I feel like a ship.
The rudder, dragging in the past, trying to steer the future. How strange.
Even as I write I attempt to steer myself. What I lay down now are what I hope to be the foundations, nay, the requirements of the future. Dynamics are astoundingly simple yet overwhelmingly complex. Doubt will destroy you before you set out if you attempt to have a perfect plan before execution. The striking thing about navigation through life is for all our attempts to plot the course, it will never be certain, for the abstract is only an echo of reality. Finite minds can never know. Relativity seriously crushes my mind like a black hole.
Back to the point. I use the past to leverage the future. Reality is the contact point, the line if you will, between the past and the future. It's so bizarre to me, how this thing called "Now" imprints into our minds. The "world" as we refer to it is the real abstraction. Somehow the stimuli coming into our sense translates into meaning, and into cohesion. But the things we generally live as though they control us, actually only exist because we believe they do. We believe what comes down the line from our senses is what is out there. But without the mind, what would it all be? Darkness, silence, emptiness. What you are experiencing as you read, right now, is reality. It exist because we exist. The plans and plots of humans are all based on abstractions of what we have come to accept (on faith, mind you) as what reality means. What the heck am I trying to say?
I guess all this is to say that humanity, reality, perception and the whole thing is just too impossible pointed and strange when you look at it to conceive that this is a random chance. This thing necessitates God. The finite nature of man, his relativity is also necessary. We know something, but not everything for that would be self-existence, and not nothing for that would be non-existence. We're in the middle. We're on the line. It seems the soul is the line between nothing and something. How does God work into this?
Honestly, I'm scared to make inquiries about God. I'm scared of people telling me I haven't read enough, or that I'm blasphemous. I'm only slightly scared of God Himself. This seems so backwards to me. Whatever.
This contact point idea of the human soul being poised on the edge of meaning and nothingness begs the question: Why? We have some control but only relatively speaking. We can't contain all the knowledge of the universe, but we can't know nothing either. It seems that we can only change the direction we choose to face. It seems to me that God set us here to choose. The material world is an illusion that seems to seduce man's desire for control. But without the capacity to control, any attempt to do so seems hopeless. On the line we can face in the direction of Something or nothing.
I feel like I'm losing steam writing about this. And confusing myself.
Three things have happened in the last three days that have piqued my interest.
1.) I've been sitting in a coffee shop for the last two hours and two girls have sat at the table behind me at separate times and each were wearing perfumes that two of my ex-girlfriends wore. One was Victoria's secret something or other. The other I don't know. The incident took me back to places in my heart like a driving into a fog and beginning to think that you are somewhere you are not.
2.) Last night I was laying on my bed (ever notice the distinction between "on" a bed and "in" a bed? Does anyone else treat their bed like a cocoon?) and feeling sorry for myself about something or other and I prayed that God would do something to help me out of this self-pity. The strangest answer to prayer came. I opened my eyes and looked at my dirty sheet and could hardly recognize the fabric or the bed or my pillow. It all looked so foreign and weird. "What is this?" I thought. That moment I was just lifted right out of context and saw my tiny slice of reality as so strange and petty that it was almost comical. I just layed there and stared at the oddity of a sheet, and pondered it and appreciated the strange concept. It felt new. It was mystery found in the mundane. The tiny criss-cross soaked with skin oil and littered with bread crumb boulders. Then I got up and walked to the coffee shop and ogled the majesty of a cool Seattle night with all the awe and frivolity of a child at the circus.
3.)This incident requires a bit of backstory. I have been pretty poor lately. I have bills piling up (not that that is a new aspect of my life) and my cellphone just got shutoff. My wallet got stolen a few days ago. I don't know what God is trying to orchestrate through all of this, but I've been praying for some deliverance, providence, whatever. So I get the notion to go out and trying and make some money on the street playing guitar on Thursday. I figure this will be a great way for God to shower me the money I need, (and feed my ego). I find a good spot on First Ave. on this three step stair case to nowhere in the middle of the sidewalk. I'm sitting there and this guy walks up to me and asks me if he could play a song on my guitar. I say sure and he takes my guitar and howls something that sounds like a cow that has smoked crack for 30 years. I laugh and thank him for the "song". He sits down and I play some more. Then he asks me if he can buy my guitar. I say no, of course. But then he offers me $500 dollars for it. I instinctively decline again and he looks at me like I'm insane. I considered it for a second thinking how I could pay almost all my bills with the money and then I turn him down again. He left and I played for another two hours making about four dollars and fifty cents. Just this morning it hit me that God was providing. I prayed and prayed for some providence and when it came around I said,"Uh, no thanks. I need guitar. I'm gonna be a rock star, and besides it has sentimental value." The trade I made was my security for a piece of wood and metal that is an idol representing my prideful attempt to be admired. I bow to it. It'd be easy for me to whip myself about this now, but I'm choosing grace. God will still take care of me in spite of my noncooperation.
A Note: I found myself feeling alienated after write this entry. I am fearful that making a statement from where I am will be suicidal. I am afraid that I will paint myself into a social corner by being bold/stupid enough to muster a thought and proclaim it. I'm not sure what's right and true, but I'm trying to know. I hope it does not ruin me.