Monday, April 6, 2009

Never Ending Story, part Nth degree

For as long as I can recall there has been some kind of inner conflict going on. Most of the time I can't define it. Sometimes it is a battle between what makes sense to me and what keeps me from upsetting police. I almost almost subjugate my better judgement to the inferior course of action dictated by the people with the guns.

In retrospect I have often tossed better judgement aside in favor of the inferior course which seemed the majority way, the mainstream, normal thing. Half the time it wasn't at all the normal mainstream thing. Maybe it was just some sophisticated pretense that those wired for civilization as we know it understood. I have some little glitches which evidently are not so obvious, but which have thrown me way off course on a regular basis.

I can see the value in realizing the reality that life is not a practice round so regrets don't do much good. It still seems cruel that smoking doesn't win friends and build muscles, but that is how the game is laid out. Much of what I regret may have been a blessing. It is highly possible that I was never really capable of raising the seven children I wanted, and I probably would not have done well had I remained in various jobs, even though outwardly it appeared that I had promise and potential. You can be competent in some way but lack essential ingredients that would allow you to profit like you would were you not a few apples shy of a bushel, so to speak. It isn't a crime, just how it is. It has taken a long time to see that.

Every now and then the realization of limits, and more, the realization of times when I tried to ignore those limits, causes a little angst of one sort or another. That is the stuff that makes me want to hide away.

And that leads to a type of inner conflict. Accepting one's reality without accepting the wrong type of limitation. Opportunities are far more abundant than I know, almost by definition; I have no idea what all the possible inventions endeavors and schemes possible to a ballistic tourer are, so setting a mental limit is not even logical.

Yet, I do know I have limits on a certain aspect of understanding and reading people which either leads me to trust the untrustworthy or to see rejection when it is not there. That is somewhat more extreme than average. On the other hand I can spot it when someone else is up to no good in matters between others, in which I have no vested interest. I think some of that is normal.

What is not normal are the extremes which have characterized some episodes of my life dealing with such matters. Not a reason for regret because it does not good, and it wastes time and energy as the woe erodes attitude, diminishing the likelihood of recognizing good opportunities. Such regret and sadness over what should have been another way serves only to destroy the contentment of the moment. That is not to say conscience is no good. I'm not talking conscience.

I don't know what I'm talking. But here's a secret teak trick; after all is done and you coated it with teak oil, come back and rub a final coat in with #400 wet or dry sandpaper. It is the way to make things dazzle and be smooth as [name withheld]'s bottom.

Dreaming, the Nerve

Although I'm assuming those, who wake up every day in tax paid comfort wondering how they can fight to make the little nobody's life better today, consider me among the poor downtrodden retches, I find more solace when I find a glimmer of hope to make something happen myself. Partly because my daydreams of productive adventure do not include special ID, waiting in line, or asking permission.

Interesting psychology in that dynamic; "I'm fighting for every hopeless, miserable son of a bitch out there numbing his mind with booze and TV". There is that implication that the one thinking so intently about the plight of the little people is a superior being. Maybe even a God.

Well, I began to envision possibilities again. They may or may not work. Only one way to find out. Half the time, attempting to achieve one goal ends up resulting in a different end altogether, as adjustments along the way change the course. It can be better than plan A. The only way to determine if the goal is attainable or not is to go for it, given that a little forethought has gone into the scheme.

The main ingredient needed to launch an idea is nerve. I think I lost the will to force myself to call on The Nerve a long time ago. I've never really accepted that I would always live in a state of surrender, though. But I haven't quite been willing up until now. I'm not sure if I'm willing to let go of the inhibition at this point. In my dreams I am, and that feels much better than no picture of it at all.

The projects I actually think of aren't really the ones I describe to others. Those may hold some interest, but they aren't the ones in the dreams which feel more liberating, fun, and in sync with my nature.

It feels good to see a course of action which could pay off to some extent, and which may actually be possible. The steps toward it are fairly straight forward. I love it when I can see the way, even if I wonder where I'll get the time and energy.

Somehow that talk of fighting for me seems at odds with the creative process of finding a way to thrive. The mental state it takes to want people you don't even know to wake up thinking how they can control your life in ways they think you want is one of deep depression. It is no wonder it is easier to say, "I'm lost and I'll never be otherwise" than it is to say, "I think I have a plan and it's just crazy enough in might work. I may yet thrive". People view the thriver with resentment and/or suspicion, and the one who's spirit is broken with relief and gratitude. Like family. It's like we've become conditioned to believe we are supposed to have no spirit, and that trying to regain it is futile.

Admittedly the deck is heavily stacked against rebirth and revival of will, but it is probably possible. I hope so.

Just thinking. And it did feel good to muse over possible paths and opportunities again. I'd just come off a jag of fear and loathing. The battle is always between freaking out over my lack of security, what I don't have, can't do, and what is good, what I do have and can do. I'm of the belief that if I keep putting the idea of being some benefit to people who matter up on the front burner, things will be OK. It's a balance, and you never really know when you are a benefit, even though you may think you know. It pays to keep a pure heart. Those times when you think it doesn't always come back to haunt you.

If you make sense out of that then I'm surprised and happy.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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