More thoughts of the legend
I talk about Truth quite a lot on here. I reflect upon it. But truth is subjective to the consciousness it occupies
so how is it possible to rise above subjectivity?
It is not possible
so I can only reflect. Observe —do my Scientific Method and log it in my fleeting writing, sometimes in a blog; observations from my lens and see how my warped vision alters it
I don’t claim to be omniscient and proclaim a Truth
I just try to ….humanize it
I —think— emotions.
Intellectualize it. Likely I am a form of autism as dyslexics are connected so, while I am a sensitive empath and psychically connected to visions that come to me, I recognize that my truth is a truth but it is not the utter truth
but that is not our role
that is what I believe —our truths matter as much as the utter truth does but the two should never be confused or claim one ultimate victory
I think my mission here was to learn how to feel. It seems I split off as a child, that’s how the text books would label it
but that was my lesson ….that was chosen for this life’s journey. To catalogue emotions; to study emotions. To step inside them; immerse…. take it on at full force…. and to turn it into a universal image; Art in order to call minds to a higher consciousness
To call to minds
in order to ignite a butterfly effect
so where does ego come in? I think that is the Very riddle locked up in the celves/Celf
Those cells inside; those rooms
so within this vast pool of knowledge I’ve acquired of human emotions ….trauma; fear; every form of heartbreak and loss; shame; humiliation; torture; pain; terror….terror…destitute….a fleeting glimpse at ego; idolization; everybody’s unicorn; mistaken identity; infatuation; lust; confusion of sexual identity; gender….
but ….no joy
that part I missed somehow and ….I think it must be my cross to bear
the gods were jealous of me ….or who knows, I am Aphrodite; not Electra and this journey is ….designed to ….fail unless ….I find that one possibility that purity does exist in humankind ….that pure of heart
so far…. no joy, and I was their champion
whom they destroyed
we all have a mission; we use me as the apparatus so there I am:
I think of Dante’s tree….I am caught around the trunk and limbs with barbed wire; how does a tough outer shell protect the ‘fragile eggshell mind’* within the broken soul? how does she avoid those that promise but ….then only to find that all they ever wanted was base possession and are not deep enough for more and this is the flaw in my mission; I believed. Is it a want or a need? When does the want become the need? when does the need become wont.
Someone once told me I should have been catholic because she thought I was the most devout person she knew—she being catholic. She said it maliciously and I think about that label of stoic but no…. they are wrong …. And that is the sad riddle of the celves ….and there seems no legend can find it on the map
*******
I find the sudden desperate need to —what?
find that desperate faith somewhere in someone —perhaps and, reach with one moment of hesitation and give up to this human weakness when ….I see Bran’s call up on my phone screen. That barbed wire, they never let me go….
“Cloak and dagger, espionage—how did you get caught up in all of this?” Bran who is almost actually scolding when I answer
“You don’t remember? It was always in the background of my life—the assault, and who was behind that? Hired hit man —the years under that man’s thumb who controlled all our lives ….”
“Your father.”
“He was not my father.”
“You got your dna test results ….I read that in your…. so, the sins of the fathers…. born is Electra …. morning becomes her…. but you are my Beth….”
“Bran….” to my ears I hear warning and defense ….but also longing ….and the memory of seaweed arms….and harden myself against this; I know how to pull the portcullis better than anyone; I am me, I am mine, and nothing comes in, nobody trespasses ….that is the code
so
“And the killer is still out there? The one who assaulted you at Bard and left you with a life sentence of degenerative pain….”
“Uhh—I….don’t know, they don’t tell me, but he’s some known terrorist they seem to be in a cat and mouse game with —all these years….he walks free….”
“How are you?” he asks
I hear concern in his voice; I don’t believe what I hear; never again and choose not to hear what he asks
“I’m so sick of ….controllers—men…. I’m sorry you don’t want to hear this….”
“It’s —fine, I deserve to hear this,” he says
“You mean because you recognize this in yourself? —do…. I think they just look at me and they see ‘target’ ….sitting doe sitting duck….and they build their deceptions carefully hiding their own interests and watch the exit door is in view—“
“Christ, Beth—what have you been through….”he says with regret and ….I almost go back to ‘our’ place in my mind ….it’s there watching me from the box I hid it in
But I babble on ignoring this and so glad of an excuse to ….have someone just listen—he was always my best listener…. “so they know how to back out—they watch thst exit and then tell you how to be. how to feel. perform, and stop trying to see. you. But what about the needs of myself —no, there is no self, we know…..I mean, don’t you dare make a suggestion, a request —a desire…. why should you want or need or ask…. just sit there and be quiet….how dare I think I have any rights at all.”
“Your Viking?”
“I don’t want to talk about it….” I say, “he is just one of dozens, I mean, don’t you remember? Or no, people choose how to recall details and they edit out their own guilt.”
“I’m sorry Beth….” he says suddenly
And I stop babbling madly
He says it again
“You should know…. they didn’t win over you….I’m so sorry Beth….”
*JDMorrison
No comments:
Post a Comment