Purple Rain

Cecilia

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Branagh's Hamlet Act 3 Scene 1

But Hamlet was the victim of a strange and hideous betrayal, where he was forced to keep up appearances despite that betrayal. It doesn't seem that justice in the end was served. It seems that madness overwhelmed him. I'll wager that's what madness does, overwhelm people. And madness is only madness because it is destructive of life.

I think my 37-years-in-the-making definition of life is "something that can't get through". At least that's my definition from this side of the lens. Because, if life could get through, there wouldn't be so much death around. My whole life I've struggled with the "nobility" of taking my own life -- I've never wanted to direct my darkness anywhere else. But scholars, I mean real ones, tell me that Shakespeare was right on the money, and that, further, suicides have pretty horrible dreams. And yet, it is a truism that a man cannot suffer more that he can suffer. A man cannot cry till his guts spill out more that he can do so. The implication being that there must be an end to suffering. There has to be. Suffering cannot go on forever. Or else a man can suffer more than he can; which he cannot.

Anyway, maybe my suffering is so great that it cannot be extinguished in one life but has to be extended to many lives or even beyond death. In that case I'm prolonging my suffering by not taking my own life. So far I'm letting conscience make a coward of me because I don't think I could take the "kama loka-ic" state. Seems too nasty to me. As real as life, and as dark as death with no possibility of escape until a hard lesson has been learned. I've seen, already once or twice, an important aspect of my Higher Self. Yes, I've caught glimpses of the beautiful Virgin -- totally radiant and perfectly immortal. She stood right before my eyes, she's there now, but life can't get through. She'll disapprove of me taking my own life -- oh ... oh, oh how she'll disapprove. How she'll disapprove. I know, I've felt it, when I saw her. She stands for life and life only, and she'll not stand for death. She'll let me go there alone, even though she practically does that here already. The secret, the biggest secret, the secret of all secrets, the secret that makes all of life's struggles and strivings vanities, is that life alone is immortal and only death is temporary. That's the betrayal of my life -- to be made to believe the opposite -- that's the Orwellian lie I've be fed for so many lives, to be made to believe that 2+2=5 and that death goes on forever, that death is permanent. 2+2=4, life goes on forever, and only life does so. Even when I think it, it seems such a strange thought, but that's the tragic truth. Tragic because so easy to not believe. But it's the truth that can set you free, it's the "good news."

I'm strung up, just like Jamal Malik at the opening of the movie Slumdog Millionaire. I'm strung up, just like before he won the 20 million rupees and was reunited with his Latika. I'm strung up. And perhaps just like him I've given up all hope of illumination now -- one half of me longs for death, the other half is operating now on some kind reserve energy, some low-level reserve energy that cannot sustain thought or desire, but a low-level buzz persists inside my brain -- my thoughts and desires are truly all but extinguished now. Perhaps it's fatigue, but then perhaps they're not extinguished, perhaps I just distrust them -- perhaps now I completely distrust them. Perhaps I'm not listening to them anymore. In any case, I'm feeling very apathetic towards my thoughts and desires at the moment. They can die are far as I care. I have no desire to live anymore.

"Nymph, in thy orisons, be all my sins remembered."

Tread softly in the forest of my heart
And in the quiet so your seeds of love
And just as softly leave before I know
But let the seeds of love inside me grow.

That was the beginning to a "song" I was writing in my testa out there in the forest (of all places). I rather liked the tune but won't translate on the page.

Really not sure what my next move is. Winners didn't work. Money doesn't work. It's etheric filth. But wouldn't mind working at Mimac if there were an opening -- small company with fairly good energy. Still, money kills.