Subject To Change

“Everything changes, nothing remains without change.” Buddha

Archive for December 2008

.But I’m Not The Only One

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If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools.”

The above is a stanza from Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If” that’s framed and hung up on my aunt’s wall. It was gifted to her father by one of his closest friends who died shortly afterwards. The whole piece is basically a reflection and a very moving one at that. I especially love that bit, because I am a dreamer and I spend more time in thought than in anything else. Also the way he refers to “Triumph” and “Disaster” as imposters, I agree with this idea completely. Life isn’t about being successful or suffering, it’s the middle path that is important. Life is about getting by. Life is about survival. Life is about making the best of what you have and not depriving others of that. It’s about having as much fun as possible while doing the least bit of harm to those around you.

As for the rest of the stanza, it’s sad when your work is taken and turned into something malicious and against your original intentions. But you have to be strong enough to correct it. You have to be bold enough to stand by your statements and make sure you aren’t misunderstood. When you build something, you have to remember that whatever is built will eventually break. And when it does you have to be the one to rebuild it, because no one else knows what your intentions were and what motivated you and how much you put into it. No one can share that passion that went into it. It is up to you.

The poem has three more stanza’s that you can read here, and it ends with this:

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!”

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December 23, 2008 at 2:49 pm

.Something Beautiful, Something Free

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Like a junkie pleading for one last hit
I feel the need now more than I ever did
Bleeding myself for the blood of my joy
Meddling with needles as though they were toys

I want something beautiful
I want something free
But nothing in life
Comes without a fee

And I have paid the price
Yes, I have paid it well
And I will serve my time
In the jail that you call hell

But that does not bother me
For myself, I’ve always dared
I knew what the risks were
And I was always scared

For an eternity of suffering
Seems quite painful indeed
But just an ounce of heroin
Could give me all I need

So I will tie my arm for one last time
With a black balloon and a gun in my hand
I feel the needle prick and the rush seep in
I take a deep breath with a bullet at the end.

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December 15, 2008 at 9:00 am

.Misery Is A Butterfly

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These thoughts conjured whilst I was listening to Blonde Redhead’s album Misery Is A Butterfly. Coincidentally, this blogs favicon is an outstretched hand holding a butterfly. I scrolled through my contact list on MSN and found this in a friends personal message: “What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.” I love the feeling coincidence ushers; the feeling that everything is connected. And it is.

Misery is a butterfly. It has wings. It can fly away. And yet it stays, sucking the sweet pollen you graciously offer. Once it has had its fill and filled you with need, it leaves for another. And the same goes for the other. Until we are all empty vessels looking for our feed. But we were never empty at first. Misery creates loss.

“Remember when we found misery
We watched her, watched her spread her wings
And slowly fly around our room
And she asked for your gentle mind”

Misery Is A Butterfly by Blonde Redhead

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December 12, 2008 at 10:01 pm

.This Is Not A Trick

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You are the magician
That looks into my soul
You see what I need
Then pull it out of a hole

The hat is not the source
It is merely a portal
You reached into my heart
And gave me what I wanted.

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December 12, 2008 at 3:26 pm

.Only Fifteen

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Measly me
Easily pleased
Forever deceived
I am a disease

I am not a boomerang. I am a frisbee.
I know ’cause when they throw me
They do not wait for my return
They let the dog have its turn

After all, who wants to take it back into their hands?
With all the spittle and grains of sand
No one wants what the dog threw away
No one wants me. I want No one.

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December 9, 2008 at 8:11 pm

.Leaves Fall

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People always leave. It is inevitable. It is natural. What’s sad is that human beings are irrational. We don’t try to reason out why they had to leave, some of us do but it’s only after grieving over the loss. We spend so much time feeling morose, we become angry at God and fate, we feel helpless, we beat ourselves down. Why? Does it help? What does it change? Nothing. And yet we continue to do so, because it is what comes naturally.

So what should we do? What is rational? It may sound apathetic and without conscience but you have to think reasonably. Think rationally. There is always a reason behind everything in this life. We all go through hardships. You might think someone else has it better than you, but you’re wrong. I don’t think so. I believe we all go through hardships at some point in our lives, but it is different in both timing and intensity for us all. I don’t compare what I’m going through with what others are, because I can’t. It’s not right. We don’t all have the same wants and needs. We don’t all have the same purpose. We don’t all live the same lives. We are all different. In my opinion, no one has to go through anything that they can’t handle. Life maybe cruel but it is rational.

Think of it this way: Think of a tree. Think of its leaves. In Autumn when the time comes they will fall. Some are blown away by the wind to never return again. The rest fall to the ground and eventually enter the soil once more. Some people leave and never look back (or can’t look back). Some people leave but their presence is still felt; they have made an impact on your life. But what you feel isn’t loss; you just wish you could thank them for all that they did. You wish they could have helped you for longer. You wish you could have returned the favour. But you can’t blame the ones who left; it is the wind that took them away. And you can’t blame the wind for blowing; it is all it can do. You might think “What if the leaves never fell?”, but leaves have to fall; they can’t defy gravity. When the time comes, it comes. But the ground will always accept them, regardless of whether they fell too late or too soon, and so will the roots. That is the beauty of life.

.Who Are You Now?

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I am myself,
And nobody else.
I am nothing more
And nothing less.
I am not a saint,
Nor a saviour.
I am not a guide,
Nor a messenger.
I am who I am,
And all that I can be.
And there is no one else,
But myself who can change me.

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December 5, 2008 at 4:48 pm