Truth

Determination has always been just a word for me. Just a big empty word like millions of other words people use to make you feel small.
Determination. They said I had none, that I'd be nothing more than a speck on this earth. Of course, my initial reaction is to laugh or shrug them off, being that most of the people reciting these words never knew what I was determined to do.

A month ago, my flight landed in Western Europe. With nothing but my backpack, my degree inside, a change of clothes, my notebook and my nunchucks, I began to walk. Having graduated from the university of Grandeur and realizing that a degree hardly made it easier to find a job, I realized that I needed a new truth. A truth that didnt depend on this sheep's skin. A truth that wouldn't dissolve if I added pressure or submerged it under the seas of inspection. And so, I began to walk.

Cliche enough, I backpacked through Europe, losing time only in Amsterdam. And I walked until the people began to look different. Their skin was no longer pale and chalky. Their hair wasn't short and blond but now long and jet black to cover their tanish skin. Even their eyes changed. It, seemingly, happened so quickly. Like walking from the slum of our nation's Capitol to the political district. In a blink, the hoods changed. I saw less cafes with people drinking red wine and more people tilling land.

I kept walking. Walking. Walking, knowing that I would not stop until I found a new truth.
My truth.

Leaving a vast amount of land behind me, I saw in the distance what looked like it could have been a city. But it wasn't. Or maybe it was, before.
The closer I walked to the collection of houses, the more I realized that they weren't houses at all, the harder it became to breathe the increasingly thick air and the more the  same air smelled strange.
Trotting down the hill entering the town, I saw a single tan man in an orange dress tied in a knot over one shoulder and the other exposed to the elements.

First I thought he must be cold. But I remembered it was summer and it had to have been around noon. His back was facing me so I doubt he knew I was coming. The closer I got to him, the more I realized what he was doing. He hasn't moved since he first came into my line of sight. Staring forward, then down, then up then back down, he never moved. Closer, still, I could see his shoulders rise and drop heavily. And so I evaluated the scene.

The buildings, those that still stood, were charred. Black with soot and ash and missing walls and ceilings so you could see the nothing's inside. The buildings that were no longer standing were still smoking. The closer I got to the man, the fewer words I had for him.

"This looks horrible. I'm sorry. Was anyone hurt?" I managed as I closed the distance.
To my surprise, he wasn't startled by my presence. Nor did he dry his eyes as he turned around to face me.
"Are you okay?" I asked but he just stared at me for a short while and took a shorter bow. I bowed back, knowing this is a greeting and sign of respect in some places. He smiled lightly and bowed again. Then he started to walk away. I thought to continue my afternoon stroll when he turned around. The look he gave me told me he held the truth I was looking for. Even in his destruction, he was to give me light.

So I followed him.

I followed him along a along and winding pathway, "where are we going?"
No reply
"Actually, where am I?"
No reply
Then, I asked myself, "does it even matter?"
And I think I heard him snicker.
Before too long, we came across a set of stairs. So many stairs, in fact, that they plotted out the horizon. Without hesitation, he began to climb.
"Hey! Can I take the elevator?" I realized how insensitive this was, not because this place clearly didnt have an elevator but because, if they did, it probably burned with the rest of the place. And so, I followed.

Two hours later, we reached the top. Well, I reached the top, my friend having long since left me behind. I drank from my canteen as reward and followed him, still, to a small building that was still left intact.

He sat on a small mat and held his hand out indicating I should take the one across from him. I did.
Why? I don't know. But I did.

"Are you okay?" II asked again.
He responded with a slight nod and his deep gazing stare. It was so intense that I didn't know if he saw me at all. Maybe he saw my essence. Maybe he saw straight through my quasi intellect bullshit. Maybe he understood me better than I understood myself. Maybe he was me.

"Can I ask you a question?"
He stared.
"Um, well, what is this all of this for?" I waved my hand around to indicate that I meant these temples. "I mean, is normal life not suitable for you?" And I thought for a second, maybe this is normal. And if it was, would it be suitable for me. And what's so suitable about what I consider normal anyway? I wondered if anyone ever threatened to bomb this place like they do America.
Well, at least one person wanted to. And succeeded.

"I just feel so deceived. Everything I was taught growing up was wrong, or a lie or has changed. And I don't know how to make heads or tails of any of it. Am I headed towards success or running from it. What even is success? A boring job that helps me buy a basic house to house a wife who won't let me touch her when I want but has dinner ready when I get home and spends my money on two kids who don't speak to me? And then, what even is happiness? Working a job I love for no pay so I can't eat breakfast or lunch so I'm starving even before noon and can't focus on the work I love all for a check that won't pay my rent so I'm always harassed by my landlord adding to the stress of my pending hunger causing me to focus even less, inevitably leading to my termination? And what the fuck did I even buy this $24,000 degree for anyway if I can only get a job at enterprise?"

He stared at me. Did he even hear me? Was he deaf? No, no, I know I heard him laugh earlier. But did he laugh at what I said or at his own thoughts. Maybe he can tread lips. Maybe he can hear and not speak.
"Hey, can you talk?"
He shook his head.
"But you can hear me, right?"
He nodded.
"And you understand?"
He nodded.
"So you know English?"
He smiled and nodded.
I sighed, "what a relief. So why won't you talk."
Again, he simply stared at me.

"I know you monks have some key to peace and the truth and wisdom and shit. I need that knowledge. I don't have anything. The foundation I grew up on has been completely destroyed. I don't know anything. Magna cum laude and I don't know shit. I'll die broke because I don't know here from there or where to go. I'm upset. Angry even. Angry at my own ignorance. Angry at the confusion. The lies. Everything. I'm angry at everything.  I just want peace. I just want to know. I just want the truth."

Still he stared. I couldn't make eye contact any longer. My eyes watered at the hopeless failure I had become.

I heard him stand and when I looked he was facing outside, watching the destruction settle. Melting inside myself, whimpering, I knew he had no answers for me and had made my mind to leave.

When he spoke, his voice sure and unwavering, "you are a fool. There is no truth. All things of the world are of lies. A lie based off a generation of lies only seems like a lie because what you see as truth is, too, a lie. There is no truth. You are the truth. You exist and that is the only truth you know. And because you exist, your truth exists. You create it. You create the truth that you want by weaving the lies at your disposals into what you want. You are your truth. You believed I was mute, that was your truth until I destroyed it. Your truth is that I was a mute. You took the lie that I implied and created this truth. The truth is, I took a vow of silence but, sometimes, I talk. You would believe that this place was attacked by heartless terrorists. I burned this establishment to the ground. That is my truth. Find your truth, yours and yours alone, and you will find the light to guide you."

With this, he stepped back into the sunlight and walked back towards the steps. He took a deep breath and without turning around, jumped from the top step...

And flew into a place where he could escape his truth.

Let it wither.

Everything happened so swiftly.
I could hardly keep up but, I didn't want to slow down.

Almost suddenly, one of the longest friendships I had ever known,
Became increasingly romantic.

So much so, that when I entered her, I felt so much more than the raw walls of her insides.
I felt her aura. It's yellow. I felt her spirit.
And I loved it.

If I had ever, ever loved anyone, it was her.
And I still do. Without shame.

And before I knew it, I had a girlfriend.
And I loved it.

The expression, "God had another plan" rings entirely too true here.
He told her that she wasn't for me. That my calling was greater than her. And that her calling was now Him.
Oh! The beautiful irony.

I didn't argue. I understood and left her be
I didn't cry, though my heart broke a little.
Finally, here, I thought I'd caught the heart of the last woman I'd desire.
Clearly, I was wrong.

This is not a pity party, simply an update. Granted, this was a few months back.
And, like the wise sage Gucci once said, "miss one bus..."

Our friendship, I still value.
My heart, she will always reside in.
But my love must wither into nothingness

Like the carcasses of dead men, left in the hands of fire

Or like the hope of a consistently rejected romantic

Or the heart of a man who understands that purity is illogical

un-repressed

years, its been, since i stopped using my basic cancerian trait: le emotion
logic has been the path i have chosen for all the logical reasons.

reasons that i have begun to question

maybe i have grown weak. maybe, in the end, solitude simply isnt enough.
maybe recent, now almost-regrettable, events sparked a fire that the NYFD couldnt extinguish.
i dont know.
i have recently enjoyed the calming effect of waking up next to another.
and i have recently come to the conclusion that it is something i'd like to get used to.

this isnt new information.
i've always known this, so why are we revisiting the topic now?

i dont know

i was close to a relationship
but, God took the young lady from me.
now, i would never tell someone to give up their religion for my sake
but you havent known real shame until religion steals your chick.

"you're nice and all but you're not holy enough."

still, not a first but it cut a little deeper this time.
a lot deeper, honestly.

love is such an elusive element
like a rare pokemon
just when you stop looking, it appears
and just when you're about to catch it, it runs off
or dies.

im really a failure at things emotional
and it'll probably be that way for the next dozen valentine's days.

maybe cupid can hit one of my books with his arrow.

left, right, up, down

sometimes, i dont think God loves me.

like im his favorite ant to flick around.

i believe, i pray, im thankful, i spread happiness and peace

and yet,
around every corner, im met with rejection, deceit, failure and overall disappointment.

have i really set off this much bad karma?
seriously?





sometimes,
i miss the days when i lived in a cave

the storyteller's poem

come, come.
soft! sit.
and ponder if you will, of all the world.

the seas, the skies
the land, the lives
the ladies, the guys
the souls, the eyes.

what do they see?
how might they feel?
or
what can you show them?
how can you make them feel?

these were the questions Homer asked himself.
centuries later, Shakespeare repeated.
Poe, Hughes, Morrison and Lee.
and now, enter, me.

I have copied no answers, though my eyes have wandered.

curiosity, in fact, has fed my cat.
long have i wondered what other eyes see
and my pen whispers their lives into my ear
lives of sorrow, pain, indifference and fear.

hear ye and take heed
these stories have nothing to do with me
and have not been told to me
but
does that make them fictional?

...

fix your description of me
until you know the story of the one doing the story-telling.

i dont know where this is going.
i cannot predict the future.

all i can say is that i have a fantastic feeling.
i feel brand new.
humbled. broken and destroyed.
i arise from my own wreckage to be a better me.

looking around, i see all that i have accrued over the past few years: nothing.
therefore, i have nothing to lose.

i can only go up.

wait, i lied.

i did gain something.

a peace of mind.



finally.

and it starts

Before I go on to tell you the details of my little journey, it is probably wise to tell you of my other endeavors. There have been many. All with one main goal: to prepare the citizens for the revolution.
ironically enough, i dont do much talking during these little quest. Wisdom and guidance do not always need words.

they do not know that i am coming. they do not know, yet, of my mission.
they believe that i am dead.
and it has been ten long years since they've noticed me.
but from here on out, my existence can no longer be a secret. if i am to continue my journey then they will find out about me.

but, how do you find nobody?