That moment when you learn, you are not worth the fight.

People can be callous, indifferent, selfish, or without the will…. to have will for so many things.20161210_214728.jpg The range of these situations and circumstances are as diverse as we as individuals.

We anecdote such moments in such ways as “I just don’t have time for it” I really don’t care about it” or “It’s just not worth more my time”

When we presented as such.. we begrudgingly admit, we may do the same.. with distractions, or hobby, recreation, novelty or the like.

Yet at times… it takes a more ominous and darker tone… like when a relationship or marriage ends.. or when a parent, be it divorce or simply life.. just abandons any effort, instead focusing on the easier and more rewarding part of their lives.. or at the very least.. that part causes the least woe..

This can also happen child to parent, sibling to sibling… Some of us carve out a neat .. comfortable and manageable world where our own conscience never need be revisited.. so whether it be child, parent, partner, loved one or sibling… we can erase them .. usually with the help with someone in our life.. who best prefers our attentions and.. cares little for what our conscience might bear.

But for those who are discarded… they do not cease to exist.. despite their excommunication, and state of non existence.. however justly, or unjustly earned. They abide in a place that few know, and fewer still can ever know the pain of

“Do you remember when I was something to you?”

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Don Quixote, a Lemming, and a idiot, all walk towards a Clift..

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Selfishness is perhaps the most common traits to being human, of the human condition. It has the capacity to take so many different variations in demonstrations of its existence. It can be petty, an overlord to jealousy, or just as a servant to insecurity, or even a brawling enforcer of fear.

It in its many manifestation, does not solely define the individual, because pain, sorry and loss wield it, for better or worse, to their own ends,

Selflessness, this altruistic grab bag of actions,  that we may parttake in, is often what happens to the selfishness in us when we wake up, along with our conscience, on the other side of the bed.

We find that selfishness can be assuage by serving another, and not making another suffer it. Our intentions we will polish up with the Shine of charity, humbleness, even when enough are watching, a noble sheen.

It could be said, that it is the road less taken, on the great journey to where the end justifies the means. That gentle place where there is no fear, our insecurities may never find us, a place of plenty were we need not covet another’ and there are no windmills that me may joust to show, we are worth something to this world.

But for some, Selfishness, and Selflessness take us right to the same place of were we are just steps a way from a step too far, having not realized how perilous a journey we were upon, how many we were leading down our path or whom we were chasing desperately in our flight, failing to see where either was really taking us.

Sooner of later we will follow or lead someone else right over the edge of a cliff that we saw coming, and whether we see ourselves noble or frightened, it won’t change the damage done, after the fall.

Sometimes, Neither Selfishness, or Selflessness, helps us at all, sometimes, its just, being sure, your being yourself.

Learning to cope, written Febuary 22, 2009. (Excerpt from 10,000 Sleepless Nights.)

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Learning to cope…

 

Memory has its own identity, and we struggle each time we learn this anew.

         We can recall the nature of our own life in the countless reminiscence of all we have known.

Yet there are times when so powerful are the events that alter every course of our being, that in a single stroke of fate’s merciless pen are every memory redefined.

 

All we may recall is recast, every binding emotion torn asunder, and at once, who we were in our memories is no longer us at all.

 

Memories of Love become regret, devotion becomes purposeless toil, kindness is now is mocking placation.

 

We remember being part of something;

no we only realize we were just simply there, as we are now.

 

Alone.

Remembering Why we wanted to Forget.

I can say when I write here, or anywhere, two absolutes are woven onto every word. I write with absolute sincerity of belief that what I say is real to me, and that I give it freely to whoever may read it. My motto
“You can forget me, Just remember what I have said.” If ever this was true, it was when I wrote this.

What Say you

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Each one of us would like to think of ourselves fearless at some point, of something, in the course of lives. It could be something so utterly trivial, like losing to some novice in a game which me have mastered, or a matter of unquestioned certitude, such as the defense of ones child when grave peril shows its face.

These moments, if they have already come upon us, are often indelibly burned into a memory. A fixed point to forever reference so that we might, draw strength from, polish the shelf of it for the sake of nostalgic pride, or to remind us of what we are capable of when we face some great threat.

Then of course, there is the other side of this Boatman’s coin, one of which we will somberly collect through our days. That being those times, and those things in which we knew certain and palpable fear which forever changed our lives and we…

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The pain that makes us Endure us, Saves no one.

 

20161209_081622Everyone experiences Pain, and at some point, should it not consume us, and in that consumption leave behind a husk of anger and bitter regret, we will most often sentimentalize what has become of us having staved off pain’s hungry efforts upon us.

The bizarre irony, that we seem almost euphoric, to proclaim as loudly as possible, we have been hurt, how much, by what and whom, and that we are still here , and we can now regale any and all with our stories of woe, our elaborate Tales of suffering.

All the while forgetting, what is most important, that those who are still hurting, whom pain is still slowly grinding into grist, or carving away at with some opulent blade as it feeds amidst royal splendor, while its victim abides in desperate squalor.

If you are hurting it can be hard to see the hurt of another, but if you are merely celebrating the memory of a wound, and paying no heed to another, you are likely to just create another wound someplace else in your revelry.

Help the hurting, even if your hurting, sometimes that’s the only way the everyone can heal. If you are lucky enough to have healed from any pain, you know then how precious a gift that can be.