by David Eide .

The world is large and diverse. It has plentitude in all dimensions one cares about. There is a striking misery to it without question, a kind of stubborn unforgiveness. One thing our vouchsafed view must not let happen is a destruction to the simple and honorable in human life. Localities burst outward and stretch against the quiet sky. Nothing is contained, all is confusion. We would rather be floating on ice between large islands between Canada and Greenland. We would smell the distances between atolls. A bird flying at this moment, over an ocean, is more important than all the money contained in all the banks in the world. Vision, stark and real, bountiful and without boundary always finds itself next to the great building that announces, "all is possible through me, only through me...all else is illusion."

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The works of others are important to me. Sometimes they are not. I am bored of the works that do not involve me at the highest level of my being. It's almost a taboo to say something like that but there it is. A taboo. I can be easily entertained by any number of channels on television and laugh heartily at the ribald humor late at night when the children are in bed. But, all in all, the people, their jokes and games, their hand-wringing over trivia bores the living hell out of me.

Since I'm not permitted to live in the past I have to try and find some solace in the present. It does force a kind of happiness. If you are not happy in the middle of the splendor, then you are counted a madman and that is that. Why would a mechanic in Georgia and a teacher in California both call a man an ingrate for asserting one or two of the taboos?

But who can complain? Freedom is not about complaint; it's about enacting at the most substantial level one is capable of. That is the heart and soul of things. I am bored of the technical, engineer types that I am familiar with in my web work. I am bored of the salesman and marketer and con men who proliferate on the bright new beast.

It really is a matter of getting in gear with the best of yourself and learn how to deal with foolish human nature. If what one enacts appeals to others then there is a happy moment; if it doesn't appeal to them then one says, "why worry about it? What ultimately does anyone really know? I have done what nature charged me to do."

Every time I see myself in a crowd of people I think and feel that I am the one from Hell. I am required to spend time in the opposite of what makes me a good and productive person. I am required to spend time in full abandonment of what nourished me, of what carried my spirit for many years in youth. "It is all right and perfect friends, I am the one from Hell and I am walking the Earth as a penitent for your sake but, unlike my favorite brother I will not make it to the surface." A man can have odd thoughts like throwing a rope around his favorite tree and hanging himself; not wish but a simple fable in the soul of a man. But if we were to live out all the fables of the soul where would we be and what would we write about?

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"Seek out your destiny as best you can." Whenever I confront someone who challenges me this way and says there is only one way I know I have come across an ignorant and inexperienced man. One that I can safely dismiss in a way but who, later, might wait for me in a dark alley and waylay me. Such is the beast.


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