Reflections on Being Alone.

[Wessik]

Although I have achieved a productive day, I feel alone in my pursuits. I feel unable to express my thoughts, for fear that they will not be understood. It is a fact of life that a thought ill-understood is a thought ill-received.

I smile tiredly, when I think of the hypocrisy of certain elders that are close to me. They have long been unaware of my steady improvement. Or, if they are aware, then they fail to recognize their subsequent decline. I wonder, is the stubborn nature of the old so married to the denial of destruction?

Somehow, I know that I can not fault my fathers for their failures. Indeed, our fathers have forgiven many more from their sons. This alone, however, does not relieve the sting of solitude. How much more ineffective is this knowledge, then, when one stands not just alone, but also at the top?

Every one of us has their circle, for no man is compared with a stranger. How bad must it be, to stand above the rest? The thirteen people or so, that define your personal world? The "little fish" inside one's "little pond"?

Big fish may move to bigger ponds, of course. It is thus so, for the best of the best to move to higher proving grounds. And yet, by the end of all the struggle, he who wins it all must lose; He must lose his friends. His peers. And his elders.

But there may yet be hope for him atop the totem pole. His greatest award: to be surpassed by the young, the ambitious...below him.

 

[floatsamjetsam]

Only in realizing that we never really have anything, can we prevent ourselves from losing everything.

Ever single emotion, thought, object, horizon, season, day, night, person, or anything in this world that exists, also does not exist.

At the very pinnacle of something becoming in our universe, it is in turn uncreated, to be recreated anew, there is only an instant in which you might pin something as being, but only in that instant does it exist as you would describe it.

We put names to ourselves, yet we die, we change every year, every month, week, day, hour, minute and second. We change in every single possible way, yet we put names to ourselves, and label ourselves this or that, "That's corey, he's weird, don't talk to him", because I've been weird, surely I am weird, this is a constant right? Or is it that in the past which is now in the present, non existant, and in fact not even part of reality anymore, simply a memory in the mind.

You're alone now, one day you will not be.
You're alive now, one day you will be dead.
You are sad now, but one day you will be happy.

If there is anything that inspires more hope or joy in the world, it is that the world changes, and nothing is permenant. Everything is impermanent, things are changing every moment, most of us don't even notice it and spend far too much time living in the past which is no longer reality, or the future which has not yet been reality.