The fear in Grace at the same time washed over him. “Who do I think I am?” he questions to god..
....And not who he actually is...
Gazing and wondering over the sense of the unknown observing the droplets of unknown lessons, his heart scores in the ability to jump.. so should he dive? The earth welcomes knowing a certain love that is eternal and gives to give, and loves.... end of story.
Lost in a world of adversity, he sees his true desires along with his prematurely developing brain. It is the beginning of molding and forming an intuition of which no one has ever told him not to follow.
Into the gym after a class, he felt a flow out of something that had never had something in nor out of before... he felt faint, lost in a place he never knew he’d see. No wonder he still hates gyms... Blood had begun catapulting his development in just knowing what something is, such as “biological” brain development, and taking shit at face value. His running gave him confidence and he met the like as well.
The brain develops and the intuition becomes smarter. It is a horrible twist of fate that brilliance basically gains on the intuition and the intuition does the same to the brain, and is juxtaposed as on a footman job of opening the door of his heart, though all of it is only a functional system of spiritual flow. Devoid of veins and blood and flesh, this is what we have. Anatomy and Physiology was his favorite subject in school. he lit up at the exposed muscles of cats and memorized every term. If he knows the without, he will know the within, whispers his intuition... it’s funny that he’s good at it.
After a long stretch of glorious development, his grandma’s condition grew in the catastrophic truth of decay, something he definitely didn’t want to learn. His mother lashed out. This, he never wanted to see. His dad fought her thinking. Of which he never wanted to experience. Now it had become a wish washy blinding affect of a misty sense of the truth. “this is what it feels like not to want I guess...” he admits through tears and shortness of breath in his bed listening something he has since forgotten because it fit his pain so well. And so he is not wanting. And doesn’t. His power of will had begun.
“If I don’t want, than I need!” he echoed in epiphany. Thinking he was done. Thinking his life was over and it was anything but sad. he had arrived. A taste of death for his grandma became his father’s scotch in the tall cupboard after midnight alone in a dark house. Marijuana was his whole history since adversity began to register.
Then started the actual running. Not on a track, but into oblivion, made of all that was given to him, every seed that could spark an illusion whilst flipping a fucking birdy to the sky. He welcomed the double life. Some people knew of a stripper-like body, some people knew the band t shirt in the morning, some people knew the brain and the bullshitter.. And some people knew who he really is - and they died, they really did..for her sake, in all he is...for his sake... And dying of anguish witnessing him at a distance.. crying together in their bed at night because they knew something was wrong: “Thanks (for the drug money) mom, thanks for the (all-expense-paid ability to kill myself) dad. I love you . I’ll call back later.” ... he knew he would have to own their pain one day, and the truth didn’t make anything better, so he got more and more until the bass drums destroyed his beautiful bones.
he had everything he is. And everything in front of him, all good, though it included all that he is not. The rope sounded good. “Back out of this shit! If I could just go back.... go back..” His everything said no.
So he went forward instead, and then knew some strength in him and not just a power of will, brains, and expertise. “So Siberia sounds good... if I die early, it might as well be by a wolf or something wickedly from the God of Hates to rip me to sheds, because a bullet is too quick and a weak way to go....” at least I know my strength, lets test it..... and so he forgot one important thing: he is a human being.
And so he rested in fucking Hotel California and grew to know he will laugh for another 75 years from what he’s seen there.... and now offers it to others. The tattoos of Life and Death and the Nile taught him a lot after the swing of thriving had returned. Indeed he left the the Hotel with vouchers and Still Water. Barbed wire in displaced places taught him the illusion that brilliance can win. So his heart began to suffer. “How can I slow down?... Fuck!...” he wailed at the sky... he was still running on a treadmill...all in his head..
A double bass drum in a small venue is like breeze ripples on a lake.. They get bigger and more vibrant, the treetops are touched. Encapsulating fire is not a flame, but an ember as big as the sun. The sun has flares, yet is not of what we see as fire from a candle, a graceful practically disappointing way of understanding the larger picture. he learned there are trillions of embers burning, and not just one. And so his earth became water and the low of his running and the pain of others began to unfold, flow, and disappear.
Adversity is his own, his blood is his own, his intuition and those who bore it is his own, him not wanting anything is his - and is his own weapon unseen, all who he is NOT is only a reflection - to age him to perfection... he is no one because he has become someone.
"Enlightened Traveler" "Revolutionary of thought"
Travis Muffhuggin Ryan