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Feb. 22nd, 2005 05:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkaI think forever only means something to me if it's... impossible. Sort of the way life is defined by death, permanence has to be defined by impermanence. I think that explains why I dwell on the impossibilities of human relationships-- it's like... in some way, lastingness proves truth and provides comfort, a soothing of the restless spirit, and yet in another way, the things that always last without constant change and upheaval seem less real, because nothing in life seems all that unyielding, even the mountains themselves.
I've always been driven both by the need for rest and comfort, the need for knowledge, and the desire for passionate freedom, which brings with it the decimation of both certainty and comfort. I can never quite reconcile these elements within myself, or decide what's more important-- the free-fall of constant seeking after truth or the peace found in the grounding one finds within oneself when one stands utterly and completely still. That is lastingness, I think-- that is forever; the one eternal moment when one stands still and breathes deeply, and becomes the same as the wind and the trees and the worms.
It's only human to think that the impermanent things are less real, to feel that they're less satisfying. It is only natural to want reassurance, and to want someone to wake up to, and to want someone who's always by your side. Being alone can be awful, like a resonating bell that echoes and echoes across the universe, with no one to hear it but yourself. And love can easily become a safeguard against that feeling-- a way of ensuring that the universe is not a cold and lonely place; that one has a place within it to call home.
So I don't know why I often want to go against my instincts like this, and be alone, and embrace impermanence and the cold of empty space, the exhilaration and fear within falling, apparently off the edge of the world. It seems like everything includes within it its opposite, and the vast reaches of the sky, empty and wide and free, often feel like a homecoming, just to look at them. If one listens, it's like there's no such thing as emptiness, because being is everywhere, and because one is always part of One (the universe), there is no such thing as 'alone'.
The questions and the feelings, they always return-- that is what permanence is; that cycle. The questions 'who am I' and 'why am I here', and 'what is there for me?'-- they keep coming back; one can never quite be satisfied with an answer. I think memory returns the same way-- you remember the people you loved once, you remember their faces and the things they said and the things you'd never told them-- and suddenly that immediate moment of yes, of love-- that returns as if time itself had never passed. That moment of first realizing that another person is dear and present-- it stretches out across one's living memory, mostly silent but sometimes surging into a voice, stubbornly making us dream of forever.
This rather over-the-top & overly philosophizing entry brought to you by the typical overt symbolism in a yaoi manga called Punch Drunk Babies, and by the continued support and tolerance of Readers Like You (tm).
Btw, from reading this aestheticism.com review of Koi ga Bokura wo Yurusu Hani, er... can anyone tell me if this sounds good? Over-the-top? Worth reading even though I'd have to hunt wildly for it through the evil wilds of irc? I'm lost, I really am.
I've always been driven both by the need for rest and comfort, the need for knowledge, and the desire for passionate freedom, which brings with it the decimation of both certainty and comfort. I can never quite reconcile these elements within myself, or decide what's more important-- the free-fall of constant seeking after truth or the peace found in the grounding one finds within oneself when one stands utterly and completely still. That is lastingness, I think-- that is forever; the one eternal moment when one stands still and breathes deeply, and becomes the same as the wind and the trees and the worms.
It's only human to think that the impermanent things are less real, to feel that they're less satisfying. It is only natural to want reassurance, and to want someone to wake up to, and to want someone who's always by your side. Being alone can be awful, like a resonating bell that echoes and echoes across the universe, with no one to hear it but yourself. And love can easily become a safeguard against that feeling-- a way of ensuring that the universe is not a cold and lonely place; that one has a place within it to call home.
So I don't know why I often want to go against my instincts like this, and be alone, and embrace impermanence and the cold of empty space, the exhilaration and fear within falling, apparently off the edge of the world. It seems like everything includes within it its opposite, and the vast reaches of the sky, empty and wide and free, often feel like a homecoming, just to look at them. If one listens, it's like there's no such thing as emptiness, because being is everywhere, and because one is always part of One (the universe), there is no such thing as 'alone'.
The questions and the feelings, they always return-- that is what permanence is; that cycle. The questions 'who am I' and 'why am I here', and 'what is there for me?'-- they keep coming back; one can never quite be satisfied with an answer. I think memory returns the same way-- you remember the people you loved once, you remember their faces and the things they said and the things you'd never told them-- and suddenly that immediate moment of yes, of love-- that returns as if time itself had never passed. That moment of first realizing that another person is dear and present-- it stretches out across one's living memory, mostly silent but sometimes surging into a voice, stubbornly making us dream of forever.
This rather over-the-top & overly philosophizing entry brought to you by the typical overt symbolism in a yaoi manga called Punch Drunk Babies, and by the continued support and tolerance of Readers Like You (tm).
Btw, from reading this aestheticism.com review of Koi ga Bokura wo Yurusu Hani, er... can anyone tell me if this sounds good? Over-the-top? Worth reading even though I'd have to hunt wildly for it through the evil wilds of irc? I'm lost, I really am.
