Tag Archives: Alone

BEING ALONE

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“If you discover that you’re all alone in space and that you’re actually enjoying your newly discovered peace, calm, quiet and serenity, there are a few thousand other things you can do to amuse yourself.  Most likely, your greatest problem will be boredom: the #1 enemy for a spirit. If you lived on Earth very long you will already know that people are obsessed with NOT being bored.  However, this may not be a natural condition for spirits.”  

— Excerpt from the book 1001 THINGS TO DO WHILE YOU’RE DEAD by Lawrence R. Spencer

YOUR VOICE ALONE

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VoiceSamuel Barclay Beckett (13 April 1906 – 22 December 1989) was an Irish avant-garde novelist, playwright, theatre director, and poet, who lived in Paris for most of his adult life and wrote in both English and French. He is widely regarded as among the most influential writers of the 20th century.

Beckett’s work offers a bleak, tragicomic outlook on human existence, often coupled with black comedy and gallows humour, and became increasingly minimalist in his later career. He is considered one of the last modernist writers, and one of the key figures in what Martin Esslin called the “Theatre of the Absurd”.   Beckett was awarded the 1969 Nobel Prize in Literature.

ALONE AND BORED: SATURDAY NIGHT MUSING

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It’s not easy to say what I really think about Life in this Universe.  It’s complicated.  It’s a Love / Hate relationship. The random, unpredictable drama of it is entertaining, amusing and terrifying.  I love the sensual scenery on Earth and the impassioned sensations of sex.  I hate pain, lies, stupidity and injustice.  The wonder and mystery of an endlessly starry night is a facade of pretended majesty.  The sounds of soft, subtle jazz are sublime.  A trusted companion is comforting.  Ice cream is irresistible.  The blissful buzz of booze is bemusing. I am enamored with the innocent insouciance of animals.  Life Forms are reflections of The Divine Essence of Life.

Yet, I detest greed and the callous brutality of possessions.  I would love to love this universe.  But, it’s not my universe.  It’s not the universe I would create if I could create my own. It is full of recycled pain and dying and death. Agony, mystery and ignorance are everywhere. There are no real angels or faeries here. No honor. No Integrity. No Justice. No Mercy. No Poetic Magic. This universe in impassive and intolerant of nonsensically nonsequitur nonsense.

This universe is frozen, dark, impartial vacuum dotted with incandescent infernos of light-emitting balls of eternally burning gases!  Sprinkled, intermittently, throughout are gaseous clouds of radioactive poison and icy balls of rock.  It swirls and grows relentlessly in an eternally timeless now of revolving, random rotation. It is not me. It is not mine. I can’t own it and I don’t want it.  Yet, I can’t leave it behind!  (as far as I know, I’m stuck here….)

Does it have a purpose and destiny?  Does it know that I exist?  Does it care?

No. It does not.

I am a Nothingness of Thought.  I’m not from here. I didn’t begin anywhere. I am not a Thing. I Am Endlessly Emitting Emotions, Ideas, Compassion and Creative Notions.

I am Universes Apart from this universe.  Universes apart.

In My Own Universe I Am what I dream: Sensual, Dramatic, Comic.  I AM.  Motionless.  Curious. Playful. Joyful. Pleased with my Own Existence.  I Create. I Change. I Destroy, or not, at My Whim. I Am My Universe in My Universe.  You’re welcome to share it with me, as long as you Admire My Creations.  I’d like to Admire Yours too.  More than anything, I don’t like being Alone and Bored.

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— Lawrence R. Spencer. Saturday Night Musing. November 2012.