In a world, in 2019, where opinion is king I have learned that my opinion is unwarranted.
My life, the hell which has led me to today, has been nothing more than a bad situation followed by an impossible one, leading to the unknown, all coming together to slap me across the face with reality’s strong and old hand.
What I have always wanted was not to teach, was not to instruct, was not to instill anything, but to share the life happenings of my own in a fashion where others could perhaps use those instances of a life long ago passed to direct theirs with the knowledge of what was and could possibly be if the same choices are made.
Philosophy teaches that no two humans could be the same. The direct impact on everything that occurs, a sight, a sound, an opportunity, a meal, a secret, worldly possession, an opportunity missed or otherwise, a decision, something heard, or the myriad of all other things that impacts the individual in a very personal way all summing up to the person that becomes. That leads me to understand that no other person will ever have to endure the life of pain, agony, and anguish I endure, as that is nothing more than the culmination of all that mentioned fulfilled in this I call my life. That in itself should be enough to deter an intelligent individual from attempting the pursuit of something in relation to any of the mentioned. The mere attempt to do any one thing will inevitably be the cause or motive for another to occur and thus impart something on the person and persons involved all leading to the conundrum that dictates that my mere action or inaction can be enough for something other to occur or not.
However, love happens, love appears, and love permeates all our decisions with worry, concerns, or the desire for betterment. It is philosophically baseless in that love seems to overrule morality, any judgment, and the finality that comes with everything that exists. The love for family, or any other person or thing, is a blinding source of temptation, error, and imperfection that rules our lives. We know what is true and right, but yet where love is concerned all that knowledge is but a painting on a wall that while it looks aesthetically pleasing we have no idea what it really means.
Thus, all I wanted in love, was to share some of those happenings in an effort to guide future attempts from anyone involved to swerve away at the possibility of incoming happenings. Does this then mean that I was trying to guide a person through life, or that I was trying to make their life a life not their own, or perhaps through them make the sewer that is my life somehow bearable? While that was never the intention, sometimes we do not fully understand the motive with which we intend something, nor do we ever truly understand the outcome; that is to say we apply a memento mori shroud over the things others do which we do not understand in order to either have that thing be their scapegoat if we care about them, or their fall if we do not care.
That is nothing but a plight I imagine. One which encapsulates what I feel about lost opportunity by those who dare not listen to one more word I say, and those who would actually seek it; yet I do not know of the latter, not in person, intellect, or imagination. Yes, I could imagine there being an audience for my rants, as I have come to understand them to be judged as, the same way I can imagine fairies flying by while dragons the size of building swerve in glee in the sky. Both would be as unreal as the other for imagination is nothing more than what we want not yet bestowed upon reality. Do I mean there could be dragons doing such acrobatics as I posit? Yes I do, perhaps made of leather and wood, or some light alloy. Weren’t flying machines the fancy of someone’s imagination once? Aren’t there today plans to travel to the planet Mars? That is because once in the imagination, one could say that reality could only follow.
Those are some of the premises I used when attempting to impart my knowledge on those I love.
As a young boy I left home, ran away. The poor decision making, the things that led to it, the things that ensued, the outcome of it all, are things that I carry with me and could by my best intentions perhaps serve to someone other as a tool to understand someone they love as they go through a similar happenstance. It is meant to guide as I speak it or write it, nothing more.
I hallucinate. From the image of a dog, to the sounds of children, passing shadows where there is no one, and much more. I wish there was someone who could sit and listen to how that affects me. I studied briefly about neurology, dream psychology, and perception. I have followed up on my own by reading published studies, my own travails with migraines, and books like Phantoms in the Brain and others that shine a light on the many ways in which humans interpret life given their unique happenings. I know it is not real, but it affects me deeply that I have no one I can talk to about it, and I try to share that in order to express how I believe merely listening can be such a powerful tool. But I fail miserably.
Once again, in trepidation of my life, stumbling over the deep depression I find myself in, having to understand that while I want to converse, there is no one that truly understands the meaning of what I say merely because no questions are ever asked. To understand, one must inquire, because everything we know is affected by the knowledge we carry, and the brain wishing to make sense of any and all data, applies what it carries in store to all acquired knowledge whether it is visual, tactile, olfactory, savoured, auditory, or otherwise. That all affects what is trying to be imparted and without questions one could not find how the mentioned created the thought now shared by the person who does so.
Yes, I understand. What I know is nothing to someone living in today’s society because the circumstances are different, because the world in which they live has changed dramatically from last year to this one, let alone decades, because their knowledge alone is enough to dictate certain realities, and most importantly because the decisions they make are their own and should be respected.
I harbour nothing, but all, yet a miniscule glimpse, and in all knowledge. I speak of my life as a historian of a World War, as an Anthropologist about the inner happenings of a society, as a psychologist about the possible ills and solutions to a dilemma, or as a doctor about developing viruses that have changed with time. There is nothing more than the explanation, beyond that my opinion does not matter.
