Why can some see beyond what is given? The day is on the increase and consider how much time is left to do what? Not what you want, that just nets similar results, We lack vision, we that dwindle as there are those that rise. What is your gift? What draws people to you? Twice this week , on two separate occasions two individuals have sought me out for advise. Me, the retard, the one too familiar with feelings of insignificance. The one living on a knife’s edge. Feeling the howling wind blowing through my mind a white noise that leaves me feeling insecure, thinking other people are thinking bad things about me, but I have learn to distance myself from these feeling evoked most times as I am out and about; whereas, within the confines of my home life- I am secure, but once I step out of doors that abiding sense of me not being wholesome enough, the one looking for signs of rejection.
That has to be the hardest task we can set for ourselves, to decipher our human condition, the one uniquely ours- the one we must suffer. I have decide to try to listen more keenly when these feeling erupt so as to record, to notate the words that lead me to feeling trapped, caught, exposed. it’s like I am writing about someone else because I am so foreign to myself.
But these two people came with different needs. One suffered from addiction, the other borderline insanity. My advise to the one whom has been in and out of rehab, simply leave off institutionalizing herself in these environments where its depressing at best; rather, she should pursue a goal, invest the same amount of time pursuing a some form of certificate, college course; not that that would be the end but only a process whereby she could discover herself. While he, his story was long, lengthy betraying his lack of insight, his inability to see the patterns and where they were leading him; my recommendation was he has to disconnect from his thinking, via mediation, fasting martial arts.
But I make it all seem simply, but there was value in these exchanges. I like counseling people; my reference is always my own battling wits trying to keep me sane. I do so only through diligence, but that gives me too much credit. Is there a such thing as grace? I believe there is and it seems my whole life has been graced by some benevolent feeling. But just as well there has been that human stain, the other side that makes me take heed.
Writing is my balm. Though I am afraid I have not larger subject than myself.