Foo Jung Fighters

Around the turn of the last century in the public imagination there were images of disaster and destruction, only for what was later referred to as the First World War to occur in the years afterwards.  Carl Gustav Jung for one had his own visions at that time and also others, in the world of art, and philosophy, had their own instinctual ideas of rivers of blood, a flood of violence and death.

Lately, over the last six months or so I have suffered a period of intense destructiveness myself, thoughts of harm, thoughts I would rather forget that I find difficult to do so, because they were and on occasion still are of a nature that suggested to me something awkward to the normal day to day.  Out of the ordinary, out of nowhere, similar to a period I suffered two years ago in 2012.

Today the world stand on the brink of a conflict that started over a thousand years ago, a great crusade between what some might call Christianity and what some might call the Muslim world.  In reality what is happening has more to do with resources and pressure on them, has more to do with power and control and I find it easy to see how both sides are at fault, for their hubris, their desires.

The world will never be the same, but then change is the only given, nothing stays the same forever.

We are born, we live, we die and at times over the last few years, those two periods I've spoken of, I actually wished to be engulfed by the things going on in the world around us, to be killed, to be a victim, even if it meant others were also at stake.  Only in the moment, but in a way if my pain was to be ended, it was a selfish desire for it to be ended in whatever way was possible at the time.

If that meant a helicopter or plane crash, if that meant a car or truck colliding with me, if that meant jumping from a bridge or high place, or from a tree or overpass tied to a rope, into a fire to burn.

The selfish desire to have my life ended to escape the very things I could have avoided so easily.

I wonder whether I deserve to be alive, whether any do who have done wrong, taken things, people, life for granted in the past.  Lived selfishly, lived for themselves, lived timidly, not taken chances and then blamed that failure to live a life, bravely, taking chances, taking risks to possibly gain a full and worthy life, giving the world a chance not to disappoint, use us up, abuse us, hurt us again and again.

In truth many people feel as though there is little point in trying, waking each day, getting out of bed.

Many lives have been ruined so that a few can have everything and anything they could ever wish for.

Yet I doubt that there is a greater happiness in the lives of those who have everything and wish for nothing, I doubt very much that when the lights go out at night, that they sleep soundly, or will die with a smile on their face, without regret, without realising that something was missing in life.

I wonder daily whether if there had been an easy way out for me if I'd have taken it.

I didn't and fading as they do and are the thoughts I suffer, lingering on still now.

I wouldn't have ever wished to have hurt someone else or subjected them to me.

I guess my own fears were such that I let them destroy my chances to live full.

I can't say that I am not deserving of this feeling now of never going forward.

I don't feel as though this life is for anything other than redemption & effort.

I, I, who is this I that I speak of, ask questions of?  Who am I?  What is I?

The I that asks the questions, an I that lives, an I that dies, is there a soul?

Something that will go on after the I that I am attached to is no longer?

Now these are just musings of a formerly cigarette smoking man...

Addicted to a feeling, a way of being, a freeing that came from,

smoking, from toking, still now it comes back when I do now,

not very often as I made a promise which I can break when,

well when tempted, when around it, so I shy away always,

as I've always done, because of the fear of failure, merit,

inherited, an energy of defeat, of lies, passed down, now.

Ignored the warnings, took my own routes, rambling now.

Change the subject, finish this dialogue now, wish again now.

For another chance because this life is beyond forgiveness now.

I couldn't share the core of who I have been without shame now.

I've heard that only god forgives, if only I could forgive myself now.

so to bed to sleep, avoided at times, as though the nightime voyages, to the astral plane were scary, as though I felt unworthy of going to another place, another space, dimensions in time, astrid, tardis...

one more episode of whatever it is that keeps me going, feeling as though im drawn to what i need to see, to learn, to regain some hope, some sense of why we are here, why ive lived this way, brave...

but too scared because somehow I knew there was something wrong, ive hurt myself first, drawn on experiences too early, too late, felt like fate was on the cards, too scared to face a wedding speech, a bride, a lover, a friend, somehow i got addicted to them, first one, then another, never again...

so i swore off them all, they always seemed to be a nuisance to my pursuit of the truth anyway

there is one that I have loved, was drawn to, attracted by, no wonder she's amazing

and perhaps in another life, in the palace of parvati and shiva where we met

we can be together finally again as we are now before and after all this

finally one fine day, when what dreams may come, we can kiss