personal note #99

A friend of mine, Marek Mateusz Narożniak, writes a blog which I follow quite closely. He frequently shares bits of wisdom, short or long, that I read with great interest. Recently, he posted this note and I felt strongly compelled to translate it into English - I thought it should be shared with more people than it would be otherwise if left in its original Polish language.

I am somewhat uncertain as to whether I can add anything meaningful with a comment. After all, the matter discussed by this note already eludes any possible words.

The original note in its original language can be found at this location.

First, he decided to limit the power of his will, surrender to his ego, forsake his divinity and perfection for futility and illusion, and all that remained were tears, despair, everything else is silence. Constantly lost, still far away from his true self. Addicted to naming and terming. Isolated and lonely.

Who cares whether God exists, what does it matter how your country is called, whether you eat rice or bread, whether you have normal or slanted eyes, how your skin color is called and whether it is similar to others or not. Who cares about politics, a bunch of liars and fools, totally and helplessly attached to their brief identities. What's the difference if someone else is the president? The prime minister?

You have no idea how much of a speck of dust you are, a blink of an eye in the face of what the universe is. All you care about are elements of your microscopic world, completely unnoticeable from the perspective of all that is due to its insignificance.

You are afraid that you'll disappear, that you will stop being. You are a slave, but you do not serve any secret brotherhoods, any secret (or overt) monarchs, you don't serve your parents, your boss at work, you don't serve your teachers or friends.
Your ego is your master. You give in to it entirely. You can oppose anyone, you can free yourself of anything, but you are only truly afraid of losing your identity. This is the only step you will never find the courage to take, the only step you are too weak, too small to take.

You are so asleep and unaware. You can have beautiful cars, a perfect life partner, you can visit the most beautiful places on this tiny planet, you can own anything, others can serve you, you can never have to do anything by yourself again, but even all those things put together cannot be compared to one second of feeling your own heartbeat, to one true, alive breath, the one you will never feel, because you're a slave to a master that you cannot see, that exists within you without your knowledge, that has convinced you that you are him.

Being truly alive and free, being one with the universe, that is something no word can describe. That is a feeling that drives the painter to tear apart his canvas and burst into tears, unable to paint it, aware that he cannot share it with anyone, since other slaves cannot perceive it.

Noone can give you this, you cannot earn this through hard work, no blessing can help - the wisdom I speak of cannot be written in any book, cannot be even shared through words. The truth is so slippery that no word can grasp it. This whole false civilzation is based upon words. Law is everywhere, you have so many dictionaries, body-builders can train their muscles with them, dictionaries are useful only for that.

I am powerless as well, I can talk endlessly, I can't convey anything to you, you won't understand a thing anyway, slave. You won't understand anything until you disappear, until you vanish into nothingness, you won't see anything nor feel anything. You are a living corpse, your biochemistry reeks, you disgusting abnormality of evolutuion, grow up to that which exists, look up to the stars instead of looking into your worthless books which are about to turn to dust.

dance with the devil

and I dance with the devil
and prance and sing with him
to the primal beat of my heart
our frantic steps bring us close
and then apart again
he cannot corrupt my soul
he cannot bring me down into the abyss
he knows and he must dance
for I know his true name

but I must not miss a step
I need to balance on the line
I cannot waste this chance
to prove the devil wrong
I must keep dancing
until the music ends
then I will walk away, free

I need to post more here...
so here's something I wrote on a bus trip to work.

sexuality again

It's a topic I return to way too often, maybe. I think I actually wrote about this before, but I've found new ways to describe the problem that I keep sensing so often.

It's in the way we talk about sex, it's in all those euphemisms, all those descriptions, you know - sexual thoughts being dirty or even wicked, for example. Discussions or laughs about sexuality being perceived as crude, low-brow.

At the core of this lies some ancient notion that sex is wrong - and it's wrong to delve too far into our own sexuality. Isn't it high time that we began to consciously purge this notion from our lives? Open our eyes and see how it has been creeping for ages into our ways of thinking, our vocabulary, planted firmly in these strange corners of our minds through a sort of societal gestalt.

Of course, in these days human sexuality is becoming a far more open topic, but it's still not something completely natural to us. There are still inhibitions in place. The topic still demands some respect due to how special love and sex are (or, at least, should be) in our lives, but respect should not be confused with fear.

Here's something that touches on the subject as well, a compilation from Bill Hick's sketches.

takeahnase

The elements sure are harsh this year, aren't they? In fact, they have been quite harsh for a while now, since winter, I believe.

When I reach back into my memory, I recall mostly bland weather. I recall a thoroughly rainy summer that I spent in the country, at the cottage my grandmother owns. Most winters were uneventful, the temperature rarely went below -5 degrees Celsius and snow was rarely seen. Summers were also moderate - rarely did the temperature soar above 30 degrees C.

Long before that, we would of course complain about heat or frost, but these were occasional events, seemingly receding...

It all started, I think, with the incredibly harsh winter we experienced at the beginning of 2010. Not only was it fierce, it was also incredibly persistent, hanging around even during March. April brought us a short spring. Summer was in full force around the end of May... The intense rains combined with the melting snow resulted in floods all across Poland - even Warsaw was flooded by Vistula.

And now? Intense waves of scorching heat that last for whole weeks. Today finally saw a change of weather - a massive storm came around (come to think of it - most thunderstorms this year are incredibly fierce). One of our networking devices was actually damaged when the blackouts came, after a deafening thunder struck nearby.

Even as I write this, heavy clouds hang overhead, threatening rain any second. And it's still hot...

I wrote about this strange tendency because I find it somewhat fearsome - a mark of the interesting times we live in. Will it eventually yield to another period of moderate weather or will it continue spiraling out of control? We'll have to see.

different worlds

I haven't posted in ages. I couldn't find the time and motivation to share my thoughts here. It will probably occur increasingly rarely. I was expecting this...

But now, triggered by something I said in my guild chat, I decided to put this thought out here.

I have an acquaintance. A friend... I wish there was an equivalent for the word "kolega" in English. He trains at the same dojo as me. However, he refrains from our activities and he doesn't really grasp Aikido.

From my many talks with him, I have come to realize that he presents a certain worldview that I observe - in a way you would observe a wild animal out of its natural habitat.
His obsessions are partying, liberal amounts of alcohol and fucking girls. I am not exaggerating when I say this. He is indulgent, he lives from party to party. He is obsessed with building an image of manly strength. He always carries arms with him - a baton, perhaps a knife. He smokes cigarettes, of course, and prepares his own wine.
When I tried to explain to him how I felt about these things, he wouldn't understand. I frequently felt that we operate in completely different worlds. I am an alien being to him, with strange ideas such as having a steady girlfriend (I don't have one, but I digress), not partying every week and being careful with drugs (alcohol and pot).
About the first one - he genuinely asked me this: "Seriously? You want to be with a chick for long?" I was like, well, yes, I do - and he found this answer somehow dismaying.

He is living proof to me that it is, indeed, possible to meet someone who is completely alien to your world in every way. He reminds me that this bewilderment is mutual. I am somewhat surprised that he actually tolerates me despite how different I am. This is a good side of his. I could've met someone like this who would have simply rejected me entirely.

organic

Have any of you ever stopped for a while to contemplate this:

Have you looked at, say... a pet animal, a tree, a house plant - and realized that what you have before your eyes is a little factory, a little machine that locates and obtains all the required materials to build itself?

Any plant, from grass to enormous trees, starts from a little seed, somewhere between a small grain and a coconut, generally something you can hold in your hands. Some start from microscopic spores or zygotes. This also goes for mushrooms.
Any animal starts, similarly, from a small zygote.

And from the very beginning, the first cell of the organism begins executing a program coded in its DNA which tells it what nutrients should be absorbed and what form should they take.
Through complex algorhytms and reactions, the organism obtains everything it needs from its environment, be it a mother's womb or soil or organic matter, creates appropriate tools to process matter and operate in a material world.

As you gaze at the organism - be it plant, animal, mushroom or even a human being - do you ever realize that you are staring at an achievement of technology, a miracle of life?

It's worth stepping aside from the beaten path of mundane thoughts and mundane lives to contemplate such things, even if for just a while. Yet there are so many people completely uncapable of that. They just tread onward, unable to stop and gaze in wonder.

feast of sorrow

the heads of a nation roll
upon this hallowed ground
to find solace among peers
and while another sun rises
above their carcasses
the vultures gather
swoop down
and tear into the tragedy
feasting on the bitter tears
exposing the delicious sorrow
everyone turns to watch
and their hearts are stolen
by a callous pathos
that grows towards insanity

This shit is getting way out of hand. We all know what happened in Smolensk (assuming that we are living human beings). Now they want to bury our President and his wife among Polish national HEROES in the Wawel castle's necropolis in Cracow.

Lech Kaczynski, however, was by no means a hero. He was the President, he died in a tragic accident on his way to pay tribute to the victims of Katyn mass murders. Apparently, though, that makes him worthy of joining the ranks of dead heroes and ancient kings. Why? Because of what I just listed, which apparently is enough to qualify.

By the way, something curious for the Poles reading this:
The prophecy of a girl who had annoying dreams of the future.
Note the date. We've got April and the nation is mourning...