The Jumbled Head Piece
I sit here weakened by the world around me. Are we a product of our environment? I think so. Do we have a say in whom we become? Probably… Definitely. A man can choose any path, but once he begins travelling down one, the current of that tide can sweep him far away, and fast. To divert from that path later may not be so easy. It might require all the muscle strength in his body to transcend that chosen path onto another. Sometimes a man can be so consumed by the person that he was, the person that he is, that even though he may see the rightness in changing, the act of transition feels like rolling onto a bed of fire and thorns. Knowing this, I wish to endure the changes that need to be made. I will endure them, come what may, because I must purge these negative sentiments out of my mind, because I must become whole and full and honest, because I must live this life in a way that is a service to humanity and to the earth, in service to God. I must become free again, free as a man, as a human, as a spirit and soul. I have lived my life to this very moment only passively, the avoidance of conflict has always been my main priority. Where I see signs of trouble or aggression I do the minimal to abate it, to calm all nerves, often throwing myself in front of others in a self-mocking manner to distract from whatever chaos I feel is about to take place. I have had much love shown towards me in my life, a man could not ask for more from those he surrounds himself with. Equally, I have faced betrayal, scorn, looks of disgust and disappointment and I have looked evil in the eye and stood in fear as it held my gaze.
I grew up in a suburban neighborhood not far from the middle of the city to a wealthy family. My father was and still is a successful construction manager of a multi-national corporation and a man who had made all of his winnings through hard work, perseverance, and intellect. As a child I was always thrilled by his presence but also rather shy of him. My clearest memory of him is where he is clothed in his white pressed shirt and black pants and polished leather shoes, either sitting at breakfast before work, or home in the evenings after, always on the phone discussing something or the other, one hand twirling at his beard. We spoke very little to each other, him asking me about school, me trying to think of something clever to ask him about the world. I didn’t realize it then but a large portion of my time spent with him involved me trying to impress him with something. I rarely succeeded. We would all sit together in my parents bedroom at night, my sister, mother, himself and I, and discuss whatever came to our minds. More often than not, the conversation gravitated towards the existence of aliens, what we wanted to be, places we wanted to visit, and God. My father was not a religious man, though at the request of his own mother we would have sermons and visit the nearby temple as often as possible. He never said he didn’t believe in God, but he never said that he did. I spent a great deal of my time curious about this man but never knowing the right questions to ask him. I still don’t.
My fondest memories as a child were the times spent with others. I met a boy in my pre-school days who I grew fond of and remains a friend to this day. Together we experimented with child-like fantasies, we played together, watched films together, came up with little codes and secrets and handshakes to throw the world off our scent. He was an intelligent creature, that much I became sure of quite early on. He had a knack for assembling Lego pieces into shapes I could not imagine to create myself and I often envied him for it. Perhaps this was what drew me to him most, that he seemed to have an unbarred thrill for tiny details. That, and his ridiculous sense of humor. In him I found the perfect distraction to the typical home life of a wealthy suburban boy; 3 meals a-day, school, homework, cartoons, video games, but never books. No, I went nowhere near a book outside of the classroom until my mid-teenage years. I’m quite sure the first book that I ever picked up but couldn’t put down was Roald Dahl’s Boy which was given to us as school literature for our English class and which I had never intended on loving so dearly; never before and very rarely since has the written word filled me with such joy as that book did when I read it at the age of fourteen. I then inadvertently, and thanks to the chiding of my mother, stumbled upon J.K. Rawlings now modern classic Harry Potter series which both stretched my imagination to dizzying new heights and reassured me that the pains that I felt were not foreign to others my age. I also learned from this book that hope is the only thing that can save a damaged heart. At the age of twelve I found my first love, a Malay girl in my classroom whose existence for some reason I could not fathom and who seemed to erase all other figures in a room whenever she was present. She was fair, almost pale, with bright brown eyes and long lashes. She had a strong jaw for girl, and a kind sort of grin, and her scent, which changed now and again as she experimented with different perfumes, had the irresistible effect of dulling and ignited all of my senses as she walked past. I was incredibly shy as a child and it was only by sheer luck that I managed to grab her attention enough that she considered me a potential candidate as a partner. I had very un-heroically defended her honor in the face of an older boy whom she was seeing at the time and word of this spread to her friends who informed her. Out of sympathy and a sense of civic duty perhaps she decided to give me a chance at a relationship. I lasted one week before I was told that I did not have what it took to be a partner to another girl. A lesson admittedly I still have not quite learned. But oh what excitement, what thrill and sheer adrenaline and passion, to feel ones heart swell and throb so deeply for another. I say it was my first experience with love, though others may say it was infatuation. I believe that any external thing that can cause such feeling to well up inside another is at the very least, the prologue to love, its introduction into the human spirit. Books, lovers, music, movies and God I feel tend to foster love in others most effectively. A university lecturer of mine who taught the subject Asia Pacific Region Since 1945, a major in economics once said to our classroom that Romance is dead. Romance to the modern world would involve candlelight dinners, expensive menus, long walks on the beach and other such trivial acts of devotion amongst lovers. He said to us that mankind has been deluded into thinking this, when in truth Romance used to be a term that described a mans love and relationship with something that he considered to be of infinite value, which he would dance with and sing to, shepherd and guide and grow and nurture, which he would tango with till the end of his days. Romance would have been a word to describe an art such as architecture, it would discuss the beauty of details perfected and arranged in appealing form, the perfect meeting point between physical, structural brilliance and the imagined reality that birthed it. Romance could be seen in the movement of a dancers feet as they carve shapes in the sand they come to rest on, in her relationship with the wooden floor her feet beat against furious and gracefully and her adoration of the musical stage. Romance is the phenomenon whereby two entities are locked within one anothers worlds and beat to each other steps in perfectly timed rhythm.
I consider myself a naturalist, and by this I mean that I believe that mankind though it has grown in intellect and knowledge, has progressed to such heights that we extend life, that we are able to traverse continents within hours, even that we are able to predict the movement of objects in space, has somehow degraded in its intrinsic and fundamental knowledge of the existence and significance of life itself. It is my opinion that certain naturally occurring information, almost locked in the thinking box of spirituality in a sense, has been overlooked in mankinds pursuit of the furtherance of its own desires. Perhaps I am misguided on the matter. Nevertheless, I will continue to explain the premise. I know that I am not alone in thinking that societies collective valuation system has somehow diminished or at the very least diminished such that we have compromised many ideals and moralistic notions for the sake of personal gain. By personal I mean in ones personal sphere, and not limited to the individual person themselves, this would include close family and friends. Such is the mentality that transcends and expands beyond the family and friends figure into the nation figure ultimately. Countries are primarily geared to ensuring their own nations needs and will prioritize those over the needs of others. Here I seem to be going into an anti nationalist argument which perhaps should be left out of the present argument for now. Simply put, when I encounter a dilemma in my present life I tend to wonder what early man would have done in the same position i.e. What would have been the natural course of action? Of course again here the word natural is a kind of trap because even something that is unnatural, if repeated over an extended course of time, may later become naturalized. What im trying to get at here is that I believe there is a kind of ancient, eternally flowing knowledge base or rather understanding base, a kind of wisdom that has spilled over generation after generation and exists and is allowed to exist because anti-matter like substance that fills the space between living things. Natural wisdom that is accessible to modern man but not available on modern mediums such as the internet or even literature. Someone just screamed Avatar and I make no argument against the fact that I have seen it, I did like it and images of it are conjured when I write what I am writing. I simply view it as information, the positing of an idea and one which I believe resonates with every individual on the planet on some level. Could it not be that our minds, able to construct infinitely towering structures from nothing, able to code programs that calculate millions of problems within seconds, that all this information has a kind of leak, a kind of blowhole invisible to the naked eye that, like a factory, releases this substance X as “floating information” which in itself may contain no particular information of any use, that is to say that the word bread would not be transferred from my head to yours, although this may again be possible but that’s another tangent argument, rather it would contain the substance force of information. So instead of giving you a particular thing to think about, my brain is giving your brain the ability to think and even encouragement to think, simply by my act of thinking. I remind you that there is a purpose to everything and vice versa inadvertently, everyday. Because if we didn’t have that information on a regular basis, sanity would collapse along with purpose, and we would all simply walk into the sea and end everything. So perhaps there is this driving force that we are yet unable to fathom. Or maybe not.
There are so many layers to this world we live in, this life we live through. So many complementing and conflicting elements, marriage and divorce, denial and acceptance, covalent and non-covalent bonding, darkness and light, cold and heat, sound and silence. There is so much beauty but there are so many walls that blind us to it, so many windows that have been walled up. I’m desperately trying to figure this out. To push my mind into the place that it needs to be. But I lack the conviction. Where does one find conviction?
Could it be that the universe is a based upon a particular logic or formula or set of rules which permeate and perfect the entire environment of present existence? Take for instance the concept of the golden ratio, the idea that all shapes and figure, all aesthetic appearances can be divided symmetrically to the same ratio regardless of the difference in the plethora of other qualities such entities may inhibit/exhibit. Something as simple as a code in some universally connected DNA that determines that water should be liquid, that it should be fluid and embody the shape in which it immerses itself, that it should taste so pure when it is drank, etc. That a God decided upon it in his own personal discourse and made it so. But what if life was not micromanaged as much as we think it was? That as opposed to assembling individual parts and allowing them to grow based upon unique individual codes which determine how life will evolve, a single unique and universal code independent of all others runs through binding all other codes to this single rule which could be interpreted as the golden rule of creation, in that all worldly things must contain within its programming and predetermined purpose a particular x factor which smoothens out the edges and binds it to this world, gives it significance and in a solid way embeds it into present consciousness and reality. Think of it as a binding and lubricating substance, flowing through all things, eternally passing information and sensation throughout all things. This substance is almost moral in its makeup and design, it seeks to keep life in clean, smooth and uninterrupted motion, whilst maintaining motives of equilibrium within the forces and masses of the universe. Human intuition is one vague but encouraging observation of the human condition that could be tied in to this means of thinking. Again, very broad based and likely to be passed off as hippy excitement but still, having recently been exposed to sources depicting the importance of networking, cooperation, social integration and greater moral accountability for all, these half-baked rambling and rants could potentially serve some greater purpose. One can only hope.
It would not of course be a moral logic but rather a perfectly scientific one, in that life is most effective when it occurs naturally, when it is disturbed minimally, and when the interplay between life’s forces and masses is smoothly coordinated and unobstructed. An ant farm is only an enjoyable thing when its population is allowed to interact with its environment, to grow, to prosper. Further and far more importantly, an ant farm functioning at its best with minimal outside involvement, in itself, becomes a entity of its own, at the very least tasked with the purpose of generating and consuming energy cyclically, and as an organism tasked with the generation of carbon dioxide consumed by vegetation which produce more oxygen and so on etc.
The human minds ability to imagine can be his saving grace. We wonder what strict utility it might hold, what actual use it has in the real world, how does it save a persons life? Well imagination or rather a brain that lacks inhibition simply has greater capacity to calculate outcomes to scenarios i.e. problem solve which can be crucial in a dangerous situation. Imagine separately now that a person finds himself relegated from the protection of a spacious shelter to a smaller one. One might assume the mover might feel more cramped in the new home as he has grown used to the old one. However the human mind allows our imagination to bend reality to suit our present needs. Thus this man simply need imagine or convince himself that this sized abode is all he really needs, and comfort is restored. We are in fact versatile creatures. This proposition should have the result of fostering world peace and unity if we assume that the mind can bend in ways to accommodate one another, to remove differences and drop to the floor all personal misgivings that hinder cooperation and communion. However this does not occur but perhaps not because the hypothesis is incorrect but rather because this versatility of the human mind has been neglected in modern society.