A Unifying Theory

It is so simply and wonderfully paradoxical, to wonder if everyone else imagines that no one else imagines.

It alarms me how little I find the need to express. That isn't to say I'm expressionless, but rather that no matter how many thoughts and ideas run though my head, none seem to become anything more than neurons firing just to see themselves alight. Hours I have spent staring at blank pages yearning for words to be put to them, only to leave them wanting while distractions take station. I wish I could apologize to all the wonderful words that could have been combined and phrases left unturned. Say sorry to all the sentences silenced and soliloquies unsung. But no matter how grand the ideas are, they all seem so quaint when fully fleshed. Ideas that sum up so much of the world and what goes around me that, when written down, take on a dastardly vestige. What was once a source of pride - my thoughts and notions that seemed so new - repetitive and stale, like everything that had come before, and left out too long.

But, there is solace to find in this repeated action of deciding to start anew and finding no source of inspiration by which to continue. And that is, to imagine these issue widespread. To realize that, like you, I may never come up with something wholly original. Imagine that no one else can imagine, and realize that perhaps neither can you. Turn the focus inwards. What do you know? That even having these thoughts is evidence that you are thinking. If you are thinking, then perhaps, though the odds are stacked against you, that you will think something not yet thought. Then, take what others have thought, and apply those novel concepts into your very process of creating novel concepts. Eventually, it may dawn upon you. In order to provoke new ideas, the old ones must be shuffled out of the way. Having every thought first will ensure that what follows will be of the purest sorts.

The problem is that these are even goals. The problem is that these are even problems. We search so hard for overarching metaphors or simple phrases that will explain existence. There are no lines that complex. There are no books with answers that thorough. The real answer will come when every thought is finally had. As soon as the years of accumulated couplets and compositions are carried aside, and everything new can be allowed a space to be, perhaps then it will all come together. Maybe there is no unifying theory, or way to explain why there are things to explain. All we can do is work hard to get our minds to places of unique ideas, and finally be expressed.

Resurrection

All people, to generalize, seek the same things.  Well, no, that isn't true.  All the people you know.  And the people they know.  There are certainly those whose ambitions are either far simpler or far grander than what those of us commonly are left wanting.  There are basic needs for food and water, and there are struggles for the maintenance of fear or control.  But, again, to generalize: All people seek the same things.

Symposium

It is cliche, quite so, to write on matters of the heart on this of all dates. None the less, the spirited enthusiasm of those idly running about cannot help but cast aside a wake that will lend turbulence to even the most dismayed to be among those dismayed. It should never, that is to say ever, considered to be a unique situation to which we are so ready to assign ourselves belonging. I am considerably consternated by my callous coining of caring concerns. That is to say, I find myself being sympathetic and empathetic to the lonely lots, while somehow maintaining withing my hubris that am allowed to be outside of this standard arrangement and must in someway be more deserving of the depressing waves given of by those idle wakes.

We are all alone. This is not said for dramatic effect of as a some ridiculous cry for notice, but simply for clarification for those of us who chose to and think that surrounding yourselves with and much noise and light will somehow negate that face. We are born together, and we die along. All of life is a struggle for independence from those around us while paradoxically, at least in the world I have been placed, seeking out inexplicable new connections on which to grasp in hopes of finding what was had and caste aside or lost to time. Replacement is all we seek. Familiarity the most valuable currency in minds bombarded, both with and in effort to be, new and improved at all times. We seek to get home again, and somehow chose only to find temporary respite in the arms of those who are only looking for their own. And when two of these fools mistake the selfish desires of another as fulfillment of their own, it is rewarded or preferred?

Now it is far to late. To late to hope this ridiculous writing isn't read as trite or complaining or nihilistic. To late to change minds, my own or others, that there is any other truth about whatis our primary pursuit. Depressing, maddening, and most of all lonely. For temporary respite is at least that. A break from the silent yelling, the blinding darkness, the expansive restrictions, and the touches without feeling. Another year to follow another year of accomplishments no one will see.