Jun 28, 2014

An Odd Ode to Indecision

'Indecision'  by Carol Schiff

I feel like I'm a motionless spectator.. a somber witness to my life crawling forward one inch at a time.

Yep. That's the best way to describe it, I suppose. And when I say I'm standing still, I'm not characterizing that stillness with the profound bliss of being an impartial observer or with an unflinching, unwavering sense of knowing the obvious answers out there. No.

This stillness, I suspect is more akin to a restless shuffle confined to a small poignant space cradled in the comfort of familiarity. It is only my comparison to the constant, unbroken flow of the rivers of occurrences, small and large, around me that aids this reprehensible state of mine to disguise itself as something more virtuous.. something more in control of itself.

I am but a prisoner of indecisiveness. Raging against the walls of bastard queries and misshapen musings that strive to snuff out that last flickering flame of hope in me, I scream at my inhuman jailers. These long, distorted shadows of by gone creations that my hand birthed in youthful pride.

There are those outside.. far outside the tall outer constructs that house my little cell, who hear my howling pleas but it lands upon their tired ears as the opaque and muted snarls of an ill tempered beast.

"Good thing it's caged..", they must say, whilst glancing at the odd palacial construction.. one with each brick laid in wanton vanity, each sculptural embellishment reaching out from its rustic, bare surface carved from pristine intellectual merit and painted over with the solemn hue of  unspoken promise.

"Such animals deserve to be caged."





Jun 20, 2014

Disquisition on Morality - Part III

courtesy - ultradialectics (deviantArt)


Let's focus first on what the word 'good' (and its antonym) qualifies and what it leads to, with regard to behavior, thoughts and in essence the general character and well being of a person.

When we do probe the boundaries of this defining characteristic, we realize that it is mostly, if not completely, the effect such a quality has on the perceiver or receiver of it that gives it its meaning. To put it more simply, does any action or thought have any quality if it is conceived or executed in a sensory vacuum?

That is, if I were to do something and if no one was affected by or even aware of my action, save me and I decide to associate no quality to it myself, can that action then be called 'good' or 'bad' or any other variation of these two broad parameters?

So, something is good when someone else (doer, perceiver) assigns it that quality. Our perception of the thought or action is what makes it identifiable and as we always do, we then proceed to classify it.

Nature herself does not recognize such qualifications or classifications in motivated actions, except in terms of 'power'. I am simply humanizing nature for the sake of conversation, although that may lead to further confusion down the line, I think.

To rephrase, who or what has power over the existence of something, in whatever form, is the only way we can quantify something 'naturally.' Is a predator killing a prey a good or a bad action or simply an action with no moral clauses or conditions attached to it?

The funny thing here is that while we are capable of recognizing this in other animals, we have tuned it out of our own frame of reference when it comes to such behavior patterns in us.

For example, when we see a tiger stalking, hunting and killing its prey on a 'nature show' on the television, we pause and admire its agility, strength and beauty. We marvel at its design and praise a humanized version of nature (mother nature) for her creative genius.

But in the next instant, if we switch channels and happen to catch a glimpse of a news item about some horrific abuse inflicted on a person by another, we immediately chastise the doer of the act and curse him or her for their cruelty. We wish for 'justice' and relish in the thought of apt punishment.

Often in such instances, the victim and the doer are stripped of their humanity - they are made into one dimensional characters. The victim is idolized as the 'innocent' and the 'fragile'. The doer of the act is now the representation of all that we hate within ourselves. He or she is 'evil' and 'sadistic'.

Why do we refuse to see the paradoxical nature of morality here?

I believe it is because the 'moral system' which we have imposed on ourselves creates a conflict in us. It brings about a turmoil of motivations and instincts that stifles us and binds us to our suffering.

We are put in a constant state of "I really want to do that or I need to do this but... I can't because what would that make me or what would they think of me."

We are forced to live with the instinctual and inherent knowledge that we are neither 'good' nor 'bad' but we are forced, in essence, to pick sides in the longer run. With each decision, the burden of living according to some vague standard set by an abstract entity or living up to a standard of behavior and conduct set by us on ourselves warps our existence on this planet.

Thus, shackled in non existent concepts posing as truths, we are born and raised as caged animals who prize complacency over inquiry and mistake the avoidance of overpowering fear and grief as attainable joy. Plagued by doubts though, we must, at many twists and turns on the long road face the beast within..


Please wait for Part IV...




Jun 14, 2014

Memories of an Attempted Murder



I crouched silently behind the heavily sealed, large wooden box. My fingers were cramped but my eyes remained sharp and focused even in the dim lighting. The rhythmic thumping in my chest calling my finely tuned attention away to the blood rushing fiercely through my veins. The crimson of danger and the heat of the approaching moment invigorating my senses.

My breathing grew deeper and more silent as I waited for the shadow to cross in to the golden circle of light cast by the yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling. Each muscle in my body tensed as the seconds seemed to grow longer and longer and longer...

Why wasn't he moving?

My neck arched towards the light, stealing a fleeting glance of the oblivious youth from the shadows. Move just a bit closer... that's all I'm asking of you, I thought, as I readied my blade. My whole body almost shivered in a sudden rush of excitement. After all the planning and countless hours, the moment was almost here.. that sweet second when I would step out of the darkness I had made my home and in to the light - and slice his throat in one swift motion with my sleek blade while my other arm cradled his fall. It was going to be beautiful and pristine.. the elegant poetry of a good kill, nay - a great kill.

As I imagined the rewarding sensation that would follow, his shadow shifted. My breathing stopped.. the thumping in my chest grew louder.. My fingers twitched in anticipation.. This is it.. it was happening..

There were footsteps now.. almost echoing in the dull silence of the night. He neared the fateful spot on the paved road I had marked in my mind hours ago. The shadow was about to cross in to my domain..

And then.. there was a flicker of light followed by pitch black! And suddenly I was looking at a grassy field and cloudy skies..

As I was gathering my senses and my wits, the green of the lush grass changed to blue.. an all engulfing light bluish hue with those god forsaken words written with the shards of my broken dreams..

WINDOWS IS CONFIGURING YOUR UPDATES.. PLEASE DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR COMPUTER.

Wha..what???!!!

I leaned back in my chair and let my fingers relax on the keyboard.. emotions of strange shades welled up in me.

While Windows took its time 'configuring' stuff, I choked a silent sob from my soul. Each 'update' a piercing stab to my wounded heart.

But then.. with each change of the LCD screen on its way to a reboot, I found myself dreaming again.. like a mad man... like someone with nothing to lose any more.

Righteous anger surged through every molecule of my being and I whispered those words out loud, the sheer fury in them drowned by the humming noise of the spinning ceiling fan..

Mr. Gates, in this life or the next, I will have my vengeance..        

Wait.. WHEN DID I LAST SAVE THE GAME??!! :P