A poem addressed to myself

A poem addressed to myself

Time passes, moments that could have been spent with you are lost.

Building sandcastles on the beach, so high.

Laughing as sand blows into our lunchtime sandwiches, so gritty.

 

Dynamic dreams, opening the door onto a world that is closed.

Waiting for the signposts, so intuitive.

Reality dissolving inside a cup of watery subjectivity, so inviting.

 

Utterly isolated, waiting for what is meant to come to come.

Aching for newness, companionship, love, so eager.

Satisfied and comfortable without however, all too independent.

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Living in other peoples insecurities: INFJ Style

Living in other peoples insecurities: INFJ Style

The boundary where someone finishes and the INFJ begins is often all too misconstrued, blurred. In the mind of the INFJ that is. From an INFJs perspective that is.

Ever wonder why INFJs are some of the best listeners? We absorb the stances that those we share our lives with take, both defensively and offensively. We hold these stances temporarily, putting our feet in the warm, hopefully not sweaty, shoes of those around us. I gravitate toward people that wear Converse for that reason. Walking around in soemone else’s functional, trendy and comfortable Chuck Taylors for quite some time isn’t too much to ask for, is it?

A problem, a conundrum of epic proportions starts here.

I wear Chuck Taylors. See they are often not only the choice of shoe that those closest to me sport but also the shoe I wear habitually. And I am guilty far too often, of wondering just who’s shoes are on my feet. ‘Are these mine or yours?’, my right brain asks my left.

In friendships, in family and in most occurrences with intimate relationships, the boundary between myself and those that matter has dissolved. The drawbridge is down, the crocodiles in their moat have been fed and the knights in the castle are on lunch break, swords in a pile, leaning against the wall on the far side of the mess hall. Whatever walks across that drawbridge becomes my problem, and not only a problem, a big problem.

I still have a ways to go. I still have a ways to go to understanding people, people’s natures, my own vulnerability.

My castle is strong, my fortress is sturdy. After all this time, I will say it feels cold, it feels hard, devoid of any softness. The battles that I have invited in have torn the place to ribbons overtime. The knights I have lost within my own hallways have dripped off the walls, ponding in places only dust should gather.

Its about time this INFJ cleans up. Buries the bodies, scrubs the floors, mans the towers with lookouts and readies the swords in sheath. Always, this castles drawbridge will remain down, for those who have the depth of personality and bravery to walk inches away from snapping crocodilian jaws. Those who value me. Those who are willing to put their value on the line to understand me and the sacrifice of mine.

A queen will come by one cold afternoon requiring respite, walking within, encapsulated. She will envision my hallways filled with her art, kitchen filled with her favorite ingredients, wardrobe filled with her clothing. She will sit down to share a cup of tea, transfixed with the view, transfixed with the land it overlooks. We will share.

Sharing starts with a cup of tea.

 

 

A sun soaked Saturday morning

A sun soaked Saturday morning

On bed, eyes shut.

Warmth delivering tingles to my face and arms.

Clear white light shining through closed eyelids.

 

Open the window.

The birds outside sing for me, communicating.

Their chirps and tweets offer a complimentary twist to the already soothing melody heard from the lounge.

Ada from The National, ‘What a song, what a sound!’

 

I think of you.

I think of you next to me.

You are at work.

The significance of a haircut

The significance of a haircut

As a natural neon colored advertising sign, one of those flashing in a sea of neon lights, up in the reaches overlooking metropolitan Japanese and South Korean streets, your hair advertises, compels, encourages or repels. My hair has always served my life with opportunity and complexity you see, a lavish bush I would call it. The type of hairstyle that would have come accompanied with a strategically placed comb, lost in endless curls, and puffed up in humid 1970’s sun.

As a young child between the ages of ten and sixteen, this fro offered me the opportunity to steal and from my parents of all people. On a fortnightly basis my mum would hear the same sentence again and again leaving my lips, ‘can i get twenty dollars, I need a trim’. Lest she didn’t hear the scissors snipping in her own bathroom while I was cut my own locks, pocketing and spending the ‘dirty cash’ on essentials all sixteen year old’s need: chocolate milk, petrol, condoms and alcohol. Around this stage of my life, the relationship between my hair and the person who lay behind the hair begun.

Simply, hair allows you to express yourself without others consent. It gives others the opportunity to judge, it encourages judgement. With long hair, I received countless compliments. Some ladies I found out quickly are drawn to curls like a bird to its nest. Young students of mine climbed up my limbs as if they were a trees branches, to simply touch this nest, if only once. To identify yourself and allow others to identify you with wacky skull fur, however requires courage and self-expression. Plenty of people will chuckle, smirk or whisper insults. These folk are the individuals that make us stronger, I thank them for their closed mindedness, I thank them for handing over an abundance of feathers to put into my courage and self-expression hat.

Now as a twenty seven year old, this relationship between myself and my hair has matured, it has matured with me, it has matured me. I recently got a haircut. Cut the sides short, while still holding onto those curls on the top that I could never let go of. I am older, I am getting older I now know. This haircut has shown me that much. My hair is getting grey, wow, grey. I am accepting my age, my life, my slow loss of youth, through this recently evolved feature I have acquired.

I like it, truly, I enjoy and feel fortunate to have greying hair. I keep smiling. To simply identify myself with this masculine, maturing symbol of awesomeness. To give others the opportunity to identify me with this masculine, maturing symbol of awesomeness. I keep smiling.

Juggling a fast paced life

Juggling a fast paced life

My dad has always told me ‘leave work at work, never bring all of that back home with you’. It is one of those things he still cannot accomplish himself.

In this age of fast paced benchmark driven labour world, the literal pinch to maintain a healthy relationship with yourself is becoming harder, more painful and never ceasing. We are holding onto everything so tightly in our lives, allowing ourselves, our relationship with our own mind and bodies to slip out of our own palms, slowly to pour out from the top.

Society makes people. People are made to juggle shit. People juggle shit. When the focus says ‘bye-bye’ and the concentration required to juggle is lost, we end up shit everywhere. The term is ‘the shit has hit the fan’. In one of these moments, it is precisely used to mean ‘the shit you have thrown up, you have dropped, squished or simply forgot about, it has landed everywhere, all over you, look at the shit in your hair.’

We are not jugglers, regardless even jugglers themselves know when to take a break, a technical time out. Some things we juggle are heavy, some may be light, but one thing is certain there are too many objects thrown up at different heights, we can’t predict which one we are to prepare ourselves for next.

The art of living a healthy lifestyle, well the understanding I am learning to slowly employ in my own is just that, an art. Letting go: to put down the shit we either no longer have to juggle, no longer have the energy to juggle at the time, or simply should not juggle. Work often falls into that second category, manipulative relationships the third category. Put all the heavy chainsaws and bowling balls down, those lighter watermelons, cellphones, pencils and mint flavored M&M’s, put them down too.

We have to make time for ourselves, we have to consciously let these go. Don’t break them, just sit them down, to be picked up again conveniently, but only when we have to.

We have to find the breathing room within ourselves, the strength to juggle our personal things effectively, first and foremost.

How can we expect to bring happiness and newness into our lives without creating space for them first? Ditch the clutter.

Life, the universe and everything.

Life, the universe and everything.

Homeless, to a time, to a place. Generally, just floating, disconnected. Reality not apparent in the manner you may have come to expect within your days.

Anyone who isn’t confused doesn’t really understand the situation – Edward R. Murrow

How many times can you say a word in a row before it becomes unfamiliar? Till you’re not even sure what the word is anymore. What it means, if it is even a word, let alone how you might spell it.

If you stare at an object, how long does it take before you forget what they object does?

Absurd, this is the reality you ignore. This is the world you remember to forget.

A man is talking on the telephone behind a glass partition, you wonder why he is alive – Albert Camus

When you break down, your world, your actions. What do you see? Do you see what you choose, or do you see it for what it is, the absurdity of life is hiding behind the present veneer your mind creates.

Take for example the current scientific narrative, although to describe it as a narrative is the wrong description, alas, but I digress.

The recent discovery of the Higgs particle is a great example of this narrative to explain the ridiculousness that we do exist, instead of not. The discovering of this particle proved something, as it was explained to me by the brilliant Lawrence Krauss, if you leave a beer bottle in the freezer for too long and then open it, the beer will freeze upon opening and shatter the bottle. In a very similar way the Higgs field was created, by chance, as the early universe cooled it went through a phase transition releasing energy and creating the Higgs field. Without this field, particles would be massless and the conditions required to create a universe to sustain life would not have been possible.

This random chance is not the only one, but just one of many parts of this apparently finely tuned universe. You may consider that points to intelligent design, but the more of the latest scientific narrative you learn, the more you realise that this is rather unlikely and isn’t at all logical.

Once upon a time, in some out of the way corner of the universe which is dispersed into numberless twinkling solar systems, there was a star upon which clever beasts invented knowing. That was the most arrogant and mendacious minute of “world history”, but nevertheless, it was only a minute. After nature drawn in a few breaths, the star cooled and congealed, and the clever beasts had to die – Friedrich Nietzsche

Logically speaking, it is immensely more likely that we live in a simulation, rather than in the one true existence, and ironically we would, and never will know. This coupled with the fact of mans great search for meaning and purpose, we are so desperate to find this purpose we are happy to invent and follow it blindly, just because it is easier.

As humans, we desire a cosmic order, significance for our labour, and an intelligible life. But life has no order, destroys our work and is alien to us. In short the things we want – A caring universe with which one is connected and in which we are immortal and precisely the things we cannot have. We get death – Unknown

Considering all the facts of the matter one must ponder, why go on? Well, why do you? It is a good question after all. If we consider the eternal bliss of nothingness we experienced before birth, to believe this is all we face in death isn’t much to fear. The unfortunate fact of the matter is our simple instinctual state of survival is a rather conflicting view on this ending, so much so, any different narrative in which we can exist beyond death is not surprisingly rather attractive.

In the end you must wonder, why do we exist, why something rather than nothing. Personally it is only logical to create ones own meaning to life. Although there should be one area we must agree upon, doing best for the mankind, as a whole and as induviduals, should be a drive inherent and intertwined in ones actions.

To me, if life were to have any meaning it would be to enjoy the absurdity of the journey and the poetic tragedy that is death.

The Concept of Space

The Concept of Space

I cannot help but think that space is ultimately a subjective matter. For me anyway.

I enjoy squinting at my nose, imagining what I look like to others while fixated and lost in the grips of this most bizarre past time. I know my nose exists, not because I see it placed on my face while looking through the mirror but because it is in the foreground of my sight when I choose for it to be. What I experience as real, is only real once I experience it you see.

Walking around the world, I have had the chance to decipher and articulate realness. The same way that your first cavalry knight explores the map in Age of Empires, searching, pining to set foot to a relic.

Spaces that I have experienced, which I have left footprints on if only for a day, I grasp. Capturing and regurgitating everything spatially intriguing which I have the intellect and insight to process. In the similar way that the sensor would process such by extracting his/her Pentax from its practical, yet durable leather pouch. Before obsessively photo bombing the hell out of the area, capturing their essence of the space in picture form, to later regurgitate on the factors of the landscape, cultural traditions or customs he/she understands or desires to understand, for the sake of processing the space or their intrigue in the space. These experiences however capture a very specific, snapshot in time, one which could be described as a blink. The stimulation and fullness of the space between the blinks that we were fortunate enough to have chosen for ourselves.

I used to claim that space was practical in context.  That half way across the world there are spaces, deserts, plateaus, even spaces along snow laden lateral moraines scarred by centuries of glaciation. Where wind so strong, carries sand which builds up all those sensitive spots you’d prefer for sand not to build up in. Making one cover linen over their face, making one wear three layers of clothing in heat that were produced as if in the oven. Where rock and ice under such immense pressure turn schist and igneous rock into something as brittle as a Kit Kat in the mouth of a chocoholic. Spaces such as the Black Hole or those found in stories such as “Journey to the Center of the Earth’. Regardless, without me having previously trod in deserts or on glaciers, none of this would be real to me. Would I understand a glacier if I had never seen one past the outline of my nose, no! Would I understand the variability of glaciers if I did not study geology and have the fortunate opportunities to see countless examples, no! If you are an individual who does not understand a glacier, or cannot incorporate a glacier or its function into your interpretation of reality, is it real to you?

Reality to me is defined by my interpretation of the word. The same way reality is defined by my own interpretation of space. Have I traveled to a number of countries? Yes I have. Are they real? Well the real nature of those spaces to me have been captured and regurgitated, yes. I live with them, they shape my reality and life from the very moment my life was enriched by them. They become real through my and other’s incorporation of that space into their lives, into their understanding of what reality is to them.

All we have is the present to learn from. The present passes within the time it takes one to blink, yawn, cough or in today’s world often complain. As the present precedes the future. So too does our interpretation of the present precede the interpretation of the future. Over time this evolve and develop nature is exhibited in everything that we as humans find stimulation in, including space. Why not ponder about what we deem as reality? Why don’t we ponder reality as having that same nature, also shedding, depleting or becoming outdated over time. Why not finally confess to ourselves that what is truly real is only what we truly know!