Well, it has been observed that I always put quotes, lyrics, and lines from quotable sources on my page but that it has been a while since I wrote any thoughts of my own. The last thing I want to hear posthumously at my headstone, is accusations that I lacked any original thoughts of my own, so sit back and enjoy me… mulling over me.
(Actually the last thing I want to hear at my grave is my old roommate Evan making good on a threat he made years ago...claiming he is going to run up to my grave shirtless, wearing a leather vest and dog collar, and in the most effeminate voice he can muster, say "Good night sweet Prince! I loved thee well!'' …and then sob, uncontrollably. But I digress… )
There is no all encompassing word that could ever describe every branch, leaf, and bloom of one's personality; however, get to the root of a person and one will find singular all-encompassing traits more apparent. The root of a person is found by detecting their motives from which all behavior and traits stem. Behavior alone can be a sketchy vantage point for forming an opinion about another person. Find the motivation for that person's behavior, and you are getting to the source from which all things beautiful and ugly grow.
In evaluating a plethora of choices and actions taken in my life, one will hopefully find only a handful of motives.
~At the root of me, I am constantly seeking independence. Not in the way that most quasi-independent minds do. After all, I can follow other people's advice, happily live by rules not created by me, and sometimes I march to the beat of others' drumming. I am
fiercely independent though when it comes to relying on things outside of my self or abilities. I tend to think that if something should be done, I should learn to do it on my own. Whether it's building my house, doing my taxes, cooking my food, re-stitching a seam, or cutting my hair, I should know how to do it so I am not dependent on others. I hate being at the dentist for this reason, not because I am in pain, but I can't see what he's doing or how I can do it too. Then I end up running home to practice on someone (Sorry about the bicuspid Tami).
Maybe that's a bad example, but my point is this: Two hundred plus years ago, many of our founding fathers were polymaths. Thomas Jefferson gained great recognition as an architect, archeologist, horticulturist, paleontologist, author, inventor, university founder, and united states president. Is there a Da Vinci today? Where are the Renaissance men? We have become so specialized at what we do in order to earn a living that we have evolved into self-diagnosed idiot savants. People may call me a "Jack of all trades, master of none", but I think specialization is for insects. I say they are the drones of humanity.
Being independent obviously doesn't mean accepting every trend, but it also does not mean rebelling against every one either. I have worn mismatched clothes before, not as a statement against fashion statements, but simply because the pants were clean and the shirt was…ironed-like. If they pass the "ol' Smellaroo Test", why not. I have never dyed my hair some radical color, never went to the mall wearing all black and a trench coat, never took a liking to something just to stick out in a crowd as different-- unless it was Frat night with the boys of I Phelta Thi who would rather dress up to play RISK rather than chase women. To me, selling out to some counter-culture way of life is the same as selling out to the accepted dominate culture. Both are tiring and enslaving, both the Emo and the Goth would disappear as quickly as the tiara girl if no one was watching them be them. Marilyn Manson and Paris Hilton are as different as night and day but if they were forced to dine together, their tête-à-tête would leave them knowing that their basic motives are strikingly similar—and so is their underwear.
I am aware of the common fallacy in our society to think that moral guidelines hold one back or tether one down from obtaining his or her independent nature. Does the well-grounded string hold the kite down, keeping it from being free; or does it hold the kite up, allowing it to soar higher as long as the string is taut. When has a kite ever continued upward by breaking all its' restraint? At times I have found my self tossed by the philosophies of men, or twirling in personal angst and loathing, and my human nature grumbles, "Dagnabit, Someone just cut my gall dern string", only to find I am the saboteur holding the blade. Why my inner voice sounds like Uncle Jessie Duke of Hazzard County is another story.
~At the root of me, I work hard to be honest, ethical, and moral in all my dealings. Sadly I fall short of this daily. But when I stumble, like a toddler learning to walk, I try to fall toward the ideal or essential morality instead of falling away. For me this morality or truth I seek is God, He who endorses fierce independence—as long as it is kept in bounds or tempered with morality and ethics. Yes, I said it... Some people are now leaving this blog. There is no way that something so perfect like the earth…or Jessica Alba, just happened. I also think that God has a sense of humor, why else would he allow things like Brut cologne or American Idol to come into exsistance. I do realize there is a limit to humor, and that some things are sacred, I hope my weaknesses and wit never diminish that.
~At the root of me, I enjoy that which is simple. For good or for bad, the happiest times of my life have been when I know what everything around me is, how it all works, where everything can be found, and why I am there to begin with. The simplest my life has ever been was when I lived off the land for a year in the desert. Drop me off in the desert now and I can tell you which way is south by the lean of the cacti, where to find water depending on the terrain and habitat, build fire with out matches, shelter with out tents, what can be hunted, where can be gathered.
Once I laid on my back for two days in the Sierra Ancha Wilderness until someone picked me up and drove me to the hospital. I hardly worried about my circumstance. I was puking and heaving the whole time but thought optimistically to my self, "Arizona deserts give me the heaves...but atleast it's a dry-heave".
(Actually the last thing I want to hear at my grave is my old roommate Evan making good on a threat he made years ago...claiming he is going to run up to my grave shirtless, wearing a leather vest and dog collar, and in the most effeminate voice he can muster, say "Good night sweet Prince! I loved thee well!'' …and then sob, uncontrollably. But I digress… )
There is no all encompassing word that could ever describe every branch, leaf, and bloom of one's personality; however, get to the root of a person and one will find singular all-encompassing traits more apparent. The root of a person is found by detecting their motives from which all behavior and traits stem. Behavior alone can be a sketchy vantage point for forming an opinion about another person. Find the motivation for that person's behavior, and you are getting to the source from which all things beautiful and ugly grow.
In evaluating a plethora of choices and actions taken in my life, one will hopefully find only a handful of motives.
~At the root of me, I am constantly seeking independence. Not in the way that most quasi-independent minds do. After all, I can follow other people's advice, happily live by rules not created by me, and sometimes I march to the beat of others' drumming. I am
fiercely independent though when it comes to relying on things outside of my self or abilities. I tend to think that if something should be done, I should learn to do it on my own. Whether it's building my house, doing my taxes, cooking my food, re-stitching a seam, or cutting my hair, I should know how to do it so I am not dependent on others. I hate being at the dentist for this reason, not because I am in pain, but I can't see what he's doing or how I can do it too. Then I end up running home to practice on someone (Sorry about the bicuspid Tami).Maybe that's a bad example, but my point is this: Two hundred plus years ago, many of our founding fathers were polymaths. Thomas Jefferson gained great recognition as an architect, archeologist, horticulturist, paleontologist, author, inventor, university founder, and united states president. Is there a Da Vinci today? Where are the Renaissance men? We have become so specialized at what we do in order to earn a living that we have evolved into self-diagnosed idiot savants. People may call me a "Jack of all trades, master of none", but I think specialization is for insects. I say they are the drones of humanity.
Being independent obviously doesn't mean accepting every trend, but it also does not mean rebelling against every one either. I have worn mismatched clothes before, not as a statement against fashion statements, but simply because the pants were clean and the shirt was…ironed-like. If they pass the "ol' Smellaroo Test", why not. I have never dyed my hair some radical color, never went to the mall wearing all black and a trench coat, never took a liking to something just to stick out in a crowd as different-- unless it was Frat night with the boys of I Phelta Thi who would rather dress up to play RISK rather than chase women. To me, selling out to some counter-culture way of life is the same as selling out to the accepted dominate culture. Both are tiring and enslaving, both the Emo and the Goth would disappear as quickly as the tiara girl if no one was watching them be them. Marilyn Manson and Paris Hilton are as different as night and day but if they were forced to dine together, their tête-à-tête would leave them knowing that their basic motives are strikingly similar—and so is their underwear.
I am aware of the common fallacy in our society to think that moral guidelines hold one back or tether one down from obtaining his or her independent nature. Does the well-grounded string hold the kite down, keeping it from being free; or does it hold the kite up, allowing it to soar higher as long as the string is taut. When has a kite ever continued upward by breaking all its' restraint? At times I have found my self tossed by the philosophies of men, or twirling in personal angst and loathing, and my human nature grumbles, "Dagnabit, Someone just cut my gall dern string", only to find I am the saboteur holding the blade. Why my inner voice sounds like Uncle Jessie Duke of Hazzard County is another story.
~At the root of me, I work hard to be honest, ethical, and moral in all my dealings. Sadly I fall short of this daily. But when I stumble, like a toddler learning to walk, I try to fall toward the ideal or essential morality instead of falling away. For me this morality or truth I seek is God, He who endorses fierce independence—as long as it is kept in bounds or tempered with morality and ethics. Yes, I said it... Some people are now leaving this blog. There is no way that something so perfect like the earth…or Jessica Alba, just happened. I also think that God has a sense of humor, why else would he allow things like Brut cologne or American Idol to come into exsistance. I do realize there is a limit to humor, and that some things are sacred, I hope my weaknesses and wit never diminish that.
~At the root of me, I enjoy that which is simple. For good or for bad, the happiest times of my life have been when I know what everything around me is, how it all works, where everything can be found, and why I am there to begin with. The simplest my life has ever been was when I lived off the land for a year in the desert. Drop me off in the desert now and I can tell you which way is south by the lean of the cacti, where to find water depending on the terrain and habitat, build fire with out matches, shelter with out tents, what can be hunted, where can be gathered.
Once I laid on my back for two days in the Sierra Ancha Wilderness until someone picked me up and drove me to the hospital. I hardly worried about my circumstance. I was puking and heaving the whole time but thought optimistically to my self, "Arizona deserts give me the heaves...but atleast it's a dry-heave".
A few months later, I fell off a cliff, was stabbed by a branch on the way down, and it broke off in my leg. I found an obsidian stone, chipped a razor sharp piece off for a scalpul and tried to cut it out of my leg (again something I should have left for the doctor). I made a crutch out of a century plant stalk, and hiked out of two canyons to the nearest road to hitch a ride to the emergency room. It was simple and clear to me what had to be done to survive. It is not that simple for me in the city—survival here deals with the cell phones, interest rates, credit scores, 401K's, and PIN numbers. Until recently, I thought a 401K was one hell of a long marathon.
The desert was my crucible. It was a refiner's fire in every sense, separating those precious essentials needed for human happiness, from the weightier luxuries and distractions of the world. This does lend credence to the observations and claims of my intellectual buddies that I am an anarcho-primitivist. I am a capitalist by birth, have a good paying career, and now enjoy many luxuries—like toilet paper instead of sage brush. Imagine the emotional (and some physical) scarring after that.
But after the desert, I know what is essential and what is excess. I now know that happiness is the small delicate things we trample over in our pursuit for something more. In other words, Happiness is missed when we choose to just kill some time by playing Playstation until 1am and can't wake up the next morning to hike the nearest mountain peak and watch the sunrise. "How can you kill time with out injuring Eternity?" And how many men are slaves to their possessions? For once in my life, I own very nice things, but... they will never own me.
The desert was my crucible. It was a refiner's fire in every sense, separating those precious essentials needed for human happiness, from the weightier luxuries and distractions of the world. This does lend credence to the observations and claims of my intellectual buddies that I am an anarcho-primitivist. I am a capitalist by birth, have a good paying career, and now enjoy many luxuries—like toilet paper instead of sage brush. Imagine the emotional (and some physical) scarring after that.
But after the desert, I know what is essential and what is excess. I now know that happiness is the small delicate things we trample over in our pursuit for something more. In other words, Happiness is missed when we choose to just kill some time by playing Playstation until 1am and can't wake up the next morning to hike the nearest mountain peak and watch the sunrise. "How can you kill time with out injuring Eternity?" And how many men are slaves to their possessions? For once in my life, I own very nice things, but... they will never own me.
Unless Jessica Alba walked through the door with a six pack of Dr. Pepper and a bag of black licorice of course… Then she would own me. :-)
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