Reading Plato

Plato, believed that we are dimmed versions of "Perfect Forms". We are imperfect replicas, that originated from a single set of Forms. When I think about beauty, in nature, in the human spirit, in growth, .....I always felt that, these versions, were only glimpses, only flickering lights, of a perfectness that existed somewhere....

Plato told a story of a group of shackled individuals in a dimly lit cave, illuminated only by a large fire behind them. These people could only see shadows of themselves and other images flickering on the wall..THIS was their reality. Most of the prisoners were unimaginative or apathetic and simply accepted this reality without speculation. The more inquiring minds observed patterns more clearly and tried to understand their world. Yet Truth eluded them. One of the prisoners breaks free from his shackles and escapes the cave, emerging into the light of day, blinded by is brightness, again only seeing a shadowy representation of reality. Over time, however, this person acclimates his senses to his surroundings and sees things more clearly: the landscape the sky, the sun's illumination.

We can choose to ignore it, but then, we will remain in the cave, only half living, only have knowing. Instead, we must seek out and experience the beauty, the truth, going deeper, asking harder questions and not being afraid of the answers.

10:22pm

Staring at the digital clock,working my eyes in and out of focus, 10:22pm… Watching the blinking light that keeps the seconds. You stare long enough to think you have control over the minute. But look again.. that minute has controlled you. What soothes you, what comforts you? What pets your head to tell you everything is going to be okay? In those moments, when, silence is the most deafening sound, when the thoughts reign supreme with in you, and become choreographed images projected in front of your eyes. Words, can’t explain that fear. It is a deep fear. The one people conveniently disguise as something treatable or something defined. A black hole of racing thoughts. I once thought, I could face the darkness, but I have found that its threshold is too powerful for me to go farther in. Too many unanswered questions, too many uncertainties. Zooming into focus, we live our lives as a series of thoughts and feelings. Change the thought, change the feeling. Life can’t be so black and white. Inviting the blur, I recognize a discomforting
shade of gray. This gray offers no answer, just another possibility. There are no answers.
How do you want to live your life?
Do you want to live the right life?
Do you want to live a life that you created?
Do you want to live a life that is governed by God?
Do you want to live your life for someone else?
Do you know what you want from life?
What is life?
Why are we here together?
Why are we even here?
Why do we have thoughts that cause us to think this way?
Why do we suffer?
Why isn’t life fair?
Why do we try to be even in an unfair world?

This is my love for you.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

My Hunter Fan

In the darkest closet, with every negative thought to keep me company. My heart no longer pumps red blood, just ash. The remnants of a heart once occupied, in the hollow cast i call, me. i hear nothing, i see nothing. i can no longer breathe. i can not feel. i do not exist. The pillow is cold. I reach out but i don't know what I'm reaching for, once filled with memories and thoughts, now lies a dusty shell. A sickness that never ceases.

Damn goodbyes.

"I've had to say goodbye more times than I would have liked, but everyone can say that. And no matter how many times we do it, even when its for the greater good, it still hurts.

And though we'll never forget what we've given up, we owe it to ourselves to keep moving forward.

What we can't do is stop living our lives- always afraid of the next goodbye, because chances are they're not going to stop.

The trick is to recognize when a goodbye can be a good thing, when there's a chance to start again."

Yea....

Euphoria in a leaf.

I've always thought it fascinating-when I see something beautiful, I cry. I've only known a handful of people who do this, my father among the few. I've never tried to explain or even understood the feeling until now. It starts with a swell in my throat. My eyes ebb and glass over. My nose flares and it begins. I think its in the immense power, the move-ability of what I'm witnessing. The beauty is so big, so celestial, so grand that my body is enveloped by it. If its a song, the same happens, I feel pangs in my heart that make it hard to breathe, and I'm overcome by pure euphoria. I loose my ability to speak because words are meaningless, I'm swallowed up by a symbiotic power from its magnitude. It feels like a submission to something too difficult to stand up against. I cant handle it, I often say. But i never want to stop the experience. In Greek the word "euphoria" is "the power of bearing easily". Its heavy, humbling, and still so delicate. I looked at a leaf today...I plucked it off a nearby bush at Rutgers-Newark. I touched it, breathed it in, I studied the ridges of the leave, the texture. I thought, in Archimedes-fashion, Eureka!....... I found within this leaf the secret to happiness, the universe, God, eternal life...It was in the appreciation, the humbled kneeling to something so delicate and often overlooked. It was in the quiet, clearly visible, that i realized life was this..that leaf, THAT beauty. It's meant to be enjoyed, life, that leaf, laughter, a song, a serene landscape, the feeling of love...thats the secret...

Mumbo

"Im Sick and tired of old men sitting around air-conditioned rooms in Washington, dreaming up war's for young men to fight" -Prez Candidate of 1972, George Mcgovern.

"I am not a crook" -Prez of 1972, Richard Nixon.

.....

There has been uncovered an acute awareness of an invisible force, the one of fairy-taled, Good and Evil. It's theme permeates mankind. The wrestling match continues for what seems like eternity...and it eventually brushes us all. We become entangled in the ball of fists, morality, laws, rules...we submit to the pins, grappling holds, and leglocks. Finger pointing that works like swords, words that cut in the same manner...we all try to be the most righteous by climbing to the the top, on the heads of the "unworthy"