Little Fish

31st August 2010

Text // 2 notes // Comments

Offer me an opportunity to live.

My time is not without worth for I am able to ask myself if the way life works could not have been better, because I know that it is when I ask myself this, that the world, whatever way I want it to be, is not worse today than it could have been. The road to heaven is obstructed by the road to the big Western world. Everything, all the efforts of our nation tilts, not towards the sky above us but to the West, to California, to Japan. This does not interest me: whether I walk the road or swim the Pacific Ocean. None of these thoughts of mine are animated and neither are they warmed by a feeling. Destiny. Follow your destiny for this is not mine. I am sure. When I have my dollars I will go in the other direction. I see people on the Western road, but no music lifts itself from this road, only the tinker of coins rattling around in their pockets. I’ll be the cavalier and watch them as they pass rather than go there, where they are told to go. What are they to do once they have conquered LA? Where are they to go then?

Me. I have all the stars that I want. They look over me. They were then when I was born. Nothing has changed since. I was only born once. And now, whether it rains, or whether it snows, whether I laugh or whether I cry, whether I fall even lower or whether I get closer to my ideal, no new light shines for me. Sometimes, there is a new horizon, a new dawn, sometimes it comes a surprise and is eternal; it wakes itself for me, coinciding with the day.

My opinion may well change as the years go by, but I’d like to think that these thoughts are those that will preserve my soul from rotting. I have no instruction for you, only a method that I myself follow. Sometimes I profess against all these thoughts and in a fever will proclaim to be the world that I condemn. But I know, with age, that we are who we are. I have learned myself. I am learning.

It is wrong to devout ourselves to doing good, instead we should be weary of our lives, to which all of us should sacrifice. To do good in the body of a dead man instead of being in the body of man living and full of life is wrong. To have good taste and refresh humanity within the measures of our capacity and of our qualities. This is what we are.

The question of life should be not only to essentially conquer the life of our body but with that same discipline to conquer the life of our spirit. If what I conquer in my spiritual life is counted as a richness in the ‘real’ world, I am then also worthy. I am worth the same as I was before, and nothing more. I realise this, as far as I am concerned, that money might well be very useful, but indeed won’t be because the difficulty has always been that I cannot profit from circumstance, and I am not prepared for my luck to augment. And my luck will only augment through happiness, that for which one does not need money. Attach yourself to your dreams waking inside. Are we to think that our dreams are only dust and ashes? That they are degraded thoughts? No. Thoughts assemble through music. Melodies that start to organise themselves. These hopes are the roots or the nuggets that even the most indignant of men possess, whether he fries or bites time, that even the poorest are indebted to keep. Men go to the opera and listen to music because they hear the sounds of echoes of words that are nearly never uttered. If you look for another star in the sky, we are so close to be nothing or something, we are simply people of thought looking for an opportunity to live our life.

Tagged: random writing Juju