A Rambling Bit of Catharsis from the Diary of an Uncertified MadMan

Two black cats, one the Goddess of Wisdom & the other an abandoned Princess; Sofia & Yasodhara (Sodhara, for short).  What do I know about wisdom or loss?  What do I know about suffering?  I don’t know anything other than that everyone suffers in their own right and everyone carries a self-contained bit of wisdom, something passed from parent to child eternal.  You can learn alot about people through their suffering.  You can learn everything about people through how they suffer.  The root of suffering is desire.  The end of desire is the end of suffering.  Yasodhara suffered for a man who brought this wisdom into the world.

Why do we make each other suffer?  I don’t understand.  My head hurts tonight.  An act of viciousness from thirteen years ago.  Seismic pressure in my skull, very sensitive to the touch.  It fucking kills.  Some bastard tried to kill me.  Couldn’t, not me.  On nights like tonight, I kind of wish he did.  What act of desire brought me this suffering?  What lessons can I learn from this pain?  I don’t know.  The only thing that really becomes evident is the distance between myself and everyone else.

We are alone with our deepest fears.  We can’t express something so intangible as that which terrorizes our spirits and souls.  There are no words for it, not in English anyway.  What am I running from?  The thing I need to get away from is right here and will always be right here.  There is no peace inside, not anymore.  It was disrupted one night thirteen years ago.  I am angry.  I am frustrated.  I am tired. 

I am growing misanthopic, but am full of love.  I can relate to children and animals and they to me.  I appreciate their purity, their raw innocence.  We teach them to possess.  We teach them to desire.  We teach them to suffer.  We teach them to make others suffer.  We teach them to make people like me.  Nothing to lose, nothing to gain.  All I want is for the headaches to go away.  They remind me…

What is the meaning of memory?  An odd thing, memory.  I don’t remember anything of that night after the first blow was struck.  I remember only what other people remembered and told me afterwards.  Eye-witnesses rarely agree when recalling events, especially stressful events.  I am several steps removed from my own experience.  I remember nothing of my own, other than a few brief and sporadic flashes, which don’t really have any substance. 

Our memories deceive us.  The world before your eyes is like a memory.  It is deceiving.  There is always more than you can see.  Sight is interpretative.  You are your world.  Your reality is you.  Almost nothing of what you see actually exists in any place other than your mind.  I live in a world where everyone is completely self-consumed.  What does that tell you about me?  I am introspective, bordering on self-consumption.  But I am looking for answers, enlightenment and am tearing myself to shreds for the sake of humanity!

For instance, the thing which people hate the most about other people is the thing they might hate most about themselves.  They wouldn’t be aware of the behaviour otherwise.

My problem is I don’t want to appear stupid, be stupid, or have anything related to stupid, but I’m stupid.  I work really hard at knowing things.  For what purpose?  I don’t know.  To not be stupid, I guess!  This is cathartic.  Everything is a piece to the puzzle of humanity.  Everything is worthwhile.  We are remarkable among animals.  The Universe would exist without us, but would it be understood?  There’s an age old philosophical question.

I’m alive for a reason.  What is it?  Pretty presumptuous for me to believe there’s a reason for me to be, but I do.  What can I do for the world, for humanity?  What can I do to make a difference?  I don’t know.  I am a little bit of an abnormality.  I believe in a God, but not religion.  I believe in order and justice, but not government.  I believe in people, but not the notion of nation, nationality or patriotism.

The root of evil is misunderstanding.  Why would God strike down the Tower of Babel?  A jealous, envious God?  Why would God scatter tongues and manufacture misunderstanding?  Strange myth, that one.  Anyways…

I don’t believe in the things we’ve manufactured to separate us from each other.  This is what I’ve learned from my mental separation.  But I can’t break those bonds.  I am still separate.  You are still apart from me.  We are not yet a Human Tribe.  I don’t believe it will ever happen.  We are in the peak of an avalanche.  There ain’t no stoppin’ now!  So I’m a little reclusive.  And most of the rest of you are blessedly oblivious.

Does any of it really matter?  I don’t know.  Maybe I’m blessedly oblivious as well.

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