I often find myself in need of seeking calm in an otherwise unsettling environment. Not to hide from the people I know and care about but from the intramural turmoils around my life that I know are not my own. By nature I thrive in serenity, able to venture into long walks with my thoughts to overcome the rummaging monotony of unapologetic blabberings that are unsuited, unable and unbeneficial to my life. They come in numerous forms from various places that have never interested me. And while I open my mind to allow a different proposal into my thinking, it never fails that I can only allow them as brief visits. Momentarily appearing then leaving, so that I can live in my own wants wanting to be quenched from their endless deprivations over times lost. I can only explain the reason as to why and the only reason that I can find to adequately describe it, is that unlike many others, I’ve often been disrupted from my own desires of having the opportunities to partake of extended learning, searching and satisfying the essentials questions and ambitions that I believe would please me.

When I do have those brief moments of escaping into my thoughts, for my own sake, I’m amazed at the amount of pleasure I receive in their being there. Even if for the slightest of seconds away from the persistent banterings of things not of myself, my mind finds a release unlike any other antidote possible to be had. More relaxing than any wine, healthier than a detoxing tea, lighter than a cloud’s composition. Able to sooth the last savaging delinquent that would punish them for being as they are and abolish all anguish from my being.

But when they are finished, I find myself desperately trying to reclaim those moments again to carry them into the rest of my days alive. To keep myself in their presence from all opposing forces. Polishing them at every opportunity to keep them free of dust and decay so that I might pick them back up to continue my explorations at a safer time where my mind is free to wander around the landscapes of thinking, without forestalling or obligation. Where my hands are free participants in examining life as their own and my will is mine only to endeavor ever onward. Without being remorseful about the indescribable sensations that lure me into their understanding. I never dread the adventures my mind undertakes to explore. I only wish that all invading influences that seeks to destroy both me and my would be ambitions return to their own spherical domain where I am neither wanted or a part of their doings. So that the life belonging to me can be lived more than as a sovereign ritual of their objections. After all, I have never gone in pursuit of them. They are the things vying me, my attention, my time, my recognition. To overtake a life which they can’t live, to fill it with artificial experiences and unintelligent intelligences, as foreign to me as moon dust, as putrid to my inner tranquility as rancid wastes, spoiling the quest of life’s mind to know itself as itself while it is alive. In its entirety, whole unto itself, without regrets in my questing. Remembering always the goal is to become a well rounded partaker of life’s benefactions before it’s eternal departure from breathing in being alive.

I try not to burden myself with unworthy causes. I leave the decisions of others where they originated, in their own minds and search for myself among the rubble of their contaminations so that I can at least inspire myself to remain as well wished years ago by rejecting the violence of unorthodoxed teachings that are no reflection of myself, no worth of my time or any benefit to my well being. Choosing rather to relinquish preconceived ideas of unstudious presumptions and reclaim a clean comprehension to enhance a better perception of the depths in living.

I don’t expect others to understand me, or appreciate what propels me if it’s not also a part of them. After all, how could they? They’ve never existed in my life, the ways it was determined, the conditions by which it was delivered. Yet I’ve never grudged other’s their existence. I’ve never condemned another for being a success. I freed them to think as well about themselves as they could think, without doing any disservice to myself. Knowing I have never lived their life either. And while there are those who will always look down their noses at me, I take no more account into worrying about them than do they me, about the differences they made between us. For I’ve learned to look only for those things that are true to me. Hoping only to accomplish my own goals. Providing myself with the proper attitudes to relieve myself of unneeded anxieties. So that I will always be ready to accept the idea of a blooming marigold. Unfolding it’s delicate petals, revealing it’s fragrant pollinated pistols, welcoming sun’s light, dew’s moisture, wind’s refreshing, bee’s need of nourishment and human praises. That I might also honestly admire all those who do accomplish their own charity in living without the need to harm others. Who like a flower unfolding petal by petal, displaying the intricate loveliness that becomes the visual adoration of those who admire the simple dreamers, spend all their days dreaming of living a better tomorrow today. Forever in search of the interests that lures them away from farcical disruptions and cries of fleeting absurdities into a pleasantry of serenity that they can find within themselves when allowed.

Which reminds me of my entire life, where I often only find myself in need of calming itself enough to lay down unrewarding disparities so that my thoughts can migrate onward into the satisfying treasures of finding a welcoming haven to be explored of its benefiting splendors that washes away strifes from intrusive behaviors that would otherwise see life destroyed of its goodness; and a mind wasted on the stagnating angers that prevents all of life’s dreams from dreaming.