Eclepsy

Coffee and Jazz.  Doctor's orders.

The dis-ease?
  Fatigue and ma-nah-tony
To be precise, millions of monotonies.
But a monotony
is just the way we see
the living, changing ever-be

In which direction does the mindflow go?
the glyph of its trajectory
can be read by
only me:

The melody of life is funny
it's never how it dreams to be
stimulate and knock you down
transform you irrevocably

the remedy for stress is honey
I squeeze it from your hexagon
after 60 days I worry
your honey will be all gone

'cuz the melody of love is funny
it never goes where you think its going to go...

---

Sometimes I get the feeling that there is no big picture - that it is merely a collage of billions of little lives that somehow blend together into this magnificent humanity.  Not merely society, which is just the tip of the iceberg of human mass potential; No, not merely society, but humanity as a superorganism.  It throbs with consciousness and sense far beyond the comprehension of the individual, and yet arises wholly from within us; a network of busy little lives.

The consciousness here is so different.  The expectations attached to every little action are aligned on a different grid.  The reasoning behind actions is unthinkably illogical by my standards.  The ability to intuit into others minds is in disarray.  Of course, the days and weeks and months and years that pile up in foreign countries are full of dull little annoyances - symptoms of the underlying misunderstandings - but the root is in the differing frequencies of consciousness  If our minds are a radio, we must learn to tune in, but can we tune back?

Maybe I've never really tuned in to begin with.  What I came to find, and whatever it is I found, was change within myself.  The illusions of virtue I placed on the people and customs around me are ethereal and corrupt.   I came to find discipline, respect, and a sense of beauty unlike what I have ever seen.  If I face the truth, it isn't discipline that I find out here. Not in the least.  It is more akin to banal automatism forced pedantically from the top down. 

Bureaucratic hell

  the prison of security

    which may prevent catastrophe

      but 

        ensures mediocrity.  

I know at last that I don't belong here.

Joy, in its random outbursts and chaotic dissolution of barriers.  Joy is a threat to be preempted.  Stick a cultural muffler on it.  I sense a preference for congested misery and subservience to The Code.  Earthquake island full of robots.

There are no women here
only fashions and models
no working men
just suits in motion
what a notion!

the gestures we wear

are just as important

as salon styled hair

its a cold and friendless world out there

what

on earth

am i doing here?

would it matter if i reappear

somewhere on the terra-sphere?

"wherever you go, there you are"

it's the same condition everywhere

on the other hand...

the air is the breath which fills the man

what air i breathe

in Asian lands?

that this life is not going to go as dreamed
nor disappoint as feared


What would Bob say?

"Mope, don't mope.  Be sad, be happy.  Whatever.  Suffering is a choice.  Resistance is pain.  It is not what happens to you, but how you react to it.  Observe and analyze.  Understand the reactions of cause and effect and, naturally, you will do what needs to be done - and that isn't very much"