human – Wild Water and Wanderlust

Day 9: Hedonism

“You’ll live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to”

-Woody Allen

Where does the mind go when our brains are busy pursuing a hedonism so vile and sweet that the only escape is autopilot?

Does it venture back into the heart to protect it from its own transgressions? Does it look for solace in that pumping vesicle…

As we try and seek excitement with drowning and drifting, and lifting our hands in the air, swaying our hips to the tune of “what is good enough?”

We are obsessed with the sound of the chop, chop, chop. Breathe.

We wish we knew where we were needed when we are not needed here. When do we go when its apparent that we aren’t needed now? How do we go? How?

Day 8 in the journey of Human: Apologies to the woman I was.

“I raise up my voice—not so I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard…we cannot succeed when half of us are held back.”

―Malala Yousafzai

Another one bites the dust. A potential companion swept under the rug by their own hand and their own broom.

What do I do?

What do I say?

What do I radiate that makes me not fit?

Some may say I am not pretty enough. At least not under this makeup.

Some may say I am not thin enough. At least not under these clothes.

Some may say I am too intense. When I haven’t taken my meds

Some may say I am too strong-willed. When I speak unashamedly.

Perhaps I am simply too loud.

How long have I been numb to my own insecurities? How long have I been bowing down to the pressure of ‘not good enough?’

Too long. Too long.

I am here. I am breathing.

My body is unique. It has marks, and bumps, and bruises, but there is no ONE like mine. My gift.

My voice is strong. My laughter fills up the room and reminds those around me that I choose happiness. My gift.

My emotions bring me colour. I have looked in the mirror and asked myself if I feel too much. I feel just the right amount. The question becomes acceptance, becomes love. My gift.

From this day forth I don’t apologize for the gifts I have been given, not even to myself.

I simply pass my gifts to others.

Day 7 in the journey of Human: Glimmer of Change

I am sitting alone. Drenched in acoustic melody. Why am I feeling discontented?

“Don’t be tempted by the shiny apple. Don’t you eat of a bitter fruit. Hunger only for a taste of justice. Hunger only for a world of truth”

-Tracy Chapman

Where is the justice? What is the truth?

We scream until we cannot scream any longer! Looking around. One corner there is corruption, one corner there is thirst, and yet another, abuse. Stay positive they say. Face this ugliness with a giant fake smile plastered above one’s neck. Maybe we will forget. Maybe blissful ignorance will seep once again into our pores.

We cannot idly stand by. We cannot idly stand by and pretend. Close our eyes, sew them shut and broaden the plastic and intoxicated grin… Where are the drums to beat as we stomp? Where is the horn to blow as we march upon the field? Together. March with our hands held up high, declaring: “This is not good enough!”

I believe every single one of us hungers. This is a biological fact. Also metaphysically, allegorically. Truly hungers. Either we hunger for that bittersweet apple or we hunger for truth. We chow down with a great force on that shiny red skin only to be met with a deeper hunger. A deeper greed. There is no greed in truth. Truth constantly fills.

You have the power. The power to to show others their own. Hand in human hand.

Day 6 in the journey of Human: Humble pie.

Biting into the cake. 3 forks, 3 friends old and new. Where would we be without the comfort of familiar faces in a world too big to comprehend?

“Happiness is only real when shared

– Christopher McCandless

The sweet faces ease the monotony, provide ample distraction, and maybe some love along the way. Regardless, your best friend must still be you. Your real self. No. Your true self! Faces come and go, but the face staring back at you in the mirror stays, ever changing, but still constant there.

Wrinkles, creases, tired wizened eyes. Still alive and still breathing.

The forest with a friend, is not so different as the forest on one’s own. Conversation included within both experiences. The conversation is worries, desires, love gained, love lost. It flows and it pushes. Don’t fight it, don’t force it and with each step you will submit. Feeling each thought. Yes, FEELING. Understanding that thought to the full. The same goes with a more terrestrial companion. Small talk, chatter, but as the path broadens so does the connection. The human connection.

Day 5 in the journey of Human: Feeling with the eyes, seeing with the skin.

‘The seer, the sight and the seen have no existence from each other. It is like a great musician becoming one with his instrument and the music that comes from it.”

-B.K.S. Iyengar

Moments flow, grow, fluctuate. One moment I am in total bliss, and the next in indescribable discomfort. Indescribable because it is significant. Emotionally. Spiritually. This notion and action of doing nothing.

Where on earth does the mind not go? Go to not? Go to not! Go to nothing…

Progress happens outside of one’s comfort zone. The night previous was spent with a fellow Human, preparing food for sustenance. Smoking and discussing to prepare for what was to come. The superb power of successful and selfless touch. The touch skin and also of the eyes. How does one express their love if not through unconditional touch. One discards their vulnerability to address another’s. Gaze. Gaze unto, into. It would be a shame if he understood not.

‘I don’t know how to tell you What I know All I can offer is my fingertips”

I rest my head upon shoulder. Undoubtedly human.

Day 1 in the journey of Human: The explanation of something vitally insignificant.

Heraclitus, in ancient Greece, compared the world order to an ever living fire, “kindling in measures and going out in measures.” Empedocles attributed the changes in the universe to the ebb and flow of two complementary forces, which he called “love” and “hate.

-Fritjof Capra