Duality Principle (Happy Late Xmas)

The thing about the other guy is that, although he doesn’t share a single view in common with you or your friends or your family, he does still exist. I know this is a mind-blowing concept, but it’s very real. This is the only truth that one must understand, as if your life depends on it, because ignoring Duality Principle is to doom yourself and those around you to suffer. It’s Duality Principle that allows the world to exist. It’s the wisdom that shows all the variety in the world in one shot, something that the eye, heart, soul or mind cannot conceive. Our minds can’t process it with a few seconds of contemplation… even if you found a ‘dank meme’ that really speaks to you on Facebook. You won’t read it from this blog and understand. You have to feel it. You have to think about it for more than five seconds. You have to truly, deeply understand.

Duality Principle is what allows other people to have differing views from yours, which is most likely due in part to some miracle that allows the world to move on, despite our political, religious and/or contradictory views. It’s an amazing thing, you see, because… apparently the world will continue despite other people not believing what you believe. It’s truly a miracle… almost as if… your views hold no weight when measured against the burdensome necessity of everyday existence. Who would’ve thought? Let’s take an example: I consider myself to be more liberal leaning, while there are also people in the world who believe that Conservative doctrine is more easily accessible. Now, there are even others who don’t give a shit about either of our views and come up with their own interpretations… yet, the world moves on. The Principle continues still, as in when one viewpoint is put into practice, the others still exist.

Have I lost anyone? One political ideology being in power doesn’t mean that another is erased, although, certainly, when lunatics take control, there can be several attempts to eliminate other cultures, still, the elimination of a thought is not a negation. Simply put, in attempting to destroy, well… destruction isn’t the answer.

Let’s think about destruction, especially of thoughts that we find troublesome. Now, in killing everyone who doesn’t think like you, what have you done? In theory, you’ve erased them from the planet, although we present alternatives like an afterlife, their forms go through an amazing transformation into death. First, for any good lunatic obsessed with his own ideology, there comes a necessity for mass graves. So, you kill everyone who doesn’t think like you… and you stick them in this massive grave. Over time, there bodies break down, being digested by the earth, scavengers maybe, rotten weeds tearing apart their softening tissue, eating away at them. They grow from within, becoming one with the earth, put to rest allegedly, put to peace. What if your enemy presents itself as a growing flower from a mass grave? Do you keep stomping, because it might represent something that you can’t stand for? How far do you break it down? Do you stomp until it collapses on a molecular level? Then still, a nano-ish level? How hard do you have to work, until your way of thinking is the only way? How long until that weed that grows strong from eating your dead enemies strangles you in your sleep?

I’m not one to think that your enemies will haunt you in the afterlife or even that karma will catch up to you. Eventually, you’ll die to… and you’ll return to the earth, whence you came. You’ll be consecrated with those you killed, maybe not in the same grave, but still your time will come. You’ll be like other dictators, who either die in bunkers with a bullet between their teeth or warm in their beds… or tortured and dragged around the street for the world to see. Either way, you make it to the same earth you consecrated with the blood of those who held a few views that weren’t your own. Hence, therein lies… or truths, Duality Principle.

May every holiday be better than the next, until you meet your enemies in the end!

Religions on the River

wp-image-1616951298jpg.jpgPollution is the river. It shouldn’t be this way, but that’s what’s become of the world. The Egyptians had the Nile. We have the Hudson River. I remember growing up and being told never to swim in it, because GE had been contaminating it for years. The Chemicals allegedly seeped into the river bed. At the time, they were discussing ‘dredging’, which inevitably occurred. The thing about it is that it had to occur. It had to be done, because nobody gives a shit about the river. It holds no significance to our lives and thus, serves only the purpose that we attach to it. I’ve come to the conclusion that this is the greatest danger of human existence. It’s a problem that’s plagued mankind since the beginning of time. We can stare at the stars in wonder, contemplating the vastness of space and the universe and still maintain a certain blindness to it all, when we deny our rightful humility.

Hubris. The Egyptians had the Nile River to thank for the growth of their society. If not for the river, they would’ve receded into nothing, as is the story with so many cultures. Many cultures had nothing to sustain them and disappeared. This wasn’t to be the fate of the Egyptians. The river blessed them with the boon of tremendous wealth and prosperity. They fed from it and expanded, becoming so successful that we still teach about them in school. It’s only the successes in history that concern us. If we counted all the failures of human civilization, well… history books aren’t meant to be that long.

Our river hasn’t blessed us with much. It serves as a picturesque background for some who want a decent picture. That’s about all we have to offer. It separates us from Albany, which is sometimes nice. When I try to think of what it’s brought to the region, I must go elsewhere and that’s not what I want. I want to determine the significance of the river to our culture. The problem is… what if we’re one of those cultures that isn’t worth mentioning? What if I’m writing a bunch of nonsense about a small town that’s just gonna fold into the recesses of the bitter, sardonic matters that history has no need to discuss?

I can accept that we don’t deserve a page in the history books, but still, a slight reference might be enough to help someone out in the world. That’s all I hope for, truly and desperately. I hope that there’s someone out there feeling like his spot in the universe is not-so relevant and that maybe there’s something he’d better do than make it a bit better. I can do all this imagining right where I took this photo. I can look out to the river from a crick that runs through Riverfront Park. You can listen to the cars driving passed along the highway above, while the water makes its way from a narrow crick that splits our city into several pieces. You can consider the significance and maybe, if you think long enough, you’ll understand that the answers you seek, simply put, just aren’t there.

All praise be to the river!

The Howl

This isn’t the Howl, as I thought taking a picture or preparing a false idol would be blasphemous.

For those who don’t know, I’m working on a story that revolves around this town, not just with this blog, but something that I consider close to true. I say ‘close to true’, because that’s the nicest way to say I’m full of shit. It can’t be a story about my town, because it’s a boring place. Yet, it can’t not be about it. Does that make sense? Have I lost you already? If people understood the boredom that occurs on a daily basis in a small town, well, they would lose interest and then, they’d miss out on something truly amazing. I’m still working on exposing exactly what I’m talking about, while only being a little full of shit, not completely. It’s a treacherous line that you have to walk, but I’m trying… this is the story.

There’s this place in my town called the Howl. It’s only a few miles long and wide, really nothing to talk about. When we were children, we’d run around and act like there were monsters hunting us or that we could find buried treasure or just have an adventure. The rest of the town was quite boring. We had a few parks, but nothing much else. We basically got to play in a massive back yard full of trees and a few hills and a creek. It was a safer place than most of the streets in the town. Our parents allowed us to go down there, although there were a few things about it that made it less than desirable. Teenagers went down into the Howl to do drugs… or other things. You could find used condom wrappers. You could find closed thrown in the trees, like something out of ‘Lord of the Flies’, but none of that mattered. We used it as part of the adventure. It was our chance to learn something about what grown-ups (including teenagers) made of this place.

At the time, we were too young to understand why anyone would want to be naked in this place, but when you get older you understand. The time came for us to claim the Howl as our kingdom, which came to us in our teens. It made the most amazing paintball range you could ever see. We decorated the trees, not just in paint, but with lights and ply-board signs. We did anything to make it ours. Sure, we did drugs as well. We did reckless things, because that’s just what happened down there. It was our time to act like fools, so we took it. I’m glad we never missed that opportunity, truly glad.

I’m glad we took that chance, because looking down into the Howl right now, I couldn’t do any of that shit. I’m a grown ass man… thirty one, and going down into this place from my youth would shatter the narrative I’ve worked years to create. That’s my struggle. I’ve been wrestling with the narrative in my head, while the truth is fighting, pressing against the precipice, fighting its way inside. I can’t deny it. As an adult, you come to understand that there aren’t monsters in the Howl, but an even more earth-shattering revelation comes, as to why your parents told you those stories. It’s the Howl. The Howl is a controlled arena of deceit and trivial joy. Your parents told you to go down there, so you wouldn’t get locked into the rat-race that happened on the streets of our city. Kids discovered a lot worse in our town. Some of these things they’ll never recover from… Some of it should’ve been prevented.

Looking back, the Howl was our protector. We shielded ourselves from the truth. Our parents could watch us without really watching us. There was certainly some danger in the Howl, but it was far more controlled than what we would’ve seen walking… well, not everywhere, but down the wrong street. This is the Howl… and I hope I’ve given you the most truthful interpretation that I can…