The Monkey Mind

The end .  All beginnings start from there. There is no BS, no excuses, no nothing's.  With all the social anxiety enveloping the consciousness, we are never true to our self , to the ego to which we owe our entire puny existence, each breath, every moment spent to its eventual next. Thus, the end is not an option but a necessity. It is the forgiveness for all our grandiose mistakes we have realized but nobody cared. It is the boredom in the cacophony of human noise celebrating life and congratulating their momentary achievement to themselves.  It is logical, that applause.  Yet is it only me or what, it feels hollow, a truly brittle sham. Only for the good time, the celebration lasts unlike tragedy that is heavier than this body of yours and mine that contains the existence called life And that life needs to end End only ending is where a new beginning blossoms For it is death that gives meaning to life For it is darkness where light shines brightest In the polarity...

  " I feel, so I am" Feelings ... They are part of us, as we are part of them. From birth, in the span of being, and till death, have we ever been apart from them? How can we call ourselves, us , if we do not feel and delve deeper into the aesthetics of nature whose essence spontaneously vibrates and freely heals? Or simply instills in us to feel the subjective abhorrence towards the man's diverse-infinite decadence and disease? And as we grow or shrink, we judge so, those feelings we so feel, to be either good or bad, associated with pleasure and pain, that which is permitted and that which is not.                                                                                                 ...

" Conviction is the aura of subjective truth, a man so willingly breathes..." Prayer is the foundation of faith. And it so exists, in the sincerity of a mortal's breath; long, deep, and contemplative. You may visualize life in its relentless pursuit of the fulfillment of never-ending drives; food that intermittently sates the hunger, sleep that quietly rests the fragile body, the applied knowledge that nails purpose in the fidgety mind, fiery sex that frees the spirit from its inherent mortal trapping for a while, more or less.  It is breath, and the process of breathing, in its steady depth, the prayer of mortal discovers consistency...that atheist sighs and yields willingly unto his faith of faithlessness. If you are wondering who that atheist is, obviously that ignoble person albeit hypocritical, is none other than me, the author of this ruminating writing Yes, an "Atheist".  and not a day goes by, that I do not pray .              ...

 The world we perceive, understand, and interact with, has as many interpretations and their understanding as to the people who live on the planet. We see, hear, smell, and feel the fabric of reality around and within us through our dynamic senses. Yet perceiving and interpreting reality into a coherent and cohesive understanding is difficult but not impossible. As such, what we know or believe we know and its further interpretation and communication require discipline, the disciple of writing.                                                                                                                            ...