Fallen From Grace
Untitled (but Spiritualized): Fallen From Grace.
Intro.
I want to take you somewhere, somewhere far away, a distant land where few have been. I have graced this land, but only once, i have seen it with my own eyes but have no memories to share. I hope, by telling this story, the memories will return and once again, i will be at one with this land, a land where dreams come true, and destiny is revealed. We all have a place in our minds which is special to us, however, this is a place where 'minds' are special, or rather, a place where 'we' are special, a place which reveals to us our true nature and ultimately, a place which leads us to truth. How many of us are seeking truth, in our lives, how many of us are concerned about are nature? What exactly is truth, and nature? Well, when we reach our destination, this will all become clear, and such thoughts will no longer be foreign to us, they will be our goal, they will be our guide. Maybe you have been here before, walking the same path as I, maybe you have asked the very same questions. But have you ever... fallen from grace.
Part One.
One: So Much Trouble in the World.
War, we are all familiar with this word, even if we have never experienced it at first hand. The news is our source, when it comes to war, we 'watch' war on our tv screens, never out of our bedroom windows. So, is there, or rather, are there any wars? It is clear to all that there are many wars, and yes, some people see war from out of their bedroom window. How harrowing, war, outside my window, when all i want is a good nights sleep! But yes! war is upon us, war is everywhere. Who started these wars? Who has the right to spoil my sleep and prevent me from getting my eight hours? We are... yes, we all are responsible for war, the government we duly elected wages war on our behalf, sending troops and employing tanks, making air raids and bombing compounds. We are the reason there is war, we are the reason. Now i never said that you could go to war when i ticked that box, that box which i ticked on a monday afternoon, in some primary school, sometime last May. Well, sorry, but you might as well have asked me to push a button which launched a nuclear missile, i wasn't aware of my choice, i thought i was voting for better education, better healthcare and better public services! Sorry, you've just voted for all out global thermonuclear war, the pen is mightier then the sword, but not as mighty as nuclear fusion. Ah, wait a second, i voted for a government which would improve this country, not invade another. Yes, but we had to invade in order to get you your healthcare, and your bus route. We invaded in order to educate your kids, we invaded to... we just invaded, OK? Well, i'm sorry, but that's not OK! We never asked you to invade anyone, why are you blaming me for the military action? Simple, the action was taken on your behalf, we act on the interest of the nation, and we decided that if we invade, we will ensure that the buses will be on time, that waiting list will fall, and that our children will get better results! Crazy talk! What kind of monster are you? Waging war against a peaceful nation won't ensure these goals, how can you justify these ludicrous claims? Easy, we are an elected government and we act on the interest of the nation, so there! No! I won't stand for this! This is deception, and i will take you to court over this! Easier said than done madame, we select the judiciary in this country, and they act on our behalf. I've been a fool all my life! I thought i was doing good, ticking that box, when all i was doing was killing innocent people and causing suffering on a monumental scale! Well, you can always abstain, throw your vote away and let the opposition in, see if they can't fulfill you desire for justice, sorry but this is a no-brainer, whomever you vote for, we all follow the path to war, that what we're 'there' for. Have a nice day!
Two: Burnin an' a Lootin'.
We walk down streets of desolation, burnt out shops, upturned cars, debris. You know you're in a war zone, you don't know where, but you know by the empty streets that this place has been deserted. The smell of war is evident in a place like this, pungent fumes of smoke and sulphur, streets littered with the discarded remains of habitation, its looks like the end of the world, and i guess for the people who once resided here, it is. The shops have been looted, when the fighting began and the soldiers were clearing the area for air strikes, residents took whatever they could, ignoring rifle fire from snipers to make a quick getaway with whatever they could get their hands on, tv's, radios, food, furniture, the list goes on. No one is innocent when it comes to war, but i guess these things are useless left here, and if nobody looted them, they will have been obliterated by the shelling, so all's fair in love and war. The soliders have now gone, leaving a wasteland of rubble, no one will return, not even the freedom fighters who once patrolled these street, this place has been laid to rest, fallen from grace.
Three: Rebel Music.
Youssef sat on the doorstep, cleaning his AK-47. He and his muslim brothers were freedom fighters, members of Hezbollah, the militant Lebanese 'terrorist' organisation. The AK-47, the prefered weapon of the modern guerilla, is a Soviet designed gas-operated assult rifle, used thoughout the midlle-east by 'holy-warriors' during conflict, it has become a symbol of resitance all over of the world. Youssef returned to his room and placed the rifle on his bed. On the wall was the Flag of Hezbollah, yellow and green, an arm reaches out of the word Allah, clenching the Kalashnikov, 'Party of God' written in green Kufic script. He sits on the floor, and reads from the Koran. Today, he lost a brother, an Israeli air raid struck a mosque and many Shi'a were killed, his brother was attending morning prayer when the missile struck, his brother was an engineering student, he was not a member of Hezbollah. Youssef felt remorse, he and his brother grew up together, they played in the streets as children, attended prayer at the mosque together, his brother was the reason Youssef had joined Hezbollah, he felt it was his way of helping Lebanon, helping in the massive restructuring needed after its wars with its neighbour, Israel. Today he would reflect on his purpose, tomorrow he would fight Israeli's, Israeli's that had, fallen from grace.
Four: So Much Things To Say.
They say it is the literal word of God, written in such verse that it has riddled scholars for centuries, written by the Prophet Mohammed (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), spoken by Archangel Jibraeel (Gabriel). Every word is the word of Allah, as it was revealed over a twenty-three year period. Unchanged for fourteen hundred years, the Koran deals with man and his ultimate goal. The theme of the Koran consists of three fundamental ideas: Oneness of Allah, Prophethood and life after death. The success of human beings on this earth and in the life hereafter depends on obedience to the Koran teachings.
Part Two.
Five: Could You Be Loved.
How can life be complete without love? How can i write this story if there's no one to dedicate it to? Few people write for fun, usually there's someone in mind, someone to share these words, and someone to read them. Beauty is an inspiration, a face in a crowd could be enough to get your hands working, the tap-tap of a keyboard is a sensual feeling, for the writer, and of course the words, conversations we wish we were having. It's the next best thing, for some, the only thing. Love can be expressed in words, emotions come out of the page and caress your mind, taking you deep inside, deep inside yourself, hopefully we can journey into your soul, sweet soul music! Who we choose to dedicate remains a mystery, anonymity bar a name, we invite the voyeur in and entertain, the dedicatee has the pleasure of exhibition without the embaressment, or the attention, privacy is ensured. We are like lovers, playing with our andience, playing to a crowd, playing with their emotions. We want to be observed, but we must remain anonymous in order for the illusion to work, the love affair depends on speculation and rumour. We can attain celebrity, even fame, many authors are questioned as to whom their work is dedicated to, but like every magician, these words are never spoken, for the circle will be broken and the magic, magic no more. Expression is everything, to evoke that feeling, to create that image, for it to become real, needs some truth, and that is the power of words, to create the truth out of an illusion. We are shaman, we perform miracles, we inspire and we tease, humour, ecstacy, sorrow, sadness and joy, we play every note and we use evey scale, we mock you, however, we love you.
Six: Turn Your Lights Down Low.
So i guessed you worked it out, that i've been thinking about you lately, and even though we're strangers, i feel a chemistry between us which tells me we could be friends. It always begins with friendship, in the last two weeks i've felt like i've know you for years, we just gel. You're an artist, a musician, i'm a writer, we're on a level. You love to play, i love to write. And although we both have a passion about our art, its the passion we evoke in our audience which turns us on. I'm like you, a slave to the masses, we only exist for these people, without them our efforts are wasted. We may love each other's art, but it's 'their' love we command, acceptance from the crowds, and our fans. You 'nailed' it last night, and i wrote the words spoken by Gabriel, we aspire to a higher goal, spiritually we are equal, our souls are laid to rest, on stage, in front of the keyboard, and our performance is judged only by God. Angel's from heaven, we can take the crowd to a place where anything is possible, a place where dreams come true, we unite, and we ignite, the fires of those souls who are willing to listen. Perfection is our art, every note you play, every word i write, we are observed at every moment, how far can i take you, where will you lead me? I follow the path to wisdom, like many before, and these words take me to places i wish you could see, my heart is an open book, my knowledge for you to share, closer to you, and to God.
Seven: One Love/People Get Ready.
With her by my side, i slowly begin to see, all the things i'd thought i'd seen, all the things close to me, things i hold dearly. She reveals them to me once again, and this time i see them in all their glory, my life, as it was, there and then. Today i was born and forever in debt, to her, and what she knew. She was a seer and a saint, she taught by example, and what she knew, i have travelled far to know. And i love her wholeheartedly for her knowledge, that which she has shared with me, that which she has become, a women of knowledge, a warrior, a traveller. She takes me to a place i could only have dreamed, and truth is revealed, for now i am a man, no longer a boy, seeking truth. And truth comes at a price, a price she has paid, for she has paid many times, and one i am willing, for this is truth, this is love. I rest my soul beside hers, and i find peace. The burden of childhood is lifted as i rise, in all my spendid glory, i am awaken, no longer in slumber, far from dreams, and the truth takes me high above the clouds, i see mountain peaks, i see sky, i see the sun as she has never shone before, brilliant and bold, a circle, an eternity. And i wish we could stay forever, here, in this place, this place she calls home, and never, fallen from grace.
Part Three.
Eight: Exodus.
So many times i find myself on the road, on a journey, travelling. Its the source of all my wisdom, knowledge i have attained, measured in miles. And its not where you go, its how long you've been going, and some of us never stop, as we have no destination, we travel to survive, we travel to live. I have taken my readers on many journeys, and not all have been simple, not all have been easy, some required great effort and stamina, its a long road ahead of us and its getting dark. But i will safely say, all have been memorable, and what better than to have returned from an epic voyage with stories to tell, and memories to share. You know the feeling, you get back from your holiday with photos and memories, some say you need a holiday to recover, but you're always grateful that you went, grateful of that chance to experience life, life somewhere else. We all need this, many are lucky enough to make it a regular occurence, for others, it's gold dust, and not to be missed. Why do i burden a holiday with such capacity? Because a holiday is a journey, it's the closest most of us have come to travelling, and no travelling is not the same as a holiday, but we've all had holidays, not all of us have travelled. How and why is it that i have a demarcation between the two? Because on holidays you bring yourself home, travelling, you bring your journey home. Travelling is knowledge, it is experience, not that you don't learn something during a holiday, new experiences are a kind of education, like holidays are a kind of travelling, however, holidays are long forgotten after the event, travelling, the journey remains with you still. Usually a holiday is a break, a getaway, from something mundane like work, or home, travelling is a journey which takes you from where you are to where you want to be, travelling is a continuation of life, you never 'break' away, as you bring all your worries with you, and exchange them for an alternative, a fresh page, a new start, you put an end to your suffering, and adopt a new existance, far away from where you find yourself. So the next time you take a holiday, stop, and travel, and no longer, fallen from grace.
Nine: Concrete Jungle.
Jason lives in the city, he lives alone. He's lived there for three years, Jason is homeless. When his mother passed away, his father left him and Jason was made homeless. He was twenty when cancer killed his mother, he is now twentythree and the memories are distant, he lives in the city, like so many homeless, Jason is a survivor. He can often be seen sitting crossed legged on the pavement with a paper cup for company, ocassionally a passerby will throw a coin in the cup, Jason would look up and smile. He lived on what people didn't need, loose change, cigarettes, food, water. At night he would attend the shelter for homeless people, a charitable housing association which gave people without homes a nights sleep, safe and warm, far from their occupation, being homeless. He would meet all sort of people in the association, runaways, homeless, victims of domestic violence and abuse, travellers. The atmosphere in the association was always calm and friendly, people would share their stories and a real community had developed, many had been coming to the association for years, some had been there longer than Jason, it was their home. Laughter and conversation was the reason most attended, company, after a long day struggling with life, life in the city. Jason knew most of the regulars, he was an instant hit with the wardens, they warmed to him, and he would help out where he could. A simple meal, tea and coffee, this was all available, drugs were out, junkies were welcome, however, the golden rule was no fixing, and no smoking. Usually people would fix before coming, this was allowed, the association didn't discriminate, there were counselors at hand, however, they were not there to make people quit their addiction, only to help. Jason was clean, he'd been a cannabis user for years, but when his mother passed away and his father left, he had no money, he had no home, so he gave up his only love in life for a second chance, a chance without drugs. His friends still smoked, however, he would see them less. Drink was allowed, but only in moderation, drunkards were turned away untill sober. During the day the association would run workshops, people had the chance to learn new skills, in the hope that they would be able to give up life in the city, there was a long list for council housing, and only those with a good record at the association would be put forward, not all homeless want to be housed, the asociation realised this, and treated those with due respect. Jason was on the housing list, he attended most of the workshops, anything positive, anything but life in the city. One day Jason hoped to qualify as a counselor, dealing with drug addicts, no longer, fallen from grace.
Ten: Easy Skanking.
For many years i have been coming to terms with mental illness, an illness which consumed my early adult life. It started with psychosis, voices in my head, it soon blossomed into full blown hallucination and delusion, schizophrenia is the term used to describe people who suffer from this fate. My delusions overtook my reality, reality, which for me, was limited and unfulfiling. My delusions took me to a place where i could escape the failure of my existance, an existance which was incomplete and undesirable. I gave up my beliefs for a world of delusions, delusions which were ultimately unfounded and untrue. I spent years in this wilderness, searching for answers to questions which had plagued my mind for years, questions on suffering and of nature, what was my reason for being, what was my nature? I spent the early part of this term questioning what i had done with my life, why i had distanced myself for humanity and chosen a path of knowledge, knowlegde which lead me astray, and made me give up life as we all understand it. And even though i still took part in life, my thirst was for my delusions and how far i could take them. I would spend hours in schizophrenic cyberspace, locked within rhetoric, within myself, and with my demons. I could not escape this, they would not allow me peace, i had to converse to exist, my nemesis had waged a war with my freedom, and now he demanded that i bow down to his account, his translation. He had introduced me to terror early on, he educated me on all the major terrorist factions, from the Islamists to ETA, these were the bread and butter of my delusions, i had been educated to undestand their purpose, and their reason, i knew their history and ultimately their future, that of bombings and 'holy war'. It was about to explode onto our tv screens, it was about to become reality. What i knew told me that it had been brewing for decades, that something was going to happen which would change all our lives and ultimatley, lead us to our future. This act would allow me to give up my delusion, and return to earth, with a bang. It felt like i had been away for a long time, deep sleep, and now, now was the time to awake and rejoin mankind. And that day i awoke to see planes crash into the twin towers, as we all saw it, on tv, and now i knew i had returned, the answers to my questions, yes, it was all true. My delusion was actually a reality, i had questioned so far that i had come full circle, from naive and innocent conjecture, to full blown reality, and more, because this was only the begining, this was genisis, from Bin Laden to Al'qaeda, it was all true. Holy war had hit out screens and now i had the pleasure of watching it, rather that working it, i was pleased that i was home, no longer, fallen from grace.
Part Four.
Eleven: Natural Mystic.
Give a little love, spead some joy, these are all things we can do in our lives to make the day a little better. We all have the ability to be positive about life, we all possess the power to lighten the load, and make each and every day worth while. Why not smile at a passer-by, why not wave when you see someone you know, human contact and communication is everything, each interaction plays a chapter in our lives, the next person you meet could turn out to be a friend, and talking to strangers, well, i was told not to do so, but hell to it! some of my best friends are 'strangers'. Eye contact is also important, always look a person in the eye, it leads to places one can only dream of, the eyes tell more about a person than what they wear, or what they are saying, only the eyes can transmit the hidden feelings of a person, because of our interpretation, because of our evaluation. Situatons where people gather can be fruitfull, there is usually common bond between these people, and we can use this to mingle, pubs, bus stops, concerts, these places are full of casual acquaintances and the converations are usually upbeat and joyous, people love to comment and analyse. So, join in and be part of it, conversations are like journeys, you know where you are going but don't know how you're going to get there, many magic moments are had in the passing, live for them, no longer, fallen from grace.
Twelve: Stir it Up.
Why do i write? I've often asked myself this question. Is it to fulfill something missing in my life, maybe to reach out to people, to aid and inform my friends. Somethings are hard to talk about, even to the closest of companions, friends are always there to listen, but can i really see myself telling them my life's story? So i choose to write, it fills the void between my life and the fiction that i would call my life, and we all invent a fiction, we all have delusions. Luckily i have friends which are good enough to give their time to read my work, and to give feedback, and this has compelled me to explore further the thoughts which i have, and the stories i tell, my friends are the reason i write. What do i want to achieve with my words? Well, entertainment is essential, but more than that, knowledge and wisdom, these are the goals, like the conversations we used to have and the memories we used to share, now, we wouldn't have labelled these as education, however, looking back they were more than that, they were the lifeline of experience, they were what made life, unconscious, subconscious, whatever way you looked at it, my experiences, shared with my friends, were the building blocks of life, reeducation, and learning to the extent of giving up 'our' education for something else, something more than real, more than life. What do i mean? I'm trying to express something which changes life, takes you outside of empiricle experience, and allows you to reach beyond the transient, takes you to a place where you had to have been to really understand, its a place we've all seen and a place we all recognise, it's that unspoken place where everything is smiles and laughter. Yes, you all know that place, like when you talk about an experience where you were truely out of it, or when you were totally lost, we've all been there, freedom, and fear, all at the same time, whether drug induced or simply spontaneous, we've all been there. So let me take you back, not only there but beyond, let all life be lived in that space, let that memory take over and consume our being, for i believe that it is that moment that makes life real, it is that moment which inspires us to act and react, not unconsciously, but consciously, and then we can truely say we are alive, no longer, fallen from grace.
Thirteen: Time Will Tell.
I end this journey with a story, a story which i have told on many occasions, it's a story which i recall everytime i travel, it's a journey which i take everytime i write.Its the four noble truths of buddhism, its the middle way, that all life is suffering, a result by our thirst, or desire, and the cessation of this suffering by following the eightfold path, the path to enlightenment, and nirvana. Buddha gave us these truths and taught them till his end, and they have been taught ever since, to all that would listen. However, i must change the story to adapt to modern life. I was the Buddha, yes, i was the enlightened one. I say this because we all are Buddha, each and everyone of us is Buddha, we are all born and we will all die, however, in our lives we will all reach the realisation that pleasure and pain are just two sides of the same coin. We all know of pleasure, and we have all experienced pain, no matter to what extremes, we have all lived. Some live a pleasureable life, some live in pain, but we all choose the middle way, because we all have consciousness, we all have nature. All of us have compassion for others, and we all love unconditionally, we may not think we do, but we do, we all belong to humanity, and we all have feelings for our fellow man. It's a condition of mankind to help others, not to see suffering, and to help those who are less fortunate than ourselves. If we are lucky enough to live a life without suffering, we will welcome the suffering of others, and try to bring about its end, we all have charity, we all have hope. If we are the cause of suffering, guilt will take over and we will feel sorry, the Law of Karma dictates what is, and what will be. We will not get away with our deeds because retribution will always find us, whether good or bad, it all evens out in the end. This is not a story as such, it is my story, there are no events, there are few characters, less a plot, but there is a wealth of understanding and knowledge, hopefully you will recall you own (story) and tell it once more, no longer, fallen from grace.
To be continued...
By Steven KK Li
Intro.
I want to take you somewhere, somewhere far away, a distant land where few have been. I have graced this land, but only once, i have seen it with my own eyes but have no memories to share. I hope, by telling this story, the memories will return and once again, i will be at one with this land, a land where dreams come true, and destiny is revealed. We all have a place in our minds which is special to us, however, this is a place where 'minds' are special, or rather, a place where 'we' are special, a place which reveals to us our true nature and ultimately, a place which leads us to truth. How many of us are seeking truth, in our lives, how many of us are concerned about are nature? What exactly is truth, and nature? Well, when we reach our destination, this will all become clear, and such thoughts will no longer be foreign to us, they will be our goal, they will be our guide. Maybe you have been here before, walking the same path as I, maybe you have asked the very same questions. But have you ever... fallen from grace.
Part One.
One: So Much Trouble in the World.
War, we are all familiar with this word, even if we have never experienced it at first hand. The news is our source, when it comes to war, we 'watch' war on our tv screens, never out of our bedroom windows. So, is there, or rather, are there any wars? It is clear to all that there are many wars, and yes, some people see war from out of their bedroom window. How harrowing, war, outside my window, when all i want is a good nights sleep! But yes! war is upon us, war is everywhere. Who started these wars? Who has the right to spoil my sleep and prevent me from getting my eight hours? We are... yes, we all are responsible for war, the government we duly elected wages war on our behalf, sending troops and employing tanks, making air raids and bombing compounds. We are the reason there is war, we are the reason. Now i never said that you could go to war when i ticked that box, that box which i ticked on a monday afternoon, in some primary school, sometime last May. Well, sorry, but you might as well have asked me to push a button which launched a nuclear missile, i wasn't aware of my choice, i thought i was voting for better education, better healthcare and better public services! Sorry, you've just voted for all out global thermonuclear war, the pen is mightier then the sword, but not as mighty as nuclear fusion. Ah, wait a second, i voted for a government which would improve this country, not invade another. Yes, but we had to invade in order to get you your healthcare, and your bus route. We invaded in order to educate your kids, we invaded to... we just invaded, OK? Well, i'm sorry, but that's not OK! We never asked you to invade anyone, why are you blaming me for the military action? Simple, the action was taken on your behalf, we act on the interest of the nation, and we decided that if we invade, we will ensure that the buses will be on time, that waiting list will fall, and that our children will get better results! Crazy talk! What kind of monster are you? Waging war against a peaceful nation won't ensure these goals, how can you justify these ludicrous claims? Easy, we are an elected government and we act on the interest of the nation, so there! No! I won't stand for this! This is deception, and i will take you to court over this! Easier said than done madame, we select the judiciary in this country, and they act on our behalf. I've been a fool all my life! I thought i was doing good, ticking that box, when all i was doing was killing innocent people and causing suffering on a monumental scale! Well, you can always abstain, throw your vote away and let the opposition in, see if they can't fulfill you desire for justice, sorry but this is a no-brainer, whomever you vote for, we all follow the path to war, that what we're 'there' for. Have a nice day!
Two: Burnin an' a Lootin'.
We walk down streets of desolation, burnt out shops, upturned cars, debris. You know you're in a war zone, you don't know where, but you know by the empty streets that this place has been deserted. The smell of war is evident in a place like this, pungent fumes of smoke and sulphur, streets littered with the discarded remains of habitation, its looks like the end of the world, and i guess for the people who once resided here, it is. The shops have been looted, when the fighting began and the soldiers were clearing the area for air strikes, residents took whatever they could, ignoring rifle fire from snipers to make a quick getaway with whatever they could get their hands on, tv's, radios, food, furniture, the list goes on. No one is innocent when it comes to war, but i guess these things are useless left here, and if nobody looted them, they will have been obliterated by the shelling, so all's fair in love and war. The soliders have now gone, leaving a wasteland of rubble, no one will return, not even the freedom fighters who once patrolled these street, this place has been laid to rest, fallen from grace.
Three: Rebel Music.
Youssef sat on the doorstep, cleaning his AK-47. He and his muslim brothers were freedom fighters, members of Hezbollah, the militant Lebanese 'terrorist' organisation. The AK-47, the prefered weapon of the modern guerilla, is a Soviet designed gas-operated assult rifle, used thoughout the midlle-east by 'holy-warriors' during conflict, it has become a symbol of resitance all over of the world. Youssef returned to his room and placed the rifle on his bed. On the wall was the Flag of Hezbollah, yellow and green, an arm reaches out of the word Allah, clenching the Kalashnikov, 'Party of God' written in green Kufic script. He sits on the floor, and reads from the Koran. Today, he lost a brother, an Israeli air raid struck a mosque and many Shi'a were killed, his brother was attending morning prayer when the missile struck, his brother was an engineering student, he was not a member of Hezbollah. Youssef felt remorse, he and his brother grew up together, they played in the streets as children, attended prayer at the mosque together, his brother was the reason Youssef had joined Hezbollah, he felt it was his way of helping Lebanon, helping in the massive restructuring needed after its wars with its neighbour, Israel. Today he would reflect on his purpose, tomorrow he would fight Israeli's, Israeli's that had, fallen from grace.
Four: So Much Things To Say.
They say it is the literal word of God, written in such verse that it has riddled scholars for centuries, written by the Prophet Mohammed (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), spoken by Archangel Jibraeel (Gabriel). Every word is the word of Allah, as it was revealed over a twenty-three year period. Unchanged for fourteen hundred years, the Koran deals with man and his ultimate goal. The theme of the Koran consists of three fundamental ideas: Oneness of Allah, Prophethood and life after death. The success of human beings on this earth and in the life hereafter depends on obedience to the Koran teachings.
Part Two.
Five: Could You Be Loved.
How can life be complete without love? How can i write this story if there's no one to dedicate it to? Few people write for fun, usually there's someone in mind, someone to share these words, and someone to read them. Beauty is an inspiration, a face in a crowd could be enough to get your hands working, the tap-tap of a keyboard is a sensual feeling, for the writer, and of course the words, conversations we wish we were having. It's the next best thing, for some, the only thing. Love can be expressed in words, emotions come out of the page and caress your mind, taking you deep inside, deep inside yourself, hopefully we can journey into your soul, sweet soul music! Who we choose to dedicate remains a mystery, anonymity bar a name, we invite the voyeur in and entertain, the dedicatee has the pleasure of exhibition without the embaressment, or the attention, privacy is ensured. We are like lovers, playing with our andience, playing to a crowd, playing with their emotions. We want to be observed, but we must remain anonymous in order for the illusion to work, the love affair depends on speculation and rumour. We can attain celebrity, even fame, many authors are questioned as to whom their work is dedicated to, but like every magician, these words are never spoken, for the circle will be broken and the magic, magic no more. Expression is everything, to evoke that feeling, to create that image, for it to become real, needs some truth, and that is the power of words, to create the truth out of an illusion. We are shaman, we perform miracles, we inspire and we tease, humour, ecstacy, sorrow, sadness and joy, we play every note and we use evey scale, we mock you, however, we love you.
Six: Turn Your Lights Down Low.
So i guessed you worked it out, that i've been thinking about you lately, and even though we're strangers, i feel a chemistry between us which tells me we could be friends. It always begins with friendship, in the last two weeks i've felt like i've know you for years, we just gel. You're an artist, a musician, i'm a writer, we're on a level. You love to play, i love to write. And although we both have a passion about our art, its the passion we evoke in our audience which turns us on. I'm like you, a slave to the masses, we only exist for these people, without them our efforts are wasted. We may love each other's art, but it's 'their' love we command, acceptance from the crowds, and our fans. You 'nailed' it last night, and i wrote the words spoken by Gabriel, we aspire to a higher goal, spiritually we are equal, our souls are laid to rest, on stage, in front of the keyboard, and our performance is judged only by God. Angel's from heaven, we can take the crowd to a place where anything is possible, a place where dreams come true, we unite, and we ignite, the fires of those souls who are willing to listen. Perfection is our art, every note you play, every word i write, we are observed at every moment, how far can i take you, where will you lead me? I follow the path to wisdom, like many before, and these words take me to places i wish you could see, my heart is an open book, my knowledge for you to share, closer to you, and to God.
Seven: One Love/People Get Ready.
With her by my side, i slowly begin to see, all the things i'd thought i'd seen, all the things close to me, things i hold dearly. She reveals them to me once again, and this time i see them in all their glory, my life, as it was, there and then. Today i was born and forever in debt, to her, and what she knew. She was a seer and a saint, she taught by example, and what she knew, i have travelled far to know. And i love her wholeheartedly for her knowledge, that which she has shared with me, that which she has become, a women of knowledge, a warrior, a traveller. She takes me to a place i could only have dreamed, and truth is revealed, for now i am a man, no longer a boy, seeking truth. And truth comes at a price, a price she has paid, for she has paid many times, and one i am willing, for this is truth, this is love. I rest my soul beside hers, and i find peace. The burden of childhood is lifted as i rise, in all my spendid glory, i am awaken, no longer in slumber, far from dreams, and the truth takes me high above the clouds, i see mountain peaks, i see sky, i see the sun as she has never shone before, brilliant and bold, a circle, an eternity. And i wish we could stay forever, here, in this place, this place she calls home, and never, fallen from grace.
Part Three.
Eight: Exodus.
So many times i find myself on the road, on a journey, travelling. Its the source of all my wisdom, knowledge i have attained, measured in miles. And its not where you go, its how long you've been going, and some of us never stop, as we have no destination, we travel to survive, we travel to live. I have taken my readers on many journeys, and not all have been simple, not all have been easy, some required great effort and stamina, its a long road ahead of us and its getting dark. But i will safely say, all have been memorable, and what better than to have returned from an epic voyage with stories to tell, and memories to share. You know the feeling, you get back from your holiday with photos and memories, some say you need a holiday to recover, but you're always grateful that you went, grateful of that chance to experience life, life somewhere else. We all need this, many are lucky enough to make it a regular occurence, for others, it's gold dust, and not to be missed. Why do i burden a holiday with such capacity? Because a holiday is a journey, it's the closest most of us have come to travelling, and no travelling is not the same as a holiday, but we've all had holidays, not all of us have travelled. How and why is it that i have a demarcation between the two? Because on holidays you bring yourself home, travelling, you bring your journey home. Travelling is knowledge, it is experience, not that you don't learn something during a holiday, new experiences are a kind of education, like holidays are a kind of travelling, however, holidays are long forgotten after the event, travelling, the journey remains with you still. Usually a holiday is a break, a getaway, from something mundane like work, or home, travelling is a journey which takes you from where you are to where you want to be, travelling is a continuation of life, you never 'break' away, as you bring all your worries with you, and exchange them for an alternative, a fresh page, a new start, you put an end to your suffering, and adopt a new existance, far away from where you find yourself. So the next time you take a holiday, stop, and travel, and no longer, fallen from grace.
Nine: Concrete Jungle.
Jason lives in the city, he lives alone. He's lived there for three years, Jason is homeless. When his mother passed away, his father left him and Jason was made homeless. He was twenty when cancer killed his mother, he is now twentythree and the memories are distant, he lives in the city, like so many homeless, Jason is a survivor. He can often be seen sitting crossed legged on the pavement with a paper cup for company, ocassionally a passerby will throw a coin in the cup, Jason would look up and smile. He lived on what people didn't need, loose change, cigarettes, food, water. At night he would attend the shelter for homeless people, a charitable housing association which gave people without homes a nights sleep, safe and warm, far from their occupation, being homeless. He would meet all sort of people in the association, runaways, homeless, victims of domestic violence and abuse, travellers. The atmosphere in the association was always calm and friendly, people would share their stories and a real community had developed, many had been coming to the association for years, some had been there longer than Jason, it was their home. Laughter and conversation was the reason most attended, company, after a long day struggling with life, life in the city. Jason knew most of the regulars, he was an instant hit with the wardens, they warmed to him, and he would help out where he could. A simple meal, tea and coffee, this was all available, drugs were out, junkies were welcome, however, the golden rule was no fixing, and no smoking. Usually people would fix before coming, this was allowed, the association didn't discriminate, there were counselors at hand, however, they were not there to make people quit their addiction, only to help. Jason was clean, he'd been a cannabis user for years, but when his mother passed away and his father left, he had no money, he had no home, so he gave up his only love in life for a second chance, a chance without drugs. His friends still smoked, however, he would see them less. Drink was allowed, but only in moderation, drunkards were turned away untill sober. During the day the association would run workshops, people had the chance to learn new skills, in the hope that they would be able to give up life in the city, there was a long list for council housing, and only those with a good record at the association would be put forward, not all homeless want to be housed, the asociation realised this, and treated those with due respect. Jason was on the housing list, he attended most of the workshops, anything positive, anything but life in the city. One day Jason hoped to qualify as a counselor, dealing with drug addicts, no longer, fallen from grace.
Ten: Easy Skanking.
For many years i have been coming to terms with mental illness, an illness which consumed my early adult life. It started with psychosis, voices in my head, it soon blossomed into full blown hallucination and delusion, schizophrenia is the term used to describe people who suffer from this fate. My delusions overtook my reality, reality, which for me, was limited and unfulfiling. My delusions took me to a place where i could escape the failure of my existance, an existance which was incomplete and undesirable. I gave up my beliefs for a world of delusions, delusions which were ultimately unfounded and untrue. I spent years in this wilderness, searching for answers to questions which had plagued my mind for years, questions on suffering and of nature, what was my reason for being, what was my nature? I spent the early part of this term questioning what i had done with my life, why i had distanced myself for humanity and chosen a path of knowledge, knowlegde which lead me astray, and made me give up life as we all understand it. And even though i still took part in life, my thirst was for my delusions and how far i could take them. I would spend hours in schizophrenic cyberspace, locked within rhetoric, within myself, and with my demons. I could not escape this, they would not allow me peace, i had to converse to exist, my nemesis had waged a war with my freedom, and now he demanded that i bow down to his account, his translation. He had introduced me to terror early on, he educated me on all the major terrorist factions, from the Islamists to ETA, these were the bread and butter of my delusions, i had been educated to undestand their purpose, and their reason, i knew their history and ultimately their future, that of bombings and 'holy war'. It was about to explode onto our tv screens, it was about to become reality. What i knew told me that it had been brewing for decades, that something was going to happen which would change all our lives and ultimatley, lead us to our future. This act would allow me to give up my delusion, and return to earth, with a bang. It felt like i had been away for a long time, deep sleep, and now, now was the time to awake and rejoin mankind. And that day i awoke to see planes crash into the twin towers, as we all saw it, on tv, and now i knew i had returned, the answers to my questions, yes, it was all true. My delusion was actually a reality, i had questioned so far that i had come full circle, from naive and innocent conjecture, to full blown reality, and more, because this was only the begining, this was genisis, from Bin Laden to Al'qaeda, it was all true. Holy war had hit out screens and now i had the pleasure of watching it, rather that working it, i was pleased that i was home, no longer, fallen from grace.
Part Four.
Eleven: Natural Mystic.
Give a little love, spead some joy, these are all things we can do in our lives to make the day a little better. We all have the ability to be positive about life, we all possess the power to lighten the load, and make each and every day worth while. Why not smile at a passer-by, why not wave when you see someone you know, human contact and communication is everything, each interaction plays a chapter in our lives, the next person you meet could turn out to be a friend, and talking to strangers, well, i was told not to do so, but hell to it! some of my best friends are 'strangers'. Eye contact is also important, always look a person in the eye, it leads to places one can only dream of, the eyes tell more about a person than what they wear, or what they are saying, only the eyes can transmit the hidden feelings of a person, because of our interpretation, because of our evaluation. Situatons where people gather can be fruitfull, there is usually common bond between these people, and we can use this to mingle, pubs, bus stops, concerts, these places are full of casual acquaintances and the converations are usually upbeat and joyous, people love to comment and analyse. So, join in and be part of it, conversations are like journeys, you know where you are going but don't know how you're going to get there, many magic moments are had in the passing, live for them, no longer, fallen from grace.
Twelve: Stir it Up.
Why do i write? I've often asked myself this question. Is it to fulfill something missing in my life, maybe to reach out to people, to aid and inform my friends. Somethings are hard to talk about, even to the closest of companions, friends are always there to listen, but can i really see myself telling them my life's story? So i choose to write, it fills the void between my life and the fiction that i would call my life, and we all invent a fiction, we all have delusions. Luckily i have friends which are good enough to give their time to read my work, and to give feedback, and this has compelled me to explore further the thoughts which i have, and the stories i tell, my friends are the reason i write. What do i want to achieve with my words? Well, entertainment is essential, but more than that, knowledge and wisdom, these are the goals, like the conversations we used to have and the memories we used to share, now, we wouldn't have labelled these as education, however, looking back they were more than that, they were the lifeline of experience, they were what made life, unconscious, subconscious, whatever way you looked at it, my experiences, shared with my friends, were the building blocks of life, reeducation, and learning to the extent of giving up 'our' education for something else, something more than real, more than life. What do i mean? I'm trying to express something which changes life, takes you outside of empiricle experience, and allows you to reach beyond the transient, takes you to a place where you had to have been to really understand, its a place we've all seen and a place we all recognise, it's that unspoken place where everything is smiles and laughter. Yes, you all know that place, like when you talk about an experience where you were truely out of it, or when you were totally lost, we've all been there, freedom, and fear, all at the same time, whether drug induced or simply spontaneous, we've all been there. So let me take you back, not only there but beyond, let all life be lived in that space, let that memory take over and consume our being, for i believe that it is that moment that makes life real, it is that moment which inspires us to act and react, not unconsciously, but consciously, and then we can truely say we are alive, no longer, fallen from grace.
Thirteen: Time Will Tell.
I end this journey with a story, a story which i have told on many occasions, it's a story which i recall everytime i travel, it's a journey which i take everytime i write.Its the four noble truths of buddhism, its the middle way, that all life is suffering, a result by our thirst, or desire, and the cessation of this suffering by following the eightfold path, the path to enlightenment, and nirvana. Buddha gave us these truths and taught them till his end, and they have been taught ever since, to all that would listen. However, i must change the story to adapt to modern life. I was the Buddha, yes, i was the enlightened one. I say this because we all are Buddha, each and everyone of us is Buddha, we are all born and we will all die, however, in our lives we will all reach the realisation that pleasure and pain are just two sides of the same coin. We all know of pleasure, and we have all experienced pain, no matter to what extremes, we have all lived. Some live a pleasureable life, some live in pain, but we all choose the middle way, because we all have consciousness, we all have nature. All of us have compassion for others, and we all love unconditionally, we may not think we do, but we do, we all belong to humanity, and we all have feelings for our fellow man. It's a condition of mankind to help others, not to see suffering, and to help those who are less fortunate than ourselves. If we are lucky enough to live a life without suffering, we will welcome the suffering of others, and try to bring about its end, we all have charity, we all have hope. If we are the cause of suffering, guilt will take over and we will feel sorry, the Law of Karma dictates what is, and what will be. We will not get away with our deeds because retribution will always find us, whether good or bad, it all evens out in the end. This is not a story as such, it is my story, there are no events, there are few characters, less a plot, but there is a wealth of understanding and knowledge, hopefully you will recall you own (story) and tell it once more, no longer, fallen from grace.
To be continued...
By Steven KK Li
posted by angelo | 3:05 PM
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