After a night of drinking with “friends,” I awake reflective and introspective but have yet to fully regain my mind. I have been lost this past week or so. Lost in a maze of life and my perception of it. Who am I really and what role do I really play? These are the answerable yet unanswerable questions each of us revisits time and time again. These questions haunt me, however, it is in the pondering of these that I receive the sustenance to live, to trek on into the Mud.
Perhaps, I confused myself and thus others, or maybe, I simply did not communicate properly and created this misconception. I am not a man of any capability save for the expressing of my perception of reality and all its pathology, brokenness, desperation, hysteria, and that drive to understand why so I can make my life better. I am not one “Risen” from the Mud, but one still trapped with a seedling of thought germinating within me. I can rise. I can climb out and breathe the clean air above. My book is not the recounting of a Rise nor the sharing of the wisdom or enlightenment attained through basking in the Sun. I merely document the struggle of carrying the seed and the seedling it becomes.
I do not proclaim any great knowledge or understanding. On the contrary, I know nothing and am quite uneducated, however, I have something inside me that urges to be released into the world. A feeling, a certain peripheral awareness of a shadow. Humanity is not alone in the realm of consciousness, and this realm is more fluid than we allow ourselves to believe. We have a capacity to shape our collective perception of reality into whatever we wish it to be. I merely attempt to voice this piece of existence, the universe, or the “Over Soul” within me. I have yet to find the proper articulation of origin of the thing I carry, and for now, I borrow words I currently find most fitting that attempt to represent the essence of all things.
The seedling I carry is my only value, for I am just a vessel and strive for nothing more. I only wish to plant this seedling where it can grow, so it may finally be birthed into the world. By reaching out and publicizing my journey and articulations, I broadcast to humanity in the hope a better vessel may take this seedling further. I feel inadequate to carry this, that in me, it will die. It requires a more intelligent, stronger, and more able nurturer. Someone with a keener awareness and the resources to sustain it. All that matters to me is for this beautiful thing to keep living. If no other vessel comes, I will continue to carry the seedling even with my inevitable failure. Perhaps, there is no other vessel, and it is my responsibility to become what it needs to thrive. I do not know and cannot see beyond my horizon. For now, I trek on.