Take nothing at face value. See through the sur-face. See through the ripples. Rest with the truth of this moment. No matter the content it’s the context of your engagements that manifests in your experience. No matter their content it’s the context of your comments that determines the interpersonal trajectories involving you.
See through the bitchiness of women, see through the antagonism of colleagues, see through the heavy moods of loved ones, see through their trans-generational, trauma-induced compulsions to hurt and feel hurt, see through the ingratiating comments of your fans, see through your adverse and elated reactions—feel them, embrace them, fully, rest in them, struggle with ease—nothing’s a big deal.
You say that you’re heartbroken over ’’moving on’’ because you’ve grown truly fond of the forms—the places, the faces—you’ve encountered. But let’s be honest: do you get as attached to plants too? Do you feel dejected when you see a blooming flower in April and think about the fleeting nature of your encounter?—Now, is this a silly comparison? Why? What is the extent of the difference? Isn’t it but all about forms? forms that you can appreciate for their unique flair or fail to do so. One thing’s for sure, we go easy on the plants because they cannot engage in our drama, but when it comes to people we turn into weird, needy little desperate Gollums clinging, grasping, claiming and demanding—no matter how passively—we proceed, in effect, to project the love that we are onto theirform—their peculiar face and their bodily rhythms, gestures, postures and style of engaging—because we expect them to be someone for us so we can get to be someone for them.
There are the faces around that we all are, faces, already fading, about to be forgotten faces, blooming, withering and vanishing sea waves of faces, my face and your face to be lost sooner or later we are to lose no matter how hard we try to save it on facebook, from humiliation and utter oblivion, always already fading from the face of the Earth, every single face you ever face faces to be replaced, by other faces, as our faces have replaced the faces flowering before us, under the sun, nothing special,
Do you see?
Do you see them now?
Do you feel the love you actually feel for all of them? The faces up the streets, in the shops, in the parks and on the trams. The faces at work and the faces at home. The faces from the past, opposite, behind and next to yours, the newborn faces. Out and about. Take a look. Variations on a theme. Beneath all these faces we all share the same essence. Underneath the myriad faces there is only one sameone there.
nothing stays, on the face of it
What remains, in the end, nothing else remains but awareness, of this moment, above and in front of all the toyful joys and the soulfull sorrows of the person who is losing everybody and everything, slowly and surely, all that it—as an I—has ever attained or missed and all that it has ever grown fond of and loved, sooner or later, falls away, and then the truth meets the truth… this heart is breaking and oozing gooey pain at the thought of my parents fading, at the thought of an ex and the countless unpursued prospects blending into the impersonal mass of the female flesh I’m so mesmerized by day by day: nothing remains that I could hold on to, nothing that I can grasp, nobody, noone, nothing to fixate on, nothing that fix(at)es, nothing that grounds me, nothing to write about really, all the writing blurs into noise, another iteration of the same old, same old, everything pixelates, with me in the middle of it all, alive, a heart, ready to burst, or stop, almost, for real, and it’s beating on, for it’s only the mind that is blown away by the overwhelm called truth
Let your fac(ad)e crumble and reveal the empty interior.
Let the IMAGEs [opinions, views, thoughts, beliefs, internal commentaries, memories, reminiscences, feelings, facts, etc. about yourself, other people, the world, as well as the attendant sense of guilt, loss, shame, inadequacy, anxiety, inferiority, regress, progress, mission, success, superiority, etc.] that fill in the gaps and contract the flow of perception melt and leak away, and reveal the world again and again—as quickly as they congeal.
It’s a transaction. People reward superficial stuff on social media because they want to stay superficial themselves. We long to belong to a fold. What we give is what we get. External approval is the easy way out of the fact of solitude. But isn’t this totally reasonable? Stuff may not be true but nevertheless it’s still real. We are just humans. We are the straying lambs of God.