The Milgram Experiment

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milgram_experiment

It would be interesting to do further research on this (if it were legal). It's also interesting how many people will simply sit and watch as a neighbor is being mugged, gun to the head, killed. Pretty amazing stuff, mankind. Groupthink. Group polarization. The term sheeple really does fit. Some actual topics to research today.

Halloween, fun with the devil, and how to disappear.

Fun stuff. Indian chic with some pretty sweet body paint...dammit. It is cool right? No??? Well whatever. Despite the costume, my constant act is (however) quite amusing, entertaining, and always enchanting. Because none of it, of course, is at all real. People always fall for a lie before they accept the truth. Just like we like to listen to gossip before we actually want to find out the truth. We, human beings, love all that is fake. We love to imagine. Living outwardly with my thoughts and emotions, I don't think I've ever confused people quite this much. But, I love every second of it.

"Watching a peaceful death of a human being reminds us of a falling star; one of a million lights in a vast sky that flares up for a brief moment only to disappear into the endless night forever." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (psychiatrist, author)

I am somewhere else right now. Somewhere distant. Somewhere fallen, quiet, out of reach. From just about everyone. Not worth looking for or searching for. Not worth rescuing or setting sail for. Not at all. Because I keep just enough distance to be seen, but never caught. I like this place because it is sweet torture. Dancing with, embracing, kissing, and always holding on tightly to it; pain is something I'll always love. Having such a love affair is addicting. All I can think about is feeling more and more distant. Running far from the ships that have set sail. Running. I love running. Who am I? I run. Nike. Dammit. What do I like to do? Act. Play the chameleon. I can be whatever anyone wants me to be. Crazy. Laid back. Pensive. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Funny. Whatever. Play the chameleon, I disappear. That's who I've always been. I am too much. Simply too much.

cha·me·leon (k-mlyn, -ml-n)n.

1. Any of various tropical Old World lizards of the family Chamaeleonidae, characterized by their ability to change color.

2. See anole.

3. A changeable or inconstant person:

“Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there.” Eric Hoffer

I don't want to think. Brain waves = _________________
Or feel.

I remember standing upon my rooftop years ago. My little weird place to retreat from all the shit in my life. It's odd...the feelings of being empty at 16 return to me at 23. Anyway. On that rooftop, I used to love to stand at the edge and look down. I never contemplated jumping (well...perhaps I did for the curiosity of it...because I like to think of weird shit like death). More than anything else, it was the thrill of being on the brink of something dangerous.

I remember taking off on runs at 2 in the morning, running for miles and miles on nothing. Scared my parents to death. Down dark roads. No food in my stomach. The whole time ignoring the fact that my body wanted to shut down. I forgot about that. Until now of course. I just don't give a shit what my body is feeling. I was and I am on the brink of something dangerous. Fascinated by being close to death and having the mental control to let myself get very very close - but not to the point of letting go. Scary thing is, is that I've been warned about this. This entire moment in time, what I'm doing to myself, and to others. I made a promise to God that I'd never do this to myself again. I felt a clear response to my prayer.

I'm not meant to be loved or trusted by anyone. I've said it many times...I should not ever be trusted. I only end up hurting the people that love me. Often times, I don't care if I hurt others. I am not good inside. I enjoy making myself numb. That's no fun for anyone else.

Perhaps I am just selfish. An accurate statement, I'd say.

"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
E. B. White

Crossroads

I am so fortunate to have come to a place in my life where I finally see the two roads Robert Frost once described.

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;	5
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,	10
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.	15
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.	20

The road less traveled makes all the difference. I knew that many years ago. Before I even got out of high school. Somehow, I allowed my decisions to take me down the traveled path. The one that gets worn down easily. The one that some people travel by for security and safety. Because the outcome is clear. The road doesn't change much - it's predictable.

I guess I let the years begin to turn me into someone different, someone a little less alive, someone quiet, without much expression except maybe a smile, laugh, maybe someone fun to be around. I feel some of my bridges breaking, some of my walls collapsing. Definitely not all of them...I am a work in a progress...growth is a constant process. Change and renewal. Strength and survival, even in the worst of circumstances.

Where it is dangerous, most people would never go...but in these places, sometimes dark twisted areas where little love can be felt and sadness seems to overwhelm the spirit, we grow. We learn. Wisdom can not be taught at an institution. Wisdom can only be achieved by experience. Many many people are intelligent. I can think of...many. But, people who are wise? I can count them on a couple fingers.

Looking down the road right now - it is so uncertain. It's foggy. It's twisted. It's sort of scary. But, I love it. It lures and fascinates me.

“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's odd that I spend the majority of my time worrying about the present, the future, where I'm going, etc. If only I could reach inside and turn on that little light that used to shine when I was young. I've tried looking, reaching into my heart, but the path is blocked (maybe it's just uncontrolled, chaotic, barbed, very sharp...maybe I just don't want to go there). Hate looking at this wall, whatever it is, or whatever it represents. I sometimes find bits and pieces of it, shattered on the ground...but I can never make out a face or a reason. Everything that I hope for, for all people; freedom, peace, inner sanctity and adoration, all of these things I keep away from my walls. It is something I'll have to break down, if I ever want to let "what lies inside" out of imprisonment.

Across the hills, across the sand, across, the ocean, across the universe

I'll be.

Peace or something like it

"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day."

Rainer Maria Rilke
Letters to a Young Poet


I think that this is the exact reason I never seem to finish anything...and have handfuls of unfinished projects. I lack this thing called patience. According to the chakra model, I have an overactive crown (sahasrara) which is considered to be the chakra of consciousness, empathy, and energy. However, my root (muladhara) or sense of grounding, is grossly underactive. I've never really felt "at home" and I've never been at peace feeling this way. Does this simply come down to thinking too much? I suppose the goal then, is to allow my mind a chance to be at peace not knowing, or as Rilke has said, "live the question."