It is graceful to be feeling grateful.
Gratefulness is opposition to craving, it is a graceful pause of achieving distant desires. It wears a humble smile of a daily action, it’s full of a meaningful passion in solitude. Landscapes live in this solitude, letting the rivers flow down their streams, carrying branches and broken trees, the trees that let themselves go.
When being grateful, it is not possible being elsewhere, either where you already are. Gratefulness is a mistress to presence, its concubine, its muse, its arrestment of time. It is a boiling point in realization that one is complete. That the action is complete. That the body is complete. That a thought is enough. That breath circulates life, offers an indulgence to a pointless state of mind.
Gratefulness represents a pure opposition to a contemporary social structure and the value of gaining. To be feeling deeply grateful is a subversive act; same as the piercing silence is a subversion of a loud, bloody revolution. Fuck the revolution, let’s dance. Something that died cannot be changed, cannot expect an apocalypse cannot loosen the nonsense of participation in long gone structures of living. Nor I am alive, neither you are. A social act is always a carnival that I am willing to participate in, otherwise I have no place to live, to lurch into a civilization I have chosen to belong to. I have to participate otherwise I don’t exist. I must crave, must achieve, must believe, must require, must propose, must plead, must seek, must be ambitious, must interact, must compete, must gain, must adopt, must demand, must possess, must be an active member of society. I must be grateful, grateful I have been given a chance to do all that, I must be grateful I got a chance to live, I got a chance to exhaust myself, to exhaust my existence. (i need to dance)
I should be knitting my way through all that pressure, knitting so compulsively until my fingertips bloat and my vertebra shrivels. Maybe then one will deserve to be called human. It’s not alone that the machine called capitalism did that. It couldn’t have achieved alone. As one cannot blame parents for everything, one cannot blame capitalism for everything. It’s a sheer flame to blame. Then one puts the building to flame, cause the building is to be blamed. Set everything on fire! Set it on fire! (i need to dance)
Anyone who ever found herself or himself in the interactive structures that bring acceptance and self-acceptance in the group found extraordinarily easy to interact out of a pure moment that one is creating. Out of a simple moment that is happening which is nothing more mysterious than just being yourself. A very popular instruction of every natural born teacher “be yourself”, although trivialised through a numberless repetition in any eye-opening video, text, blog, conversation or a nicely wrapped up commercial, seems to be summing up the life skill one has learned (or not), simply be spontaneous, show up as the life chance occurs by being that life chance. Don’t be impertinent, that’s brassy and rude. It’s not a nice garment to wear on an anxious night dotted with a self-interrogation, am I good enough? And yes please, don’t ever ask if you’re good enough because that is simply improper at the surface of you looks, still very welcome, almost a precondition of your unconscious and the mighty collective unconscious.
It is graceful being yourself for that is the only thing one can really do. And one does all these bunch of nonsense being a social machine gun for that is the only thing one can really do at the civilized battlefield. Crave civilized, impose civilized, beg civilized, ignore civilized. It is, indeed, extraordinarily easy to interact out of a pure moment one is creating.
At first I thought I should abolish something. Myself doing this, myself doing that, myself not doing that, myself being accompanied with those people, or with that other people. I needed to dance, that’s the only thing I have really needed. Still do. To dance gracefully, lovingly and freely. How can I oppose the world view and the world act that is performing all along and rarely anyone dares to utter that the world created by such a world view has been all along lifeless, very dead and perished? We’ve been living in an abandoned place. Where there is no you, where there is no authenticity of your being, there is no place for life, just an abandoned place. Abandoned place is a phenomena at the bottom line of a collective depression. It is a wicked task that has been given, to identify oneself with death and decomposed structure. A death structure can never represent life. An immense imperative of a social growth is a lousy try of hiding that the civilization structure is dead. This inner notion is itchy. Like the ultimate itch behind someone’s existence. There is nothing to be identified with anymore and there is no life source anymore which would be charging us daily . It’s itching! Like a repetitive historical act and particles of dust on which some picture is projected. The locked up reality has been written on dust.
What now. Once you’ve figured this out. What then.
I try addressing my mistress, gratefulness. I said, after all, I needed to dance. I know about life that it never ceases to live, it’s alive, and it always flows finding its way through, it’s intelligent and agile. I am grateful I know what life is. Nevertheless, not knowing what life is, maybe I wouldn’t be able to be grateful. Being grateful is step into and step forward. It has lightness of an echo coming back to you. When I am grateful I need not be chasing anything, I have already achieved it. It brings along the unutterable knowledge of completeness, which really is The Knowledge of the heart, my Ace of heart, the knowledge of self-acceptance. This is the enjoyable solitude, full of a meaningful passion. It’s the most subversive act one can offer to a hypocrisy. Being in a state of gratefulness intercepts the time, fills the holes and swallows the paradox. Gratefulness is a true I am and an eternal companion of life. Every time when I breathe, I circulate my life, over and over again. Often I hear people’s breathing as hard as breathing of stranded whales, for I often perceive everyone’s life as a whale. It’s a giant creature of the Sea, the most beautiful one. Whales are magnificent. Sometimes cruel in nature, still magnificent. We could breathe it out, breathe out the whole ocean for a single whale.
Once this has been figured out. Once this has been figured out.
Photos of whales borrowed from this link: http://www.independent.ie/irish-news/baffling-rise-in-beached-whales-26439944.html