This is a portrait of the particulars.
The wind knows my spine too well; this land is winter and I made a home of my confine.
Here, we measure by sight, question the numbers, question the counting and question the doubting. What I know for sure is that if you meticulously trace ice-cold rivers, you’ll find trembling frail fingers.
There, we precisely learn the tips of mountains. We are frequent passengers to further camps. The reality of this, which we often question, is that the number of heartbeats which we allow ourselves per breath is out of our control.
Gather bullets and cells in your pocket, then learn to live without them. The sea knows its ebbs and flows better than you do. Let not the currents stiffen your shoulders, for they will be your anchor.
The weight of an average human heart is 310 grams, or 11 ounces.
Navigating the Streets of Home as a Stranger:
- Be compassionate to the Natives. The fear that you have faced when you left Home is the same kind of fear which shadows over them when they speak of Strangers. They are happy and afraid. You understand every bit of it.
- People are multifaceted: you pick which aspect of a person you want to deal with. You also pick which aspects of yourself you want to engage. Very few deserve or desire a profound connection. You do not have to accept every facet of everyone, nor they with yours.
Feeling for your own personhood as a Stranger:
- Your existence is more meaningful as a silent agent of change than a deliverer of a violent-but-short act of revolt. You know this reality as closely as seasons follow one another.
- Ideological rebellion is a function of your integrity. It shapes an identity as much as the isolation it produces. We lead an one-man army every day.
Stranger, I hope your resilience concurs your worries. You create Home.
How foolish is it for one to assume comfort and happiness in not knowing? Purposefully blinding themselves, rejecting the journey of seeking, and walking a foggy path only seeing what is right in front of them? Why fear flipping stones, if what’s there is there? It is the fear of shifting perception. Whatever a person could live with, they adopt.
Truth is ought to catch up with us before too long. When realization washes over like a tidal wave, we figure what we were truly missing. Curiosity expands our world view, the knowledge of our choices, and the context at which we see ourselves as a part of the whole. What we choose to partake, and the freedom of knowing our choices, is what determines a life path.
Active observation does not necessitate the absorption of values. It is of absolute importance to learn how to appreciate an artwork or a thought stream without necessarily agreeing or letting it become one of your own expressions of truth. Entertaining thought streams that aren’t your own, however absurd they may seem, is ought to teach you something you don’t know or feel something that you haven’t felt before.
Stability or integrity, what are you looking for? I’d rather keep shifting.
Sit and stare into crowded spaces. Watch as ripples of thoughts and voices surface up into impressions. Note the color of their being and the taste of heartache. What’s the absurd but a cluster of seemingly well-behaved organisms? I know that I’ll lose my face in a whirling lifetime of strangers.
I’ve been running alongside the winds and currents because no land would contain me. My skin is of its own, and my spirit is of its ghosts. I’ve learnt how to grow not to where the blood runs but to where the wind blows and the heart seeks. “Steady your feet and sharpen your teeth,” the regular chant.
Uncertainties: well-rehearsed verses humming in my ears and fading into the dead of the night. “Elude what you cannot grasp, and what cannot grasp you,” as I calculate only what I need to sail from shore to shore. These are lonesome voyages; they are meant to be so.
Its a game of timelines, conditions and chances; you’re the only player.
What do you want? You cannot have what you want because you want it.
What do you want? The circumstances do not match up.
What do you want? It’s too late.
Listen to the sound of your heart breaking either way.
It is not a game of timelines; you only see them because you’re scared.
Carry your memories like stones with timestamps in your left pocket, and your un-memories with the time posts that you’ve missed in your right. Lopsided, I know.