Soft Lies and Hard Truths

I find it ironic that so many share with me their quest for Truth, for something real. Like a hero on an epic journey to discover Truth like its a redemption from the lies they've been living.

Comforting and convenient I've realized its normal to cushion children and strangers with the courtesy of withholding and misdirection. 'They don't know what they "really" want'.

It makes each person judge and feel judged about whether one's sensitivity can bare the truth. In all fairness the Golden Rule supports this as most would like to be considered as they considered others.

I like to look at it like the credit system.

A Bank judges me and determines they will support me in lying to myself about how much wealth I have.

Eventually I will have to face the honesty of my earnings but for a dire moment in time I am able to afford myself what i deem fit to allow continuation of my lifestyle.

I am never truly lying to myself because I'm always aware of what I will someday face but it doesn't require immediate attention and I can maintain the benefits of whatever happiness my state of financial delusion give me.

Sometimes those investments are worth the temporary lapse of sanity that allowed me to maintain a lie if I'm left with a greater capacity for endurance ('credit rating' I suppose).

So sometimes I see people lying to themselves or asking for advice but nervous to hear the sharp truth. I look at it like a hungry straggler fallen on hard times who needs a small favor to get by. I'm willing to abide it for so long until I realize the truth is not in their sights. Hopping from one lie to the next as if it were a travel destination wanting to 'experience' the world before they experience the truth of themselves.

Grasping more about the truth of people and the world often makes me seem cold and relentless to others. They are upset that I wouldn't afford them their lies anymore. But sometimes a Bank needs to secure its own investments before providing more than it has to offer. 

Pain Is Not A Competition

I've seen no difficulty in sharing hard times.

When someone is burdened it seems second nature to offer understanding by commiserating.

The feelings given initially seem genuine and welcome.

Then it ends quickly like a soap opera and the crowd disperses to their routine.

But the Characters go on after the story is told. The Observers have gotten their closure and are no longer obligated to tolerate the conflict that still tortures within.

Standing by with hopes and wishes and the best of intentions but no involvement or action or administration. Because THAT journey is somehow singular. What once was a communal expression of grief becomes a sour taste on their lips they'd rather not speak of. They have their own journeys they've been convinced to go on alone.

We can all share the excitement of turmoil but regaining peace is lost to the bureaucracy of "knowing ones place". It has become meddling to assist with trepidation.

My journey is my own

But that journey IS the people I share with.

An achievement is hollow without compassion to fill and share it.

I'd rather not spectate obstacles being overcome. It does not amuse me and it does not provide for the well being of anyone. A passive participant is more useful than an aggressive side-liner.

It should be no trouble to help someone in trouble

Leave the drawn lines and red tape for crafts and work WITH each other towards achievement

With- not just alongside, but in cooperation

Knowledge Is Just Storage Until It Is Applied

Knowledge is just storage until it is applied.

I've always applied myself to which ever challenge presents itself to me in the most potent fashion.

Instinctual. Like a hungry dog that comes across warm food and an irate cat.

I know it is more prudent to pursue composure but I am drawn by the adrenaline of risk and failure.

Raised under the belief I can have anything in the world if I want it enough, and matured to understand not the price but the true value of 'nothing'.

Observe, Define, Reflect, Present.... I've been given a number of ways to share the world.

I do a great deal of collecting, not of trinkets or toys but of tools not made but mindfully mastered.

And yet....

It seems impossible to balance when the earth is a quake.

Strive to stand out but starve to fit in.

Holding is suffocating and admiring is vain

Let it go, fall away, seems so easy at first
Then we're haunted by memories
where our nightmares give birth
Excitement and tension turn to trouble and doubt
When life gave me demons I squeezed them all out

You can't recognize me
because I don't see myself
My Outlook looked inward
with nowhere to delve
Now I see all I've hidden
and wasted away
I have sink holes of thoughts
and have nothing to say

I've been given the Gift of Giving and it is not often I find individuals that appreciate the true nature of that benevolent charity that encourages me to shine on.

In the business of hugs and smiles. The sort of people who can empathize with a piece of antique furniture and respect it's journey. Having a different standard for trash and treasure, a 'heap' is a home and the 'bottom line' is where your name goes on stationary.

These are the people that are the keystone to morality. A compass for those keen to understand and fortitude willing to follow

Thank You to all those who cherish moments over monuments

and utilize the capacity they've been given.

(Special Thanks to Erica Ochs)