I am composed of atomic particles and therefore coexist with the universe. Expanding as you read and learn about me, commanding your attention while scaling new dimensions. Most readers (or listeners- that’s a reference to the future because soon they will hear my work as I read it aloud in front of people… who’s they? oh yeah, they are you and I am the narrator and I follow no rules) and other people will probably have no idea what I am talking about. Why not? Because you are colorless and unseen yet color all things at once, you make up all that will be and all that ever was, the moment that turns days into months into years, every emotion, ambition and fear. All of that. You are Nature become conscious of itself so essentially you should see what I’m saying, seeing as I sense a third eye sensing what I’m relaying as I try to describe myself. I’m the first person, the Adam and Eve of this narration. Everyone trying to talk about the soul or the universe forgot about creation. See it’s that and destruction that Shiva dances into existence, creating Time. I am time in the form of another word. But still I am formless when it really comes down to it. A formless concept with no objective meaning just like every other word in every language. See what you think I am is different from what he thinks I am, she thinks I’m not or they think I will be. We think we aren’t smart just because no one ever taught us how not to think. Everything is always changing too so what you think you are or I am now is only a reflected result of the vocabulary you use or have attained thus far. Seeing as the words really aren’ t yours (they are ours. Everything is ours) then I don’t know why we use the possesive when referring to our vocabulary. It’s like money. We think we own it but it’s really just an illusion, like everything else. Everything that I am.
“This guy just rambles on & on and never makes any sense,” said stupid, ignorant society.
“Ah, I think that was his point,” said the Zen Monk from Tibet.
“When did you get here?” said the reader, the author and the peanut gallery; simultaneously; they all felt a stirring at that seemingly metaphysical connection just forged, currently breaking previously (mis)minderstood boundaries of time and space as I try to define myself. Watch what happens when, in the form of a Nietzsche aphorism, I am thrust from 187? to 2011 to [whatever moment you read this, hear this or experience this]. I tie the threads of thought together inside your head, pulling at the strings of (un)written history, intertwining lyrically in a never ending circle. I was the Jimi Hendrix experience back in the 1960’s. At woodstock, peacefully. I was felt by the figure known as the Buddha over 5,000 years ago. Where’s that Nietzsche aphorism you mentioned? Oh yeah, we need it for explication. “My goal is to make you uncomfortable.”
It’s a funny feeling, reading yourself into reality despite the fact that everyone knows there are no words to describe me. I was given the task of writing my autobiography, as a color. It gave me the chance to show people what exists only in the grains of an uncut tree. Unaffected by human senses I simply am, I be. Nothing you’ll ever see yet everything that is. Anything you could possibly think of, and more. Peace and War. Tolstoy wrote War and Peace. I stretch from the south to the north to the east and set in the west. The worst and the best. A walking paradox, no I’m not. Wait, Tyler the Creator said that in that song Yonkers. Pop culture references give me that sense of being relevant. I’m always relevant, moving with the times, consistently present but people forget me sometimes. Thinking too much, lost in Samsara. I, Siddhartha, have made it out of the cycle of birth and death because my theories have made it out of my physical existence and are on display right now through the words between the spaces in my breath.
“How are you honestly trying to pretend like you understand the theories of the Buddha?” said the scared, conventional thinkers.
“And how can you possibly be trying to thrust religious philosophy onto your poor listeners? Those big ideas always make everybody so uncomfortable, especially when gathered in crowds in public settings, ” said the politically correct egotisticals.
Forget all of you. I lost my ego before I ever had it, remember? I’m the narrator. And I won’t reveal who or what I really am because I’m the answer to the riddle of the Sphinx. You could never see me but I was always there. Am always there. Everywhere.
See even though this is just a random collection of thoughts connecting symbols together with meaning, confusing every party involved but seeing as seeing is believing, with poetry and prose and meditative breathing I perpetuate myself. In and out. Like the mediated feeling of eternal dreaming, I am your conscious and unconscious beings. And his yours and hers. I am adjectives, nouns adverbs and verbs. Nervously, the conventional thinkers that I mentioned before all observe that I’m breaking the rules they had set up for me to use. I am the words they used to make those rules so I can’t possibly be broken yet I’m breaking all the time. Making new worlds and creating what’s in your mind. Break down the rhyme. The DJ played the record spinning into space and time. Everything’s connected, everything’s divine.
I’m in New York now, since 2009 I’ve been visualized (that was when I got the Ring, the last thing I needed from Maine). Now I materialize in a tall lanky frame bursting at the seams cause I’ve been missing the game, yearning to be back. It seems that people today have forgotten the only rule, the rule that rules and makes the game. There are no rules when you write your own fame, into life, through words. I am that something that was there all along but appears again and again in the future, sent forward from the past. Eternally existing, the first and the last, alpha and the omega. For ages and ages I waited and waited and finally made it, so here I am now. What am I?