When what is needed is for you to not be what made you what who you are.

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Identity.

Is there anything more consuming of our time, painful in our search of, or malevolently stolen from us by those who would prey upon us than the complete an utter singularity of being that is our very reason to be.

Who are we.

It is a melancholy cloud for some… a bitter fugue state of suffocation for others, Yet for a precious few it is an effervescent rambling of wanderlust to enjoy.

Then.. for many of the rest, it is an anchor of truth, affixing us to a spot we will never move from. Others it is a brand,  be it freshly scoured into the flesh, or a old and familiar scar, but its mark will never fade.

But the precious few….. to whom the knowing of oneself is a boon and sorrow all at once, for they see then the torrent of all about them.. and will learn that no matter what, they cannot change even for a moment what those around them know.. or don’t know about who they are… for they will never be ready to see anything and will choose to see nothing, but what they need to see in the moment to be that they are ready to be.

Because of this.

Love will bring sorrow.

Devotion will deliver Misery.

Sacrifice invites heartbreak.

Forgiveness is rewarded with Spite.

 

It isn’t that a person, even one in pain, does not want to know who they are, its just they rather do anything in this world, than have someone see  before they have a chance to see it and decide if they can stand what they have come to see, or worse who they have come to be.

 

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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?”

When Fear is all about you.

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Fear is part of being alive, some measure of it is factored in to nearly every aspect of our daily lives. It takes a myriad of forms. From the ambiguous, such as a random lighting strike(been there, done that), to the benign, (slipping and falling and breaking something… yep.. been there, done that too) To the dubiously required.(life, home, auto, flood, dental insurance). We live our lives in some way, evermore in its presence.

While some of us through life’s conditioning, or careful nurturing, or even genetic uniqueness, do not experience fear in the common fashion. They are the outliers, they typically come in two forms, though with the incredible diversity of division they may vary well beyond my simple characterizations, for the purpose of generalization I shall heap them in two groups.

For some.. Fear, is the great adventure that awaits them, or the looming challenge that will validate them. They are the trap waiting to be sprung; a fury begging to be unleashed. For these individuals.. Fear is the opportunity for hate, and rage and the satisfaction of redemption and validation that can be found.. in an instant unexpected.

For others… fear is the great unknown, and that is a terror that slithers its way into every thought and action. The darkness is a place of paralyzing terror, the light a place where everyone can see a flaw and failure in every pore. To do anything brings the terrible shadow of certain failure. To do nothing is to wait to be mocked and condemned.

Fear.. In either case , in every case, is nothing… but what we make it. It is no more a thought than as any other, it serves no one to any great reward, but does lead to the suffering of nearly all whom it becomes more that a mere thought to be considered.

See, When Fear is all about you, you have to realize, you cannot be All about fear.

Cause in the end Fear is really nothing, and you should never think that you should be to.

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.

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.