I often wonder if my approach to life is authentic or diseased.

I often wonder if my approach to life is authentic or diseased. I know it is not common; I know it is not standard—a fact that is not off-putting to me. But is it wholesomely authentically me? Or is it, in part, the result of some developmental deficiencies that I might desire to cure?

Thus I often inspect my doings: my methods of being; my social interactions; my internal interactions—between my emotions and my behaviors; my desire for both long term ambitions and short term escape; the tight tug-of-war between my reckless instinct for honesty and a cerebral acknowledgment of the value of tact; that ongoing conference between what I believe I am, and what I believe I am subconsciously—all in an attempt for some awareness, some insight, some comprehension…:

Is this part wholesomely authentically me; is that part? Or is that, in part, merely the consequence of some personal deficiencies that I would prefer to overcome—which parts?

* * *

The task is long, and the end is not in sight. But I find the endeavor, itself, fulfilling, much the way I find most learning, fulfilling.

 

langkawi sunset
stunning sunset captivates me, and I stand entranced for hours until the last of the pink and orange hues disperse into the evening ink in Langkawi, Malaysia

Photo by: Maimana Elhassn
Instagram: http://instagram.com/maimana_photography
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MaimanaPhotography/

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manufacturing hope in status updates

a hopeful visualization of the future as a facebook profile

Three years ago, in my darkest months of 2013, in order to manufacture for myself some small light of hope, some small relief from the reality of my depression and the depression of my reality, I set up a Facebook account and profile for my imagined future self, living and posting in circa 2016.

 

I added to this page my dreams and my wishes in bits and bytes, in the form of photo posts and status updates, a visualization of the future I dared to want, built with Facebook and Google images, designed with ambition and hope.

 

And here we are now.

 

Now as I write this, falling into the latter half of this final day of 2016, I am lying on cotton cushions shaded from the high Sri Lankan sun, pondering adjectives and memories; I am trying at every sunrise to learn my turns on the glassy blue-green waves of the Indian Ocean. I have one dozen sentences in Sinhala to speak with locals as I swat at the flies competing for my food; I have a book in Russian on my bed to attempt and often fail to read at night. I sleep next to a red suitcase of scented mosquito repellent, sunscreen and hair oils, two bikinis and two rashguards, some books in languages I can not yet read, a set of tightly rolled black hand wraps for muay thai, a pair of decrepit, mismatched dancing shoes, their battered heels still with some glitter, along with the roll of duck tape I use to fasten them onto my feet, and, of course, some various means of recording my intentions, my reflections: two withering spiral notebooks, a leather journal, one MacBook Air.

I have a one-way ticket to fly, at last, to Kuala Lumpur.

And I am, after all, writing a blog.

do not be afraid

 

It’s going to be okay… in the end.

No matter what happens, we can find a way to light
No matter how dark it gets, we can find a way
to learn from the past, to make it count.

In the end, it will have been an agent for progress…
because we first need the shit from the vast, middle abyss
to crawl out into plain view—festered, inflamed, Repugnant,
in order to diagnose, treat, and eradicate…

If we succeed, we might look back upon this time,
and see it as the turning point whence real change began, 
whence began reassessing, fixing, healing.

But if instead we burn in flames of red…
well… … todo tiene su final . . .    .

 

 

09 noviembre 2016, martes