Sweet Hope, Unstable Fear

Love__s_Many_Faces_by_typhlosionNow and then, I hear symponies playing in my head. Today I bought a book on composing music, so that I might be able to do something about it. As this ability returns time upon time, it makes me believe I was born with some kind of gift. Other attitudes of the community I grew up in, would rather denounce all possibility of me having any significance or ability in any field, but I spitefully believe otherwise. I might not have amazing abilities in performing music, but with training, I can make music. I will be an artist.

Music is just one of the things. Ideas pop up in my head frequently, around moments of inspiration. Those are moments of strong emotion; not necessarily intense, but clear. I can picture elaborate movies and dances while listening to music. Dreams are also interconnected into this complex construction. The core part of any inspiration, to me, is an atmosphere of another world, a subset of this world’s extremities gathered into a package. I find deep meaning and vitality in dealing with these packages — gathering,nurturing and creating them.

I even apply the abilities to my own future. When I am in love, which is one of the highest states of inspiration, I can’t help but picture special moments, somewhere in the future, that would make my life more complete. A touch, an exchange of emotion, a display of deep love, a fundamental understanding. Things I know I need and long of, things I understand the workings of, but things I have never experienced or managed to produce.

So perhaps inevitably, it comes coupled with a longing, and that longing turns into a sadness. Then I try to make these things happen, but I find my abilities cut short, like in the playing of an instrument. I see what could be there, but am unable to create it. This all boils down into a fear, the fear of failure and insufficience. This I deal with daily, sometimes, and it is the dark side of the coin that is my dreams of love.

A Portrait of Angst

devID2_by_typhlosionI’ve had somewhat of a revelation about shame. I got a lot of it, it is one of my greatest and most invisible evils. Its recipe is the fear to not be appreciated mixed with anxiety about one’s own worth. Shame is what makes many comform from being themselves, albeit unpopular, into being silent about their differences. I’m talking about teenage angst! It, and the war against it. But what is hostility, but a by-product of fear and ignorance? Distance yourself from something you don’t want to go through yourself, and it might disappear from your world, that’s what we like to think.

For a long while, I successfully suppressed the angst in myself, because I had become able to do it, and I knew that angst was stupid emo business. But I’ve changed my mind. Now I try to seek my sorrows, because they are there for a reason. Either I should resolve them, or I should at least acknowledge their existence.

The following text is made the way I prefer to write. It is not an essay, not a message, but a description of a fleeting chain of feelings, written while those feelings are strongly present. This is the kind of thing that makes me feel alive.

“One can’t expect too much from me. I’m no average person in an average state. Wounds have formed in me, and I need to heal. This is no illness, no fault in me, but a fact. I am depressed at certain times. All that has come to pass, has set its mark on me. The sorrow is part of me now, I let it reside in my being, because that is how I turn it into something meaningful. Because of this, there are now paths I must walk, phases I must pass through.”

“It is hard to do alone. I stagnate. Years have passed, and I am still not free from myself. Still I am impatient and anxious, but I am learning, the hard way. One day, things will be very different. Yet some emotions will never go away; I have responsibility for the sorrow, now. I must take care of it as I take care of myself.”

“The situation would be different, had I taken another course through time. There would be less sorrow. But that is not how it is. I am what I am, I have what I have, and I must start from there. Not from the level that the expectations of others would have preferred. They must understand this, respect it and help me to walk my paths. Without this, I can go nowhere. Without friends I keep on shrinking. To make it even harder, I have not been blessed with the ability to form close friendships. I retreat into my own sorrow rather than share it with others. I just don’t have that confidence in those around me.”

“And so I wait for the one person that I can truly confide in. The one person that can save me; set me free; turn me into myself; open my heart and stay with me. It is the only way I can feel, the only one that feels right. This is what my heart seeks, and if I do not listen to it, it will stop talking to me, as it has before.”

Sarah Brightman – Deliver Me

Time to Move On

Atmosphere_01_by_typhlosionThe pass is blocked, a new valley lies before me. What will I seek there, and how?

In the year that was, I succeeded in getting better acquainted with my soul. I shall uphold that bond, but this year, I will try to access my heart, too. Too long have I hidden it, shrouded it and unsuccessfully tried to shield it from the outside world. This year, I shall muster up courage and faith and face my fears and anxieties. Somehow I believe those come from the heart, whom I have so mistreated.

It is also time for me to shake off some more apathy. These past years by myself have faced me with many challenges and new situations, many of whom I have avoided altogether. Now I am more experienced, and I can apply my abilities of problem solving to set things right. I’ll build, I’ll fix, and I’ll create my own life. I will take responsibility for myself. I’d be a joke for a man if I could never muster the wits to see this necessity.

And in the midst of all this, I want to do creative works. I have already begun to brainstorm, with snippets of music, writings and photography. The idiocy of my neglecting side would have me sit and whine while these abilities rust.

In short, I will recover all the lost and more.

I have one emotion that I hold in high regard as the one I bring with me into this new year. It is an emotion I have not felt in a long time, which I now feel in a rather peculiar and, you might say, imaginary fashion. It is a feeling of being in love, but it stems from music and from a most fictitious story. I am merely observing this emotion.

So. A track for the newborn year: Rebecca Kneubuhl – Guide You Home

Time to Reflect

“Another year is coming to an end. A new year is waiting to be born. Standing at the edge of the cliff, a new valley lies shrouded in mist beneath. The wise will shed a tear for the events that have led us here, and let new wings grow. Tomorrow, it is time to take flight.”

So now, I take the time to reflect upon a year-long walk.

The past through a veil

The year 2008 has been a year of learning. A year of change. A year of humility, of compassion, of slumber, rest and harmony. It has also been a year of neglect, of panic and exhaustion and of intense self-searching. I have cried more this year than I have all previous years combined.

Well. Let me break it down chronologically.

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Beyond the Origin: An Earthy Perspective

The modern opinion is cynical towards the world, expecting to recieve no compassion or meaning — because after all, the universe is a faceless machine, its gears the cold logic of physics and probability. I battle this opinion under its own terms, showing that emotions like love cannot merely be explained by their apparent purposes, but must have been present since the conception of this world.

Humanity. We live and we persist because it is inevitable. In this world of change and peril, only that which persists, lives.

Our highly developed consciousness, our imagination, made us persist. Our hope in better days, in great wonder, made us persist. Because of them, we still exist to this day.

And because they made us persist, these parts have persisted in us. That is the only reason we have them. If the world had challenged us in different ways, we would have developed different abilities. In another world, we might be unable to learn to swim, climb trees… or feel happy.

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The Lie

Go to artist's pageArtists make the world into something it’s not, giving people false hope and wrong impressions of what the world is. At least, that is what some might say. How do you defend such an argument, if even possible? I try to locate the true meaning behind art, finding that it is not to illustrate places and events, but to explore the human soul.

Photographers find the exact angle and composition where the beauty is the clearest, and then they doll up the scene in Photoshop afterwards, making it into something that can’t even be found. Writers also give us prime examples and leave out the mundanity that truly fills our lives. And musicians hog the well-used beats and harmonies of the rare moments in life. Art, in effect, makes us disappointed in the world.

The world has no beauty. Continue reading »

Bridge to Terabithia

We are sometimes afraid of ourselves, conforming to what feels safe just to lessen our anxieties, our fears of the unknown, however good.

Why do we all hinder ourselves? Why do we hold back, in favor of being gray? Is is because we are afraid of loss?

Even when we know what can be, how life can be, why oh why do we still do nothing? Why do I do nothing?

Humans can be so special. Relationships can be so special. But we.. no, I. I am so afraid. I cannot hide behind mankind on this one. It’s childish, it’s introverted, it’s straight-out stupid, but I am afraid of letting anyone close. All my life, I have kept more distance from others than I can honestly say I’m happy with.

Why doesn’t matter. Whys are not just excuses, they are shields; shields of lies that you can hide behind and believe it’s okay that you’re doing something wrong. Psychology is an elaborate shield that lets us be gray with a clean conscience. I will not ponder on why I am afraid and distant, and then be happy with the reason I find most likely. I will not be happy with being like this for the rest of my life, with not being as I think people ought to be.

Difference starts somewhere. And then it spreads. We would all do best not to resist the kind of change that this movie inspires in us.

Make Your Own Transmission in the Storm

Machinae Supremacy’s latest album rocks my ears and brains and loudspeakers and makes me want to dance.

The album tells me this: There’s always something to fight for. If you lack concrete things to devote your attention to (which a lot of us do, I daresay), then fight to remove that very fact! Fights in this sense are always fights for better days. Yet we look upon today’s human society, and we acknowledge that we’ve got everything and even that is not enough. This depresses us and makes us believe that there are no “better days”. So we forget and ignore that insistant feeling we have inside, the promise of wonder and happiness. We think things can’t improve, and so there is nothing to fight for. That’s when we need to fight to reactivate that wondrous feeling, fight to start believing again, fight to create something to fight for.

And somewhere across that line we might come to realize that the fight itself is the whole point.


I have a never-ending thirst to provide it to others.

Every joy I feel, I want to share. Every good thing I discover, I want to pass on. If doing that was easy, I would be a very happy person, for I have so much to share. But it’s not easy, so I always try to refine my methods. It’s not like striving to be accepted, which is generally a bad thing. No, I strive merely to become a better person, a better friend, a better mentor. A better father.

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Moving On

The past holds all of our dearest memories. But beware of forgetting yourself. This post is about finding the courage to stand on your own feet, as the result of your past, instead of looking to it as all that is good and gone.

For many years, perhaps since my birth and until some years ago, I had a very grim outlook on change. Change means an ending of something you’ve been a part of. Change means letting go of something old and heading into an uncertain and scary future. And if you look into it the wrong way, like I was good at, change is melancholy. However small a change, change is death itself. Change means that the world and life gradually parts from you, and leaves you alone.

That detachment doesn’t hurt just superficially, it lashes out to your very soul. It is a pure form of loneliness, and it has a beauty, as most emotions do. In reasonable quanta, it’s an important part of life. It should be accessed sometimes, I think, for the same reason that we need to preserve machinery. But loneliness is a brittle bridge over chasms, and shouldn’t be taken lightly or made a habit out of.

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