I am going to stray from what I was writing as the inspiration has dwindled to write any further stories about my life. Perhaps, most likely, I hope I can get back to such writing in the future. My boyfriend asked me why I have not finished a book up until now. Simply stated, I don't have the patience and the dedication to stick to one subject, one idea, one topic. I find it very difficult to write about fiction. I have said this before and I repeat it. I tried to write a romantic tragedy only to find that I was writing something not of me, from me. It felt awkward to try and build a world that did not exist. Yet, I pick words from the air every day to jot down notes, to put together ideas, to write in this blog. Yes, I admit, my stories don't always make sense. Or do they? Does someone out in this great big world of ours understand exactly what I am trying to say. Frankly, I don't think so. You know why? Simply put, I don't even understand myself. So, how can anybody else understand me.
I am trapped in an abyss of ideas. I enter my mind and it is as if I have entered an ocean without a life raft. The ideas go one way and they come at me in a different direction all at once. Am I confused? No. Yes. Sometimes. I ask myself why I was born this way. When I was five-years-old I was thinking about the atomic bomb. I was thinking that we were going to destroy each other with the atomic bomb. I cried for all the lives that would be sacrificed including my own. At five-years-old I thought about the coming of Christ. I thought about the rapture and whether I would be left behind. I thought about God and what it meant to be a sinner. I know not everyone starts thinking about these things at such a young age. If they did, what a neurotic society we would be. I believe there are children that have the opportunity to enjoy their childhood. I am not one of them. Well, yes at times I enjoyed my childhood while playing marbles on the playground and running around with the boys. I enjoyed myself while destroying all my siblings special somethings while they were at school. Always, though, in the back of my mind there was more. There was always more. There was this question looming over my head, "Is there more to life than just life?" The only entity which I believe I could ask such a question is God. Yes, my God as I see him, as I know him, as I understand him to be. I can ask him what the purpose is for me. I can ask him what I am supposed to be doing in this world, I can ask him how I fit in to the big picture.
after almost four decades of confusion and exclusion from normalcy, I am no closer to the answer then when I was just a child. My experiences have grown, I have matured with the issues that I have been confronted with in my life. However, the answer to why I am here has not been answered. When I die. When I am in the journey from life to death will I be able to finally understand the purpose of my existence? Is that when I will be able to understand why I laughed, why I cried, why I hurt, why I was. Even further, will I be able to understand why others were intertwined with my existence. Will there be a meaning in all the connections? I believe I have a soul, and I believe that my soul is directly connected to my brain. Why? Only because when my soul is feeling, my brain interprets those feelings. Or is it my heart? My heart is only an organ. It doesn't think. It doesn't understand. However, my soul is a living, feeling, breathing creature tied to my brain. How is that possible? The idea of a soul is so abstract, yet one must exist because the brain and the heart are merely organs. Our arms, our legs, our insides are all organs. Yet there is something within us that is more than an organ. It is something that cannot be contained in a jar or removed from us through surgery. It is intangible.
The journey of our soul ends here. Yes? I have no clue is the journey of our soul begins, ends or continues here. My soul is here. I can not see it. I can not hold it. However, how can I ignore it. It ignites with anger, with love, with jealousy. Every emotion that you can think of is within me. My shell, the protection of my soul, is my body. Depending on my life experiences, my soul forms protections against outside stimuli. It tells my brain to stay away from certain people, it tells my body to go inside because the weather is too hot. I have confused myself more in simply writing this blog. When I come out of this, I will have more questions. When I have finished writing I will have more doubts. I should believe that we have a purpose. I should believe this to be true because I brought three people into this world. I made a conscious choice to bring three souls into this realm of existence. I must have passed on some of me to them, because I see the same questions in them that I saw in me. They are complex individuals who question everything before them. At times I wish they were more simple-minded because they will suffer as I have suffered. They will question as I have questioned. It is my hope that their belief system will be stronger, that they will know what there purpose is in this life. However, I know quite well that there are no real answers. There are only guesstimations of what is and what is not.
I will end hear. My quest was to answer some of the unanswered in my mind. However, instead I have created more confusion. See I have these dialogues in my mind all the time. I just thought if I wrote it down, if I shared it, I would come up with more answers. Why am I here? What have I accomplished? Do I have a purpose? I can find some sort of answer, but is it the right answer. "To be or not to be, that is the question?" Who knows the answer?
I am trapped in an abyss of ideas. I enter my mind and it is as if I have entered an ocean without a life raft. The ideas go one way and they come at me in a different direction all at once. Am I confused? No. Yes. Sometimes. I ask myself why I was born this way. When I was five-years-old I was thinking about the atomic bomb. I was thinking that we were going to destroy each other with the atomic bomb. I cried for all the lives that would be sacrificed including my own. At five-years-old I thought about the coming of Christ. I thought about the rapture and whether I would be left behind. I thought about God and what it meant to be a sinner. I know not everyone starts thinking about these things at such a young age. If they did, what a neurotic society we would be. I believe there are children that have the opportunity to enjoy their childhood. I am not one of them. Well, yes at times I enjoyed my childhood while playing marbles on the playground and running around with the boys. I enjoyed myself while destroying all my siblings special somethings while they were at school. Always, though, in the back of my mind there was more. There was always more. There was this question looming over my head, "Is there more to life than just life?" The only entity which I believe I could ask such a question is God. Yes, my God as I see him, as I know him, as I understand him to be. I can ask him what the purpose is for me. I can ask him what I am supposed to be doing in this world, I can ask him how I fit in to the big picture.
after almost four decades of confusion and exclusion from normalcy, I am no closer to the answer then when I was just a child. My experiences have grown, I have matured with the issues that I have been confronted with in my life. However, the answer to why I am here has not been answered. When I die. When I am in the journey from life to death will I be able to finally understand the purpose of my existence? Is that when I will be able to understand why I laughed, why I cried, why I hurt, why I was. Even further, will I be able to understand why others were intertwined with my existence. Will there be a meaning in all the connections? I believe I have a soul, and I believe that my soul is directly connected to my brain. Why? Only because when my soul is feeling, my brain interprets those feelings. Or is it my heart? My heart is only an organ. It doesn't think. It doesn't understand. However, my soul is a living, feeling, breathing creature tied to my brain. How is that possible? The idea of a soul is so abstract, yet one must exist because the brain and the heart are merely organs. Our arms, our legs, our insides are all organs. Yet there is something within us that is more than an organ. It is something that cannot be contained in a jar or removed from us through surgery. It is intangible.
The journey of our soul ends here. Yes? I have no clue is the journey of our soul begins, ends or continues here. My soul is here. I can not see it. I can not hold it. However, how can I ignore it. It ignites with anger, with love, with jealousy. Every emotion that you can think of is within me. My shell, the protection of my soul, is my body. Depending on my life experiences, my soul forms protections against outside stimuli. It tells my brain to stay away from certain people, it tells my body to go inside because the weather is too hot. I have confused myself more in simply writing this blog. When I come out of this, I will have more questions. When I have finished writing I will have more doubts. I should believe that we have a purpose. I should believe this to be true because I brought three people into this world. I made a conscious choice to bring three souls into this realm of existence. I must have passed on some of me to them, because I see the same questions in them that I saw in me. They are complex individuals who question everything before them. At times I wish they were more simple-minded because they will suffer as I have suffered. They will question as I have questioned. It is my hope that their belief system will be stronger, that they will know what there purpose is in this life. However, I know quite well that there are no real answers. There are only guesstimations of what is and what is not.
I will end hear. My quest was to answer some of the unanswered in my mind. However, instead I have created more confusion. See I have these dialogues in my mind all the time. I just thought if I wrote it down, if I shared it, I would come up with more answers. Why am I here? What have I accomplished? Do I have a purpose? I can find some sort of answer, but is it the right answer. "To be or not to be, that is the question?" Who knows the answer?
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