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Blue Moon b Stamatisgr

Seeking means : to have a goal; but finding means: to be free, to be receptive, to have no goal – Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

Early last October, I was given a glimpse of utopia. Tales of birth and lust and love intermingled with a complete release of the body and a bond formed with the universe. Tales of conversations between bodies and souls that seem to have known each other even before a meeting of the minds; tales that forever puncture the fabric of space & time. I have seen the possibilities that life can hold for me. I say this in the midst of some of the darkest days of my life because I know what is possible for me now. I wish I knew more. I long to. So that when the possibility of the potential for that kind of infinite joy comes within reach, I’ll know to grab onto it instantly and let it take me on the ride of my life. I thought I was having it this year and it startled me to realize it. But maybe what happened these past few months was merely meant to be the catalyst for it. I hadn’t realized or maybe I had just forgotten the fact that within the lost crevices of my soul, I could hold the potential for much more. Until then I had merely been mundane. I had foolishly come to terms with the fact that there could possibly be more for me than the decisions I had made or what I thought was a raw deal that life had decided to hand me. That I was just meant to endure much and come out stronger. And live to tell stories and be a tower of strength for others. I had completely lost the plot. Submitting to the naive expectations of the heart and the tales the world tends to tell you. No wonder I have constantly been so dissatisfied during what could have been the most joyous moments of my life.

Why listen to the likes of Jim Morrison (random example) and in my case Nick Drake these days, if we’re just going to put them on play & take off into a weed or drug induced stupor only to come out of it and go on with everyday as though what they saw and promised us about meant nothing? I told a friend recently that I thought the last big revolution of humankind already began and ended before our time. I saw a glimpse of its possibility during Lasantha’s funeral. But maybe that was merely a show of solidarity. I’m not saying the hippies had got it all worked out. But maybe they were onto something. Something that would have at least made the institution we’re so comfortable with worthwhile living in. There are far too many dissatisfied, restless souls in this world for you to disagree with me on that.

I don’t care who becomes the next president because of what he can do for the price of potatoes anymore. I don’t care if I have enough money to pay the rent and drink enough so that it temporarily numbs the constant pain that I have come to acknowledge is my life. These are all just means to survival that I have placed too much faith and hope in over the years. Necessary evils that beget more necessary evils. I’ve welcomed this way of living and kept it comfortably within me for too long now. It’s not about having an opinion about things or learning things and passing them on or living out mundane expectations. It’s not about learning some epic path to wisdom. It’s about what finding out what your own personal happiness is and where it lies. At the end of the day, if we’re not happy, then what’s the point of it all? It sounds like a simple enough statement, but it has been the furthest thing from my reach for far too long now.

I turned 30 a few days ago and I have come to realize that each one of those years have been a waste, save a few precious moments that most people would kill to have. Moments of complete clarity that I have swallowed back when they would surface. Maybe out of fear that the feeling won’t last, maybe out of some sickened desire to have those feelings dwell in a way of life that they weren’t meant for. Hearts break far too often and too many times have I seen a world full of saddened people without a reason to go on. And I have been those people during many junctures in my own life too many times to let it continue. I can’t, I won’t, I refuse to let the next 30 be defined by the same way meaningless existence.

On the night of the Blue Moon I sent a wish out into the great universe that has shown me the potential of myself when I am open to be a constant receptacle, receptive of anything and everything, come what may.

I have written too often about my own simplified philosophy of the missing sandwich. Aiyo! How wrong I have been to think of life in those terms. Of just one missing element that completes us. There is so much more to me and those I love to think of it in such belittling terms. I won’t close this blog down but I will stop blogging here. It will be kept open should I or another soul come by here someday it and find some solace or recognition in what I have written over the years. I am no longer the missing sandwich. This part of my journey is over. It is time to shed the old so that I have enough room to take in the new life, the real one I am meant to live.

I am not preaching or passing on because I sincerely have nothing of worth to tell you. I am just giving you my personal reasons for the decisions I am beginning to make for myself. If I leave you with anything, it will be a plea to find your own personal happy place and stay there. I haven’t found mine in its entirety yet, I have merely seen the potential for it, like I said. But having received a glimpse of it, how can I proceed without it now?

Happy New Year everyone & I wish you all your personal epiphany in 2010, if you haven’t had it yet. Thank you for all you have done and been to me over the years. Thank you for stopping by here when you have. Thank you for becoming my friends and staying that way. You will always hold a place in my heart for that is the one part of me that is already infinite in its ability to welcome and embrace.

May all our dark days be erased, someday.

Goodbye.

I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately, I wanted to live deep & suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life and not when I have come to die discover that I have not lived – Henry David Thoreau

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