If I close my eyes for a time and lose everything to that nothingness will it take the tightness from my limbs or slow the quickness of my heartbeat? Will my second thoughts choose to leave me in peace?

No one can help me stop. No one else can choose the right path. I’m not really sure what’s next.

Reach for the Future by destin8x

I’m going to be thinking about how I can rework this blog so that I can actually post things regularly. As it stands, when life gets busy (which is pretty darned regular) Storyrules gets ignored. So I need a blog that is sufficiently broad in focus and easy enough to update so that I don’t need to set aside at least an hour just to write a post.

This could take awhile.

It keeps strange company.
The ice it mingles with tinkles against the glass,
Crying out like a child with a loose bladder .

And I listen.
And I drink.
It leaves me with nothing.
Just the small understanding
That a word of truth saves a page of bullshit.

Who is God to these people? Who is God to the ‘gods’ of Aleria, who have created all living things on the planet Gaul? Would these gods need or seek a God? Eventually it will all perish and there should be something else. That’s what the Aquitani sought out. There should be a supreme creator. Because that’s what honest and reasoning beings seek. Why live forever though? How can I understand this perspective? There needs to be some great resting place where all living things exist forever. Doing what though? Am I restricting my understanding to a human perspective? The idea of time is crucial to this problem. What I need to do is ‘feel’ the eternal in order to understand it.

All things with beginnings and endings must end up somewhere in the infinity ribbon, where there is no beginning or ending. But does time need to pass in infinity? Thoughts can not occur without time to place them in context. How can we understand eternal separate from time? Are eternal and endless different? Both involve time. Time must exist in eternity, its just different. Time is measured in actions. Time is not defined by beginnings and endings any longer but by actions, thoughts and accomplishments.

What is interesting here is that endlessness is only one aspect of eternity. Though eternal beings are endless, they are not equal. There is some ultimate separation of powers. This means that we do not all become eternal on equal grounds. Some are better than others. So what abilities separate us in a place that is supposed to be the ultimate existence? Taking this even further, does this imply that we can improve or decrease in ability within eternity? This idea of improvement/competition in eternity combined with time being measured by actions leads to one very interesting conclusion- Principles matter more in eternity because life or death is no longer at stake. Considering the endless of eternity in contrast to our short period in ‘life’, this definitely positions the ‘living’ portion of our existence as a training and proving grounds with principles being the techniques we are to understand and master.

Bring it even FURTHER…this means there are several key events in our lives that make the difference in eternity! Choices here take on a much larger meaning in this context. And the only way to stand confident and to win properly in ‘life’ is to maintain the wisdom/understanding that the match is truly decided after life and is determined based on factors that don’t play as crucial a role here in life. For example, you’re a top banker faced with the choice of bending the truth to keep an account with the firm or being honest and getting fired. Honesty results in real consequences in life but preps you in a great way to compete in the afterlife.

Last, it is virtually impossible to make all decisions with an eternal perspective. The wrong decisions will end up getting made for the right reasons if one attempts to always keep that perspective (eg. crusades?). Therefore, we must live life learning about existence, making mistakes. Training here in life means living in the present and turning your eye to an eternal perspective when the proving grounds appear (eg. big moral decisions). Living in the moment means improving as a person- understanding our desires, our needs, and our capabilities. There is no logical reason why we would be given these if they weren’t meant for good.

I think I’ll step into the rain that isn’t falling and wallow in the mud that isn’t there.
I think I’ll fly in the sky to the rainbow that has the little man who is never really there.

I’ll fold my wings on blue and lay my head on red like a bed and talk to the little man.

He said, “As true as you are on blue, none of this is here.
And there!? There is where your careless mind entreats you to retreat. To here!
So, that you hear this is neither nearly there nor here but merely in your head.

It’s a bit of fun for a while though non-existent all the while.
Denial in a file left behind reality in the mind.”

How was I to know that my best chance to experience new things would be so short?I look back to see who I was and I’m surprised.
I was young and I didn’t know it.
I was less than I thought in many ways and more than I expected in others

The events of a lifetime happened while I stayed inside
A mind working too hard to prepare for a life that could be
While the bits and pieces of people around would have made everything more

Where is the lesson and the new life?
Where is the chance to change it?
Even now it’s not apparent
Mine is a perspective ten thousand miles above
Looking down at the many paths that I won’t walk.

Clock, watch, time telling device, waiting, rushing, stressed, wasting, watching, holding, feeling, unleashing, tracking, stopping, understanding, managing…

Can one wash time? Does it get old? Does it get dirty? Is time a person, being, condition or setting? Is time a physical place? Is it an object? Is it quantifiable? Is time a beast? If time were a beast, would it be a carnivore or herbivore? Would it hunt or forage? What would be the effects of its hunting? Would time need to hibernate? What happens when it sleeps? Can time travel through space? Does it use mass transit? Is it eco-friendly? Where else does time go?

Time goes to the sports bars on Thursday nights because that’s the new Friday and Friday’s the new Saturday and Saturdays the new day of rest. But he takes the bus because he doesn’t have money for carbon credits. Time likes to hang out with his pals on Thursday because his beatches won’t bother him when he’s with the crew and they’re all beasts anyways who eat whatever is around when they get hungry. So the beatches don’t bother him on Thursdays and he like Killians because its red. And on Friday he knits to get action from the gorgons.

Does time have a girlfriend? Some being who is in the same time gentrificus classification? No, after-all, have you ever heard of a beast that was a girl? Of course not, wooly mammoths are the only girls around here and they died millions of years ago along with the cockroaches and the faeries. So, time is an eco-friendly boy without a girlfriend because all the wooly mammoths died a long time ago and there’s no use lingering on the past. Time has to live in the present. Didn’t you hear, there’s no time like the present? And it’s Valentine’s Day and Time won’t get a present from his girlfriend because she died shivering in her massive knickers a long time ago. Poor girl.

I can’t type these emails anymore; these coward’s requests for a lifeboat that I don’t deserve. It makes me sick to see myself. I can’t imagine what my wife thinks. But I guess she gave up wanting years ago. Sacrificed just like I did.

God, I feel like I’m staring into a black hole. It’s just waiting for me.

I turn at the sound of the door creaking open. My wife is home with the groceries. I pretend I don’t notice and shuffle over to the refrigerator to grab a distraction. I begin to pour a glass of orange juice as she arrives in the room.

She doesn’t know yet. I can’t face her with it.

“Hi honey,” she says.

I respond satisfactorily. She unpacks dry goods. I continue pouring the juice. The skin on my arms changes to a reddish color with the heat of the truth that is weighing on me. The monster is pushing through my façade. The room begins to blur and I can feel the cold orange juice spilling from the glass over my fingers. I can’t hold this up. I brace myself against the counter and breathe to regain composure. But I fall apart instead in a fit of coughs and gasps for air.

I wake up to the sterile white of hospital walls. Everywhere I look is still a blur. Sickness jerks in my stomach like half-alive road kill fighting for a way to die. Sara grabs my right hand and kisses it with teary lips. I feel like a corpse.

She says, “Jim, I know about the layoffs. I’m so sorry.”

And I cry myself to sleep because I can’t speak or do anything of substance.

Hours later, I wake again. She is still here. My life has been like a slow poisoned wine, keeping me drugged and blinded to truth. Until now I’ve kept it all in.

“What am I Sara?”

“You’re my husband. That’s all I need.”

“But it’s not enough for me Sara.”

Having this truth finally exposed is causing me to feel more than I have in years. She needs to know.

“I’m not going back to work.”

“Okay. I think that is just what you need Jim. To take some time and enjoy your family before looking for another job.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting another job. I’m going to take flight lessons. Fly- that’s what I am going to do. I need to find out what there is in me before I die. And I need you to understand.”

“Do whatever you feel is right Jim. I just want you.”

Well alright. That was easy. I remain silent as Sara wheels me out of the hospital to the car. This pause has gone on a bit too long.

“Did they happen to say what’s wrong with me?”

“You had a minor stroke. You’ll be fine but you won’t be able to leave the bed for a day or so. Can your new life wait a few days while your body catches up?”

“So, I’ll just sleep. Then I’ll fly.”

She smiles at me in a new way.

“Thank you,” I say. Because she deserves better than me.

Curiosity excused me from my bed, half asleep, to peer out a crack in the blinds. The first thing I saw was the helmet teetering listlessly between lanes. A creek of thick blood trickled slowly across the pavement, seeking the city sewers. I opened the window to see more of the scene and shivered from the rush of early morning air. Leaning in further, I took in what I’m calling an anti-miracle. A bike commuter had somehow slipped on something in the street and slid into an oncoming sedan. He had lost his helmet in the process and cracked his skull.

I stood, staring stupidly. I was in shock because I had never witnessed death firsthand, especially not one so impossible. This everyman’s ride up whatever ladder he was on was stopped without notice. And now the EMS crew was at the scene, taking him off the market for good.

Several paces back, corporate onlookers rushed to a central point, stumbling over each other to feign offers of help before artfully pushing through the crowd to the L train.

This was enough. I stepped back, tripping over my alarm’s cord. I reached to move it back to its place on my bedside table. It read 6:05am in deep red LEDs and I thought of Newton’s law about actions and reactions and deep red blood. The implication is that there is purpose to everything. But what purpose for Bob the bike-riding businessman is there in this accidental death? If God makes the miracles, does Satan make these?

Caught, covered and carefully carried;
The thief of my dreams appeared.
Can I contain this, a carriage for my fears?
How long will I remain a victim of inaction;
Paralyzed by thought; deprived of my satisfaction?