October 2, 2022
I’m even starting to not believe me
(after a while the lie tells itself)
by Ryan J. Stout
We’re at that time of the month again when I realize all the unrecorded thoughts of the previous weeks I swore I’d remember have vanished beyond the sea into the sun’s heart. I cannot gauge whether this is a new thought, or the next thought upon decades of compounding thoughts - and since much of the topical crux of RTD circles around the confounding nature of thought origin, my decision is as follows: this is compounding - for bloviate originality is an unresolved trauma’s sleight of hand with shiny coins at a dive bar retelling the story of how you almost met Keith Richards.
What I have moved through recently is trance-like contemplations on what is inside (or beyond) oblivion - I’ve deduced: it is more oblivion. This led me to question what I am actually attempting to articulate (even if just within the gray matter betwixt my ears): death, suicide, heaven, hell, reincarnation, evolution, phantomsgorical musings, time’s comedic psychological vorticies dancing 5/4 jigs upon looped theoretical uncertainties. Or, maybe I am learning to surrender.
This exposes the, now obvious, denial I’ve resided in for decades: I think that is why I feel comfortable with this peripatetic lifestyle that finds me so willing and charming: picking up friends, loved ones, thoughts, ideas, joy, pain, sunshine, and rain…“sing it now God’s Children!” But I digress…
And this may seem sad, but it is a choice. Oddly enough, after listening to the Jewel interview on the Joe Rogan Experience Podcast, it made good sense to seek happiness beyond all things. The type of happiness she is referring to (at least I think / hope she is referring to) deals with arriving at contentment and acceptance, with existential enactment and probability, our actual feet set firm on the actual Earth - if one can learn to be happy in the weight of the aforementioned, they possess a more insightful path towards engaging in the natural world as its absurdity unfurls on our silly little head, and, most importantly perhaps, we do not have to kill ourselves in response to the fundamental Truth that Life, as a conceptual entity of, and within itself, is utterly and undeniably (almost unbearably) meaningless. Which, if you want to engage on Life’s terms, it is imperative to find meaning - meaningful meaning. Camus states when we are up against this self-destructive loop of seeking meaning in the absurd, perhaps the best strategy is to live not to live, but to revolt against death - which is the most badass personal ethos I can imagine.
Because, in the most real way, death is, and always will be, the answer to and for us all. And, as C Buk says, “If you are going to be here, you might as well fight for the miracle.” What I just learned is, each person’s miracle is different. I have come to terms with, that it is likely my miracle has already occurred - plus countless other little ones dotted throughout my breath-filled tenure. But the point is, (and a friend recently suggested to stop denying the weirdness, which seems accurate at this point to identify as cellular) and lean in hard - stop hating myself - which processes its own cosmological comedy. This shift in thought is the flip-side of a brocade - if the intentionally patterned side is death-drive ridden nihilist, that is. Learn to be happy in your own skin. Help as many people as you can. Laugh as much as possible: Love even more. And remember:
“What a beautiful face / I have found in this place
That is circling all 'round the sun / And when we meet on a cloud
I'll be laughing out loud / I'll be laughing with everyone I see
Can't believe how strange it is to be anything at all”
- Jeff Mangum (Neutral Milk Hotel)
Song by Matthew Bailey