Another Light Goes Out

Courage has a new martyr.
For years, I admired Benazir Bhutto. It was impossible not to notice her beauty but her determination was the real magnet. She had an ethereal presence that was otherworldly. In her eyes I saw the kind of passion which only comes from the creator. Years ago, right after the death of her father, when I first became aware of who she was, I wondered why someone born into privilege would even bother to soil themselves in the slime pit of politics. She fought her way to the political stage and into the hearts of the Pakistani people. Her life would have been easier had she taken the safe route which privilege affords. She would of course have lived longer as well. I will miss her presence on this earth. I cannot imagine the depths of despair felt by her people. I feel as I always do after we lose our best.....that it's all such a waste. I don't understand Benazir's kind of courage, the kind fueled by unconditional love. Truly she loved her people to have sacrificed so much and in return gained so little. The world goes on without the light of her presence; a much more hellish place. I hope she has found peace. Rest well beautiful daughter of the light.

realizing nothing is everything

you are born
you live
you die
your concept of self only exists in the interim between birth
and death
thus, self is not eternal
if self is temporary
why do you place so much emphasis upon catering to its needs?
let go of the temporariness and meet Nirvana
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the quote comes from a book on zen reflections and pretty much sums up how i've been feeling. i know i am not depressed. i am well acquainted with the night and this is different.

i am in a place beyond depression; that place where everything is nothing. i have tried but i do not see sincerity in anything. this pale drama we call life is a facade. why else would it be so unsatisfying? to make up for the emptiness, we indulge the senses; by overeating, drinking, fucking and taking too many drugs.

i was born. i have existed and for a while, i called it living but gradually as every dream materialized and turned to ashes, it all began to seem like some perverse game that we are not going to win. that to me, makes life the cruelest hoax. perhaps i have lost my concept of self. maybe that is not supposed to happen because we are supposed to stay on the merry-go-round until the very end, reaching for the brass ring which we will never possess. and in that moment between death and life, we finally realize it was all for nothing, that we indeed are nothing. we are hopes and dreams which we spend a lifetime pursuing but can never truly possess.

i was born. as a small child i woke up in the middle of the night quite often and looked into the darkness. i felt something was terribly wrong and that somewhere a mistake had been made. i did not feel like i belonged here. i was certain of it. all my life i did what i was supposed to do but it never felt right and nothing i did ever lasted. most of my dreams never materialized and in some way each rejection (and there have been many), each disappointment confirms my belief that my existence is a mistake. i am the alien, the outcast, the dispossessed. i am still searching the darkness wondering why am i here.