not so strange magnificence

The internet we use at home just comes and goes and so it is with nearly everything else as well.
I found a new callous on the back of my heel just below the achilles tendon. Definitely the sign of movement. Progress perhaps.

"The feeling of health. The full noon trill."

I am escaping into the night to read Walt Whitman and to become a man. I don't suspect I shall be gone very long.

I also have an inkling that unless I begin writing something that makes a little bit more sense I am never going to get published. Or perhaps I should actually just submit the material that makes no sense. Perhaps.

brandonpiercegeary

It seems beautiful just the way it is

In Sebastopol, California I have been able to confront a more ideal way of living with my cynicism and have found myself greatly wanting. This has been the most enlightening, spiritually aggressive and emotionally fortifying trip I have taken in my adult life.

Ideals are not dreams and dreams are not foolish. There is worth and there is worth in everything. I have had a lot of time to think about the order of all things in my life and I don't necessarily feel I will be taking things "back" with me but I feel I am coming into life and understanding love and selflessness. Selflessness especially. All of these things not as preoccupations that somewhat distract from day-to-day but serve to elevate my moments and hours.

I can't remember the last time I felt this sure about anything.
brandonpiercegeary

reality

In my attempt to primarily only give opinions on my own day-to-day on this blog I feel a little queasy putting this little paragraph about a very timely political conundrum. It was not from a political blog however, it was a philosophy blog. Clearly very different. But I find this paragraph makes an interesting comparison. I also love anything that recognizes the pull and tension between two opposing yet immutable realities.


"This is the rage and anger I hear in the Tea Party movement; it is the sound of jilted lovers furious that the other — the anonymous blob called simply “government” — has suddenly let them down, suddenly made clear that they are dependent and limited beings, suddenly revealed them as vulnerable. And just as in love, the one-sided reminder of dependence is experienced as an injury. All the rhetoric of self-sufficiency, all the grand talk of wanting to be left alone is just the hollow insistence of the bereft lover that she can and will survive without her beloved. However, in political life, unlike love, there are no second marriages; we have only the one partner, and although we can rework our relationship, nothing can remove the actuality of dependence. That is permanent." - J. M. Bernstein, Opinionator (blog), June 13, 2010

everything has a name

I love living in other people's homes and understanding this has suspiciously led me to want to own my own house more than ever.

Waking up in a bed, bedroom and house that does not belong to me is exhilarating. I remember having this feeling nearly daily when I was in high school living at my parents' house. I was still surrounded by my accumulations and trinkets but somehow I always felt as though I was not "home." My family was there, a great deal of my memories sprung from there, and it always felt secure and welcoming. But I felt like a constant boarder. And, to be clear, this was a very good sensation. It was undeniably inspiring as far as gathering my courage to leave and not be anchored too solidly by the weight of roots.

Being a guest also has with it a certain expectation of courtesy. You may come and go as you please but make your bed and keep the rock music to a reasonable level when others are in the house. I have never owned my own house but for some reason I see it looking like this. Hearing a housekeeper of sorts beckoning me to straighten up the office desk, help clear the table and put the toilet seat down. I don't think I will hear this voice as an overbearing feminine presence as in a tasking mother or overbearing spouse. But merely a genderless, formless nudging towards understanding of everything I think I have may not in fact be "mine."

Everything changes hands. Either to another actually hand or the soil-y grip of Earth. I just think the idea of owning a house that was purchased with money my wife and I have earned is far too overwhelming and the reminder of it would only cause me to consider the fading away of all things.

brandonpiercegeary

look aftering

There are many a tipping point in one's life. Getting pushed to the precipice is common exercise and I don't even have heels in any of my shoes anymore from pushing against the dirt. I know I have a lithe demeanor but it is tempered with a rebellious spirit. And I have had tremors coursing through this secondary sensibility and I am moved. I have rediscovered the value of faith through the intervention of friends and I am understanding the necessity of movement and progress and dreams. I am moreover furthering my knowledge of love and all the sacrifices therein. For the first time I feel just like the enormous sycamore tree across the street from our apartment. Full to bursting with vibrant, lush green. But instead of this growth merely weighing down my bows I am able to emulate the tree and stand entirely at ease because the leaves cause me no harm.