What does it mean to be fortunehearted?
Well, first I'd say it opens us up to wonder what's inside of us. To ask what the heart is, what it desires, what it craves. Is it the same in all of us?
Most likely it isn't, not in the minutiae at least. Everybody seems to live it out differently. But do we all have a heart that longs for love? Longs to be loved?
We've hurt people with this heart, other times love has poured out of it. What is more untrustworthy but the heart?
We feel it stabbed when somebody turns on us, we ache and we yearn, so much so that sometimes we can only function by ignoring it.
But to be fortunehearted means to never let it go. In the face of a world that struggles against hope, attempts to crush illusion and to shatter the unreasonable, to be fortunehearted means to never let go of what is inside. The heart that is screaming at us that this world will get better, people will learn to care and to care for others.
I am FortuneHearted.
Monday, November 26, 2018
Thursday, October 18, 2018
The Warrior
Wisdom is not desire
Wisdom is not knowledge
Part of wisdom comes from experience
Wisdom is knowing nothing more must be said
The one thing I don't like about writing is that there isn't really much you can do to come off like you don't know everything. In order for anyone to have a chance to care, you have to speak with authority you don't have. I do know that a lot of people are truly educated and do deserve respect, but how can I know how respectable they are if I don't see how they live it? I'm never sure what the purpose of learning is if the information itself is not satisfying to the soul, nor is it life sustaining.
There are morals in life, there are ideas that preserve humanity and sustain generosity.
When I was young, I thought I knew everything. Many people have said that before, but I'm not going to insinuate that when I was younger I knew nothing. I have more respect for myself than that, I sometimes have more respect for myself then than I do now. The one thing I picked up really well were emotions. I knew what I wanted and I could pretty easily tell you what other people wanted.
I lived life for emotion, I let situations frequent and stir the fire of my soul, emotion was like a wild bull, and riding it was the most exciting seconds of my life, but how dangerous it was...
The best philosophies come not from educated men who want to clearly communicate their idea in words, the best philosophies come from fiction writers who know the only way to communicate an idea effectively is through how it plays out, and the imagination, when trained, can be an accurate depiction of reality, and most importantly, it can be an arena in which to have experiences where reality will not allow.
The only question comes from asking, what is the realistic consequence?
Who has to imagine what it is like to let go? Who has to imagine what damage is done by the bull that is emotion in the china shop that is the world? When I was young, yes I knew what I wanted and I knew what others wanted, but I also believed no one should ever have to sacrifice. When the situation called for one or the other party to give, was I going to be the one to take the fall?
There were times I was... There were actually times I was much more willing to sacrifice for other people than keep myself.
These are the times I hurt them most: when I kept secret my intentions.
Wisdom is not knowledge
Part of wisdom comes from experience
Wisdom is knowing nothing more must be said
The one thing I don't like about writing is that there isn't really much you can do to come off like you don't know everything. In order for anyone to have a chance to care, you have to speak with authority you don't have. I do know that a lot of people are truly educated and do deserve respect, but how can I know how respectable they are if I don't see how they live it? I'm never sure what the purpose of learning is if the information itself is not satisfying to the soul, nor is it life sustaining.
There are morals in life, there are ideas that preserve humanity and sustain generosity.
When I was young, I thought I knew everything. Many people have said that before, but I'm not going to insinuate that when I was younger I knew nothing. I have more respect for myself than that, I sometimes have more respect for myself then than I do now. The one thing I picked up really well were emotions. I knew what I wanted and I could pretty easily tell you what other people wanted.
I lived life for emotion, I let situations frequent and stir the fire of my soul, emotion was like a wild bull, and riding it was the most exciting seconds of my life, but how dangerous it was...
The best philosophies come not from educated men who want to clearly communicate their idea in words, the best philosophies come from fiction writers who know the only way to communicate an idea effectively is through how it plays out, and the imagination, when trained, can be an accurate depiction of reality, and most importantly, it can be an arena in which to have experiences where reality will not allow.
The only question comes from asking, what is the realistic consequence?
Who has to imagine what it is like to let go? Who has to imagine what damage is done by the bull that is emotion in the china shop that is the world? When I was young, yes I knew what I wanted and I knew what others wanted, but I also believed no one should ever have to sacrifice. When the situation called for one or the other party to give, was I going to be the one to take the fall?
There were times I was... There were actually times I was much more willing to sacrifice for other people than keep myself.
These are the times I hurt them most: when I kept secret my intentions.
Dream
I'm building something. And everyday it seems to get less and less easier to touch. Though I've longed to just run my fingers along it, hold it in my arms... It seems the best things in life are dreams. Just dreams. Who can say they haven't wanted them to be more?
I think there are many who will ask you to come down, see life for what it really is, but I cannot neglect the infinite air, and I ask you as well to not deny yourself the dream. The space of fiction that slips into our reality that is lofty, untouchable and mysterious. Your heart dreams for a world of hope, of love. Have you forgotten how you've danced? Like a faded memory buried over with so called knowledge that says "I know who I am and I am not a dancer."
Weren't you ever? Weren't you a dancer and didn't you fall, fall out of the sky? And didn't you fall hard?
That is why I am building a tower, to reach the heavens, but untouchable.
A tower of hopes and dreams.
Or maybe just resting my wings in a tree that grows.
I think there are many who will ask you to come down, see life for what it really is, but I cannot neglect the infinite air, and I ask you as well to not deny yourself the dream. The space of fiction that slips into our reality that is lofty, untouchable and mysterious. Your heart dreams for a world of hope, of love. Have you forgotten how you've danced? Like a faded memory buried over with so called knowledge that says "I know who I am and I am not a dancer."
Weren't you ever? Weren't you a dancer and didn't you fall, fall out of the sky? And didn't you fall hard?
That is why I am building a tower, to reach the heavens, but untouchable.
A tower of hopes and dreams.
Or maybe just resting my wings in a tree that grows.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Heart
When not entertaining Chaos
Dressing ourselves as complicated
We are surprisingly simple creatures
Tasting the evening's toasts
Sparking up lamps in the dying light
Camping on dirty couches
Just so the night can go on
And us devils
Can find a way to slight the stars
Into giving us a shot.
We're not really evil
Sometimes the show makes us that way
and to give in to the presentation,
We just put on our suits
and work the door-
Dressing ourselves as complicated
We are surprisingly simple creatures
Tasting the evening's toasts
Sparking up lamps in the dying light
Camping on dirty couches
Just so the night can go on
And us devils
Can find a way to slight the stars
Into giving us a shot.
We're not really evil
Sometimes the show makes us that way
and to give in to the presentation,
We just put on our suits
and work the door-
Saturday, March 17, 2018
Hurricane
I can remember the nights I would have said it. Sometimes, I like to go back to a certain time where my thoughts were just a mess. Whether it was the night where I was talking to you on the webcam, or the night you called me in November and I had seen it coming far too long to be able to cry. I had too many nights where I couldn't do anything but look at you longingly, and too much time spent being the man without a job.
I wish I could make it easier for you to love me.
More practical, less just romantic torture. I know you felt for me, but to love me I made impossible. I probably did so just because I needed to stretch it to see how much it could take. Who knows what is worth putting effort into- maybe your holding on is just trying to stop a train by standing on the tracks.
We are the blood of the the abuser, with the microscope on the word unconditional we test it with strain and we don't want someone who just holds on- we don't want someone who will leave. We want someone who can't help but stand in front of the train. Someone who will love when it's not easy. A couple of people who just can't let go in the midst of the hurricane.
I wish I could make it easier for you to love me.
More practical, less just romantic torture. I know you felt for me, but to love me I made impossible. I probably did so just because I needed to stretch it to see how much it could take. Who knows what is worth putting effort into- maybe your holding on is just trying to stop a train by standing on the tracks.
We are the blood of the the abuser, with the microscope on the word unconditional we test it with strain and we don't want someone who just holds on- we don't want someone who will leave. We want someone who can't help but stand in front of the train. Someone who will love when it's not easy. A couple of people who just can't let go in the midst of the hurricane.
Screaming
I was found screaming into the mirror today. Locking eyes with glass pools and pushing rage into the walls of the bathroom. And while I was doing this the mirror began to break in front my face. Cracks spidering across a broken reflection, and yet the image still remained, just with finer interruptions that could almost pass as part of me.
Forgive me, but as I look into my own face I wonder if our battles are perhaps a little lazy. Just social ways of dealing with the struggle we all face alone. To be un-united, divided, torn apart from close friends and colleagues by differences is the hell we fear so we live in the movement. Just so we don't have to face being alone.
I wonder if the plight of the gay man is the plight of every man, to be different in the face of a society where you don't fit- and then a movement comes along and gives you a place to belong. An opportunity that you come and take.
It's all just standing in front of the glass. You can scream and yell and form all the cracks you want, the mirror is just a Rorschach test where what you end up seeing is the best guess of yourself.
Forgive me, but as I look into my own face I wonder if our battles are perhaps a little lazy. Just social ways of dealing with the struggle we all face alone. To be un-united, divided, torn apart from close friends and colleagues by differences is the hell we fear so we live in the movement. Just so we don't have to face being alone.
I wonder if the plight of the gay man is the plight of every man, to be different in the face of a society where you don't fit- and then a movement comes along and gives you a place to belong. An opportunity that you come and take.
It's all just standing in front of the glass. You can scream and yell and form all the cracks you want, the mirror is just a Rorschach test where what you end up seeing is the best guess of yourself.
Taste
It started like the normal kind of mountain hiking where everything was planned and prepared for. But nobody talked about what could go wrong. Like you all had the bases covered and not even one false step could send you sliding down the mountain that the mountain so wanted you to find.
You could follow the route, just follow the route- but in your heart you know you can't. That's where it stops being a normal hike and starts being your real life. Where you know the thorns in your side would rather you not talk about the pain that they cause, or they tell you to just "pray it away" and if that doesn't work then God doesn't want the pain to go away.
All this feels like dangling, like where the slip happens and you are tied to the others and as you hang off the edge of the cliff you realize that if you hold on any longer you'll take them all down,
And so you think maybe sometimes life has to happen like a disaster
but you don't really like the taste of that.
You could follow the route, just follow the route- but in your heart you know you can't. That's where it stops being a normal hike and starts being your real life. Where you know the thorns in your side would rather you not talk about the pain that they cause, or they tell you to just "pray it away" and if that doesn't work then God doesn't want the pain to go away.
All this feels like dangling, like where the slip happens and you are tied to the others and as you hang off the edge of the cliff you realize that if you hold on any longer you'll take them all down,
And so you think maybe sometimes life has to happen like a disaster
but you don't really like the taste of that.
Friday, March 16, 2018
Whole
The world disguises it's share of the predatory. Sometimes under the description of "holy."
Like the corpses of the former living that fall into the depths of the Amazon river, that which has resigned it's right and ability to fight is preyed upon by the piranha that team within.
Do you claim your right to life, your right to be alive?
In this nature; the developed civilized wilderness, you do not see what disguises itself as the wolf that it is. The hunger of the piranha that team beneath the surface of the mundane and the "necessary." Because we live by the means of sacrifice. We live by the sacrifice of time and energy in the labors of our everyday existence. The demands of those civilized beings around us that ask us to give and to give only to feed their own stomachs. They maintain the pretense of duty, of paying back until you are even. But what their appetite demands deceives them. And the hunger that is not satisfied by little will not be satisfied by much.
You as well are not a predatory thing. In the face of the woman that demands you to change for her to love you or the church that demands your soul for you to stay. Do not give. To deny yourself purposefully is to deny the call to be divided and divide. To deny yourself is to reject the demands to give part of yourself here and part of yourself there as well as to reject the hunger to demand it of others.
To truly give of yourself it must be as a unit. To truly deny yourself, it must be an offering of yourself in the face of the world as a singular whole.
For it is the conscience that convicts us of decency. Or fails to do so. Why it fails in the face of evil is because evil asks that conscience be sacrificed to the piranha. The society that demands you to offer yourself in pieces, to keep some and forsake the rest, is the society doomed to fall apart. Never deny conscience, never deny fullness, always offer yourself whole.
To hunger is a result of being cut down and denied and believing it. For you to pursue the job, the money, the girl that can complete it all for you, is to deny that you are complete as you are, you and that which created you as you. That which knew what it was doing. That which made you whole.
Like the corpses of the former living that fall into the depths of the Amazon river, that which has resigned it's right and ability to fight is preyed upon by the piranha that team within.
Do you claim your right to life, your right to be alive?
In this nature; the developed civilized wilderness, you do not see what disguises itself as the wolf that it is. The hunger of the piranha that team beneath the surface of the mundane and the "necessary." Because we live by the means of sacrifice. We live by the sacrifice of time and energy in the labors of our everyday existence. The demands of those civilized beings around us that ask us to give and to give only to feed their own stomachs. They maintain the pretense of duty, of paying back until you are even. But what their appetite demands deceives them. And the hunger that is not satisfied by little will not be satisfied by much.
You as well are not a predatory thing. In the face of the woman that demands you to change for her to love you or the church that demands your soul for you to stay. Do not give. To deny yourself purposefully is to deny the call to be divided and divide. To deny yourself is to reject the demands to give part of yourself here and part of yourself there as well as to reject the hunger to demand it of others.
To truly give of yourself it must be as a unit. To truly deny yourself, it must be an offering of yourself in the face of the world as a singular whole.
For it is the conscience that convicts us of decency. Or fails to do so. Why it fails in the face of evil is because evil asks that conscience be sacrificed to the piranha. The society that demands you to offer yourself in pieces, to keep some and forsake the rest, is the society doomed to fall apart. Never deny conscience, never deny fullness, always offer yourself whole.
To hunger is a result of being cut down and denied and believing it. For you to pursue the job, the money, the girl that can complete it all for you, is to deny that you are complete as you are, you and that which created you as you. That which knew what it was doing. That which made you whole.
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