let’s end this one right here and start again from scratch. Writing is unlimited. Today I shall blog.

Spontaneity

jackhaas18a

Writing without an agenda.
This is an experiment
With spontaneity.

I chose a picture that I like
Because it’s beautiful
Created by Jack Haas

Is this a poem?
I don’t know.
There are no rhymes.
Or maybe some will pop up.
Spontaneously.

Writing is how my soul breathes.
When I stop, I suffocate.
Sorry if it annoys you.
I’m simply keeping myself alive here.

I can’t go for a walk, it’s raining.
Well I could still go but
I usually do it after lunch.
In the morning I write.

There is too much I could write about.
Sometimes it’s just frustrating to have to choose.
So I said to myself:  “Why choose?”
Why not be spontaneous.

Spontaneity is scary.
What is the next line going to be?
What if something ugly jumps out suddenly?

Heh! heh! heh!  It is a mystery.
Flirting with the unknown.
It’s involuntary.

I might lose control.
Should I look behind?
What if I lose my mind?

Who will take over
If I let go of my own senses?
Chaos, Cosmos or Cyclops?

Is it even possible to go astray
There must be beauty
Even in spontaneity

Should I stop here?
Or should I continue…

Too much of it might get boring.
Yeah, breathing does get boring.
But I have to keep going.

If I hold my breath
My face will turn blue.
I would not want that.
My blue hand is causing me enough trouble.
Do I want a blue face to match it?

I know what I’ll do.
There is a word count
At the bottom right.
It’s at two sixty eight.
When it gets to 1000
I will stop
No matter what.
Even if I’m not finished.
Now THAT is scary.

It’s like approaching death.
The death of this blogpost.
The end of it.

I still have six hundred something words to go.
What will these words be?
Maybe I should write something important.
Which reminds me…

My father used to say:
“Shut up if you have nothing important to say.”
Daddy must be very disappointed in me right now.
Sorry dad, but you are dead now, so I am free.

Can the zombie hear me?
Is it disrespectful to refer to my dead father as a zombie?
Will God punish me?
I just broke commandment number three.
No sorry it’s number five.
I just checked.

I don’t think I’ll make it to 1000 words.
At the word “word” it was only 400.
It’s never too late to say something important.
To make my father proud of his illegitimate son.

Now why did I write the word “illegitimate?”
This was really spontaneous.
What does it actually mean?

Illegal?  Against the law?
Born of unmarried parents?
But my parents were married when they had me.

Illegitimate also means illogical or incorrectly deduced.
Maybe I am not my biological father’s son.
When I was young I sometimes felt like I was adopted.
Because he didn’t like me much.

But I look so much like him.
I’m sure he’s my real father.
Even my personality matches his almost perfectly.

So that’s not it, I am his biological son.
Why did I write illegitimate then?

The word also means “not genuine.”
So does that mean that my father is not my genuine father?
What does genuine mean?
Thank God I have a dictionary.

What did I just say, again, spontaneously?
Thank “GOD” I have a dictionary?
God?  Who’s God?

My genuine father perhaps?
Of course, God the Father.
But who would that god be?

Yahweh?  Don’t tell me!
Not that blood thirsty
Son of a b****
The ultimate source of love.
He!  He!  He!

Allah?  I think he’s the same as Yahweh.
Bhagavan Krishna?  Yeah, perhaps…
Since his son Krishna is sometimes painted blue
I foresee a definite possibility.

I already wrote a blogpost entitled “A Real Father”
So why am I still writing about this.
Do I miss my daddy?

How can I miss an unknown person?
Well…  I think that if one wants to know the father
All one has to do is look at the son.

The son would be me.
So the father would be just like me.
This means I have a pretty cool daddy.
LOL!

In a sense I am my own father.
I am my own creator.
I am my own guide.
I am my own authority.
And I am my own god.

This is spitting in the face of Christianity.
My mother would not be proud of me.
Some of my sisters would spit back at me.
In fact they already have.

One told me that I had been seduced by an evil spirit.
Another said that my ideas were satanic.
The third one agreed with the first one.
The fourth one is not sure.
The fifth one is not bothered by the rest and accepts me.
Yes, I have five sisters.

So where am I going with this?
Nowhere.  I’m being spontaneous.
I have just revisited my family.
I visit them virtually and rarely physically.

I am a lonely bastard.
And I think that this is the way I like it.
I enjoy my own company.
I think I am funny.
I don’t need my brother to make me laugh.
Yes, I also have a brother.
He’s a clown.

Why did I use the word “clown” to describe my brother?
Let’s look it up.  A clown can be:
1-  a performance artist often associated with a circus
2- a person who acts in a silly fashion
3- a stupid person
4- a man of coarse nature and manners; an awkward fellow
5- one who works upon the soil; a rustic; a churl.

Yup, that pretty much describes my biological brother.
Not to be confused with my cosmic brother Jahele.
Two very different individuals.

So I had to conclude at one point that I had two separate families.
One down here and another up there, in the clouds or above them.
I’m related to one by blood and to the other one by spirit.

One thousand words.

The Blue Hand

bluehand6

This blue hand you gave me is a blessing and a curse.

When I pet a cat with it, the poor creature falls in love with me.

When I write with it, I get in touch with aliens.

When I touch a woman with it, she goes crazy.

When I touch a man with it, he likes it or he hates it.

When I touch myself with it… it’s none of your business.

There is power within it, but I don’t know what it is.

Who gave it to me?  Who created the blue hand?  How does it work?

Maybe it heals, or it stirs something in the other.

It corrupted my wife.
It ruined my life.

I can’t get rid of it.  I can’t shake it off.  The blue stuff is stuck inside of me.  It’s part of me.  The darker ones even tried to steal it from me.  I would have given it to them already.  If I had known that this is what they were after.

I don’t know…

Airk said it was a symbol of the connection I have with him.  But it’s more than that.  This blue hand creates waves.  It plays the piano.  It moves with a higher flow.  The ebb and flow of the cosmic ocean.  This hand transports me.  It affects all of my relationships.  It takes part in everything I do, everything I touch and everyone I meet.

The blue hand is a portal.
The blue hand is magic.
The blue hand is abnormal.

It does not belong here.  It comes from elsewhere.  It fell from the sky.  It’s the hand of a god.  It’s like a lightning rod.

The blue H.A.N.D. is a Highly Advanced Nasty Device.

You want to shake my hand?
I warn you…
It will shake you!

The Avatar

perspective2

When you look at existence from the perspective of a mortal, it sucks.

Mortals are doomed.

Where is the hope for the mortal person?

Your hope is in me, mortal!  I am the non-physical you.  Identify with me.  I am beyond and above everything you see with your two eyes.  I’m super-conscious because I see things from the perspective of an immortal.  I AM immortal, and I AM the real you.

Sit there and bitch about your life all you want.  Get drunk and smash your head against the wall.  You won’t get anywhere until you turn to me for help.  But you won’t do that.  You say:  “I’ll turn to him when I see him.”  I say to you:  “Turn to me and you’ll see me.”

Or perhaps, even better:  “Turn to me and you’ll hear me.”  They say that seeing is believing but sometimes I wonder.  You see, your definition of the word “see” is arranged.  Someone arranged it this way to make sure you would never see me.  Push the limits of your sight and get out of the “range” that was set before you.

The scope of your perception is your prison.  You refuse to look farther than the walls of your cage.  They tell you that what’s on the other side is scary and dangerous.  They tell you that whoever ventures there goes crazy.  Do not be afraid.  Look at your limitations now.  It’s your own restrictions that are driving you crazy.

Dare to see the things you don’t usually see and hear the things you don’t usually hear.  It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it elevates your spirit.  Your super-conscious mind knows exactly what you need to hear.  Let him speak to you.  Sit down with pen and paper, laptop or computer, and type out the words you need to hear to uplift your crushed soul.

Position your mind above your daily grind, like you do when you play a video game in third-person view.  You know what third-person view is, don’t you?  This view refers to a different perspective of self from a distance behind and slightly above the player.  This viewpoint allows you to see a more strongly characterized human and his environment.  You actually have the ability to do this.  Use your imagination if you have to, it’s legal.  Imagination is not just for kids, it’s for adults too.

From this new point of view, you’ll notice that you gain a bit of wisdom, love and power, which you can transfer to your regular mortal self.  Life is the best video game ever.  So well-made, so immersive, it actually feels real when you play your character.  It becomes a nightmare and a prison when you forget who you really are.  The person who controls the player is the real you.  What you see in the mirror is your character, an embodiment, an avatar.

What are you going to do when it’s Game Over?

Don’t wait.  Start now.
Be who you really are.
You’re not the avatar.

Move a Mountain

mountain

The circumstances of my life have brought me to a place where I can no longer enjoy moving around physically.  Life decided to teach me a lesson.  It hit me on the head and said:  “Daemon, be still and know yourself.  Travel within yourself.  Find out what you are made of and what you can do apart from moving physically.”

So here I was, suddenly, having to learn how to use my mind without going crazy.  Thoughts left unchecked fly all over the place.  Thoughts are like wild animals.  I had to learn to examine them, restrain them and domesticate them.

Writing is the art of manipulating your chaotic thoughts, aligning them, arranging them next to each other to give meaning to everything.  It’s not as easy as it looks.  It takes years of practice.

While doing this, I realized that real power is not in my ability to move my body, but in my ability to control my own thoughts.

The physical world is the result of what happens in the non-physical realm (thoughts, dreams, intentions).  Nothing in the physical world would exist if it hadn’t first taken form in one of the unseen worlds of the Mind.  The seen is nothing but the crystallization of the unseen.  The real action takes place beyond everything we can see with our two eyes.  It’s all in the mind.

We say of the athlete that he is active and of the philosopher that he is passive.  But when you think of it, which one yields more power?  It’s easier to control the physical body than it is to control your own thoughts.  Is the physically strong man exerting more effort than the thinker?  If there was a contest between the two to see which one could move a mountain first, who do you think would win?

The person who thinks creatively has a better chance of accomplishing anything.

 

Are You Bored?

bored

If you are not bored, then don’t read this post because it contains only boring thoughts from a bored person.

What could I do that is worthwhile, fun and useful, on this rainy day?

Don’t bother suggesting anything that requires movement, because I can’t move.

I’m disabled.

Never told you about my disability, did I?

*sigh*

Ok, I’m going to tell you:

One day, I lost something.  One day I had it, and the next day it was gone.  Things have never been the same since that day.  It happened in 1999.  On the 10th of June.  That day, I lost my balance.  I don’t even know what caused it.

Most people don’t even realize that they have balance.  But when you lose it, holy shit…

Without balance, you can’t walk.  I had to re-learn how to walk.  But the worse thing was what followed:  depression.  I mention depression in many of my blogposts but not what caused it.

This disequilibrium makes me feel a little drunk most of the time.  So if you ever wondered why my posts were unbalanced, now you know.  My balance system is broken and it can’t be fixed.  You want the technical details?  Boring!  But this is a boring post so I’m going to tell you.

The sense of balance is in your inner ear.  Ever heard of equilibrioception?  Me neither.  We all think we have only five senses, but we have more.  The sense of balance is one of them and it is definitively being taken for granted.

When the sense of balance breaks down, it causes dizziness, disorientation and nausea.  Motion sickness if you will.  It sucks.  I said earlier that I couldn’t move but it’s not true.  I can move as much as I want, but it makes me feel sick.  The more I move, the worse it gets.  I feel like I’m going to vomit.  Loud sound also affects it for some reason.  When there is too much noise, I feel like barfing.

I learned to live with it.  I had no choice.  I can walk but running is out of the question, unless I want to get hurt.  I feel best when I don’t move and all is quiet.  Boring, isn’t it?  This is my life.  I write because I don’t move much, so I think and dream a lot.  I don’t like watching TV so I have to use my imagination to find satisfactory entertainment.  What else can I do?  Oh, I read also, but I prefer to daydream and write creatively.

So this is my disability.

What is yours?