Canvassing for the human soul

I really want to create meaning for myself

Does that mean it's going to happen?

If I really want something bad enough. If I yearn to make it so

Does it matter? Is it futile to even begin the endeavor?

When somebody talks about control

Do they mean over themselves or over something else

Does anybody have control? We're on a gigantic spinning ball of matter and we don't even know how we got here, as Humans. What the fuck are we doing, being such pretentious pricks as to think we have the "right" to control this area or the "right" to control other human beings or the "right" to choose between extinction and the continued survival of different types of species?

    How can we ever be in control?

I don't think I will ever understand, but does that mean I should just lose focus and accept the deemed effort inevitable futility?

    I wish I knew more about logic. Logos is not my forte, and neither are most of the philosophical tools, for I have not gotten my hands on them to put them in my mental toolkit.

    Will any of this matter?
   

The Fast track to Life.

Everyone knows that there's no such thing as an easy way out.

Everyone will tell you that no one has all the answers

    And I believe it, too. There really is no way to live life the easy way. Unless you won the lottery. But even then, you're prone to overindulgence and falling right back into the situation that you found yourself in before you started that venture. I don't care what they say, but there's no fast track to Life.

    Spiritually, Mentally, Physically, Energetically. Our body is composed of various substances and planes of existence, harmoniously intersecting to give us this vehicle through which we travel through space and time and the Universe with. Fortunately, those before us were smarter, and wiser, and experienced these hardships to hand down the knowledge to us. Benevolent as they are, it's still up to us whether or not we listen to the truths handed down to us, or choose to ignore them in spite of ourselves.

    For they really are just reflections of ourselves that gives us this knowledge. Not trying to brag or to sound omniscient or something to that effect, but would you not agree that we, at this current moment in time, are nothing more than the culmination of experience, survival, and choices of our past generations? That we are the peak experience, the best that we could bring forth through the ages and our forefathers and their forefathers before them? The creations and manifestations of conscious (or unconscious) will manifested through thought and motion, indeed. 

    Why we want to fast track our lives is unknown to me, but I want and desire this more than anything. This life was meant to be lived; my wisdom echoes betwixt mine ears. It's my choice whether or not to give heed to this message. I've written it down, is that not enough? I've memorized it, is that not enough either? My heart tells me no. My ego gets pleasure out of refusing to listen and exercising choice in its futility. To further prolong the inevitable in hopes of coaxing my true self aside in search of more material pleasures. What's the difference, it says, in doing what is right and what feels right to you. I know the consequences of my actions intuitively, and therefore can logically determine what is right from wrong. Unfortunately emotion doesn't always give room for logic to proceed, for logic is slow in the going when tempers and feelings run hot and fast, like boiling water.     In the moment, in the Samsara. In the Samsara I remain. To break the cycle, and be free. 

That is why I search for the Fast Track to Life, to put myself to the grindstone in the ways that I know how to, to learn whatever I can however I can as fast and efficiently as I can. I seek to aid those who seek it, for I know that a debt must be paid, sooner or later, and I'd rather the sooner to smoothen the process and reduce the pain. For I don't believe that life is all about suffering, or about pleasure, but about learning. Learning does not have to be painful, it should be a process of joyous remembrance and concentrated effort. 

Stay Light, dear Reader, and thank you for listening to the ramblings of a young man.

Peace, Love, and Harmony

~Faaabs

Various sonderings.

I even had to look up the definition of the term "Sondering." 

    Blogger wants me to correct it, because auto spell-check doesn't register it as a word in the Google dictionary. I care not! I looked it up and found the closest definition to be: Sondering, n. An exploratory action or expedition. 

So what if it's actually just a dutch word. 

    I like to think that this blog is a Sondering. I really have no true objective for this Blog. Maybe I'll designate it with some true goals, once I discover them, and myself a little bit more. There's a real process of discovery and uncovery as I uncover what I can discover about myself. Sort of like panning for gold, you see? Sometimes I mistake Pyrite for real Gold. Fortunately there's beautiful people like YOU who are there to keep me on the right track and tell me when I'm getting out of line. 

    I mean, I've been keeping journals for a long time and only now felt it necessary to start posing my questions and posting my thoughts on a public forum. This, to me is a public forum, even if it takes one thousand years to reach the eyes of a prospective reader. I don't think the Internet is going anywhere soon.

    Where were we? Oh yes... Sonderings! Sonder.... It's a fun word. I think I first found it while stalking Tumblr. social media three or four years back. Oh, look, I found the image. And what a beauty it is to behold! Such magnificent cityscapes in contrast to a simple white text definition! I must oogle at it's deep comprehension of the English language, far beyond my own feeble peasant lexicon! 

   Look at that I've started going mad. Hilarious. I'm sure you're upset for having to read this far. I enjoy having a column of text to fill though. Good fun, this.

Did you know, Gisbourne, New Zealand is the first major country in the world to experience the new day? Hawaii is one of the last places in the world to see the sunset. Anyways, It actually is a good definition and I always enjoyed the word. It expresses the depth of human consciousness, and creativity of language. 

    The Late Terry Pratchett, one of my favorite fiction authors, wrote a book called "The Wee Free Men," and in it the main character is an unassuming little girl by the name of Tiffany Aching. Her part in the beginning was always the most relatable to me. She was pondering upon the emotions that words in her head made her feel like, or more precisely, what emotions these words, once thought of, provoked within her mind. It was giving life and flavor to an otherwise bland dictionary. Giving personality to a string of letters. The associations that I had made with words were now near-tangible. I could feel the strangeness in the word quixotic and suffer dark thunderclouds of feeling when I thought of the impending. 

    I have a deep appreciation for words. And also fiction. Language, especially the English one, often gets jumbled and garbled in the conveyance of pixels on a screen, as it's nuanced tonalities and various plays-on-words get lost in translation. My hope is that you'll join me in my endeavor to help bridge the gap between the unknown and the knowable by connecting with me over a more immaterial bond of soul other than just literal meaning. Hardly if ever, do I have a feeling of knowing what I mean; literally.

As always, dear Reader, til next time,
Peace, Love, and Harmony
~Faaabs

Sleeping until 3:30pm

I love sleep!

    I don't know why, but I've always been a huge fan of sleeping.

Something about the creative juxtaposition between reality and dreams really piques my interest.

   “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” 

― Dr. Seuss 

    There are some serious disadvantages to not getting enough sleep. I see it all the time in people who are work-a-holics, or party animals, or self appointed "night owls". You can find more about it here, if you don't already know that your body needs that time to recover and heal the cells and brain in the period of inactivity.

    What's interesting to me is how much of a delicate balance our bodies require to function at a peak/optimal level. We have to keep our patterns in check or risk health consequences on either side of the spectrum. Too much sleep is bad, they say, and too little sleep is bad, they say. The Goldilocks society reigns supreme, and everyone wants to capitalize on your fears and insecurities.

    Personally I just get fed up with the nonsense of the daily life and the craziness of it all here in Chicago. That's why I like to sleep. I don't understand hype or social crazes, and subsequently don't get involved in them. Things like Pokemon Go just don't click for me. I'll give that new video game a try, if it triggers in my brain things that I like, such as an engrossing storyline with immersive characters and a good skill/combat system. I've never had to worry about those things when I dream, because there is always an engrossing storyline.

If it wasn't engrossing, I wouldn't be dreaming about it.

    And that's why I love sleep so much. It gives my brain something to do to try and make sense of all the sensory mish-mash of the current world we are living in. It's like writing for me. I can just let go and process all the thoughts and emotions that I have captured from the external world and let them out of my internal self in a healthy and uplifting way. Even if it doesn't make too much sense at the moment when it is happening, always in hindsight I feel better off than when I began.

As always, dear reader, til next time.

Peace, Love, and Harmony

~Faaabs

Ramblings of Fantasy

For the love of Fantasy

    It probably had something to do with my father's insistence that I get a video game every weekend we spent together, that I became a fantasy lover. I never had to think about whether or not I should spend the next three hours out spending time with friends or devouring the plot line to the new Ratchet & Clank game that just came out on PS2. For me it was a form of dreamlike escape that just made so much sense to me and put into words something that was lacking in this world.

    When I was in first grade I picked up the first part of my fantasy education, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling. I quickly devoured the next three books in the series and was playing with all of the characters in the book while my life on the outside was dull and bland in comparison. I always had a more vivid connection with those characters to my own life than those around me ever had with me. I was a shut-in, and Fantasy was my expression into the dreamscape of my own mind, which allowed me to be free and fly through the realms of consciousness instead of being stuck by gravity to the world; powerless. I found the Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R Tolkien in my grandmother's house and spent the entire summer reading all six (yes, it's six not three) books there. And I did the same next summer, re-reading them for the sheer enjoyment which they brought me. 

    I had an inexplicable sense of joy when I became immersed into this otherworldly realm of fantasy and fiction. A sense of wonderment and adventure, which was something I could never get in my own life. I wanted to be a part of these worlds, so desperately, to take hold of my own destiny the way that Frodo from the Shire had, or Harry from the books had. My love for these creative wonders felt like a reflection of my soul, incarnate in the world. Little gems which held pieces of my eternal being within those pages. 

     As I got older and the technology in the world got better I started to delve into the Science Fiction side of things. My father had always encouraged me to watch Star Trek with him but I had always been more of a Star Wars fan. The Force and it's Zen Buddhism appeal that Yoda had always more sway in my mind than the cold logic and heroic stoicism of Spock and Captain Kurk. I began reading Stephen King's The Shining and H.P. Lovecraft's The Necronomicon avidly and fell out of the realm of social contact for a good three months, living the deep dark paranoia of Lovecraftian architecture and esoteric psychological horrors, all of which were indescribable. The diction that was used in these novels evoked mental images and visceral emotions of the likes I had never experienced before. I never imagined I could love horror; could love to feel so dark! I felt like a sinner for  loving something so anti-humanity, as I have always strived for the goodness of the human race. Knowledge is power, though.  

    As my friends started to get more and more into Cosplay and anime arts, I began to develop a love for the Victorian era, and the desire for a more Steampunk way of life. Steampunk was the accumulation of everything that I had ever desired in a fantasy. Leather waistcoats, airship pirates, dashing and daring adventurers with cogs, goggles and whale oil galore. The allure of the 18th century and the pungent odor of curing leather drew me in like a bee to a flower. I felt at home with this culture and the more I looked into it the more enamored with it I became. Even though I had never even met someone who liked Steampunk, I felt at home with these strange, eccentric folk who were caught in an anachronistic type of life, one where they were convinced they were living in a Charles Dickens novel.

    I yearn for this kind of lifestyle. I wish to create a career for myself and for others that would join me in making this world what we want it to be. To truly be the creators of our own destiny. I would prefer that we do it by legitimate means but if it means being a little sneaky and accruing a few enemies along the way then so be it! Society is not working out in the general public's favor anyways and it should be up to the citizen on how they wish to live out their lives. Why must we conform to the system of our current government and adhere to progress; some of us don't wish to progress! We wish to keep things simple. Maybe we left some pieces of the puzzle back there as we were blindly rushing ahead to ensure that the rat race must continue.

   What I'm trying to say is this: The creativity that encapsulates my attention is that in the what-ifs, and it seems to me that this is true for most of my peers here in America. We dwell and wonder about the romantic aspects and lifestyles that these fictions bring to mind. Why can't we make them a reality? They were created in the minds of humans, and thus should it not be possible to live out those dreams in reality? Perhaps that's what we're striving for with this Virtual Reality craze recently. The opportunity to truly express those inner desires for living out a freedom of expression. I want my pirate crew and my Steampunk airship to ride the skies with across the horizon, and out into the sea of space. Who's with me?!?

    

My Life. Part 5.

Living life on my own terms

Doing the day-to-day seemed to be simple

    A common theme in my life is to take action after much self contemplation. The problem with that is that I forget to communicate my thoughts with those whom it affects the most. And that I forget to take into account whose lives I'll be jumping into after I take action. In hindsight things would've gone a lot smoother for me if I had let those whose lives I was important in know what my current thought processes were before I took action. It probably has something to do with the fact that I was an out of control little bugger, and no one really knew what I would do next, and yet everyone wanted to have a say in that. I was searching for my independence, so could you blame me for being a little devil-may-care?

    I told my father that I was on a plane back from New Zealand, and I got in contact with my mother who picked me up from the airport. I spent a whole three days with her in which I learned that she was experiencing a major psychotic episode of paranoid delusion where she assumed that the 'Wiccan practitioners' were casting devilish curses and laughing at her through seemingly random symbolism that she was finding. I was quite distraught to see her in this state, and was thoroughly confused. I called my old time friend Sheldon and he told me to come over to his apartment that he was renting with the help of a friendly trolley driver. I did so by calling a taxi which cost me around $80(!). I learned there that Sheldon had been doing way too much cocaine and crack, two things which I don't personally do, but since he was my friend I decided I wasn't going to pass judgement. I left his place shortly after and found my way back to my father's house, for my brother Anthony's wedding.

    The wedding was lovely, it was on Anna Maria right on the beach, with all of the friends whom I had known for a while growing up with Anthony. I stayed with my father for two weeks during this time. I was convinced by my father to buy a scooter, and got my old job back as a chef. I found an apartment through craigslist with decent rent that wasn't too far away from work, and lived there for a good three months. Then I found out the lease holder was a rapist (Sheldon got sexually assaulted one night he spent over) and I moved out as soon as I could find another place. Unfortunately that meant living in the heart of the ghetto in Bradenton, Florida. I lived there for only one month; there was a plethora of cockroaches, and the place smelled god-awful. I didn't judge while I was there but I did not like this place one bit. I'm not sure why my father let me live there. Was it through apathy? Or something entirely different?

    Desperate, I went over to my fathers' once again to look for apartments and managed to find a very good place to live in the south part of the island, with a beach view. It was a communal living situation with four bedrooms sharing one bathroom and kitchen area. I lived there for the next seven months until finally there was a falling out at my job and the place shut down for an indefinite amount of time. I didn't have enough money to pay for rent to wait it out, so I decided I was going to travel once again, this time I bought a one-way ticket to Portland, Oregon, and had found a job being a door-to-door activist for an eco cause out there. 

    I wasn't sure where I was going to sleep and I made some friends on the bus who seemed to know more about the world than I, so I was more than willing to group up with them instead of trying to get a job where I would be miserable at. At first there were three and a dog but I quickly realized that the one with the dog was very very ignorant. I managed to hold myself back from physically attacking the guy from some of the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth, but the other man and I were on the same page when we were presented with an opportunity to ditch the guy. Turns out I was the only one who actually had the means to live, and this guy made me spend almost $200 on him while I naively agreed to it, in the form of food and hotel rooms when we weren't sleeping outside. 

   When I decided enough was enough was when I found out this guy was indebted to a drug dealer from the past and the dealer was forcing him to sell weak edibles playing them off as being good. I had moral objections to that so I sent him on his merry way with a backpack and even gave him some money. I just wanted to be done with him. I joined up with a new road-dog (travel buddy) who called himself Pippy and played the Ukelele. He showed me ways to get around in the world and made me feel safer than I ever had with these two other homebums. Already on my trip to Oregon I had been in Eugene twice and Portland once.

    Pippy had a friend who knew a mushroom grower and we had a chemical experiment where we made some trippy lemonade out of some Amazonian Cubensis butts. Over a pound of them and about a gallon of lemon juice concentrate was used in some cheesecloth and we waited a whole three days while it extracted. The result was fabulous and we drove up to Portland with a mason jar of the tincture in our hands, and the knowledge that this was a gift from the heavens. We proceeded to dose the entirety of the Portland riverside hippy and dirty kid community with mushroom tincture that really knocked you on your ass. Just, so good. I met this group of five younger hippies who were trying to hop a train into southern Oregon. 

    I linked up with them and accidentally lost my road-dog, which was OK. I knew that he was safe and now I knew how to handle myself a little better as a homeless kid in the USA. So after a couple of nights of failed attempts at catching a train we finally caught one one night, only to discover that we had hopped on before the yard, where all the cops check the trains to make sure no one is doing what we were! We almost got caught, but thankfully we realized what was happening and ran for the road, and we were in the clear, though we hadn't gotten far. We decided the best course of action was going to be hitchhiking. We hitched all the way down the coast in a matter of a week, from Portland down to Ashland, Oregon. There one of the travelers had taken us to return a dog which was being held from this guy who wasn't responsible enough to take care of it, but now was seeming to have changed for the better.

    To be continued...

Peace, Love, and Harmony

~Faaabs