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Best Seats in the House: Ambiguity and Paradox

Best Seats in the House: Ambiguity and Paradox

The Futile Stupid Unreasonableness of Trying to Hold onto a Familiar Identity and Comfortable Security

 

We work so hard to 'establish and maintain' a certain familiar distinctiveness in ourselves, according to how we inadvertently label success, financial freedom, recognizable sought after happiness/wealth/riches: 'making it to the top.'

 

Which supposedly offers us MINK LASHES a comfortable individual security, merited place of notoriety, including an emotionally attached favored 'looked up-to' identity of sorts?

 

We are trying so hard to get it right, make our mark, 'be somebody', do it before the next guy cashes in; we tend to overlook and undervalue how much precious time is sucked away in fueling our self-vested fabricated idolized misery.

 

Along with the desperately sought after unshakable security, [arriving at the place we believe to be significant and worthy of praise and recognition] a certain self-projected respect demanding 'holier than thou' foreboding energy attaches itself to the 'one being in the know.'

 

The more we project we know, or have need to know anything, the less we are in the vicinity of finding out. In other words, we are always hopelessly lost; no matter the outer 'toys of distraction' we exploit to prove otherwise. (Ambiguity)

 

Moreover, during the falsely saturated time of cherished self-intoxicated elevated position, we silently refute and resent the parroted place of fictitious harmony while, lacking in true peace, are superficially traveling incognito, defiantly in search of finding our 'true selves' in an attempt to fill the gaping hole we live with. (Paradox)

 

"Surely true peace of mind can be had, IF only I knew how to do the right things to get it."

 

"This cannot be all there is", we silently reassure ourselves, as we once again succumb to our fractured mind's taunting insistence; "Don't Worry. Have hope. It's going to get better. You won't feel like this, always."

 

The relentless torrid mind ridicules us at every turn, as we try to calm our restless seething nature.

 

Nothing could be worse than for us to heed the deceitful luring words of hopeful resolution. (Ambiguity) There's no peaceful resolution to be had for there's nothing to resolve. (Paradox) "This IS as good as it gets."

 

An absolute insidious mockery of the worst kind results when we arrive at the place where we think we should be, doing what we ought to be doing, saying what we need to say, performing the comparable expected majestic duties attached to the "IDEA" of success whether in marriage, career, education, and/or on a spiritual platform.

 

If the truth be known, as unpleasant as it sounds to fragile ears: to supposedly arrive at the situation where 'We've made it" nothing short of drinking an 8 ounce bottle of absinthe laced cyanide can eradicate the infectious feelings of unutterable disdain and disgust.

 

We are living in complete ubiquitous ambiguity and indemonstrable paradox. To deny the reality of its liberating premise produces unalterable agony.

 

To declare with full certainty that we KNOW what to do and HOW to do and with WHOM to do it is a complete boldfaced lie! It would be like saying one path is better than another path. No. Impossible.

 

All roads lead home if you don't KNOW where HOME is located!

 

Adjusting to the undeniable fact that things are constantly (appearing so) thrown out of order simply to be rearranged in a different framework, requires an ineffable courage and merciless determination not to be swayed by visual "human appetite suppressants."

 

Whether these suppressants be in the form of relationships, spirituality, career, fame, prestigious positions in society, celebrity/sports recognition, accolade mastery, extended idolatrous vain attritions of celebrate honor, or simply 'following someone else' who has thoroughly convincingly marketed himself/herself and the 'miracle fix products, programs, or processes' as ones who 'have the goods', the end result is the same: melancholy.

 

Nothing could be further from road of acquiesced contentment than to believe we must be saved, rescued, set free, and/or bailed out. Our real business remains obscured as long as we look for it and 'who we are.'

 

We are to abandon the idea and any recognizable reference to hope. Hope implies doubt. If we hope for a better tomorrow we are admitting our today is less than perfect.

 

Our days are the immutable ledges upon which we stand to view the sun, rain, snow, winds and drought with uncompromising gratitude. IF we could change our ledges, (we can't) we would alter our indistinguishably programmed DNA molecules which comprise our celestially organized structured beings.

 

The more we try to change any aspect of our delicately magically ordered selves, relationships, careers, education, physical bodies, and variegated lives the less productive and contributory we experience 'pure raw authenticity' in our existence.

 

In addition, by inaccurately assuming when we arrive or have arrived that we would not lash out at those who have loved, supported and connected with us on our renowned journey is pointless.

 

The more successful we think of ourselves, the more unsuccessful we tend to view others. By reason of comparison and measurement, we must have a podium of reference for our advantageous highly coveted awarded singled out accomplishments.

 

So what are we to do? Cease striving, measuring, tabulating, competing and planning! Relax by facing each moment honestly with no glamorized emotional reaction. "If at any moment we think we know what we are doing and why we are doing, cease immediately."

 

Invite ambiguity and paradox into the grand ballroom. Put on our finest attire. Offer them the better of the best we have in our closets. Allow the reality of death's encroaching reality as the parade of victory to be celebrated and enriched.

 

Pretend not that he will stay his hand until we have finished our business. We have no business except for living/laughing/loving each moment of our soapbox infused lives unconditionally and rapturously content just to be here.

 

Don't hold back.

 

Do what we sacredly sensually sexually passionately creatively love to do all the time. Look for no beneficial result, applause or appreciation.

 

Now and forever with no hope of excuses, defense, explanations, or recognition, breathe in the moment of self-generated ecstasy and release every single mouse dropping bit of it with the exhale.

 

Start afresh uncertain not having or wanting a clue. Live without security and destination. It's the only way we do.

 

Proud Native Born, Bred, and Resident of North Carolina, married 40 spectacular years, 6 children, 11 grandchildren.

 

Passionate about love, living, laughter, liberty, learning, listening, loosening up, lounging, lunch, liveliness, literacy, lip stick, letting my hair down, leaping, leaning, libido, lifting, linking, looking, lodging, luxury, lemons and lyrics.

 

BS in Communication MA in Art Education currently pursuing a Ph.D in Educational Psychology. Executive MODE of Cosmic Therapy Therapist, Esoteric Sexual Psycho-analyst, artist, author, entertainer, motivational speaker, teacher, singer/songwriter, perfumer, dream interpreter, musician, composer, playwright, professional astrologer, tarot consultant, numerologist, poet and self-taught chef. (Avid student of life and lover of humanity)

 

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