Who

you speak but you do not know where
you hear but you cannot listen
you walk about the air and still you cannot shine because you are unwise and do not know what is in your mind
when you turn to grievances and you look to see if there’s no more remorse
you cannot hear that the angels cry and there is another life

when words have filled the country and the men no longer take to mourning
when the women start to cry but do not know what their tears are holding
when everything is always lies but never speaking truth that hides in eager eyes
that is what will take me to buried treasures that hides under the ocean tides
when words are meaningless and we do not know what to make of them

that is why we have been told
that sleepless nights don’t amount to gold
that though the sun must shine and birds must fly
never has the air been so burnt and dry
that is why our hearts conceal and our minds are lost and cannot see

never has there been a time like this
never has there been a sickness spread so thick
never has there been a such a man
who in his selfishness digs his own rotten lies
never has there been a life that takes its own life and calls it pride

when you turn to grievances and you look to see if there’s no more remorse
that is what will take me to buried treasures that hides under the ocean tides
never has the air been so burnt and dry
who in his selfishness digs his own rotten lies
and all that’s heard is a mirror’s cry.

The Art of Self War

Sun Tzu in the Art of War named a stratagem along the lines of…

Always give your enemy an escape route. When they are losing the battle, they will flee and you’ll be able to kill off several of their men for free.

But if you don’t give the enemy an escape route, each individual in the enemies army will know their only chance for survival will be to win the battle. Because of this, they will fight ten times, even a hundred times harder and your men will suffer many losses.

So I took this idea and applied it to my Self.

Life is the commanding army and my Self is the enemy.

If Life places me in situations in which I have an escape route, I will likely take that escape and so suffer many casualties to my Self.

However, if I am careful to place my Self in situations in which Life has cornered me, where my Self has no escape routes, then I will fight ten times, even a hundred times as hard in order to fight through Life and therefore win the battle.

They never saw the painting

I speak, “Ten long nights I weathered storms, and in these storms I told my adventures that came.

The crowd they gathered, to hear my words. And how they looked with rapture, as my words would fill their passing days.

With each word more people came, until the whole street was filled, with those listening to my speech.

Alas, the hours past, and the time to reveal my masterpiece was upon me. I bit my lip, a nervousness compounded, this was my fate.

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A Chipped Mirror

I look in the mirror and see myself. Is this who I am and what I’ll always be? They say a man is only a man so much as they fight; have I done my fighting?

My CEO messages me over email, we’re reading books together. We have several email threads going, full of thoughts and ideals.

We throw our values at each other. Digesting and analyzing each others judgements, separating noise from signal, partials from Truth. We’re sparring, but only in thought-space.

I type out a lengthy reply to his statement on the state of the today’s society. We live in purgatory he says. But Isaac, what if the world was already saved? Can’t you see that we have nothing to worry about anymore?

Yet, despite this, I know he’s quite similar to me. Indeed that we’re even typing about these things to each other, isn’t that the greatest sign of our likeness? Yet somehow the smallest differences are the hardest to overcome.

I wonder if he has any fun. I wonder if deep down, his heart, his spirit, his self, something was torn away from him. Is it because he’s talented yet also idealistic that leads him to shoulder the burden of pain? That the self-reflective man lives in infinitely crueler life knowing he’s the only one to blame? Hindsight my dear, hindsight kills.

But am I not of the same character as him, largely Alone, facing shadows daily for… for what? For my ideals? For the world? For others? Or simply for killing time, boredom; the more talented a person, the quicker they grow bored, and boredom, boredom is the worst punishment.

He sends me a lengthy email in reply, and at once, I am disappointed at the tone. I read,

“If I am the Devil Incarnate, I am also God.
I feel I am neither.
If I am anything, I am just a servant of higher powers.”

A servant… and how I wanted to slap my companion! This kindred spirit of mine, lying down, submitting in pain, in sorrow, in someone else’s name!

Is it not our will that compels us to stand up? To continue on in service of ourselves despite ourselves? That we may laugh a bit more, that we may fight! To rally the call of absurdity, to see to it that we fight, despite not knowing why.

Stand up my friend. Stand up and fight! For did you not see a younger you in me? And did I not see an older me in you? But then isn’t it our destiny to continue on too?

So that is why I fear. That when I look in the mirror, perhaps that I be weary and beaten too. I hear the hidden echoes, “You will tire as I have too kid.”

And he smiles. And I will slap that smile too. He is not done fighting, and neither of us are through. But just because I don’t believe, doesn’t mean it’s not true.

For My Dad

Regret
By this time in my life, I’d hoped to have overcome enough struggles to have found some Truth. And I have, but if there’s anything I know, is that man deceives himself.

My Dad called me yesterday. He’d just gotten home from China recently and was excited to see me; I wasn’t there.

I’d left to LA in pursuit of. And in my pursuing it meant that I had to leave home earlier than he expected, earlier than I expected. Regardless, I left, he came home, I wasn’t there, he called, and we agreed that he would come up to LA for my birthday.

He called me last night and said he would be in LA tomorrow night. I’d lost track of time over the weekend, it hadn’t realized tomorrow was my birthday. I checked my phone –close enough, two days before my birthday.

I questioned if he was staying for the weekend. And he continually affirmed that we were just getting dinner. Just getting dinner?

A pang of guilt washed over me, and I thought of myself. I didn’t want my Father to drive all the way from NorCal to SoCal just to see me for one dinner.

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For Those Who Think But Don’t Think

First: read the primer on thought –for why this is important.
Second: Think for yourself.

Are we done telling people to stop thinking? I’ve heard it a lot. Will, you think too much. Will, just take a break. Will, –actually never-mind.

How long I had thought that thinking was wrong! That it was, and is something to be detested. What does thought give you? Headaches, pain, realization.

Ah –realization, a woman that skirts to your bedside and leaves just as quickly. Floating in an out, never fully formed, non-consummated, until it is. But then of course, it’s boring, and the next woman is called over.

Realization is pain –it plays games with you, so that you can be tested. Do you deserve the fruits of this understanding? And can you handle what it means to understand?

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