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dir/new_school/rant: A w a k e n i n g |
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Some where towards
the end of things, come times when we realize that our moment has come
In flashes of shock and ignited memories. And we’ll often times pause,
in a place, stuck between staring at cracks in the wall or noticing just
how intricate that kitchen tile design is. The thing, which strikes me
as being the funniest point of irony in these weird moments of self
realization is that it’s just kinda drops into your lap. One day everything
is simple and relatively mundane and then you are dumbstruck with just
how much of a sleepwalker you’d become and frankly it’s a bit unnerving.
So much so that we are desperate to find the solace of of that comforting sleep. You got your whole life to sleepwalk and many of us do by choice, whether it be in how we vote or just what we’re willing to deal with. Chapter one of KungFu is a exploration of depression and heartache, it is a fine example of how we sometimes choose to live in misery, even begin to love and need it. Breaking any addiction is a painful, clawing and desperate act. For years I explored discipline and meditation as a way to free myself of my depression, instead what I did was build a room and when depression struck I threw it as hard and fast as I could and I kept deadbolts on the things which saddened and frustrated me. Years of this “harmonious” lifestyle led to a new kinda depression, one where I felt trapped and alone. I had developed a system which promised to keep me harmonious, but unhappy. The creation of this site was my first major step towards healing. The goal was simple rather then write visceral, edgy poetry I would write all out, in your face rants. I would in fact give myself a podium and scream at the top of lungs how I felt, anger therapy. I wanted a therapist and two hour sessions five times a week and groovy anti-depressents. Instead I used my thirty dollar a month ISP account to rip myself bare-and if you’ve found this site- and share it with you. A lot of people asked where the old Paul was and for a long time I lamented that the old Paul was gone and that they should enjoy the new Paul, because the old one had gone to other places and died with bits of seaweed and mud as a shroud, longing for something other then the haunted memories of a lover who would never return. I have grieved a long time for a great many things, my friend, my lovers, my life. I can still live my life, I can still remember my friend and my love is still strong. If you ask me about where Paul is my answer will be different then it has been in the past. Cause somewhere towards the end of things I came to moments of realization and I did pause, looking up and seeing clouds and people and love and hope and it is kinda funny, but more then that, it's uplifting. It’s a far harder life, being depressed and sleepwalking then it is to act and be more. It’s a struggle at first, to work through all the bullshit to find yourself, to be yourself. I did it, I have found peace, all in the heart of woman, someone cut from the same cloth as I, someone who struggled among many of the same parallels as I. I have found a reason, a hope, desire. I have found love. Find your KungFu, your harmony and your own peace and everything else will come in time. I am in love and it is good, I am happy. And they wondered...
where the wounded warrior had gone
I want to give thanks to Sara Seward, who first discovered my site and inspired me to continue my work. To Gregg Braid who also wrote with words of encouragement and poetic linger, when KungFu was three links and nothing else. Most importantly to the Astrolodalva who brought my father, my dead son, the ghosts and most importantly… the first thread of good love into my life. |