ramadan regressions {5}

Pain. I seek out what accentuates my inadequacies. I match people to the hues of my insecurities. I foolishly think my insecurities are an obstacle course I can race through.

Sadistic. I can’t tear myself away from those who echo back to me the loathing that runs the length of my soul.

Nihilistic. I’ve worked towards working away my fatal flaws for so long that I’ve forgotten what I was before it all began. I’m afraid to discover nothingness beneath it all.

You can choose to take a step back out of fear of the unknown, or step forth out of faith in the unknown. The past you’re replaying in your head will never happen again, unless you insist on recreating every blank moment in the image of your darkest fears.


                                 [***]


Between a fear and a desire, always remain loyal to your desire. A fear is no grateful, no no. You give up your life to satisfy it, but it won’t stop growing until you’re no more. It’ll whack you even if it promises it won’t if you keep on good terms with it. It’s a lying, pesky ting.

Never negotiate with fear. It only exists because you trust it more than you trust yourself. What a shame.


                                [***]


I want to make a majestic house out of my soul. A place of calmness. A place of stability and refuge for beautiful souls to find rest in.



                                [***]


I want to be a person who I’d love and look up to growing up. A person who I’d be eager to befriend. A person who vibes the truth, her truth, with a graceful abandon. A person whose aura has an incredibly intense otherworldly charge to it that brings, nay forces, the true self to the surface. A person whose beauty is rooted in how unassuming she is of her impact. A person who makes people at ease by embracing all human facets of her. A person whose greatest aim is to give people back their lost good, their forgotten truth. A spirit traveller, in this world but not of it. Someone focused on being more.



                                [***]


Your need for control is what causes chaos. You were created from chaos. Therefore, you’re order. You are intact. And the obstacles and unpleasantries you avoid – they are your path. You’re avoiding your path that would empower and enlighten you. Instead, you’re​ taking a detour into the belly of the beast – without your innate support. Emotions – pleasant or not- aren’t meant to satisfy you, but to guide you, and you shut them out because you thought they were out to destroy you.

Oh if only you realized what a self-destructive delusional creature you are. We all are. We man a giant plane and we think it’s flying because of the firm grip of our hands and the intensity of our focus? Really? Your soul is that plane, and it’s been engineered to optimum. All you need to do is be cognizant of the feedback coming through the panels and make apt assessments. You don’t have to think about what if it malfunctions or it decides to dip even though you did everything right. Relax. Most causes of plane crashes are due to errors caused by inattentiveness and overlooked mechanical failures.

Even in the event of a crash, that shouldn’t make you fall apart in self-blame. Assess what went wrong. Where did you miss the signals? Learn from your emotions. Stop ditching classes, and you won’t have to flounder so much.

                               [***]



We really think we can separate ourselves from the rest of the world? Try not to get wet when your city’s flooded.


                                [***]



now…sink into yourself

My words have become cheap veneers to give off the illusion of an inhabited emotional landscape
I seek refuge in a hamster wheel of neurosis 
Mechanical escapism seems to postpone terror, if only for this moment

If I fall apart, if I let go of this house of cards, what will happen? Where do lost souls go? 
And whatever dimension I collapse into​, isn’t that a part of me? Why then do I feel like I’ll fall into a bottomless pit? Or like I’ll drift into space?

Perhaps whatever is railroading me into falling apart isn’t so much a threat as it is the gravity of my soul compelling me to fall back into orbit?

Perhaps.

The denial of death, by Ernest Becker

Mental health, in a word, is not typical, but ideal-typical. It is something far beyond man, something to be achieved, striven for, something that leads man beyond himself. The “healthy” person, the true individual, the self-realized soul, the “real” man, is the one who has transcended himself.
How does one transcend himself; how does he open himself to new possibility?

 

By realizing the truth of his situation, by dispelling the lie of his character, by breaking his spirit out of its conditioned prison.

 
The enemy, for Kierkegaard as for Freud, is the Oedipus complex. The child has built up strategies and techniques for keeping his self-esteem in the face of the terror of his situation. These techniques become an armor that hold the person prisoner. The very defenses that he needs in order to move about with self-confidence and self-esteem become his life-long trap. In order to transcend himself he must break down that which he needs in order to live.

Like Lear he must throw off all his “cultural lendings” and stand naked in the storm of life.

 
Kierkegaard had no illusions about man’s urge to freedom. He knew how comfortable people were inside the prison of their character defenses. Like many prisoners they are comfortable in their limited and protected routines, and the idea of a parole into the wide world of chance, accident, and choice terrifies them.

 
[…] In the prison of one’s character one can pretend and feel that he is somebody, that the world is manageable, that there is a reason for one’s life, a ready justification for one’s action. To live automatically and uncritically is to be assured of at least a minimum share of the programmed cultural heroics—what we might call “prison heroism”: the smugness of the insiders who “know.”

 
The prison of one’s character is painstakingly built to deny one thing and one thing alone: one’s creatureliness. The creatureliness is the terror. Once admit that you are a defecating creature and you invite the primeval ocean of creature anxiety to flood over you. But it is more than creature anxiety, it is also man’s anxiety, the anxiety that results from the human paradox that man is an animal who is conscious of his animal limitation.

 
Anxiety is the result of the perception of the truth of one’s condition. What does it mean to be a self-conscious animal? The idea is ludicrous, if it is not monstrous. It means to know that one is food for worms. This is the terror: to have emerged from nothing, to have a name, consciousness of self, deep inner feelings, an excruciating inner yearning for life and self-expression—and with all this yet to die. It seems like a hoax, which is why one type of cultural man rebels openly against the idea of God.

 
[…] The flood of anxiety is not the end for man. It is, rather, a “school” that provides man with the ultimate education, the final maturity. It is a better teacher than reality, says Kierkegaard,

 
because reality can be lied about, twisted, and tamed by the tricks of cultural perception and repression. But anxiety cannot be lied about. Once you face up to it, it reveals the truth of your situation; and only by seeing that truth can you open a new possibility for yourself. He who is educated by dread [anxiety] is educated by possibility…. When such a person, therefore, goes out from the school of possibility, and knows more thoroughly than a child knows the alphabet that he demands of life absolutely nothing, and that terror, perdition, annihilation, dwell next door to every man, and has learned the profitable lesson that every dread which alarms may the next instant become a fact, he will then interpret reality differently.”

 
No mistake about it: the curriculum in the “school” of anxiety is the unlearning of repression, of everything that the child taught himself to deny so that he could move about with a minimal animal equanimity.

 
[…] What Kierkegaard is saying, in other words, is that the school of anxiety leads to possibility only by destroying the vital lie of character. It seems like the ultimate self-defeat, the one thing that one should not do, because then one will have truly nothing left. But rest assured, says Kierkegaard, “the direction is quite normal… the self must be broken in order to become a self….”

 
[…] One goes through it all to arrive at faith, the faith that one’s very creatureliness has some meaning to a Creator; that despite one’s true insignificance, weakness, death, one’s existence has meaning in some ultimate sense because it exists within an eternal and infinite scheme of things brought about and maintained to some kind of design by some creative force. Again and again throughout his writings Kierkegaard repeats the basic formula of faith: one is a creature who can do nothing, but one exists over against a living God for whom “everything is possible.”

 
Possibility leads nowhere if it does not lead to faith. It is an intermediate stage between cultural conditioning, the lie of character, and the opening out of infinitude to which one can be related by faith. But without the leap into faith the new helplessness of shedding one’s character armor holds one in sheer terror. It means that one lives unprotected by armor, exposed to his aloneness and helplessness,

 
[…] Now the dread of possibility holds him as its prey, until it can deliver him saved into the hands of faith. In no other place does he find repose… he who went through the curriculum of misfortune offered by possibility lost everything, absolutely everything, in a way that no one has lost it in reality. If in this situation he did not behave falsely towards possibility, if he did not attempt to talk around the dread which would save him, then he received everything back again, as in reality no one ever did even if he received everything tenfold, for the pupil of possibility received infinity.

twin flame

Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko, Stay

All along it was a fever

A cold sweat hot-headed believer

I threw my hands in the air, said, “Show me something”

He said, “If you dare, come a little closer”


Round and around and around and around we go

Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know


Not really sure how to feel about it

Something in the way you move

Makes me feel like I can’t live without you

It takes me all the way

I want you to stay


It’s not much of a life you’re living

It’s not just something you take it’s given


Round and around and around and around we go

Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know


Not really sure how to feel about it

Something in the way you move

Makes me feel like I can’t live without you

It takes me all the way

I want you to stay


Ooh, ooh, ooh, the reason I hold on

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ’cause I need this hole gone

Funny you’re the broken one but I’m the only one who needed saving

‘Cause when you never see the light it’s hard to know which one of us is caving.


Not really sure how to feel about it

Something in the way you move

Makes me feel like I can’t live without you

It takes me all the way

I want you to stay

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