A writing prompt I have received for the day.
An image of myself I once had that has changed.
To me, this seems a question that is not truly worth diving into. Specifically because I've never had an image of myself that was of any true foundation for my existence. All I have ever known was outside my eyes. The self, since a young age, had never been forgrounded enough to be anything of importance. To be specific, I never had for myself the goals or foresight of what I wanted to actually be when I was growing up.
As a child I did enjoy things; Going to my aunt's roof for cookouts, taking school trips, and learning of new discoveries whether they were scientific or archeological. However, throughout my life, when asked, "what do you want to be when you grow up?", the answer would be something I assumed would impress the asking adult. This is not a question children ask of themselves or even other children.
Perhaps because children understand that all of this is actually playing pretend. The clothes we wear are costumes that in a society allow us to be identified and on a shallow level assumed to be of some value in the society. The best example is the dress of a suit, and the style most commonly of the homeless. Consider how the dress of a person informs your response to their asking for directions.
As a person, perhaps I realize that I am only a person and that the idea of a self image was really a limiter on my capabilities. Too often I am observed and assumed from afar. It is my opinion that people do not ask enough questions to truly claim they have knowledge of any other interacting entity. Some days I wear blazers and am treated with a certain reverence and as if I am a person of "class", other days I roam the streets with no care for appearance and even the homeless ignore me, as they assume I do not have the dollar to give as alms. Just yesterday a man walking past me asked if I was a muslim. I wonder what I was exuding at that time.
To the point, a self image, in theory, is lost on me. I see myself as an existing human, a reflection in the web of perception that we all are. I have always been interested in people at the core. I never cared what their skin was, how they dressed, or their displays of wealth, or lack thereof. My care was more for how they treat me as a fellow human being.
To be clear, this is not to say I did not have wants and desires. I would love to drive a viper, but is there an image of man that can and cannot own this? I want to be as wealthy as the queen of England, but does a literal crown put me in the place to maintain such financial wealth? Even as a guitarist or a lyricist, do I need to wear leather pants and have radical hairstyles? Do I need gaudy chains and fancy sneakers?
When considering an image, I find it to be a shallow rendition of who people truly are.
Over time, my image of self has indeed changed, only because that is based on how people see me. That is the only image of me that exists. I can fit into your perception and pretend to be the business man or the nonchalant. If you think me a fool, I can play that role equally as well. Even the stage presence of an artist of any type. This is because the self never craved an image to fit into for itself, exploring the boundless realms of ability. If one human is capable, all are and it is truly a matter of will that makes the manifestation possible. A painter only needs to paint and gather the tools. Same for a carpenter, or a sculptor, the writer, the poet, or even a man of business.
My perception has always been outward. Not to neglect the self, but to observe what was and is truly possible. Learning how to learn actively has been my greatest asset. And currently, I see myself fading into the background of all things, to be limitless and observe.
The idealistic image of being a king was bestowed upon me from my mother, she would say to people, "My son is a King and should be treated as such". Growing up and maturing, gave me more definitions of what that would mean. At first, being told I was a king meant all was mine and I only needed to have satisfaction as the world became my subject. Yet, at a later point I observed the theory of a king in action. The fact that a king exists, means there will be slaves and servants. This was also re-worked in my mentality, and since I have come to realize that; if a king be a tyrant, he will be overthrown, if he be passive, he will be conquered, meaning a King is the greatest slave to all that is within his kingdom. He must know the minds of the people, he must always be ready to serve them their needs. He must always be a willing ear and an eye to them. A king is the most unselfish, selfless being possible. This is because power does not exist. Power is most likely a continuity of interaction as complex as the dance of the universe's all things with its very self of all things.
Do I see myself as a king? No. If any image, I am a humble man wanting to learn what it means to be a human. To be one of mankind. I see myself as a slave to those who have desires. I see myself a provider to those who are unable to obtain. I see myself an aid and a teacher to those who do not see the abundance of life in mind and body. Internally and externally.
In conclusion, I am simply me and the truth remains, that the only image of me, comes from you. How you treat me is how I respond, and that solidifies your feelings and perceptions of me, thus creating an image. Yet that is not me, that is how your mind conjures a thought of me that suits your own experiential history of being. I am one of one, and I am nothing. Truly. While this may sound negative or a morbid ideology to have of one's self, being nothing means potentially, I am also all things, fully capable and limitless. Any ability I want to have, I can freely express the will to learn and retain and enact. Perhaps, the true image of me, is the same for all mankind, a creator subject to my own will to create.
One of my posts was at the depth of depression. I stated that I loved someone. Since writing it, I ask myself, “what exactly is love”?
Personally, I have found myself in deep levels of care for anyone who has showed me a sense of kindness. Is that the same as loving them? Rather, the sense of a relationship?
To be clear, I do love this person, in that I want the best for them. I want them to be happy and satisfied with their lives. Why?
I feel like they wanted the best for me, truly and with no incentive or hidden agenda. They really had no reason to care for me at all as they did. For the first time I felt viewed as a person, and not a burden or a commodity. Yet, disappointing them, was probably the biggest scar on my heart.
So yes, I love them, but as long as they are happy, so am I. It is a pure love. For many others, I care deeply. I would move myself for those who I care for despite myself for their best to shine.
Today, I learn that it is not a point to self sacrifice for others, but self preservation for others so I can truly be of aid. Why do I have to be in a hole with anyone to be of aid? It is false. It is not helpful.
If I am on firm ground, I can lend a hand or I can go for help, but climbing in a hole with someone, that is destructive and hurts them and me. I have learned this as I desire my best self to be, unapologetically.
If I am midas of my own life, they will believe on the works of my hands being of value.
When I was younger I told a girl, “I would die for you”, and she corrected me, “why not live for me”?
Many quotes like this go over my head until experience leads me to the truth of the meaning. I can live. For myself. If I live, I can defend, I can speak to the memories. I can be one who knows and they can have faith that I know their goodness, even if the world seems against them.
Love of self is definitely paramount to all things. You may have my mind, it is inexhaustible in ideas and solutions, yet my heart can only beat for me. That is mine alone.
Again, Life is a journey, and the greatest advice anyone can give in how to live is “Know Thyself”.
Thank you for your View.
Life is strange.
In my last post, I was feeling horrible. Spiraling into everything that I saw that was wrong with me and my life. To the point where the night before this writing, it took every ounce of energy I had to not cut myself. I never have cut myself, deciding I love myself way too much to cause physical harm, but sometimes you crave a physical manifestation of emotional pain.
Today, I was speaking to my mother as she asked, “what’s wrong”. Instead of giving her the “i’m fine” lie, I told her, I am depressed and sad, and told her why. She recommended to me actions on my part to “fix” a situation. I already felt like I was doing a bad job at life so that did not help me.
A woman who will soon bare child messaged me later and asked how I was, I said I was depressed, and told her it just happens to my from time to time. Mostly I wait it out knowing, “This too shall pass”.
She tries to help me feel better, I know she cares in her way, but when I experience an emotion, i’m not looking for a way out. Im looking to engage them and fully understand ‘feeling’.
Most recently, Supaman messaged me on social media and offered me his guitar. His childhood acoustic that is marked with the symbolic ‘S’, superman’s symbol of Hope. He called me his brother and wants to see me succeed. That changed my mood.
I had to question for a moment in my foolish state of being sad, how I, a flawed inperfect human, can be received by another as someone of worth. First I am grateful. Second I am honored. And yet, I can’t help feeling like I do not deserve To be a part of this world, its society. Where did such an idea come from?
All in all, I do feel better. I will keep creating and finding what of me I can share with the universe.
I hate to take from another. And there is only so much I can give. But sharing is in abundance. Sharing is the dance if the universe in unending infinity. After all, the universe shares space with me, consciousness, energy, if it gave it, it would be less of itself and how is that infinite?
I kind of enjoy going through the waves of emotion as each time, I learn some new thing about myself. I enjoy observing the ups and the downs. The strength gained on the hills and the reflection possible on the valley.
I do not know what life is or where it should end up for me or anyone, but so long as I am alive, I will live.
Thank you for your view.
I hate my life.
overall. I cannot stand living. It hurts. Always.
It’s fathers day and all I can think of is how my father never wanted to touch me. He didnt bathe me, he awkwardly stood there gesturing to me how to clean myself. Underarms, groin, a quick wipe around the torso. Thats it.
How later in life he blamed me for going back to jail. Telling me “you were talking about your mother and it made me nervous”.
or how the lady he was living with had a son, and he asked me for marketing plans to promote the child getting proper care. While me, im supposed to just be ok.
I think of how he tells me, “you turned out better without me around”. He didnt even try to stay.
I think of how the guilt trips my mom puts me on had me ignoring living my own life trying to “do the right thing” where she would turn around and say “you didnt have to do any of that, I would have figured it out”.
how i’ve ruined every single relationship by feeling like im not worthy to be loved by anyone. So Id rather you hate me and live your own life.
im such a mess.
My only fear is dying alone. And thats where im headed.
ive only ever loved one person completely, and she’s marrying someone else.
my guitar is broken.
why the fuck should I stay alive? What else is there?
no ones gonna love me because i waver in loving myself.
no ones gonna teach me the male side of living at thirty years old already.
no woman deserves a man who doesnt know how to place himself in her life.
i deserve this. Im a sinner. A being that exists and it hurts.
i give up.
there were always good moments but if i am to die alone. Hurry up already. I cant tale my own life. But I wont stop anyone from taking it from me.
the world will spin. You will either have never known I existed or will forget and happily live your lives.
for me. I do not care.
i am set on not being convinced otherwise.
im sick of the lies people tell. Im tired of trying for people. And I barely want to try for myself.
Life, I dont wanna do it any more.
someone come release me.
You have my permission.
Yesterday, I walked. I left the house and decided I was going to walk all the way to manhattan. That was my goal.
I began my journey in the Bronx and walked south. I remembered a particular bridge that crossing it would lead me into the city as i’ve made this same trip by bike many times prior. However the exact locale was lost to me, so I followed my memory.
While I am out adventuring I refuse to use GPS to aid me. Part of an adventure is not knowing where you end up, but remembering how you arrived. For me this is the fun of it.
As I walked I was more south than I anticipated and ended up at a bridge that I was familiar with but was not what I wanted it to be. There is a park by thus particular bridge, and the amtracks and cargo trains run above the ground on a bridge of their own. This park is huge. So big in fact, there are about 6 full baseball fields with enough space for maybe 3 soccer games to happen in between. There is water surrounding a beautiful grassy sitting area and plenty of lay around space.
This is a place filled with peace.
After taking a walking break and sitting there for so long, I continued my walk across the long incline and up to the bridge. The narrow walk way made me slightly nervous, yet not as much as I used to be. I was able to continue walking in confidence without the fear that I would fly off into the sky or fall over into the water, not knowing how to swim.
Off this bridge led me to Queens. Which I hadn't realized was queens until I arrived. I remembered the area from a friend who used to live in the general area. Remembering that I could take the train into manhattan, my original goal, I decided to keep walking, following the train.
I walked for a time and had music energizing me along the way. When I came across another bridge. I know not the names of these bridges, but for some reason, I did not get on it. I walked to the right of its entrance and ended up at another beautiful park that was near water. Which is something I absolutely love. Water. Bodies of it.
I sat in this park planning my next move. Was I to go home? Continue to manhattan? What came next.
I looked to my right and saw another bridge. A smaller one and it didn't appear to be so far away. I decided, perhaps this would take me into manhattan, and began my journey reinvigorated.
As I walked through this park, I began to recognize it. It looked very similar to a park my brother had a function some time ago. I remember the food and drinks set up near tents as people listened to music and enjoyed their time. Even as I was lost, in my memory, I had been found.
Exiting that park and walking a distance I began ti cross this smaller bridge. I was not sure where it would take me, but I knew I was going somewhere, and the Skyscrapers of manhattan were just ahead of me. I continued to cross and came to a sign that read, “Welcome to Roosevelt island”. This took me aback a bit as that is a place I have never stepped foot on. All my life in this city and I have never walked on that particular island. Knowing how new it was to me, I kept going and decided to enjoy the stroll.
The island entrance, for pedestrians, is inside of a building that takes you downstairs and off the bridge. Inside this building there was a gallery of art. Another happy find in the city and I was impressed by the art I saw. A lot of it was unique and carried inspiring messages.
Continuing to the ground level, I entered onto the island and the first vibe I sensed was peaceful. People were strolling, minding their business, hanging with their friends. Wealth, too, was in the air. People seemed calm without worry and a lot less stress.
as the island is surrounded by water, there are several parks, if not one big surrounding park that covers the outer rim of this island.
Many places to sit and enjoy the air, sandwiched between two major parts of a city. A very intriguing concept as far as human settling. Yet, as I continued onward I felt a hint of worry. My thoughts began, “how do I get off this island” and “I dont wanna walk back that far, is there only one way off this island”?
There was not only the bridge. And to my dismay, the first exit option I witnessed was the tram. A big steel box that rolls along a few cable wires and parallels the bridge crosses into the city of manhattan. I am no fan of this method. It freaks me out to think of the worst.
As I focused my thoughts towards overcoming this fear to make the journey into the city, I noticed a train station and took solace in the fact I could use a transportation method I was comfortable with.
I sat for a time on a bench by the entrance and recovered my energy yet again. I went into a nearby store and acquired provisions, coconut water for hydration, and a protein cookie for my body to eat.
Overall I was satisfied with this endeavor and although I did not fully walk all the way from the bronx to manhattan, I found a new place and observed where I had never been before that day.
I truly enjoy taking walks and sitting in parks and learning who I am as a person and quite literally learning to be friends with myself. It is very enlightening.
Thank you for your View.
Artwork from roosevelt island gallery
I am truly passionate about freedom.
I know that does not coincide with our daily feeds or need to be entertained as we scroll for memes and things to relate to.
I simply cannot stand being lied to and manipulated.
I believe in free will and I believe that can only happen if we know the truth together.
Anything built on a lie will be as sand under a mansion.
I believe in solidarity, But not through the manipulation of our media.
Free will means we can work together and people can choose to help us or not.
It means we are catalyst to each others lives and in effect are able to have freedom of choice of what we want to do.
The same reasons people sought to escape the tyranny of religion way back when is coming to america today.
The institution of mask wearing and curfews, they seem to be trying to see how much we will take, and if we dare fight back for our true independence, they have the military ready to invoke fear as the people stand up for themselves.
I feel I have no time to jest and joke with the internet as I am a human being living in the free world.
I will fight for freedom again and again.
I do not hate My country.
All of our parents have sin in their past. what do you think of a nation that is one of the youngest and attempts wholeheartedly to adhere to the rights of every human to be as free as possible within a society?
We as a country are trying our best to be free. we are trying to get along as peaceful people, but the media would have you think human kind is violent and aggressive.
As fearful as any one individual may be of a Lion in the Jungle, one knows not to provoke the lion as if it has no interest in you it will be at peace.
The same is with America.
There are those who come here and use this country's free name to incite wars and division. but this is an entire continent, every state big enough to be its own country, and yet, somehow, our forefathers too every initiative to unite these divided states in to one UNITED STATE OF AMERICA. Not separate from the rest of the world, but working with the world.
Can we work together before we tear ourselves apart?
before we are not allowed to go for a walk at night to clear our thoughts without fear of arrest?
I say, if a neighbor had a mansion, would you be so amazed at his house you would ignore him burning down your own home?
As I take the time to recover and breathe and maintain a sense of calm within my mind, I have noticed that there are memories returning to me that I had for so long forgotten. Some are from the positive times and some are from the negative times, but all the memories are what make me completely me.
I feel that for so long I have denied my memories because the negative moments always seem to foreground most boldly. The truth is, I was scared. I was afraid to feel. Afraid to live my truth which is that I have no fear. What I do have is a respect for the environment and society that I am a part of.
Being fearless; with no leadership led me to do things like, run behind backing up cars as a child, because I knew I would safely be able to run from one side to the other. Respect is learning that doing things like that make other people feel fear, and their reactions were always something that stuck out to me. Perhaps my mind had become fearless when exploring the realms of thought as well. I remember having my first skateboard and as I was on my knees pushing around, I remember questioning how the earth turned while I moved and if everyone moved with the earth or if a step forward made the earth go backwards. Pretty complex for a 3 year old.
My memories are the pride of my being. Being able to think and remember an event has been an ability of mine for as long as I can, well, remember.
I remember a lot of happy moments that my mother was able to deliver to my youth. I remember my biggest birthday party where people came by and we played mini bowling in the hallway. I remember living in that building on Gun Hill Road and my first friend Joshua who lived just two houses down. I remember My mother's best friend who lived at the base level of a house next to mine. I remember the pizza shop, that is still there, with the brick walls and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles arcade machine.
As a child my mother would always take me to parks and we would play football or play with a Frisbee. From her I learned my father's favorite, handball. I remember wanting to impress him for when he returned by knowing how to do his favorite things. This brings to mind how he had this ghetto concrete barbell in the house. I was told by my mother never to lift it because it was uneven. Of course when she was not looking I gave it some slow cautious tries. I was never one to hurt myself, But I was one to try things. This led me to wanting to workout and be as strong as I imagined him to be. Yet, through it all, he never returned. Not as a father, and not as a friend.
My mother has been there for me as best she has been able for all of my life, and even when I lost my ability to live on my own she had a home for me to rest and recover. I do my best not to take her for granted and now that I am older, I would love to help her grow and see her value as much as she has done for me.
I can remember lots of things in my life. I suppose it would have to do with the way I tell myself to store and organize memories in my mind. I do not claim to remember every single instance all the time, but there is a type of history I can peruse mentally from an image. For example, looking at someone's face, I may be able to remember how we met or where depending on how aware I was at that time.
I will note that there is a small flaw in all this, and dealing with paranoia exposes this to me as I tend to have this forgetting of how I've met someone and if I can actually trust them. I believe time spent does not equate to knowledge of a person. Sitting in silence watching T.V every day for a year will tell you no more about a person than how they look or what they laugh at. We do not know their inner thoughts, capabilities, real likes or dislikes.
I believe in the complexity of people. I believe in the vast unique layers of being a human being.
To conclude, I want to say Protect your memory as well as you protect your energy, your children, and your own bodies. Memory is all we have that separates us from the animals.
It is not only the good memories, but the bad that allow us to be complete and learn and grow.
Thank you for your View.