The old leather jacket.

Life

The roots stretch out, after being cut over and over again, ever succeeding in reminding the world about how futile it is to resist and perhaps to give in. The forces of the universes govern in such a fashion that every permutation, every combination, those random events which we shrug off and all of those things which put us to one simple question: Do we believe in magic?

I’ve always believed there’s some element that we all over look, no matter how hard we try to see. This element, entity, force, thought, belief, call it whatever you want to; It is hidden in the moment when a single drop of sweat traces the back of your neck as you get nervous, the light in your eyes when you see a loved one and all the goosebumps associated with it. How can we see it? Certainly an experience it is then, yes? Or perhaps the very fabric which this world is made up of, and we, material beings, look under our shiny microscopes and through our highly advanced telescopes,  trying to find it. Does it not bring you to a laughter when you realise it just cannot be something physical?

It’s the innocence in children’s eyes, and that girl who you just walked past by. It’s in us, and oh how dormant it stays unless we simply start believing in its existence. Look at her, as she smiles at me, after countless days spent reading her words, trying to find my own existence in them. And how beautifully they all fit, like a physics’ definition; every word having a meaning, an existence, a need for it to be there. It all fits. She’s still smiling, as I continue being that insane nut, hoping again how she’ll summon up all the magical words she always is searching for, and put up a pretty story to this very moment. She’s still smiling at me, mind you. There are forces at work here, magnetic, dark matter floating through this space, working about its own magic and creating the world as it passes by. They tell you the story, and like the perfect handwriting to mesmerise the reader’s experience, her smile fills up the world around me, and that’s it. Everything, right there. The past, human existence, dinosaurs, the bloody milky way; They’re all here, and you’re aware. That fucking smile assures, like that hand on your shoulder, like the air traffic controller’s voice in a distress situation for the flight crew. (That makes me wonder about MH370 somehow, fuck it)

We all have those notions, things we’ve always wanted to do. That inkling feeling of something new to do. We hold that wish tight, and unless we find it, we rarely give up. For these ideas, thoughts define us. They’ve made us what we are. Made me what I am, right now. And yet, falling on the tips of the pine leaves how the rain drops find a perfect place, it all fucking fits! This universe has been moving, doing its own magic. We, walking on the ground, stuck onto it, lost in our useless chores, always doing things and running around, never realise it. What we see, is pictures. In a world fucked up with selfies, still moments, we’ve all lost the sense how everything is always moving. They’re making and creating the world for us while we merely witness the change. And foolishly, like drunken buffoons, think we’re the ones responsible. Of course we are, but through our actions. It in no way should stop us and make us limit our awareness to the mess around, and instead, stop and simply look up at the sky. Lose ourselves in its grandeur and its own magic. It only will come before you, if you are looking for it, that too, with all the belief. No room for doubts and back ups, here. There’s no “But what if we’re wrong?” You have one job. One fucking job. And it is to have a belief system, and to stick to it with no doubts whatsoever. In a place of doubts, fear arises. And once that happens, it plagues and kills.

Why can a simple smile not have the magic about it that it can’t fix up things?

All these thoughts and a billions of lifetimes later, one does eventually realises and just ‘gets’ it. So don’t worry, if not now, maybe a few cycles of life and death later, we all will too. This world, this universe, works on magic. Hold this thought, I said to myself. Hold it dear, nestled tightly upon your chest, clenched between your arms, embraced right next to your heart. Hold this thought. And what do I see? This Universe works for me! I am creating my world as I go on, and simply laid upon this simple thought, everything simply works for me, and I sit back and enjoy as it unfolds upon me. The universe this way, through me, is learning a very tiny aspect of its own creation. It’s learning itself. Like those permutations, I am one. And so are you. Maybe someday this universe, she’ll smile down upon you too. And assure you, that it just all fits.

Epiphany

Life

Before we begin this ride, grasp your belts. Be ready for failure still, for this ride is better experienced than read in miserable words, another failed human attempt to express themselves in the truest forms. All the Shakespeares and Tolstoys, their written wonders or just tales of spoken joys, none of the created illusions of an experienced soul can ever be laid down in words, take any langauge at that. And if you’re still persistent, be my forever welcomed guest.
As my beloved Pink Floyd plays in the background and sings songs about rebirths and a brand new day, this is really about beginnings. Changes. The ever succumbed wounds to which souls have even perished, and how they have found their place in this spectacular galactic staged drama known as this life. They’ve been here, where I stand today. And oh just years of yearning it builds its foundations upon, the glorious present which if you’re careful, in all its honest forms has always been here. Yet look back and you see the days dreamt away in afternoon naps and awakened nights. Full of horror and plights. Centuries of unawakened trust and milleniums of foul cries, all beyond and gone, I stand here now telling you that this place still is only as beautiful as you want to see it. We build our own nightmares.
In a missed heart beat that can forever clear your doubts about what lies beyond this point in time, your life can disappear forever too. Why not make of what you’ve got now? Lost in the tiny seconds that tick away while you’re busy noticing how ugly someone looks, lies the reality that basically sweeps you off by your feet that you fall flat faced on the floor, bleed and die. All the pain you burdened yourself with, experiences haunting you like bullets forever stuck inside you, disappears and you’re born again. Phoenix reminds you how that’s what you’re destined for, and you find your muse. You appreciate its presence, see the shiniest of lights. They take you home, while the trance that is this very creation of things material and beyond matter alike sways you away and you flow with it. The synchronized motions of limbs, the movements of the very atoms that make up air, all being controlled by a divine presence that aids all of the time and space. Divine, because it is flawless. Beyond measures of body, mind and matter, governed by forces that surround us and are the clockworkers playing with us jewels.
Trance continues. You’re lost. Yet aware of each breath that you take. This surely is love, and it’s divine. You see the stars, and they tell you tales. You hear them at nights, when with empty hearts and unfulfilled desires the yearning exposes itself onto you. Yet you smile, because you know all what exists, ever has and forever will continue to, is all here. And like jumpers between the planes of existence, you make the jump, and decide where you want to be. The senses deceive and like puppets, without a heart and a soul, dancing to the cacophony that surrounds, unaware and morbid, existed I have. Time and its continuum ever so gliding ahead, breaking the very laws within which we restrict ourselves, answered echoes of a calling I have. The joy within us which we live on our lives by without being aware of stays dormant and dead unless you break the laws. There lies a world beyond the one which we are so used to, a world full of love and no greed. Only truths, acceptances, yet heartbreaks over come by only the sense of love, the love which hides within us, a world so beautiful that you weep for hours. And yet the embrace, warmest of the geysers emerging from the very bosoms of the planet which we otherwise consider dead and a thing.
Within these embraces lies a land of hope, utter peace and the truest of homes.