Freeing The Caged Bird of Fire

A Troublesome duality confronts man when focusing inward upon self in reflection. The vast lifelong conflict between a healthy conviction, opposing our personal nature, obscuring the opportunity of wisdom with an intrinsic and inherent ill will. How it unveils only the unnecessary and unhealthy. Perverting what should truly be shown in glass of reflection concerning existence, of which self is an important segment of the working order though it or both be claimed chaos. A duality of conviction and wisdom amalgamating in a cohabitation with danger. Danger not of misfortune. Danger of Destruction. Total and complete. An Elevated danger which will repel one unto the depths of the great reviler. The very self who without embarking on the haste risk of escape will have no possibility for repose. Rather consumed they'll be by that every hungry mouth which hankers for hopeless souls to drag unto that void of the vanquished in which misery abounds. No hope pure. It knows that opportunity and time has passed. Now it seeks. Seeks to fulfill a need. A need of the likewise class. The school of the burdened. The school of the burdened in which to butcher.

Yet, how profound is that true conviction, which can the epitome of contradiction at first contemplation. Thus, it can be difficult to differentiate factions of either one. Can we discern one from another? Is this not an important charge amongst the human condition? Objectivity in self? The conclusion of absolute absurdity. Is it abstract or accurate? It is a despairing truth that the positive striving to be self objective can equate to a negative sum. Thereby, are we to be always in some way deceptive concerning our very own being? Will hope and strength eventually falter when we hoist ourselves from cowering positions to face honesty? Are we doomed unless to live by this deception? 

The prudent pondering of such postulation is problematic. Yet, by no means. By no means does this possible end equate to an eventual absolute. Engaged thought. Engaged always in battle we must be. Endeavor against self and those truths that we readily and willingly twist to make them more appealing unto us. Thus becoming dangerous lies that we tell ourselves, which have lead many down unlit pathways and unpaved roads to become wanderers. Wild Men and Wild Women against the self-imposed wickedness by falsehood of a perpetually dark wood. Covered in nothing but night and fear.

The Battle rages constantly, though we become ignorant at times of it's thundering echoes. We overlook the onslaught against us. We shrug of the grazing blows from scimitar or sword, the wounds appearing clean and shallow. Yet, take great care and caution even among these non-crippling cut. They may be shallow, the sword may have been of stately material, but by no means does it suggest that without proper care you're wound is beyond festering. Do not find yourself as one regretting not taking care of those shallow slices within your skin when sepsis sets in.

We are more than apt. More apt to realize the battle we are in when we are deeply pierced or ran through. In particular, grievous gashing to the head, or thrusting blows to the heart are the most painful, and can bring upon death or a infection of the spleen. As dangerous as injury to the head and heart are, the spleen's infection that generally arises from such injury, is just as deadly. The spleen can either heal in alignment with the proper healing of heart and mind, or the opposite could occur. A horrid rheumatoid condition may set into the spleen, making it attack itself. Bitterness. Anger. Despair. Separations of support. Divisions among loved ones. Alas, we often too much focus on the spleen, that seat of emotion, instead of the head and heart. How many of us are as Dostoevsky's protagonist within those underground notes?

The line is a thin one as one between air and water, or the separation of air and sky, that horizon which can be seen within expanse, but never truly focused upon. Clues exist in mind within chaos of reason in which we can provide evidence among the judicial court of soul on whether we are of a self-deceiving nature, which will and can only lead to self induced-malady, or whether there is the examination and exhibits of faults and misery among our peers of heart, soul and mind, concluding in a recess where responsibility may be regulated, but where we ourselves might not be condemned. Gall and spleen lead unto gallows. Yet, the differing of conviction leads not to incarceration, but incineration of certain behaviors, if applicable, and self deception. Self despair. Self loathing. These shall be incarcerated and thrown to the furnace. Not those who approach free of deception. Once sepsis and disease spread, it was common practice to take the poor person inflicted and burn the body, the belief being that such ailments attributed to the flesh could affect another< in that even though the body died, the infliction was still able to affect others. 

To come to any conclusion how the self might indeed differentiate between that proper conviction as opposed to the improper and deceptive conviction, there is a singular element which stands out and culminates in obscuring any given individuals location within mind, spirit, heart, soul or whatever label the reader may want to refer. A Juxtaposition is an important element which manifests with some clarity, relative to honesty, the median in between. Two become evident. One macerates and the opposing multiplies or adds in mass and might. Might and mass. The latter can overtake. The macerater is a destructive device, thus must it follow that this device is the one most useful that the past and pain be ground up and disposed of to never bother self again? Inherent in the human condition are two forces. The destructive force, and the force which amasses information to provide as a guide the direction of life. Though these two exist, the addition side and the negation side of experience, are not as exclusive as their intrinsic natures might suggest.

Simply, there is garbage we need to both amass and macerate. There is even the good which needs to meet it's demise in the same way. I say this not in jest. I say this with no symbolism or analogy. In saying it I am free of spite. Simply, even those good experiences can hinder our lives. We may have had a drug addiction, where we remember good times. We may have had a spouse where we remember good events. We may want to put these memories and truths in a shoe box and amass them. Hold them close? Why wouldn't we want to? It takes what was, even near in temporality, takes it solid Euclidian form and amasses it, morphing it into an Esher. Simply taking what was, and in time, it transfiguring into a etherial illusion. I would like very much if the reader was ignorant of my ideologies concerning such itemized temporal experience. Despite my wishes I suspect this may not be the case. Those great things in the shoe box contain letters, photos of certain places, people, and instances in time which may or may have no bearing on the present. Moreover, they're romanticized and picked through. The bad, tossed into that aforementioned furnace, in so that we keep what we want to remember. It becoming our illusion. Our reality of our past and in some cases our future, or what we would like our next shoe box to resemble.

The fact is, the good and bad need to share a place in the furnace, and the bad and good need to share their place in the shoe box. There're life experiences that we are better off not dwelling on or thinking upon. These should be committed unto the coals. Yet, other experiences, despite their values of positive or negative may be necessary to keep in our shoe box that we may reflect and grow upon these things, and keep them as constant reminders when the city we have built around ourself begins to crumble.

Systematically, study state of mind with as much objection as you may muster. Even if you are convinced this objectivity will be all false. Think about how you've suceeded. Your accomplishments. Everybody has them. Not in the ways of the general world, think just upon those challenges you have overcome. If you cannot veer your mind or heart unto your victories, even if it was a small victory in the midst of unfavorable circumstances, it deserves its recognition. When one cannot see these victories, no matter how minute, the unfortunate soul only has unity of torment. Those other class, live under the banner of truth in a triumphant procession, but let us not fool ourselves. Triumph together with torment are not always solid edifices in the valleys of truth. For even this valley gets sacked in with low lying cloud and fog which can obscure those offerings and dedications to truth and triumph, while on the other side lies the pillars of perpetual torment. Under the fog of war they might appear as one or another leading us astray. This is the valley in which we take up our sword among our doppelgängers. Their armies advancing from each side. Within the confines of this conscription there're ranking officers that need to be spared, and those to be thrown to the furnace, on each side!

You will feel as if great treason is being committed by raising arms against allies. Yet, they are spies. These allies will work from the inside out in an effort to capture and take you into the enemy territory within self. Some both allies and axis must be fed to the furnace. Likewise, both axis and allies must be kept close to heart. This requires a discernment which lies far beyond my thinking abilities. Maybe one case I can offer advice, but the struggle, the battle, the war. It is far too extensive. Far too individualistic. It covers the globe and behind each of us is a blood trail painted upon the easel of the firmament from our brutal skirmishes among ourself, which matches no other.

I offer the supposition that somewhere out there a person may exist who finds no meaning at all. Nothing in past, present, presupposed future torments. Further, their shoe box doesn't exist for the whole thing was thrown  in the incinerator. Obviously, I speak of this place of fire and destruction in a state far outside the physical into the meta realms. Thus, it would have no equatable device in the world, that could burn up memories, shame, fear, and the like. Certainly, it would have to be beyond your normal household furnace. Something properly mystical. Beyond normal physical properties.

Such a person, whose life, being and body have become illusions which utilize each other to form the more accurate or three dimensional form. They may be to be pitied above anyone, but you would scarcely know it due to the illusions perfect form. In short, given all this each has its place in proper reflection, respect and extent of effect. I was such a person. Now I engage in battle with self as many do, and have suffered along the way. Even choosing routes of suffering though I foresaw the eventual destination. Dear friend, as you perry, thrust, block, defend, may you recognize and revere your triumphs while still being healthily aware of your trials. 

Lastly, and unfortunately difficult to disclose, for I feel hesitation at this moment of disclosure, in any given situation of the aforementioned circumstance where a persona's being transfigures to illusion, not only is this evidence the shoebox needs to go in the macerator but too the created illusion of self or those related illusions of which one holds need to be thrown unto the furnace. This is not for your demise, destruction, or a complete resettling to a foundational strata. No, there are impurities that sometimes need to be burned or smelted out. May you brave the furnace, come out unscathed and renewed. Again, may you recognize and revere your triumphs while, in battle, still being aware of your trials so that you, in time, may arise a mighty Phoenix.