Posted by: Xhyra Graf | 2 October 2009


DNAMemory, originally uploaded by XhyraGraf.


I love them. It reminds me of why it is important to sift through the crap I’ve collected over the years to make sure I unearth and keep what is good and strong about the genes, therefore kind of mind, I’ve been given.

The world would have me change. That is supposed to be a part of growing up… but who says? What if you were perfect in the beginning and the work of change is really to keep that foundation strong as you maneuver through change, so tht the change is purposeful and not abitrarily assigned.

The world would have me succumb to the vagaries of chance… but why should this be so? There is a thing that keeps the planets in orbit that makes the universe do whatever it is that it does as opposed to what we may think we know it is doing. Does it not make more sense to try to sift through the debris that allows itself to be flung about and center myself on this truly central and stable thing? Does it make sense to grab hold of a tether attached to a flailing, uncertain set of things that are they themselves searching for firm foundations.

I see it all around me… those that act strong and knowledgeable but are really suffused in the stench of uncertainty and looking for a sign. I smell their fear… I know why it is there. Is it not obvious that the certainty they believe they have is just another straw frantically grabbed in the frightening state that is existence born of an uncertainty innately fixed in the very fact that we are finite beings?

Yet I am the one that is accused of being fearful… because I choose to believe something. Of course I am afraid. Fear is not escapable. To not be afraid is to be ignorant and a fool. Acceptance of your place in the reality of things is the only solution to a bit of abatement in the sufffocation that comes with being a speck of infinitesimally small clusters of temporarily enmeshed bits of we don’t know what in a vast, vast universe.

Am I to assuage my fear with the strung together thoughts and words of other beings swimming around aimlessly in the agar… multiplying, spreading, consuming, destroying and ultimately dying?  Should I not hold on to pure moments of being who I am and instead listen to the yammerings of a people just as lost as I they believe me to be?  They say I am holding on to a faith that is external to me and believing in something that I was taught without question… the more polite let slide through smiling though judgemental and hypocritical lips that well, maybe is has not been enough questioning.

All of these things, all of these things said would have some weight, if… I were taught, if I did not come to my conclusions through my own hard won effort, if I had not always looked upon everyone else as “those who knew nothing more than I do.”  If I have ever listened to anyone other than myself in those moments of my existence that I hold as pure.  I can never remember a time when I looked upon another person and thought to myself, “this one, this one has some knowledge that I may not be able to access on my own.”

The concept of living an unquestioned belief simply does not apply to someone who remembers coming in to the world at least knowing how to find the way and has been trying to build the dam against the deluge of forgetfulness.  These things only have the weight that they do because I allowed myself to become weak… I have been beaten down by this mundane and entrapped version of an existence… and forgotten who I am, that I am, in the moments that I AM.   I forgot to keep the dam fortified because I became fascinated by it all; or rather stuck in the spin of this version of embeddedness am now attached to being here… I know the effort it will take to let go of the attachment and allow myself to surrender to the greater spin. I no longer believe that I am capable of it… so much so that I face the possibility of being stuck in this circle.  THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED.  I have to find the strength.

An unquestioned belief makes no sense in my situation, I have always questioned this place and the things in it-there is something wrong with a place where life is difficult for someone like me; that can… could do the things I could.  I’ve questioned, if only a version of “and who may you be? What would make you have the answers that I seek? Why would this be when I can see/sense whole things, including that stench of fear, while you can only see parts? How would you then be able to tell me what is truth when you have to give pause and effort to arrive at the solution to the most obvious and simple of things.”  It is then I arrive at the deeper knowing. It is my pride.  It is my pride.  And why do I have this pride?  I know it is probably why I suffer this and continue to suffer this… thisness.  It is my pride that makes me bristle when someone tries to tell me how or when to do things. It is my pride that makes me have to clamp down on the animal when someone who has put his trust in other people’s version of the world attempts to convince me that my version is bereft of truth or substance.  And… I have become attached to my position of holding fast to and defending the memory of myself.  And… a memory is just that, not the real version of me.  The real version of me is lost, here in the battle.

I have to let go of this pride or I will be continue to be lost, trying to prove myself to a people I deep down believe are also lost.  I feel that I am become one of them; lost here… in this impoverished existence.


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