The sky can’t seem to decide whether it’s night or day. It lingers in a blue-grey haze, being neither azure day, nor inky night… and yet, a bit of both. The tip of my pen dances joyously over the page, words springing forth mirthfully. My thoughts condense calmly, crystal clear in a mind at peace. Yet my eyes can barely see these little glyphs of love come together in the darkness…

Is this how we live life? In the shadows, we write our own lives. Yet we barely see what we’ve written until we’re done and have reached a place of light…

What would I give to be away from here – away from what life has become?
I don’t remember the last time I heard the chirping of a bird. How sad.
My body’s here in tranquility, every bit of it except my heart, which every now and then suddenly beats faster for a few seconds, reflecting perhaps the sudden occurrence of a frustrated thought – a silent scream of pain coming from a wild soul put on hold…

So familiar and over-whelmingly warm
This one, this form I hold now
Embracing you, this reality here
This one, this form I hold now

So wide-eyed and hopeful
Wide-eyed and hopefully wild
We barely remember
What came before this precious moment
Choosing to be here, right now
Hold on, stay inside
This body, holding me
Reminding me that I am not alone in
This body, makes me feel… eternal,
All this pain is an illusion

We barely remember
Who or what came before this precious moment
Choosing to be here, right now
Hold on, stay inside
This holy reality, this holy experience
Choosing to be here in

This body, this body holding me
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me
Feeling eternal, all this pain is an illusion

Alive
In this holy reality,
In this holy experience,
Choosing to be here in

This body, this body holding me
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me
Feeling eternal, all this pain is an illusion

Twirling round with this familiar parable
Spinning, weaving round each new experience
Recognize this as a holy gift and
Celebrate this chance to be
Alive and breathing

This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality
Embrace this moment, remember:
We are eternal! All this pain is an illusion!

(Lyrics by Maynard James Keenan/Tool. Taken from the album “Lateralus”. I will be contacting their forums to ask if we are allowed to show these lyrics on our websites. In the meantime, I wanted you all to read these)

You could sell yourself to get a life, but where do I buy peace of mind?

There’s a song by Joe Satriani called “The Extremist”, and the title for this post may be inspired a little bit by that. Anyway…

Yesterday, I posted what could be classified as a poem, about rebellion. I posted about how I’m always against the flow. That’s true. I somehow always find myself doing what everyone else is not. Why? Not completely sure… maybe it’s just this desire to break the cycle, to be free from social norms, from what everyone else is doing or is supposed to do. Whatever. So far, it’s been quite easy for me to be a rebel. I’ve not had major problems with anything.

However, I’ve been thinking (not unnatural for me, is it?) … About how people sometimes claim to have the perfect answer to everything (or at least to most things). It’s highly amusing, however, to ask 6 different people what their perfect solution to a given scenario is, and then get at least 3-4 DIFFERENT perfect solutions, each contradicting the other. The first point I’m making is that please do not assume that you have got the perfect solution to something, and that all other solutions are not as good as yours. (Feel free to replace the word “perfect” by “ideal” in this paragraph, since the post is titled “The Idealist” and not “The Perfectionist”).

Secondly, let’s play with the word “ideal”. Read the rest of this entry »