The unfathomable depths of frustration

I may not have faced death. I may not have been anywhere near its hallowed domain. I was probably closer to the realm of cuckoos and fairies rather than the eternal Never. Yet, during those fragile moments, I believed that my cards were played and the proud face of that unerring daemon stared at me through the hand. It was a full house that served to be more of a Dead Man's Hand. As far as I was concerned.

I suppose that was enough though. That is all that one needs to readjust. Perhaps not as dramatically as I may have hoped or wished. But there has been change. Enough to inspire action where there had been none before. Now, no matter what may be said or thought amongst the people of this world at large, I have my motives and they are not base. They are not crude or born of a material reality of shapes and forms. My concern is of the mental, ths spiritual - the spiral consciousness which I am honored to inhabit.

Wherefore is the point in saying what is said. It serves only to confuse. I would like to say mesmerize, but I doubt that anyone could be rendered such with such forced words. Even with this careful grace that I aim for, cohesion is necessary to affect a mind in such a manner. To twist it, confound it and redirect all possible trains of thought to the point that no original idea remains in the victim's mind. Like a master of magnetic powers, I seek to be a master of managing the magnetic qualities of thoughts and emotions. Manipulative, I suppose. But aren't we all? Perhaps not as overtly as such. But anyone who wishes to improve themselves and consequent "position" in this world must be so. This is the very basis of every self-help book ever written - How to manipulate the people around you to get what you want from life.

That's what the subtitle should be for everything.

Men Are From Mars, Women are From Venus: How to manipulate the opposite sex to get what you want.
How to Make Friends and Influence People: How to manipulate strangers to get what you want.
Seven Habits of Highly Successful People: How to manipulate strangers' perceptions again to get what you want.

I'm noticing a pattern here - yes, one that I have carved into the bedrock of self-help philosophy, but it remains valid. See for yourself. No, do not mistake me - I am not insulting these great tomes. I am merely breaking them down into the simplest component. I hold some of these books in the highest regard, for behind the manipulation lies a greater understanding of Human Nature. Of the spirit and its basic wants and needs. And how to use them to manipulate people into getting what you want ...

But I stray. From the original question - this fear of death that has inspired action. Unlike previous occasions where I faced a greater degree of death. Spinning in the middle of a dust cloud at over 80 miles an hour - when it ended, I moaned for a split second that it had ended so abruptly. In such an anti-climactic manner. The same thought, the same inspiration to act arose through my soul then. Yet nothing was done. Now, I wonder why. Why did I not immediately pursue what was revealed as most important in that instant? Why did I wait and waste so much more time?

Because I did not conquer that fear. I merely saw it. Encountered it. And watched while it drank tea and laughed in my face. Now, no, it is not conquered still. But I did not cower and hide while it watched me as a voyuer watches its forbidden prey. I leapt across the chasm that separated me from true consciousness and caught a glimpse of the ideal and the true.

I feel pure and joyous when I write. When words and sounds flow out like a babbling brook. Untethered, in spite of the banks. The potentially rocky shores that seem to contain its excitement and force a direction. The brook merely accepts the path and moves on, knowing that given the impetus, it would overwhelm the feeble restrictions that held it in place. These are the emotions that run through my words, driven by a passion at times. Perhaps I give them too much weight, instill them with an excess of pride. But to me they are important because they are my weapons. My poison arrows, sedative-darts or life-saving ninja-stars ... I lost the analogy on the last leg there, but the idea remains intact, at least to me.

When I write, there are no constraints any longer. Limited by speech - by the other that listens in a dialogue. By the tailoring to effectively entertain and communicate in a manner befiting the company, there is lost freedom. It oozes out as oil from a peanut. Now, the sandbox is mine to play in. To throw words, sentences, phrases coined from buckets of red and spades of blue. A castle of carefully constructed phrases of passion. I am passionate about what I say, even when it matters not in the least to me what consequences may prevail.

With these words though, I will depart now. Before they grow stale and the passion wanes completely, leaving me as the husk that I am.

Till next, I am grabbed by an idea and held hostage by the mental jugular.