Thursday, November 4, 2010

An Oldie for the Blahs

November from Now On

Such a profound November. Yet a month I used to dread. But it’s so enchanting. So alluring. It’s amazing how I’ve changed. The benediction of the ultimate acceptance of reality. Not only the acknowledgement, but the embrace of the amoral and dark force in nature. That force being nature itself. A force I revel in. A force my spirit dances in.

It’s a beautiful transformation when a free-spirit, such as myself, realizes and admits to himself that if God exists, he is the father all evil. November blahs go right out the window. Now I only find the melancholy of its grey and blue skies sublime, soothing, truthful, and benevolent. No matter how cold it may get, it makes me feel so warm. So whole. A part of a whole.

The much welcome change into the antithesis of my former apprehension was evident this time last year, but is at full, sublime force and bloom now; just like November (this month I used to despise) always has been and always will be, whether one likes it or not. But what does this mean? It is a not so mere metaphor for how silly, dishonest, and self-alienating idealizing (in its perpetual and unconscious state) is in the face of reality. As if accepting reality and life for what they are is abnegation! The opposite of such cowardice-manipulation is most certainly where one may find the truth. That is, of course, if they have the stomach for it. Look now: I rid myself, once and for all, of all the cowardly untruthfulness of idealism and instead of becoming depressed by the blunt, harsh, gloomy honesty of this month, I now fully delight in it. Like I delight in life. My life. All mine.

I have no delusions to be crushed by. For delusions are so easily shattered and squashed. Entropy, calamity, chaos: these are the true gods of the universe. Unconscious, callous, overtly heartless gods. Prayers don’t come true because they (these terrible three) don’t have ears to hear them with. You must make them come true on your own. Accepting all this aforesaid realism (this true connection with reality) brings us to the embrace of the essence of being and chance. In this way we feel no other option or greater justice than affirming our lives. Seeing all the past as the necessity which led us to the necessary and beloved present, to the rich and relentless here and now. All this is the love of fate.

In this way you will never again be dismayed by the sight of a barren, leafless tree under a grey November sky. You will see in it only beauty, splendor, right, and truth.

May the scales fall from your eyes.


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