ME-1st Slideshow and MY ARTWORKS-2cd/bottom Slideshow

Chat Live!

Wednesday, August 09, 2006




It has been said that to conquer yourself is to defeat your biggest fear, or fears, being as whatever case may be. What is fear ? Besides the obvious physical reaction in your gut to the object or area of your fear, what deeper meaning does it hold? Psychologists have long debated whether fear is "the physical display of actions onset of chemical processes in the body," or if it is "the display of physical actions which causes these chemical processes." Without the fancy mumbo-jumbo, a simple way to illustrate these concepts is with the display of behaviour between a cat and a dog. Does a cat hiss and run away because it's body is incapable of surviving a fight with a dog (which is in terms of matter and size is bigger than it), or does the ingrained natural instinctual belief that the dog can hurt it thus cause the physical reaction of it running away? Is the body of the cat afraid of dogs, or is it the mind of the cat which tells it that it is afraid? Simultaneously, is the dog's body truly more capable of fighting the cat, or does it's mind tell it so? This battle of mind over matter is that which is my life.
Who was I when I was a child? The image is so vague to me it is as if staring at one of Picasso's cubism works and trying to decipher the original objects which he first saw. I am still myself, surely, for I own the same name and possess familiar characteristics. Yet something which used to be so valuable, so ingrained into my psyche has ultimately altered itself. My beliefs, my value system, my sense of identity. I don't think there is a right, wrong, black, white, mistake, destiny, moral, lie, even grey. I don't think that any of the world which is brought before us, the culmination of perceptions, societal beliefs and even physical reality is the truth. I don't even think there is a truth. Whereas, when I was a child, I had unshakable definitions of my life, who I was, and everything which surrounded me. I believed that there was a definitive right and wrong, a direct awareness of the world's mistakes, a specific path which included in it's midst measured achievements, goals, a list; of things I had to accomplish and live through in order to equate myself in the finite mathematical equation which was to be my future life. The self which I am now, although the same, is a direct opposition of the past me. The physical differences are not as notable, unless I compare them with what I would look like had I lived the path of the past me. For, throughout the years since my childhood my physical image has changed as a chameleon's skin. The past only shows a constancy whereas the present me observes a type of transparency of anything, a complete scatter of colours too many to be considered a valid painting.
As a child, I was near prodigious. I led the "perfect" life. My hair always pleated, my attire ironed, my scholastic accomplishments outstanding, my highly diverse extracurricular life showing that of course I had a humanitarian, talented, and playful side in addition to my straight-laced work ethics, my overall demeanour nothing short of a shining example of righteousness every parents dreams their child to be. My goals? Full scholarship to Harvard University, win every competition possible, a ban of drug-users and teenage delinquents, world domination in which I would personally produce a world full of upstanding citizens dedicated to achievement and success; at which point completion of my goals would lead to the reward of a fairy-tale romance complete with dark-haired prince arriving upon . From being a class president on the way to becoming future valedictorian/dux , I encountered a reality completely opposite to mine. It began with my parent's divorce, which although nowadays is considered a normality, to the portrayed image of perfection is an irreparable stain. As I write now, with such crudity, I recall so many of the harsh judgements I made as a child on people from all types of backgrounds. If my fellow classmate had received a B instead of an A, I contributed it to laziness and poor character, because school was a place full of opportunities to be grasped. IQ tests, SAT scores, grades, although harsh, were not a standard of measurement that anyone could not achieve in. Writing, art, science, all had to be a certain way and follow a set of principles which qualified and constituted them as such otherwise any conspirator on the streets could call out a series of thoughts and be considered a legitimate scientist. Any schmos with a tongue could ramble out words and have them be labelled the ah so elitist term of poetry. A homeless vagabond nothing short of a human who was a complete waste of potential and talent. Was I lacking compassion? No. I loved my parents, my cats, and helped old ladies' carry their groceries. What I lacked was freedom. I could not see both sides of any argument, usually only my point of view. Whilst all that I have stated may still be thought by many, the following could also be said. The education system is corrupt, it teaches us nothing but how to memorize facts and then regurgitate them in a manner which best optimises our chances to receive the reward of an A. We are not told to think and to imagine for ourselves, but to analyse the thoughts and actions of others. Some of the homeless people are happier than some of the most prominent scientists ,lawyers, politicians, celebrities, and other such socially considered successful types. Although both arguments are convincing and valid in their own way, neither of them really answer anything. They are simply perceptions based on what type of life one has lived, and what experiences it has led them through, and usually what life and experiences a person has lived is usually based upon what stereotypes or beliefs from history which they believe to be true, or valuable. Any existence, whether that of a human or a plant, can be justified and explained. The life of a prostitute, nun, scholar, rich man, pauper, artist, cat, dog, Venus fly-trap, grain of salt; in using the expression "walk in their shoes for a day", can be understood and valued by anyone else.
A cat is one of nature's most instinctual killers. Its speed, adaptability to environment, fast reflexes and accurate grace are only some of its attributes. A dog is equipped with a massive jaw capable of crushing a bone in a matter of seconds, an incomparable sense of smell, resilience towards attack, ability to keep bodily temperature at a stable level regardless of severe climatory conditions, are also just some of it's assets. Either one could easily defeat the other in terms of raw physical ability. However, it is very rare that we see a cat fighting a dog, unless using a cougar and a wolf as an example. Domestic cats and dogs, have been trained through genetics that one is more capable of winning a fight than the other. The very pattern of nature leaves much to question. There is an established hierarchy embedded within the very basic of our existences. We accept this as fact, and perhaps it well may be at present. But, what we refuse to see also is that fact can be altered, modified and ultimately changed. Imagine a world where you see dogs afraid of cats. Now, imagine cats and dog hugging each other and discussing poetry in Starbucks. Now, imagine cats, dogs, humans, vegetables, stars, all in not just an abstract togetherness as we all acknowledge, but a literal co-ersiveness in which a human can speak to any animal, an animal can move any object with its mind, and pencils can draw artists. "Yes, well we do have this world in fiction books and fairy tales, but reality is another matter", some may say, I even said it myself once. But wasn't electricity once viewed as a ridiculous idea? Wasn't an airplane once only written about in science fiction novels? Wasn't the very system of government, law and really anything else which we use today just another theory of a way of life?
It could be said that my claim of non-belief in anything, a total resistance to any type of classification, even a resistance of the concept of resistance itself, is simply an escape from the reality which is determined by supposed fact. This notion that there is no right choice or wrong choice, that there is no impossible, that history is not the example of how things ought to be, that 1+1 does not always equate 2, is it all bullshit? For if all the information shown in textbooks, statistical readings, life advice quotes, canned food labels, the bible, my father's warnings, your worst enemy's analysis of your weaknesses, a bar of comparison upon which every human being is ranked, if all of it was true, then I would be forced to realize that my life is a series of mistake, a failure, a joke even, in many ways. I would have to return to the previous me, erase the past 7 years as a poisonous taste of a toxic forest, re-discover my old goals, beliefs, aspirations, come to the realization that all my "philosophising" was wrong, look at it all as a valuable life lesson to not be repeated, and inevitably spray the dust off my previous path of my life and continue to walk along it as I should have all along. I admit, this is my only fear, and how scary it would be to accept that my greatest fear is justified and true. That I was foolish enough to imagine the false hope all these years that there could be something much greater than any of us has ever imagined to the existences which we live out without question every day. That, I could be greater than a stack of accomplishments, that I could fly to the stars, battle Spiderman and win, be Buddha, Jesus, without actually doing anything, that I could be whatever and anything just by sitting on a stone on a beach, that in every one of us is the ever illustrious God, that there is no God, that there is nothing, and everything, that everything is connected and not, that nobody is great, or bad, or good, or right. That I didn't have to be me, or a version of a stereotype, that I don't have to have a name, a culture, a set system of beliefs, that love can be greater than the most perfect fairy tale and doesn't have to be any certain way or exhibit any noticed proofs, that the very words on this page aren't even mine but thoughts which have entered through the physical vessel of me. That the human is not a machine, or is a machine, that definition itself does not exist. To be given an unquestionable answer, to see the unshakable reality that what is, actually is, and that who I was, is who I ought to be, that what I believed once to be the truth is the truth, to have fact and fiction separate, that I am not capable of what I imagine and neither is any other dreamer, to have knowledge be worth more than imagination, and that the world around me is unchangeable, that I myself am unchangeable and "only human" with physical and mental "limits" is my greatest and only fear. Has my body lived in fear as if constantly in defence of a false dream, hiding from the naked truth as a small supposedly smart cat would from the jaws of a mangly mutt? Or is it my mind which causes me to doubt my body's actions and instil fear which really at its essence is an illusion itself? Is the cat nature's smart messenger in saving its own life, or is it a coward not willing to explore its true power over the dog? If you knew nothing before your current knowledge, and were handed a book of every recorded life quote and advice passed down throughout history, do you think you would be able to find a single correct path to follow, or even continue living right then? For every one statement, there is a battling statement. For every reaction, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and so forth. But what if, the very nature of the universe, didn't have any reactions at all?
As I stare into Picasso's jumbled rainbow, Jacequline de' Feque, I see before me proof that one person could change an entire world's perception of what a painting should consist of. This feat has been performed throughout many climates in history, in every area, at every time interval, and even in the very creation or sudden appearance of the universe itself. What we have seen before us, what we all have believed to be true, has been and if not yet, will be questioned, and sometimes dismissed as the non-truth. Galileo brought us the sun, Einstein gave us the speed of light, Ghandi showed us love, Michael Jackson danced the moon, The Wayne Brothers let us fly, Hawkings is equating the universe, and the Bill Gates era has shown us genius without formal education. Every figure we view now to be the definitive example of right, the epitome of brilliance, has at some point been told they were wrong in their ideas. Fiction herself has invented some of the most deceptive sights to be unravelled; from Clark Kent's deceptively normal, ego-depriving, lonely, parallel life of being Superman in secret to the hatred which Bruce Wayne had to face whilst Batman saved the world. " Imagine there's no country, its easy if you try. No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people, living life in peace. Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can. Nothing to live or die for, a brotherhood of man. Imagine all the people, living for today… You may say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one, I hope someday you will join us, and the world will live as one." As John Lennon once asked us all, I ask you to imagine the possibility that everything you have ever learned is neither right nor wrong, that the thing which you believe the most could change, that life itself does not have to have a purpose. That you, mathematics, science, religion, literature, music, philosophy, sport, emotion, reality, imagination, past, future, present, process, result, action, stagnation, Anna Nicole Smith, Albert Einstein, Karl Marx, Plato, Hitler, Jesus, Led Zeppelin, atoms, peanut butter & jelly, computers, cavemen, objects, ideas, matter, anti-matter, numbers, letters, time, absence, nothing, everything could all be the same, all part of a line which wraps into a circle, and then splits in an explosion of colour beyond the 12 th dimension. Picasso's Jaqcueiline de' Feque growing like a mutated plant in the middle of circle of the product of an algebraic equation, on the sky above, a baboon wearing purple underwear playing chess. Just imagine.

No comments: