The athlete and the guardian

I.

“Je les rends fous”. That’s the realization I’ve come to accept. I am no longer in a place where I will manage another day, another day with no sense of a soul left in me. I’ve learned the manners through which they operate, their so called “standards” have no base. It’s a spineless structure, one through which they promote wellbeing along with a promise of a family oriented environment.

Community? Civilization? They have defiled those terms, the greed has taken over becoming an ulcer that permeates in the mannerism and glance of every person here. Holding the greater good of people as the highest claim on the effort, time and attention of every single person here.

The self, they say, must be vanished in order to allow eternal bliss. They smile, in a twisted yet cyclical manner, as they say this. Not one of them knows what bliss means. Not one of them has achieved it, because they’re all copied from another’s interpretation of bliss, if you ask them where they got it, they point to another’s. They have no sense of self.

An infinite shelf containing nothing but various distractions; they serve their purpose, they make them forget of the moment, and maybe for the more fearful, a year ahead. It distances them from the novelty that is available. When novelty is mentioned, “where?” Is what is asked from them, puppy eyes glaring into yours as if you’ve found the parents of a lost child.

No need to worry, I know how to make my own. I mustn’t tell them for I will waste that which makes us all connected, yet at the same time so different. I never understood how they throw it away so carelessly. Must be because of their lack of pressure. Yes that has to be it. They haven’t had to utilize themselves as a filter to others experience of life, to sustain others life at the cost of my own.

What is… in front of you, that’s it. But there is a ‘magical’ window they look into, mindlessly stare into that which they aspire to be or have. They treat it as reality, when it’s only a substitute. Watching their mind’s attention being sucked through a vacuum of desires, only to leave nothing, but a numbness of what is in front of them. Hope, they call it, visualization they justify, “it makes me happy” they lie to themselves.

If for one minute they can grasp that they have discovered a time machine which never lets them be in the destination when desired. Only when they get there, they reflect for a bit, coming to realize they have achieved that which they have longed for for so long. They smile for a bit, they enjoy it while it’s there, but then unexpectedly and sudden, a tsunami, as if it had been patiently waiting for them to reach the shore of the beach slaps their whole body, life, existence.

It makes a mess of their structure, their creation, as they call it. Their corrupt foundations collapse, the backyard of a greener grass they had never known was there, is revealed. Much like the eye of a hurricane, it reveals that sunlight is always there, trapped in the middle of turmoil, the beauty in the what is, the calm before the storm.

This other part of the storm is what they have made. A cyclone that is serene on the outside, yet they always choose to live in the center. Creating a strong, yet chaotic belief system that will destroy everything in it path. They can’t see it or feel it as this is created in reality, where the law of cause and effect is still intact. They see it from their high grounds, their “god-like” Olympus they have imagined, but never built.

It looks great in their imagination, it’s untouchable. It floats like an abstract, with bright neon colors. Promising a better tomorrow, hope, and an extravagant life. And yes it does, but it’s a bridge that must be built across a sea that is never calm. A bridge is what they attempt to build. Some do, only to find it is incredibly hard to do after they reach an island. So they settle.

II.

“This sea isn’t made to be built upon” is my logic. If you could see how the curves and motion behave like a wild woman crying out for caress and touch, you’d know see it as a challenge. Rhythm and understanding of its nature is what it commands. That’s all it asks for. Not a concrete bridge one can walk on effortlessly. It’s a challenge it proposes, not a walk in the park.

You must understand that all that moves is alive, all that is static tends to be reliable sometimes, but often leads to decay, stagnation. A memory is what I don’t want you to become. This is not your nature, what you have come into this earth for.

Remember when you showed up in my doorstep? I saw you as a threat to everything I had. Everything I had endured and worked hard for; all the static belongings which I cared for and guarded. Then you decided to hide them, throw them away or even destroy them, whenever I held on to one dearly, only to realize now that it wasn’t dearly, it was desperation that had the grasp. I learned to hold those things dearly only in the moment, admiring them as they are, not as what they promise to be.

This infuriated me. Loosing my most precious things, I lost my place in was becoming one of them. The one’s that they all want to be like, the famous. Then you said “no”, you wouldn’t have any of it, you approached me and with some sort of dance like motions, to a rhythm I hadn’t heard before started to destroy them one at a time. Taking them away.

This is why I hide you. You see, the mere thought of them taking you away from me through misplacement or silencing you with their mindless sounds, takes away from me the definition of my existence. The fuel of my every action.

I don’t plan on hiding you much longer, because if I do, I’m merely making your nature work against itself. I have selfishly hidden you out of fear of what they will do to me when they find out I see you everyday. They hate that, they hate the fact I have something they never will. They want to feel you, but not in a loving manner. They want to defile you, pass you from on to the other and claim they have been with you, for status, significance, and acceptance.

I enjoy dancing with you, listening to your expressions, and waking up next to you. This time we have spent together is not meant to be shared or remembered but lived with you. It’s like a song that plays only once in a lifetime. Dear, when you remember, but never meant to be experienced twice.

That’s the ecstasy they will never comprehend. That’s what they fear, so you see, even if I wanted to introduce you to them they wouldn’t comprehend. They must get to know you the same way you approached me, and understand how you make music. But this is what you do, so I must let you be.

III.

“Moi, je m’em fous” is what I must put in this locket. Carried nearest to my flesh and not worn like a chain that weighs, but rather, an achievement of having a life. This expression of having a life is what they don’t understand, and they fear. I do not care if they do or not.

That which gives us life is, a tireless athlete, with stamina of a beast. The heart, shaped like the locket, will not care what stands in front of it; it never stops, and dances to a rhythm that dictates what moments take our breath away and which ones allow us to enjoy them. The complexity of of perseverance and life, as ideals, made simple when we look inward.

The sensations are that of a faster beat, mimicking the millions of thoughts pertaining to admiration when one looks into beautiful eyes. The rhythm that unites the body with the moment, and a silent whisper of “this… this is worth being alive for”, taking ones breath away as well as giving breath and clarity to the now.

In this locket I carry all I will ever live for, and all I will fight to the death for. It’s love, with your essence in it. It’s pride with you standing next to it, holding its hand. It’s integrity, knowing I haven’t separated the both you. It’s honesty, thanking you for giving it another day. It’s justice, using you as a defender. Liberté, it’s time you roam this disaster of a world today. And make it free again. Not of physical restrictions, those have been dealt with before. Not those of creative faculty, although diminishing, I will uphold this one. But that of free will, the realization that the now will be more significant than yesterday and always more important than the future, but above all that one always gets to choose.