One of Seven

One of Seven

Hushed murmurs, voices of Drones,
Pound on the unyielding cliff of glass
Tall and stretched, the transparency conveys nothing.
Greedy hordes lick their lips,
Forming clouds on the window pane.
Trails of hairline cracks
Where their needled palms curled with want.
The hunger for the prize of gilded non necessities,
Repelled by the little white slip attached...
Only those four zeroes will separate between them and what they touch

(Bonus post: Fifteen minute spill dedicated to Black Friday. I posted it separately because it didn't relate very well to the topics of the others.)

Flightless Bird

"The attractions of this subject are not to be resisted, and I leave, for the time, all account of subordinate social benefit, to speak of that select and sacred relation which is a kind of absolute, and which even leaves the language of love suspicious and common, so much is this purer, and nothing is so much divine." --Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship

Upon contemplating what the true nature of an Emersonian friend, I developed a list of three essential qualities.
1. Patience
2. Consistency
3. Acceptance

On the issue of patience, I found myself only moderately qualified. Though I promised to be calm and reserved while listening to the woes of a friend, internally I was eager to learn the full details of the situation. For that I was deeply ashamed and wished to apologize sincerely. The slight impatience was not fully manifested on the front, but perhaps it was not quite the sin I thought it to be. Perhaps it was just true interest in the life of my equal. I have often found that I am in the company of many talented individuals who fail to express themselves in a way that is neither tactless or insincere. I, myself, am not excluded from that description. In this affair, I have always been patient. I prefer them to be blunt, and perhaps rudely in society, honest. It reflects the genuine and slightly childish nature of these persons. Though typically irritating, I find it endearing.

Consistency has never been a strong suit of mine. When told to list all the characteristics of my personality, each trait found its counterpart somewhere else on the page. The only quality that did not, was "mercurial." Though my nature has never been particularly even in nature, I tried to maintain a strength of character that could set my friends at peace when they needed consolation. Whether or not this was successful must be inquired of those I had coexisted with in those spaces of discussion.

With the closing of my day attempting to live up to the ideals of Emerson, I reflected on the experience with a surprisingly unassuming calmness of nature. Each quality of my friends that could be easily viewed as negative and possibly even social diseases, I merely shrugged them off. My friends were who they were, and I had willingly committed myself to a relationship of loyalty. The day seemed to reconfirm whatever it was I had held as true prior to the experiment. Nothing had changed, I had simply become more aware of what was true.

As a simple side note, this may be something only a few friends already know, but I'll repeat it here. I have taken to wearing this necklace. It is an iron cast globe surrounded by a claddagh ring. The ring is a traditional Irish ring that is given as a friendship ring or worn as a wedding ring. The hands represent friendship, as the heart is to love, and the crown is to loyalty. I bought the ring with one of my best friends during the summer. The necklace together is a statement of my personal philosophy, that the world can exist because it is supported by friendship, love and loyalty.

Photo Credits
1. Untitled - Christine Wang (Madrid, Spain)
2. Even Ground - Christine Wang (Getty Museum, Los Angeles, California)
3. Together in Exile - Christine Wang (Del Mar, California)
4. Offering - Christine Wang

Stupid Asphalt

If there was one absolute truth about myself, it was that I was entirely independent...

There is something uncivilized about asphalt. The color. The dissonant rainbow of oils that appear after it rains. The unforgiving nature as your heel meets the surface. No matter how many times I run up and down my street, it remains unfamiliar, cold, and inertly unresponsive.

It seemed almost ridiculous to trek down two blocks to the lagoon on that wide, cumbersome road. I ignored the wheeze of my lungs as I sprinted towards the crooked, rotten, wooden posts that marked the entrance of the local pocket of sanity. I just wanted to get off that damn road.

Upon my first step, I stopped. Maybe I didn't have to go any farther. The smell of wet sandy shores rimmed with sparkling brine was enough.

I continued down the trail, right, another right, and yet another right, always the same path, stick right and to avoid the squirrel infested jogger's path. The underbrush had accumulated in my absence. I sat on the smooth stump, polished with the sap and sanded ocean breeze.

...

Nothing.

Unfortunately I go there often enough for that place to lose the wonder it once held. It has all become... well frankly, all too familiar.

Perhaps the truest communion with nature I've ever experienced happened last year. A dried river bed. Quite frankly, flatter than a plain. Lifeless. Utterly lifeless. The earth was gnarled in its own skin, twisted and cracked in its inflexibility. The explosion of this network of miniature canyons wound their way all across the river bed. It was beyond desolation. It appeared that this was the epicenter from which life began, and as it sprung from this very spot to the rest of the world, all signs of life had left it devoid of the benefits of boasting the cradle of existence.

We had been forced to disperse into this wilderness in absolute solitude, apparently to come up with some sort of beautiful poem. I'd personally believed that it was a beautified explanation. I'm sure the chaperones just wanted to be rid of us for an hour.

I'll admit, for the first fifteen minutes, I was just irritated. The ground was covered in buffalo dung. You couldn't even take a step without stepping in feces. Some great wilderness, right?

As the anger faded, all that remained was silence. Absolute silence. The kind of silence where even a single thought appears to thunder and echo across acres and acres of this abandoned piece of real estate. I had become self-conscious about the sound of my breathing, the continual drumming of my heart, and the rustling of my clothes as I moved.

Surreal, really. I could see the land before me. I could see that I was standing upon it. But it was hard to realize that I was encased within a body. Each movement became calculated, yet more and more beyond my control. I began to fidget, as if my body was convulsing in confusion as what I was supposed to do at each and every second. There was no one to mirror, no other being to even confirm my existence.

A breath.
Closed eyes.
The rush of blood ringing fresh and clean in my ears.

Upon regaining awareness, the world had quite a different hue. There was a moment of nirvana of the highest state. Fleeting. Strong. Smooth. Clean. Eternity within a second. Yet the condition of the human mind would not allow this to be. Right behind this moment of utter bliss, the crushing weight of my previous existence nearly suffocated me.

The universe had inverted itself, spilling its innards out across the great expanse of space. The stars found themselves scattered across the expanse of earth, pulling me back with the immense strength of gravity. I found myself sprinting. I needed another human. Anybody. Everybody. The lack of another existence in the small piece of the three dimensional world next to me was not endurable. Memories of the short years of my life up to this point clouded my vision, causing me to move towards civilization in a stupor. My heart began to race, pounding at the thin walls of my chest, the insignificant barrier of skin and bone that separated myself from the world. I wanted to rip my body open and allow myself to more freely occupy every inch of existence. A feeling of want to just be.

There is no exact way I can describe that experience in words, but it was certainly the most basic, innate, and clear feeling I had ever felt. The mere strength of such a simple need for the existence of others was frightening. I wanted more than anything to dissolve into a million pieces and sink into the marrow of every person I had ever known, melt into their physical existence so that my own and theirs could never be parted. And I had hoped that in that sharing, there would no longer be those difficulties that existed when we occupied two different spaces in the universe.

The Gift of Giving

The best gifts are given spontaneously. It would seem that spontaniety would bypass all the premeditated self-satisfaction when giving a gift. Random gift-giving is more honest and more likely to hold greater value.

A gift is best received with duality of reaction. It should be genuine, for if it is false, that is worse than being unhappy and truthful. If one receives a gift graciously in gratitude, it should reflect the joy at receiving the gift, but greater joy in the fact that there is someone who understands you to the very core of your being.

It seems that to Emerson, gifts have lost their true value and meaning. Nowadays there seems to be a process to the act of giving gifts that does not change. This routine is a false and rehearsed public display of "generosity." and yet, it is not generous and is worthless. The point of a gift is to symbolize a sign of affection by making a sacrifice that is meaningful. Giving what is inconvenient to give is regarded by Emerson to be of greater significance. A gift that is given for personal satisfaction is not a gift, it is a barter. A tangible object for a reputation of "overwhelming generosity." A gift is a one-way thing. Expectations immediately turn this into a two-way process, causing this bizarre ritual to become merely an unrehearsed act, messy and hollow. An act of true and sincere gift-giving is much harder, but has far greater potential than that of this societal ceremony.

Photo Credits (from Flickr)
1. Gift of My Heart - Jeff Clow
2. Gifts from the Sea - juntos (on and off)
3. the gift of giving - c.zwerg

The Art of Speaking

"We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents." -- Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Self-Reliance"

There is some sad truth in what Emerson says. Somehow, society has bred an unspoken censorship policy within the minds of each and every individual. We believe that it is disgraceful to speak against others, that there is no merit in adhering to our own beliefs, that the opinion of the society at large holds more value than our own individual thoughts. This restraint of private thoughts limits the potential of our society to progress, or at least prevents us from evolving or moving forward at an exponential rate.

Of course, this is based upon Emerson's perception on the merit of our natural assumptions. To Emerson, our internal dialogue is a testimony to the universal truth, that can only be found through reasoning or intuition. Our minds are representative models of the universe. Through extended thought, one can find the great truths of the world around us.

If this is the case, than this programmed form of self-censorship is indeed a horrible catastrophe. The benefits of sharing that spark that is, apparently, born within each living individual, far outweigh the consequences of vocalizing these very same ideas. Though it is true that creating divisions within our society could produce rather ugly repercussions, the French Revolution for example, nothing can truly change our society unless there is a movement of great magnitude. While it may be easy to temporarily charm the masses into whatever is fashionable at the time, it is much harder for this change to be permanent.

Perhaps this is the reason why individuals find that their opinions are insignificant and therefore useless in the furthering of society. They feel that such a daring action is not worth the possible aftermath because it may not even have an effect. This is absolutely not true. Simply by starting an idea or action, the ripple effect could actually surmount to something significant and truly beneficial. Yes, there are cases in which an action is barren, but the strength and influence of the fertile far exceed those that are not.

The possibilities that follow divine ideas being open to the public are innumerable. These innate senses and notions of the universe create half of our existence because they truly do influence our lives, subconsciously or not. There is so much that can be said about temperment, resulting from these ideas. They truly do change the way we perceive our world and the people that inhabit it. Temperments, being the outermost expressions of our very being, directly effect others and their perceptions. As such, the fallout of one action, truly grows and multiplies at incomprehensible rates. While there may not be a visible change in our universe from one action, statement, or idea, simply the fact that the effects and their influences exist should be enough to convince ourselves to express and convey our ideas to others.

Photo Credits (from Flickr)
1. inside my mind - 2 eyes
2. ... no evil - Mace2000
3. Day 233: "The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heat" - Gods Emerald
4. SPEAK - lazy eye exposure
5. Jumping into the new dimension (DSC_4769) - Shutterhack
6. City of the Future: Kuwait - AmmarQ8.com