Wednesday, 6th March 2013

I see myself standing in a desert, I've been walking for thousands of years and yet I feel no closer to the goal (or even understanding what the goal is) than I did when I started. Occasionally signs appear that encourage me and seem to tell me that yes I am heading the right way, but too quickly the mirage disappears and I am once again staring at another sand dune next to a hundred others. I am tired, I am lost and yet I am immortal. I am obviously not the smartest being as I always seem to make the wrong choices or keep believing in the wrong things.
Part of me thinks that marrying myself to music was the worst decision I ever made because it locked me into a situation that should've been more flexible. If it weren't for music I could be living in India, or walking through the world anonymously as I have many times fantasied. I understand the argument that I could still do this, but stubborness kicks in and tells me that no, I cannot do anything until I have succeeded at my first aim. For if I cannot succeed at one thing than what chance do I have to succeed at another? No, This must be first!
In my teens I had strong deja vu, I had premonitions and a certain primitive psychic sense, but I managed to destroy those by cigarettes (I believe nicotine, or other drugs in tobacco inhibits psychic gifts), alcohol and general misuse of my body and mind. I also feel like I wasn't given much of a choice as to function as 'normal' in this society I felt I had to sacrifice many of my natural inclinations and reactions. My family generally gave the impression that to conform was the right thing to do, so as a child I tried my best to do that. I felt abnormal and so would teach myself to act as others did. It was probably in my 20's that I came to realise that this was more to do with the lack of confidence in my family to be who they really are than to conforming as a way to work under the radar to change things without being noticed. So that has long been my own personal goal, to work so below the radar that no one even knows that I am doing it. Unfortunately the idea is also so uncomfortably close to what we call delusion that I often doubt that I am actually doing anything at all. And when I look to see if anything has been acheived I am faced with yet another hundred sand dunes.
I have acheived little. I am doing something wrong. This I know. I don't think I've ever had a successful case, I am a dreadful detective, a poor psychologist, a lacking lyricist.
But still I march on, I have no other option. I don't believe this will be my last lifetime (oh, how I wish it were. I miss my wife) and so I must keep on until I hopefully figure it out. But really if anyone has any ideas about how to make all this stupidness seem a little more fun and enjoyable let me know.

"The view of the city and mountains from my sickbed seemed to me like a painted curtain with black holes in it..Disappointed, I thought, "Now I must return to the 'box system' again". For it seemed to me that beyond the horizon of the cosmos a three-dimensional world had been artificially built up, in which each person sat by himself  in a little box. And now I should have to convince myself all over again that this was important! Life and the whole world struck me as a prison..."