just say know
Bluelighter
i'd like to say this isn't a debate; mostly this is a creative writting i've written for the forum where i'm going to paradigm life into several "meanings". it will be creative, poetic, and imaginative. i will title each paradigm in bold. sub paradigms will be underlined in bold.
make a picture
shades of life: i pencil in myself upon this white paper of empty white. i pencil in the beliefs i hold, the things that are special to me, the way i think, and my image of myself. in the lighter areas that make me up i see the emptiness; the pieces of myself i have yet to develop. in the lighter shades i see myself as something i am going to become; and in the darker shades i see the things i already am. for me grey represents a place like purgatory or LIMBO; things i have mixed feelings about. white is like nothingness; a blank canvas to add onto. black is something specific; something that is. with white it's like a new beginning. with black it's like death; the ending. when you add black or grey onto white you start to realize that this represents the dynamics of humanity: the ability to take a situation of unknownness or a story and create detail. as i pencil and pencil and pencil in more and more the sheet of my life grows darker and the white disappears. soon life becomes neither white nor black nor grey; but a variety of all three communing together in a paradigm.
colors of life:
blue to me blue represents spirituality, the things i have no control over, and emotions and behaviors that are more powerful than my willpower.
red to me red represents pain, work, anger, frustration, passion, the first stages of a relationship, and energy.
yellow yellow isn't just about happiness or sunshine; it's more like light. light expands into things that are more beyond myself. it's not just about me. it's about the people i affect and the people that affect me. yellow is about that little ball of happiness that just grows and gives me a special memory. and yet i don't appreciate yellow as i describe it. i think because blue and yellow create some other color; because life isn't a coloring book: you can't always put in your favorite ones (mine is purple).
purple purple represents mystery to me. it represents that sort of new and magicalness that life holds. purple is like a form of creating art. purple represents things that are hard to control but that aren't completely out of coping with.
orange orange represents warmth inside. its all about that smile that's not just about yellow; that feeling that something brings comfort from the coldness of life; but comfort that is needed in the time after a long sadness or an intense stress. orange gives birth to a wide sunset and a wide sunrise. it is beautiful because it's there at the start and there at the end and it is always needed.
green green represents energy and meaning to me. it represents plants and the intricacies of their botany and ecology and relationships. green is like a leafy plant that has a specific use. like a tree's leaves that releases feramones that alert other tree's of a potential threat. in human life it represents our society's functions and dysfunctions. it represents our "way" and ways of being.
textures of life: what lies on the surface
texture is like what i see at face value. it's like a stereotype or a single sentence or even a single word and how it's said. it's like an object in the room or a person and their personality. there is a roughness, softness, smoothness, and fuzzyness to different things.
roughness is like my father; a man with a hard lifetime. man who was hurt, raped, imprisoned for something he never did, and taken advantage of by an unforgiving system. a man turned mean to an extent. a man who lost his trust in his fellow men. a man with a softness deep inside but the roughness consumes all. it's in his history of abuse, his dimentia, and his anger and confusion. it's also in me. i was abused too; emotionally. and it took it's toll. for a long time i was abusive to my father with a very red, very blue roughness. and it took so long to soft and smooth out. it took so long; it was so blue in the way it consumed and consumed until it was a part of me and so red in the way of anger and irreconcilability . i eventually recovered very orange and much softer than i am now. but the rough impact still remains a little; i will never forget the friction and shock of a rough life or ordeal.
softness is like how i view myself today. a sort of nice, gentle, caring way. like how i speak softly to people or how other people are polite or how someone can be gentle. i remember a time when i asked my father how he could hold a lightning bug and not crush them to death like i would. to me i admired that kind of softness he held in his rough hands. it's in his friendliness and how he'll say "dog you'r such a wussy" in a playful way while rubbing his face; how he views a thing so roughly with a softness. i see it in people and sometimes i'm afraid to be soft. i'm afraid that i won't fit in with the softness. but i know that i am soft deep down; it's who i am.
smoothness is like other people and how i view them as superior. to me life hasn't been smooth; it's been very un-smooth and it doesn't flow as easily. sometimes i just wish i'd "get it" or fit in. but it's hard not being smooth. i wish i was more smooth. i am fascinated by people with this texture; as if things are easy for them. i admire it in their intelligence and in their empathy. and i realize too that i have been smooth through my uses with LSA. and each time i am brought down i like to say "no wait. i did feel like i fit in, like i "got it" that one time. and maybe i can still be smooth because i know that i just have to calm down and let myself smooth out. i can't force my way into smoothness"
fuzzyness is like the weirdness i have inside. the wacky wonder of delight. sometimes other people can't relate to my fuzzyness. to me fuzzyness is soft and kind. fuzzyness is a personality. it tickles and feels pleasant.
the picture then there's the bigger picture; the whole. it's the connection of all things; society, the earth, humanity, the ecosystem and the bioeconomy, and so forth. the picture is worth a thousand words but without specific value. because a picture is interpretative. a picture could mean something different to me than it might mean to you. a picture gives a glimpse into a tiny angel, a tiny fractioned angle. it gives light to a small perspective to view. it portrays your memories and each detail of life. the bigger picture could be more like a photo album of memories, angles, and perspectives. a picture is actually worth one meaning that could be described with a number of words; whether if its only ten or if it's one thousand.
life is like a book its a book you write in, a book you read, and a book you pass up to read something else. it takes a team of letters, phrases, words, sentences, and definitions to depict the life you live. it takes time to write your book and some people think they can rush it. it takes time to read into your story; some people just want to know the ending. and it only takes a second to pass up a reading. life is like a book; there are chapters of sadness, happiness, confusion, anger, pain, love, controversy, taboo, death, life, epic stories and adventures: but you never know unless you turn each page, unless you get into the story and find yourself down some literate rabbit hole where you loose yourself, unless the story stops you are reading, writting, and missing out at the same time. life is a big book only you get access to; you are your audience, fans, reader, writer, editor, publisher, and advertiser. what group helped you get published? did you have a team of support? or did you have to learn on your own how to write, read, and miss out? and what words did you use? i ask these questions somewhat rhetoricly. you may answer these questions yourself in relation to paradigm. you may even write about it. all i know is the things i've written, read, and that i know very much about words missed. sometimes words fail me. pass the pencil to the next; carry on the torch and a bigger story unfolds. when stories combine a real adventure is "to be continued" and it always continues.
life is like a cycle every day you and i have lived one day at a time. some of us are consumed by cycles: addictions, systems, methods, and repetitions. life goes around and around like a clock ticking and tocking, ticking and tocking, and ticking and tocking till one of the batteries run out. and we have a replacement batter to continue the telling of time. i also like to imagine each person has a chain of connections, reactions, and cycles. a person can be chained down and that chain is just yet another cycle. sometimes cycles are needed. sometimes cycles are unnecessary. cycles are predictive and mathmatical. but what happens when the cycle is thrown off it's course; what would you word that? would you call it a path? would you call it an accident or weak link? would you call it another cycle? or perhaps a longer more complex one? or would it be neither cycle nor path? questions questions questions; cycles cycles cycles; sometimes i think the whole thing is madness. life can be a vicious cycle; like a spinning wheel of a theme park or a farris wheel. do you want to take a ride? pay the admission, get on, and button up your seatbelts; sometimes it can get dizzy and fast and flip you out into the crazy crazy crazy theme this park holds; that theme my good sir or madam is that life is a cycle.
(will be an ongoing project i'm working on in regards to my life; come back for updates and changes; give feedback if you wish or even post a link to some of your creative essays if you feel like sharing!)
make a picture
shades of life: i pencil in myself upon this white paper of empty white. i pencil in the beliefs i hold, the things that are special to me, the way i think, and my image of myself. in the lighter areas that make me up i see the emptiness; the pieces of myself i have yet to develop. in the lighter shades i see myself as something i am going to become; and in the darker shades i see the things i already am. for me grey represents a place like purgatory or LIMBO; things i have mixed feelings about. white is like nothingness; a blank canvas to add onto. black is something specific; something that is. with white it's like a new beginning. with black it's like death; the ending. when you add black or grey onto white you start to realize that this represents the dynamics of humanity: the ability to take a situation of unknownness or a story and create detail. as i pencil and pencil and pencil in more and more the sheet of my life grows darker and the white disappears. soon life becomes neither white nor black nor grey; but a variety of all three communing together in a paradigm.
colors of life:
blue to me blue represents spirituality, the things i have no control over, and emotions and behaviors that are more powerful than my willpower.
red to me red represents pain, work, anger, frustration, passion, the first stages of a relationship, and energy.
yellow yellow isn't just about happiness or sunshine; it's more like light. light expands into things that are more beyond myself. it's not just about me. it's about the people i affect and the people that affect me. yellow is about that little ball of happiness that just grows and gives me a special memory. and yet i don't appreciate yellow as i describe it. i think because blue and yellow create some other color; because life isn't a coloring book: you can't always put in your favorite ones (mine is purple).
purple purple represents mystery to me. it represents that sort of new and magicalness that life holds. purple is like a form of creating art. purple represents things that are hard to control but that aren't completely out of coping with.
orange orange represents warmth inside. its all about that smile that's not just about yellow; that feeling that something brings comfort from the coldness of life; but comfort that is needed in the time after a long sadness or an intense stress. orange gives birth to a wide sunset and a wide sunrise. it is beautiful because it's there at the start and there at the end and it is always needed.
green green represents energy and meaning to me. it represents plants and the intricacies of their botany and ecology and relationships. green is like a leafy plant that has a specific use. like a tree's leaves that releases feramones that alert other tree's of a potential threat. in human life it represents our society's functions and dysfunctions. it represents our "way" and ways of being.
textures of life: what lies on the surface
texture is like what i see at face value. it's like a stereotype or a single sentence or even a single word and how it's said. it's like an object in the room or a person and their personality. there is a roughness, softness, smoothness, and fuzzyness to different things.
roughness is like my father; a man with a hard lifetime. man who was hurt, raped, imprisoned for something he never did, and taken advantage of by an unforgiving system. a man turned mean to an extent. a man who lost his trust in his fellow men. a man with a softness deep inside but the roughness consumes all. it's in his history of abuse, his dimentia, and his anger and confusion. it's also in me. i was abused too; emotionally. and it took it's toll. for a long time i was abusive to my father with a very red, very blue roughness. and it took so long to soft and smooth out. it took so long; it was so blue in the way it consumed and consumed until it was a part of me and so red in the way of anger and irreconcilability . i eventually recovered very orange and much softer than i am now. but the rough impact still remains a little; i will never forget the friction and shock of a rough life or ordeal.
softness is like how i view myself today. a sort of nice, gentle, caring way. like how i speak softly to people or how other people are polite or how someone can be gentle. i remember a time when i asked my father how he could hold a lightning bug and not crush them to death like i would. to me i admired that kind of softness he held in his rough hands. it's in his friendliness and how he'll say "dog you'r such a wussy" in a playful way while rubbing his face; how he views a thing so roughly with a softness. i see it in people and sometimes i'm afraid to be soft. i'm afraid that i won't fit in with the softness. but i know that i am soft deep down; it's who i am.
smoothness is like other people and how i view them as superior. to me life hasn't been smooth; it's been very un-smooth and it doesn't flow as easily. sometimes i just wish i'd "get it" or fit in. but it's hard not being smooth. i wish i was more smooth. i am fascinated by people with this texture; as if things are easy for them. i admire it in their intelligence and in their empathy. and i realize too that i have been smooth through my uses with LSA. and each time i am brought down i like to say "no wait. i did feel like i fit in, like i "got it" that one time. and maybe i can still be smooth because i know that i just have to calm down and let myself smooth out. i can't force my way into smoothness"
fuzzyness is like the weirdness i have inside. the wacky wonder of delight. sometimes other people can't relate to my fuzzyness. to me fuzzyness is soft and kind. fuzzyness is a personality. it tickles and feels pleasant.
the picture then there's the bigger picture; the whole. it's the connection of all things; society, the earth, humanity, the ecosystem and the bioeconomy, and so forth. the picture is worth a thousand words but without specific value. because a picture is interpretative. a picture could mean something different to me than it might mean to you. a picture gives a glimpse into a tiny angel, a tiny fractioned angle. it gives light to a small perspective to view. it portrays your memories and each detail of life. the bigger picture could be more like a photo album of memories, angles, and perspectives. a picture is actually worth one meaning that could be described with a number of words; whether if its only ten or if it's one thousand.
life is like a book its a book you write in, a book you read, and a book you pass up to read something else. it takes a team of letters, phrases, words, sentences, and definitions to depict the life you live. it takes time to write your book and some people think they can rush it. it takes time to read into your story; some people just want to know the ending. and it only takes a second to pass up a reading. life is like a book; there are chapters of sadness, happiness, confusion, anger, pain, love, controversy, taboo, death, life, epic stories and adventures: but you never know unless you turn each page, unless you get into the story and find yourself down some literate rabbit hole where you loose yourself, unless the story stops you are reading, writting, and missing out at the same time. life is a big book only you get access to; you are your audience, fans, reader, writer, editor, publisher, and advertiser. what group helped you get published? did you have a team of support? or did you have to learn on your own how to write, read, and miss out? and what words did you use? i ask these questions somewhat rhetoricly. you may answer these questions yourself in relation to paradigm. you may even write about it. all i know is the things i've written, read, and that i know very much about words missed. sometimes words fail me. pass the pencil to the next; carry on the torch and a bigger story unfolds. when stories combine a real adventure is "to be continued" and it always continues.
life is like a cycle every day you and i have lived one day at a time. some of us are consumed by cycles: addictions, systems, methods, and repetitions. life goes around and around like a clock ticking and tocking, ticking and tocking, and ticking and tocking till one of the batteries run out. and we have a replacement batter to continue the telling of time. i also like to imagine each person has a chain of connections, reactions, and cycles. a person can be chained down and that chain is just yet another cycle. sometimes cycles are needed. sometimes cycles are unnecessary. cycles are predictive and mathmatical. but what happens when the cycle is thrown off it's course; what would you word that? would you call it a path? would you call it an accident or weak link? would you call it another cycle? or perhaps a longer more complex one? or would it be neither cycle nor path? questions questions questions; cycles cycles cycles; sometimes i think the whole thing is madness. life can be a vicious cycle; like a spinning wheel of a theme park or a farris wheel. do you want to take a ride? pay the admission, get on, and button up your seatbelts; sometimes it can get dizzy and fast and flip you out into the crazy crazy crazy theme this park holds; that theme my good sir or madam is that life is a cycle.
(will be an ongoing project i'm working on in regards to my life; come back for updates and changes; give feedback if you wish or even post a link to some of your creative essays if you feel like sharing!)
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