Tagged: self discovery
Poems from the Vault – Exploration.
Take a read if you wish. The world is mapped and explored, but so much is waiting to be discovered within each and every one of us. Self discovery is an adventure just as entertaining as anything we’d see in an Indiana Jones movie. It’s a whole other world entirely, and it’s worthy of our attention. Stay creative.
From the Vault.
Originally posted on 7-12-11.
I searched the desert sands
just to later realize that I was in the
jungle;
and the pool of water that I sought so
desperately was just within reach,
only I was too parched to
swallow-
and by that point, too weak to
stand.
I lay there on my back,
atop a mossy patch of green, tangled
earth, while
insects trekked over me as if I were
an abandoned log-
they went about their way,
in search of their own sparkling oases.
The leaves around me rustled with
life,
and the brush was alive with movement.
I lay motionless, staring at the soaring
blue sky,
deep and blue and rich
with a tint of yellow orange sun,
absorbing the sounds of my temporary
confinement.
I heard feet brush past me-
I’d closed my eyes to rest, you see, and
I followed the hurried sound with my ears
and opened them slowly to see myself
walking toward the pool,
which was only a few paces away,
right in front of me…
the entire time.
I wearily watched this version
stride to the pool and take a drink;
how effortless it truly was, and
then I questioned how difficult I’d made it
out to be, sipping from that pool.
I turned back to the sky
and cursed this alternate me,
enraged at the thought of what could
be-
but I was only cursing myself…
I realized then that I wandered the desert
because I never thought that I was
worthy of a drink*
-G. Boston
Theatrical Thursday – Joe Versus the Volcano (1990).
Have you ever seen a movie six thousand times, but only gotten half a whiff of the real depth of that movie after the most recent viewing? Case in point; I’ve seen Joe Versus the Volcano at least 30 times since 1990, but only recently came to understand the immense truths contained within it. The film was always on in the background, and I’d often half ass watched it without really seeing it for what it was. The realization and understanding came slowly; a little bit here, a little bit there, until one day I said “fuck it” and sat down and really watched the film again for the first time. I took it all in with a renewed sense of awareness, and a considerably open mind. I dissected it. Don’t get me wrong, I’d enjoyed the movie time and again previously, but I’d only just seen the surface of it. And in truth, I was sincerely blown away. For all of its cheese, the movie was an acutely effective, multi-layered glimpse into a man’s thirst for knowledge, meaning, purpose, and self discovery. Looking beyond some of the dated, clunky 90’s camp, it’s quite a deeply rendered portrait of the journey that we all endure in order to accomplish whatever it is we want to accomplish with our lives. It is a great little tale about overcoming obstacles, standing up for your beliefs, and never giving up. Who can’t relate to that, right? And if you’ve ever hated your job, the “I quit” scene below is a revelation.
Monotony – A Story – Part 2
Do you feel the monotony? Can you hear the annoying scrape of my feet dragging themselves to the bathroom? The stabbing numbness of my slowly adjusting eyes as I try in vain to shield them from the blinding solar glare of the bathroom light? Or how about the pungently aromatic stale air produced by 8 hours of backed up bowels? I stood at the toilet, graciously releasing at least four hours-worth of slightly yellow urine, and let out a long bear growl of relief. One of the few breaths of relief that I get to look forward to over the coming day. Feel that monotony as I clamber into the shower, only to realize that I forgot to buy soap and toothpaste? Ever wash a tired body with dish soap? Feel the monotony.
The sky that day was a deep overcast grey, with thick, overfed clouds spewing their liquid lunch all over the city, making for a slow and sloppy morning commute. I arrived at my gig thirty minutes late (not giving half a shit), and slowly crept into a parking space. It was a lonely, bleak, deserted lot, strewn with unattractively enterprising weeds tangoing out of deep cracks that resembled California fault lines, and year old garbage bleached bone white by a harsh sun. I carelessly swerved into a parking space, which I created myself due to the fading of the yellow dividing lines. It’s a sight you would have expected to see in the former Soviet Union, not twenty first century USA; an aged, crudely built exterior, its walls cleverly stained brown by the rust that rained down from the aluminum roof. It reminded me of coffee stained dentures, or a distasteful hotel room watercolor.
3-5-15
I can’t help but drift off into daydream when I
spot a plane in the sky-
maybe it’s the child in me,
still stuffed full of wonder and awe as it glints off the
sun like an afternoon star-
I wonder then, of the lives above us,
bound for the winds of everywhere…
some eager,
some pained,
many excited, nervous, or afraid,
journeys and endings, departures and destinations…
I wonder what they’re thinking as they’re looking down upon us,
or if they’re wondering what I’m thinking while looking up,
and if our thoughts ever somehow intersect in the middle*
musings at random. 