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A Poet's Journal: May 8th, 2014

May 8th, 2014

Worry and apprehension are seated in every task we undertake, becoming a responsibility in themselves, that it is a pleasure to see falsely and have them crumble before us, finally knowing of their misguidance.  Yet it is often that this delusion comforts the appearance of judgment, leaving us open to the possibility that anything we choose will eventually become true.  Sometimes there is not enough powder in the gun and our plans do not follow through simply because of a too great apprehension of missing the mark; sometimes there is an unmistakable and deadly precision, that we are at a loss of how to describe our arriving at such an outcome.  The problem is not that worry and apprehension are inherent in the decision, it is that the decision asks us not to swerve in our judgment, whereupon worry and apprehension become the figments of our imagination.  This is the conditioned; what every fact, right or wrong, enforces us to realize everyday in our daily habits--to feel…
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A Poet's Journal: April 30th, 2014

April 30th, 2014

Those things that take the most energy from us are usually those things that are never present.  'The height of the flood matters not if it goes over the man's head,' said William James and such is the experience of daily life that we are content to see our doubts swell to such an uncontrollable level that we will believe ourselves little fish before we think that we are drowning.  It is easy to see the limits of our existence, our thoughts, and our words, not set up by us, but being mirrored outwardly, because the little faith we give to what others think of us is almost all too often more perceptive than what we think of ourselves.  Illusion holds the faculties and opinions we are instilled with to be correct, or at least able to arrange unknowable and uncontrolled matter into something that is digested and turned into energy--but that is where the mind chooses to rest, in false equality, being convinced of untruth so that the world is acceptable for the…

A Poet's Journal: April 29th, 2014

April 29th, 2014

Wisdom is often accepted to stand for little in the times it is most necessary, leaving preference to the wanderings of mind that emit our notions of blame and discontent.  A phrase from Aurelius, or any other sage of the past, has at times whispered a solution to the situation at hand, having only to apply its advice and thereon proceed in tranquility, but in the end I have found myself more willing to sulk in my misconceptions, as a point of taking misfortune in place of something outside of my nature.  Have not the ways and pretensions of mind, for so long embedded in our habits, condemned us already to an easily conceivable fate?  Where we stand with a person or group depends on the attitude we take: to stand apart and go unnoticed is an aggression towards the common and the undertaken, so that we ultimately concern ourselves with those people who put forth the same pretensions.   'Don't be carried away rashly by the appearance of things!'--For there i…

A Poet's Journal: April 10th, 2014

April 10th, 2014

Change, and the liberation involved with it, are often spoken of as the best alternative, and the fear that all our time will be lost in doing something that is not useful to our vision of the world, is the motive for which we hold this word and its aspect so prevalent in our mind.  It is the basis of our struggle, through which our dislikes become likes, and through which the looming presence of our ideas find a subtle and ideal reality.  But what about when, through no fault of our own, our likes are turned into dislikes?  How truly liberating is change then? If it is the only alternative by which we may confront the meaningless facts of life, what shall prevent it from bringing us right back to a dead-end, but under the aspect of freedom?  Change too often becomes the sanctuary wherein our fleeting thoughts are given precedence, and is the name by which we hide our fear of the future.  Consciously, all is proven in one look or one word; for behind every decision an…

A Poet's Journal: April 2nd, 2014

April 2nd, 2014

It is hard to find something so named in our consciousness that is not subjective or open to other views and other means in other people.  It is we, who in our burdened perceptions, hold confidence in them, only to find that when they are presented to reality, their confidence in us never existed.  It is as if we have been climbing a tree, and once we get to the top, find that all the branches below us are too weak to support our descent--but how did we get up there in the first place?  We love being above our troubles and those who cause them, and even more to hand things down to them; we are the first to go, then tell them to come along, or the first to stop, and push them to go ahead.  The only thing real is the dimension of the unprovoked, neither starting nor finishing, but in our hands before we even know it's there.
Douglas Thornton