They asked me why I was leaving Facebook. Don't ask me things unless you really want to know.

I hate Facebook because it is demoralizing, a waste of time. And I find that too many people use it in situations that are advantageous to them. I am finding I am losing HUMAN person-to-person contact. And I never want the human factor to fail being a factor. I think you understand why. I appreciate what you are doing for other people. Not for me however.

P.S. keeping a person's info after they have insisted on not existing is a bad selling point. It is more scary than you think. And it is crossing more than a few ethical boundaries there.

And I hope you understand. It was nice for a while, until I realized that something meant for good was becoming the ruin of people.
Good day to you all.

Existence?

Sometimes I worry about my sanity.

But then I realize that there is no one that can truly prove anything.

It's all in my head, but who is to say what's real?

The biggest battle ever fought, all contained within six inches of space.

Fascinating really.

Sometimes I'm not even sure if I exist.

Do you know any better? Even if you do, how can I ever trust you?

How can you trust me?

How do you define sanity, then?

The Good, The Bad, and The Badass.

Before I even begin to start with a case for God, I begin with a question.

Why does there need to be a case for God?

I mean, if God himself was SO terrified of not existing in our hearts and minds, then He would have made it blatantly obvious by now that He does, in fact, exist. Now I'm referring to God as a human, and as a male - but I only have been as a matter of convenience, rather than as a statement.
To clear that whole mess up - is God a male? Is he even human?
In my opinion (and of course this isn't the right opinion, there is no right opinion when it comes to these things), God can be a number of things. We as humans, having a very limited knowledge of the universe at hand, base our knowledge off of things that we DO know. What do we know then? We know people. We know that people are fundamentally good, we know that people like to love, we know that people are complex but also far too straight forward to understand the abstract concepts that surround us on a daily basis. We know what a fatherly figure looks like, we know how comfortable and forgiving a nurturing mother is. So naturally, we as humans assume that God is in fact, well, human. And why male? Our last era or so has been predominantly masculine, war driven. I'm not saying that males are at nature violent or straightforward or punishing at all. No. I'm just saying that this - tendency, this feeling of drive and such things - is what we have known to make our world go around. And so, naturally, we assume that this is how God makes the world go round. On the contrary, I believe that God is a mix of masculine and feminine. The feminine is mother nature, it is what makes the world exist. Spontaneous, earthy. The masculine though, is our driving force. So the feminine is what makes the world exist, the masculine is why we are still existing. Why the world turns and things move on. The Yin and Yang, so to speak.

And so we move on. What, or who, is God? Well. When in doubt, I always go back to the basic things. And so I ask you - what is the ONE thing that all of us humans believe in?

It's simple, really. It's love.

I believe, that at one point and time, there had been a large amount of collective consciousness swirling around in nothing. Now I say nothing, but I truly do not know what had happened - so bear with me. Anyways. As I was saying, there was this large gathering of love. And well, I feel somehow that there had been a triggering point, when suddenly things started to go into motion. When everything exploded and a plethora of everything became physical. It became. And that of course, is around the time that God happened. Because He is just a manifestation of all of us.

Now whether He has definitive opinions, whether He is active in our lives, I do not know. But basing off of what we do know... I think that God is very human. That He loves us in every single fiber of His being. That He is like a mother in giving us free will. Speaking of free will.. why do we have it? Now all of these things are far too complex to be covered in one shot, but in short I do think that when you really love a person, you would love them enough to let them have a chance at being alive. Even if it meant that they would get hurt. This is love in its purest, unadulterated form. And in turn, this is the way that I think that God behaves. He wants to give us a chance. Even if He knows the consequences that might result in doing so.

So does God exist? I do believe that something out there is active in our lives. I do believe that simple acts of kindness are the miracles that make me smile and have hope in our world. I do believe in, above all, in love.

And for all you skeptics out there - does it matter whether or not we believe in God? Do you really think that God is going to send you to hell simply because of "human error?" Do you truly believe that if there if some bizarre chance that something out there outside of ourselves exists, that it is going to be cruel and heartless? It might as scary as hell to meet God, but I do not think really, that there is a hell. I find the perfectly angelic chaos in which we live in to be reason enough to believe in God -but that is just me. I understand that most people require facts, proof, rewards or a ratification of sorts that this is just not blind faith. And I get that it is hard, if not impossible, for some people to accept anything of what I am saying. That is perfectly viable. Perfectly reasonable. Why should I be right, after all? And this is the beauty of it all. There is no right answer. There are just different ones.

I love the simple things in life. I love it when a mother tucks her child in bed, when a stranger drops a few meager coins into a begging hand. I love it when people smile, when people cry, when they get angry. It is so beautiful. All of it. This, for me, is God.
God for me, is love. There does not always have to be a reason for love. It just happens.
In the same way - does there need to be a reason for God?

Life is not fair.

I started writing a post about the fairness of life back in October. I fought with myself forever, attempting to come to a conclusion... so, I stopped. I stopped worrying about it, and I stopped trying to understand. It has almost been 6 months, and now I am here to finish.

Is life fair? In the moment of pain, sadness, anger, or heartbreak we all have said the simple phrase that seems to make the most sense "Life is not fair."
I have fallen short, and have been been quick to judge the world, instead of looking to myself for the blame.
Life is a journey, and by no means is it easy.

But let me tell you something...life is not fair.

Maybe things are the way they are just because everything is what it is- but that makes it no easier. What is really unfortunate and very unfair though, is our unwillingness to help one another. We are all in this world, and we all have to suffer- and for you to ignore that simple fact is selfish. Who are you to say you suffer more than the next person? We all have a mountain to climb, and we each climb it at different speeds, but it is our job to ensure that everyone reaches the top.

Life is not fair, and maybe a small part of you can take refuge in that. The world is not out to get you, so you can't let self destruction ruin you.

Self pity will radiate arrogance.

Love, and be loved.
Happy spring.

Nothing.

It is not our light that scares us.
For what is light?
Light to us is sunrises, sunsets, light bulbs for late nights.
There can be stark light, dull light, flickering light, fading light.
It is the flutter of your heart as your lover leaves his warming position.
Light can also be a revelation.
Are you scared of revelations? Perhaps.
If you had to choose between knowing everything about someone you loved before you decided to marry them, would you? Or would you rather have the unexpected?

Light can be blinding.
It is always honest.
Sometimes brutally so.
Yet after you after you have found light, you never turn away.
We seek comfort in light.

So do we fear darkness?
Do you truly fear that fast void within your head, your head, your bones?
Do you truly fear the cover of your blankets, the shadow of your love?

So then, what do we fear?

Some fear the static. The grey. In there all the colours we have been too afraid to find can be found. There, the shadows and limits of dawn and dusk seclude themselves from our ever-analytical minds. Others thrive here, within the hair-thin cusps between reality and insanity.

We fear invisibility -
of ourselves,
of reality,
of truth.
We fear, ironically enough, the most harmless thing of all.

Nothing.

It is not our darkness that scares us, it is our light.

Word Salad.

I scratch at the indentations of my elbows, trying to rub off the tiny little bed bugs that nested there. There were always there. Whether I looked at them or not, they were there - tiny little red dots with pincers that itched my skin. So I rubbed them, looking around me while the walls swam and Mary whispered in my ear, "It would all go away Paul if you stopped rubbing. Then the little bugs would go into your blood and eat through your head until there were these big holes in it. Like Swiss cheese Paul. You like Swiss cheese." But even if I stopped, I knew that they would never go in - no. They were here, always here. Along with my swimming walls with the wet paint. They were a comfort of mine, always here.
The man in the soup pajamas wore a banana hat - but I hated that banana hat. Or was it a hat? No matter - he always called me Henry. But I'm Mary The Rational, everyone knew that. Even Paul and Frank and well everyone. Yesterday I painted the walls red with my fingertips so Paul would stop complaining about the paint swimming. I love to sing about the goats climbing on clouds with the stuffed spiders polkaing on the crescent of the moon. It's nice because you can change the melody every time. I like melodies - I also like the girl with fenced teeth and the smock. She's nice.
Today the assistant - Patricia with the braces - came in asking me my name. I hate that woman. Every time she comes in and asks me for my fucking name. I think she would have figured out who the hell I am by now. I mean, she's here almost every fucking day. It's Frank - I tell her. I want to strangle that bitch - watch the veins pulse with every antagonizing second. And then that crack of her neck... ohh. But no. I sit here, watching her flaunt that lovely figure while she asks me if I had heard from Paul or Mary and when I expected Henry to come back because she needed to talk to him .... and I sit here nodding flexing my fingers looking at her pretty white little neck. What a pity.
Breathe in, breathe out. I feel the little blue core inside of me light up my spine, open my cerebral cortex. Open my mind, embrace it. Envelop the darkness from whence I came. That little blue ball of light in the core. Feel time loop, stop, go backwards. Breathe in, breathe out. I am freeing myself from my identity. I am insignificant, lost. Let the Buddha envelop me. I am Raphael, a tiny speck in this nebula. Feel it. Embrace it. Breathe in, breathe out.
I sit huddled in the corner of this cramped cell. I've lost track of time a long while back. My fingers are marred to the bone. Somebody told me that I had drawn on the walls with blood. Something about goats and spiders, they said. It doesn't matter. It's cold down here, it's been ages since I've had a cigarette. Or anything else for that matter. The doctors even took me off my meds for a while, to see how - tragic - the symptoms truly are. But even now, even with the meds, I can feel them. Mary, Raphael, Frank, Paul. They're all here - smiling, encouraging me. I love them all. They've never left me since the beginning of this ordeal. Not once.
I'm afraid of when the doctors finally get it right.

Who will I be then?

Who holds your key?

So, I was supposed to write a blog today. Today is Tuesday, and it was a long day. I did not have a free moment until now- and finally when I received this free time to sit and write to you- I was quickly scrambling for ideas. Rushing is never an answer. I remained blank. Anyway, I went to search through some artwork- and I came out inspired!

I have always been intrigued by pictures that represent freedom. It is interesting, because they all can be so different. The lock and key- a perfect representation of captivity and freedom. Such large, and complicated states of living brought together. Who holds your key? This is the question that flashes through my thoughts.

We as people, are quick to place the blame away from ourselves. It is just the way it is. It is a talent we must learn over time, to be able to accept the things we cannot change. Pain is inevitable.

Nobody broke your heart. You broke your own. — Elliott Smith

We each have a heart, and we each hold a key. Danger will come, but you just have to trust that you know where your heart is, and trust that you will remember where you put the spare key.

When you got hurt, it made you beautiful. The cracks around your heart, they let the light shine through. When you got hurt in pieces on the floor, put them back together even better than before.
— John Mayer

That is all I have for now. There was going to be more...Perhaps I will make this a 2 part post.
Goodnight everyone!

First Timer.

My complete inability to concentrate will hit me someday. I know this.

But for now, all I want to do is listen to music and sleep.

That's all.

Anything else is just fuzzy, distracting.

But this warm appreciation of music isn't fuzzy.

In fact, it's the clearest thing on the planet. And besides, it's rewarding.

And who doesn't like sleeping?

Stop.

Stop.

Just stop it. Drop everything you're doing, drop everything that's on your mind. All that baggage. All that unwanted trash. Yes you. Stop it. You're driving me mad.

I see you, day in, and day out. Running from place to place, hopping from one responsibility to another. Occupying yourself with books, computers, dates, times, things to do, things to miss. Just stop - you don't know what you are doing to yourself.

You're ruining yourself. Driving yourself into the ground.
So stop. Breathe.

Love. Have fun.

Learn to smile again.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

I love George Harrison. There is no doubting this, everyone that knows me well enough knows my passion for the so-called "shy" Beatle. But why?

Well my friends, George was so unlike the other Beatles that it is impossible to hate him. His unbelievably tasty guitar solos have revolutionized the way guitar solos are played everywhere; his skills as a player and a songwriter should alone be enough reason to love him. But no, there is more. Not only was George unbelievably talented, he was also an incredibly open guy. His enthusiasm with every genre of music led to the Beatles incorporating the Sitar into their songs, his flexiblilty led Paul and John to challenge him at every turn.

And not only that, George was and is a person that I have immense respect for. He patiently stood at the sidelines when it came to music writing... and even though girls screamed and threw jelly babies at him... there still came little to no music writing oppurtunites within the Beatles group itself. Besides, it had been George that truly led the Beatles to receive high class respect within musicians everywhere. Before, they'd just been a "skiffle," or "rock-and-roll," group; but as George pushed the group into folk-style music, the very music of the Beatles and indeed of the world was revolutionized. Rubber Soul and Revolver indeed pushed the very limits of music in that era, and is widely appreciated by musicians everywhere. And yet, once again, little or no acknowledgement was awarded to George. He had to deal with traumatizing life experiences - and still managed to keep his head over the water.

Go put on some Beatles, and listen to George. It will do you some good.