Dear Confused Self,
What’s the point? I mean, why this struggle? Does it have to be a struggle? I recently concluded that it does. How many times have I heard it: “nothing comes for free” or “what you put in is what you get out.” These are physical facts, I’m pretty sure. It’s how energy works. Forces are exerted, and particles and waves react depending on the perspective and properties of the forces, particles and waves. If no force is exerted, nothing happens. I’m pretty sure everything is particles and waves, so there is no way I can sit on my ass in this life. I literally won’t get anything out of it.
I think I have the power to be free inside my mind. I have to work for it if I want to sense it. If I nurture myself, I will reap the benefits, and I will understand. If I sit on my ass, or do things I feel I shouldn’t, I will reap nothing or worse. And I’ll feel it, won’t I? Pay attention to your feelings, Confused Self. Be honest with myself.
I believe there is no set path or way. I have to feel it out for myself. But I have to remember something. You see there’s this notion that’s blossomed within me very gradually over the past few years like a memory long repressed, reemerging during this quarter-life crisis: I think we are probably all connected. At some level of physics and consciousness we are made of the same. Call it String Theory, call it God, Allah, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Regardless, I believe that my quest for self-understanding requires an understanding of my connections. I am an individual in a group.
I find that compassion provides me with insight. I think that love is probably the answer. I know that I can have it, but I must give it in order to get it, and it’s not always easy, not in this world. I think this is why I struggle.
I think I think there is a good chance that consciousness is infinite. I’m guessing it never dies, at least not in the same sense that a body dies. Call it an intuition, and I’ve read a few books on the topic. But when, how did it ever begin? Is it just a wheel? From my perspective, things seem to go round.
There are great mysteries. Clues keep popping up, and they’re leading me in a different direction even as I’m packing my bags. Everything I’ve learned about myself over the past several years seems to contradict my decision to go back east. I feel that I am, in the words of one of the great musicians, going against my mind. But I have my reasons, sure. I have future-wife and future-kids to think about. And the world is fucked up, and I’m just not sure what to make of it yet. So, I guess I’ll take the money for now, and I can figure the rest out later. I’ve got to be insane leaving her behind, but we’ll be reunited in less than a year. I have to believe that, and I do, but this change is shaking me up.
San Francisco is a beautiful world. To be raised in flatland and then discover this city built on hills was a revelation. Water and beaches on three sides, forested mountains to the north and south, Berkeley and Oakland to the east, the Pacific, the Bay and the islands, the fog. All of it feeds a vibe, which flows through the people and is expressed through the music that changed my life.
And I’m headed back to flatland. Without her. But I have my reasons, sure.
From the rooftop I ponder my life, and I fill my mini blue spiral notebooks with these thoughts, because for whatever reason it makes me feel better. It blows my mind that I am even standing here pondering. All of this thought. Every other creature on this Earth eats, shits, reproduces, kills. And to think of our complicated existence. All of this emotion. All of these decisions.
To ponder. This is what it is to be human. Consciousness reflecting upon itself. And always that repressed memory is bubbling to the surface, that reminder that my quest involves more than just me, that me is more than me and somehow includes everyone, maybe even everything.