Unabridged Manuscripts

Holding In an attempt of existing, And an occasional living, I am holding my breathe. Receding to my brace, Flailing to my loci of reality, I'm holding my breathe. Dearly. Closely. Warming my being incessantly. And when I breathe, I see the holding fading, The fog unveiling, My life unfolding. Saturday Sequel

Unfolding How do we fall apart? How do we fall in love? Where do we go when we feel pain? Where lies the specters of ache? The glimpse of a bliss? The crest of sadness? The edges of happiness? The realms of marvels? Between rising and falling, Crushing and thriving, The whelms and the peaks, Where lies, the resilience? The pose. The quest. The recess. In the untold mysteries of life, We unfold the untold, Redeem the lost, Rewind the present, And plot the rest.

What is attention? In 1890, William James famously proclaimed that ‘Every one knows what attention is’, but many subsequent arguments and thousands of experiments later it seems that no one knows what attention is, and there may not even be a single process to study. Attention is one of those aspects of consciousness that seems obvious and easy to understand at first sight but gets more peculiar the more you think about it. The most natural way to think about attention is as a spotlight that we can shine on some things while leaving others in the dark. Sometimes this spotlight is grabbed against our will by a loud noise or someone calling our name; but at other times we direct the spotlight ourselves, choosing now to think about the book we are reading and then to look out of the window for a minute or two. This power to direct attention is not only something we value, but it seems to be something that our consciousness does. It seems as though I consciously decide what to attend to, but do I really? 📖Excerpt from: Consciousness: A Very Short Introduction Tuesday Thoughts

Something More I know how to love when uneciprocated, Unrequited. Abandoned and depraved. Not that I'm a sadist, Nor that I chose to. My heart felt deprived Of the half life I endure. Aches I sustain in my bones. The pain I bear in my being Would say otherwise. I know how to love Even when unloved. I know to care Even when not taken care of. In love, I know I can find myself. But in hate, In the brims of bitterness, I know I can lose myself, Entirely. Completely. Wholeheartedly. If love can hold my universe together, Would I give it a chance for more? Do I hate the world or myself more? Do I intend to lose myself forever more? Or do I choose to believe love and something more? Just something more?

Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy mind, that the death of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air; and the death of air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant whither the way did lead, and how that reason being the by which all things in the world are administered, and which men are continually and most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which ordinarily they are most in opposition with, and how those things which daily happen among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them, and that we must not be as children, who follow their father's example. 📖Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Monday Thoughts

Warmth I let the sun kiss my face today. I let the warmth caress my skin The beams to blind my sight, The rays to hinder my being, The shadows to caricature my lashes. I retreated for the light, I stayed for the warmth. Craving the coziness, Detesting the vile power Embedded in the rays, I hesitated. I tripped. But, then, I stayed. The warmth cracked the cold, The ice cold in my heart, The shield of my being, The guard of my life. Braced with the glow, I uncovered myself for more, For more life, Forever more peace, And for less of death.

/outlive

O Pain, O Pain Pain is a random stranger you haven't met yet. You think you know it. You have seen the edges And the depth of it. The slithering aches you have experienced Makes you think you have fathomed The entire fold. The complete world. Yet, again it strikes. It surprises. It pierces. Unfold the untold. Like a random stranger, Like the one you haven't met yet, It startles. O pain, o pain, Would you cease to stun? Would you stop to ambush? Would you care to forlorn Our consciousness alone?

Just Sometimes Live! Just live, sometimes. If not, always. In death, we find The meaning of life, engraved. But it’s in life – We find the whimsy of the dread, The precipice of a grandeur, A cruise of pain, The path to peace, If not, joy. In whispers and sighs, Within the breeze of the days, The current raves. Life, itself, survives. Why, then, not live? If not always, Just sometimes. Late Night Thoughts