Impermanence

Using this site as an example, I was on here for some months I cannot remember when. I wrote much then deleted the account and all content and moved on. So many words, memories, opinions all gone.

I have done the same with many journal/blog/diary sites. My words are impermanence. They are the warm water vapor from speech on a cold winters day. They leave me, appear a moment then dissipate. Same with Facebook profiles. I have read that what we cling to the most, causes us the most pain. I can see a LITTLE of that by looking into a box of decades old notebooks I have saved. I saved writings from high school (early 1970’s) and they bring back some painful memories but at the same time I laugh with COMPASSION about and for that Scott that wrote that stuff. It was scribbled hand writing. Fuck what was that? How did I ever think anyone could decipher that shit hand writing? I used-to believe I was a “poet” but I have not written anything in months. It was a pretension at times. A flash of egotism as identity. An Identity. We all want one so we make one for ourselves and reject the often cruel labels and identities others throw on us trying to manipulate us with it.

I have a blog somewhere on WordPress. It does not matter what I left there. I wrote some stuff and left it on another site. It does not matter. My words are not sacred or great. They are only words.

IMPERMANENCE

I think of the breath, the words we speak on a cold winters day. I think of our lives as such. We are Impermanence. Nothing lasts. Not even stupidity. Thankfully for that.

Too often in life I dragged myself down by the meaningfulness of a moment when the best thing for me to do was as I need to do these days: Tell myself, “This will not last. It has no meaning. No insanity and stupidity of trump does. What DOES have meaning is… What we give to others and the world in kindness. The kindness is a glow of light that flows from us on a cold winters day as we live that kindness. It lasts longer than a journal entry in a box or on a website. What we give and do for Others, lasts”.

2 thoughts on “Impermanence”

  1. I was never one to journal or blog. Well….blog in a sense of people using a blog as a journal. I remember having friends when I was younger who would keep diaries. I never understood it. But I was always an artist. I kept old sketch books…paintings. And looking back I could see my progress as a 12 year old artist to my artwork in high school and my artwork in college. So in some strange way I get it? They would look back and see their own growth as a person? But I didn’t need a journal to document my growth as a person. There are events in someones life that changes their views on things. You know…..like having an epiphany? I didn’t have many….but I had them and I know when and where and how I had them. Those few epiphanies made me who I am today. And keeping years of Journals or blogs wouldn’t have served the type of person I am. But they help other people…..for their own reasons.
    I have a horrible memory….but I will never forgot the moments I had my life epiphanies.

    I recently quoted Deepak Chopra to another blogger about reliving the past.

    “The unknown is the field of all possibilities, ever fresh, ever new, always opens to the creation of new manifestations. Without any uncertainty and the unknown, life is just the stale repetition of outworn memories. You become the victim of the past, and your tormentor today is yourself left over from yesterday.”

    it makes sense to me to add this quote here because to me it aligns with what you are saying.”We are impermanence” ….which is why we should focus on today…tomorrow…and just live our best life and be kind to everyone.

    Young Scott must have been WILD.

  2. I was wild and stupid was a big part of that. Mental illness too 😉 Some lessons take so long to sink in. Thanks always for your comments, Monica 🙂 One reason I have kept journals over the years is I had dreams of being a, “Writer”. Writers WRITE and so I did. Now I have lost that dream but I still write 😉 Scott

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