lately i've been having these coming of age episodes which take place mostly before i go to sleep. this isn't so odd or uncommon i suppose but it's worth noting because like i've supertitioned for quite a while now, we as thinkers and amateur analysts of our lives are at times most brilliant in the wee hours, which is to also say completely clueless when we gather ourselves in the morning. but now i feel compelled to note this because i fall in love with genuine sensations of self-understanding and the sensation that though there may exist this chaos so stifling, our spirit is still treading and still struggling to bloom as closer to the sun as it can despite backward tendancies, despite discouraging forces and excuses to back off of efforts to surprise ourselves or truely live the path of a spirit with an aching charisma.
a recent epiphany that i have probably already captured in my net is the idea of a life timeline, how this relates to at least our perception of how fulfilled we are or how things are relative to how we want them to be, such as where we are spiritually, goal orientation, how deep our relationships are with others, our involvement in the world, how much our skills have developed and even the superficial matters like what we own and how we look. But more so, the focus is how (hypothesis induced) we tend to ebb and flow through these different combinations and different levels of satisfaction/fulfillment in patterns and also in slow waves. You could denominate these levels or displacements by year, month, whatever. The thing is that looking back, it's effortless to be able to study the design of how much I had this year or how fucked up things were this year and so forth. However looking at the present and though forecasting the future, it's almost like we know what will happen and believe that slowly the up and down will balance out again but we can't see it. I think we can feel it though but I could be misinterpreting these feelings for anticipated excitement. Whatever the feeling, it's preferred and reassuring that at least through all this muck, there is this hope in balance, this however mincy squint of a hope that shit always finds its way to a refinery and works out. I like this feeling.
