I sit to write but I have nothing to say, yet my head is filled with so much babbling bullshit. It’s like the speaker and the audience, it’s schizophrenia in my head. Weird tho, the way one talks to their selves as if they are talking to someone. Your telling yourself stuff you already know in almost a convincing manor at times. I wish not to listen to myself most days, I’m redundant and boring. How someone would want to get to know me is beyond my comprehension. I need to write; you don’t need to listen tho. How many have I taken hostage in the year’s past, those poor souls with bludgeoned brain and bloody ears. They sit there and smile and nod, I know the look I give it myself. Mainly I give it cuz your story is boring and I have much important stuff to tell myself, even tho I already know what I am saying to myself. Odd how that works.
I was in a conversation last night, listening to her spew molasses from her lips. It was supposed to be a short story, an anecdote if you will but became a novel of entrapment. I get it, we want to be listened to and I obliged like so many have done for me as their eyes popped out of their skull and they watched me from below in a pit of despair. I smiled and nodded and tried to focus but I could not, she had lost me some time ago and I knew nothing of what she was saying. I did admire the way her mouth moved; I’m quite taken by mouths for some reason. The contortion of them, how they act, their movement. It’s not a sexual thing, just something to focus on for some reason. I think she finished at some point, I nodded again and said, “yeah totally”. She might of known I wasn’t listening and just sitting pretty like a good fellow.
Maybe that’s why I write, I give the option to be held. Maybe you listen better with your eyes, there’s not much time to think and reflect when in conversation, especially when I have so much to tell myself about your story and how it relates to my life and how your story is cool but I must think of myself now. Reading a memoir, some non-fiction, I think of myself. Reading some fiction, I dream of myself. Our self-obsession is enormous, is it not. We like to think we are being super selfless by helping so and so or giving this or listening to the wounded but really ego masks our true intentions, even from ourselves.
I was told its intention that is the qualifier of non-ego-based living, service - however you want to classify it. Intention is what tells us why we are doing something and I get that, but my alter ego, the one that tells me about myself, my schizophrenia, it enjoys the backdoor benefits of all acts. There is always something for self as a byproduct of everything I do. I spend a lot of time thinking about this and working towards elevating it. I know from years of experience and self-evaluations that all pains in life come from self, my self-obsession. My ability to hold on to what “I” need or want or crave or desire. “I” always has its grubby little hands in it somewhere.
I wanted to listen to her, I wanted to hear her. Maybe her story was just boring, yeah, maybe it was just flat-out mind-numbing dribble that could put meth to sleep. I don’t know, I couldn’t contemplate it cuz she kept talking and interrupting me thinking about myself. Truth is tho I’ll still do it again, listen to her, cuz it’s the right thing to do, to listen to someone. I mean are they really telling me a story or is their ego needing to be fed or are they using me as a theripst to process their experience and truly is it really any of my business to know the why’s or is mine to try and pay attention to my abductor and try and achieve some type of Stockholm syndrome with them. I’ll listen cuz it’s the right thing to do and maybe part of me wants to sleep with her – which is a totally different subject considering I stopped that promiscuous behavior but yet ego still wants to be satisfied.
So I listen cuz it’s the right thing to do, I listen cuz I want to get twisted in some sheets with her, I listen cuz I don’t want to be alone, right? Like why else would I be doing all this with her? I could be home alone listening to myself and we all know what a joy that is. I listen cuz we are friends right and that’s what friends do for one another. I mean I know her, we’re good like that, she’s not a nearest and dearest but we’re peoples. That’s what friends do right, sacrifice their personal happiness for the ones close to them. I mean she wasn’t making me unhappy by any mean’s, but we sacrifice.
So to recap one more time: Listen cuz it’s the right thing to do. Other reasons included but are not necessarily the reasons but they are backdoor benefits. Cuz you wanna sleep with her, cuz you don’t want to be alone, cuz I can relate everything I am sporadically hearing to myself to think of myself. I’m an amazing friend huh. Don’t you wanna just call me right now and have a conversation.
It’s not always like this, I do hear most, I try to focus on you and sometimes I don’t even need to try, sometimes I am truly invested in you. That is what combats the ego, that and motive I guess. But yet the moment I think of motive I think of self and when I think of self I think of all that I am gaining from a situation. I do not like gaining from situations, it makes me feel further from god. I have been working my way back to god since the day I left my mother’s womb, I just didn’t know that’s what I was doing. God is not a person or a creature or a place or a savior – god to me is true happiness, peace, equanimity. God is what makes me feel nothing and everything, it is where I wish to sit, with whom I wish to sit. We all visualize it differently, no one is right, no one is wrong. If any god is supposed to be all loving then it won’t matter of the form or name I give it to it, right? I’ve been walking many a mental, physical, spiritual and emotional miles to find god and ego has been my greatest nemesis on this journey.
If I am supposed to do so I will sit with her again and she can tell me more eye gouging stories that have no relevance on my life or any reality we all live in. I will listen, I won’t sleep with her, I’ll ask questions. I’ll be who I am supposed to, selfless to the best of my ability. I will make the sacrifice and continue to make it at every turn, for her and anyone else.
I get condemned most often for my choice on who to help, who to be there for – the condemners try and tell me who should get a second chance and who deserves no chances at all. They make fun of me for it, the one’s close to me sometimes get emotionally upset over my helping. I appreciate their concern, it is very sweet and kind of them.
Self-sacrifice is the closest I will ever be to god. I get close through prayer, through meditation, but through selflessness is where I am closest. By slowly ridding myself of luxuries in life, the over indulgences, the closer I am to a spiritual path, closer to non-ego. It’s like I want to wear clothes to be clothed and not to look good, I can see why monks where the same color robes day in and out. I don’t want a hair style, a shiny watch or flashy car. Even tho ego craves these things, they bring no virtue and only momentary happiness, like sleeping around or eating pancakes. I dig those who have this down, who are on that level of spiritual awareness, who live not for the high but for the truth of happiness. For the simplicity of just breathing, the pure joy of having breath, the one’s that recognize they are breathing.
I think how can I be so vested in selflessness and compassion and still have these outrageous thoughts and feelings that do not align with my purpose. Like am I broken, how can I not be 100% who I aspire to be. How can I not fully listen to her and be there, in that moment with her. I start to doubt all I’ve tried to be cuz I get wrapped in self, I start to think it’s pointless to try and get to that level of spiritual consciousness. Then I remember a few things. One I’m only a part-time Buddhist. Two I don’t have a moral deficiency, I have a disease. Three my socks don’t always have to match. Four I am human. Perfection is for those who wish to be godly and I am not desiring that level of existence. I just want to be happiness, to be kindness, to be compassion, to be forgiving, selfless, humble 📿
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