Tag: secrets

Wisdom’s Seven Pillars – Pillar #4 Quietness –

“Wisdom has built her house, she has carved out her seven pillars:”
Proverbs 9:1.
The aim of this series is to present a non-cliche, non-religious point of view of wisdom. I do subscribe to some religious interpretations of the subjects addressed, but wish to here, only point out the common understanding of the principles.
 
 “Those who know do not talk. Those who talk do not know. Keep your mouth closed… this therefore is the highest state of man.”
– Tao Te Ching 56
 
“One who will not accept solitude, stillness and quiet recurring moments…is caught up in the wilderness of addictions; far removed from an original state of being and awareness. This is ‘dis-ease.”
― T.F. Hodge, From Within I Rise: Spiritual Triumph Over Death and Conscious Encounters with “The Divine Presence”

More harm is done to both reputation and relationships by my words more than any other thing I do. My first inclination should be quietness, calmness, and contemplation of the matter at hand. When I’m offended, hurt, or angry, I must keep my mouth shut, at least initially. Keeping the secrets and confidence placed on me, holding my thoughts and tongue, I protect myself and others. Talking about injustices done to me only keeps the hurt alive and fans the flames of anger. Quietness is a refuge, in contrast expressing my opinion at every turn is never necessary. There are times to express myself, but only when these conversations are governed by wisdom’s pillars. I must show restraint when my heart bursts to speak, when my stomach aches to exact verbal revenge on those who are against me, when my pride wants to tell everything I think I know. Holding my tongue and keeping knowledge and opinions to myself produces confidence and inspires the same in others around me. In quietness and confidence is my strength.
Advertisement

The Myth of Betrayal –

“Instead of being presented with stereotypes by age, sex, color, class, or religion, children must have the opportunity to learn that within each range, some people are loathsome and some are delightful.” ― Margaret Mead
yuhimebarbara
For the longest time I’ve written and mused about the betrayal of friends and lovers until TD Jakes said something that altered my view from here on out, “They never betrayed you because they were never your friends”. My mistake is that I put people who were never my friends in a place of trust and honor and shared with them secrets and insights from my deepest thoughts, which things were turned against me in due time and used to degrade, insult, and hurt me. But the mistake wasn’t theirs, it was mine for misunderstanding that there are different kinds of people that need to be categorized into different kinds of relationships. I’ll use the animal kingdom for an example. A wolf may kill a buzzard without a thought, therefore the buzzard treats the wolf with caution and flees, they don’t “hang out” together. This doesn’t make the wolf irrelevant because the wolf will create opportunities and lead the buzzard to food. As long as the buzzard realizes the limits of the relationship and stays within those confines, it’ll be safe, but if it mistakes this provision of food for proof of safety from the wolf, he will die one day and that quite suddenly. The lesson is this: Firstly, I must filter people into the correct category. Secondly, I must keep them there and never change the arrangement because of my feelings.
Why did I make this mistake to begin with? Because loneliness, low self-esteem, and a myriad of other psychological crap that’s followed me from my childhood makes me hungry for approval and friendship, and when I’m hungry, I’ll eat anything. People I know are bad for me have crept in by familiarity and the whip of loneliness has driven me to them for company and comfort. Another reason for my mistake is my spirituality. Being of tender heart and convinced I must do good for others, I’ve put myself in close proximity to dangerous and unpredictable people and mistook my desire to show them the love of God as accepting them and showing them I trust them, allowing them to access to my soul’s secrets and confidence. Everyone’s seen a video where a guy jumps a fence or reaches through it to pet a wild animal. The results are usually catastrophic and the thought comes to mind immediately, “What the hell were they thinking?”. There are no fences in life unless we put them there and no signs warning us unless we write them. I’m upset at myself for having gone this long without understanding this principal, however it’s never to late to learn, so here’s a mighty shove to push everyone away from me while I reevaluate the relationship we share.
*
First published in Opinions Of Eye

It’s A Long Way Back –

“The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.“– Hunter S. Thompson
*
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.“ – Edgar Allan Poe
 *
butterflist

Its a long way back from the edge of life. I knew when I followed that path to the outer limits of my experience, my emotions raw and excited with newness of knowledge and feeling, that the price for this wonder is the journey back. It’s beautiful on the way to that edge, my soul being easily amazed by pleasures which offer no sure guidance and seduce me with their passion. This excitement is the elixir of madness offered by my wayward senses to lure me beyond the wise and sure. I have recognized the most painful of these experiences are the ones that offer extreme pleasures that lead me away from safety. There are many secrets out on that cliff, many of those secrets are taught on the journey back from the precipice. Run to the edge with reckless abandon, gather your pleasures of knowledge and lust, and know, a price will be paid. I’ll see you on our way back…

Also published in Life As A Human Magazine
Also published in Broowaha citizen newspaper
Also listed on Stumbleupon

First Published in Opinionsofeye.com

12022011

         

Makeup

“She knocked and waited, because when the door was opened from within, it had the potential to lead someplace quite different.” 

 

Who can discover the secrets that lurk
 behind the smiles and hugs
 the ends and beginnings
 of long crumpled dreams
 desperately pressed out
The doors hide unpleasant things
that we wish weren’t us
which we know are
and can never change
the blood on the floor
All the houses made of crystal pain
revealing the nakedness
of pretty things
now left ugly by
the makeup of reality

Conductivity

“Don’t only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets, for it and knowledge can raise men to the divine.”
― Ludwig van Beethoven
conductivity – Physiology: The conductibility of a structure, especially the ability of a nerve to transmit a wave of excitation.
 

Sex. Simple yet far reaching, the thing an entity that saved my life. When, from the cold water of torture, imposed by pious and selfish parents who were none of mine, I thought I embraced death, it rescued me to find solace in pleasure and left me desiring one thing:


“Just hold me, dammit.”


I feel her skin, alive with little raised bumps of electric excitement, her whole body flush  following my rough fondling of her curved silken form. I’m a voluptuary, my addiction to hedonism born not from the experience of sex, but by the absence of pain that occurs when I drive my fingers into her, seeing her writhe with pleasure, making me a master of the forbidden divine, the whole of our experience being wrapped in the coddling clothes of sadness. What’s it like to take a woman? To ravish her senses before the nakedness appears and we are left with the remnants of pleasure? A grand symphony, composed by a deaf Beethoven of sensual explorations. Like Beethoven, with a deeper sense, a sixth sense, I perform my feats of conductivity with the excitement of promise, like the cool wind and smell of rain before the storm. Sex is my slave and I make her perform on women, instructed by things that excel the imagination. Who would think the evil forced on me would find creative expression in the many and varied spiritual exchanges with women, both imagined and feigned, consuming and exclusive.


“Just hold me, damn it.”


The chorus of women far and near, as with a thirsty hunger they lay their bodies down before the coldness of physical experience, echoes in my cry, a cry that goes unheeded to this day:


“Just hold me, damn it.”


The orgasms that I give freely in this trick or treat drama are merely candy to lure you to the vulnerability of touch without sex. I want you to hold me in the long after hours glow of cigarettes, tossed sheets, and stained memories of nights passed away with so many strangers, cold and staring, all longing for more than what sex has to offer.


“Just hold me, damn it”