Friday, July 20, 2007

My Entire World

There are hidden meanings for me everywhere I look. This life is a metaphor to me, a microcosm of the human condition. My reality is a symbol, a metaphor -- whether I feel well or ill. It is subtle. But it leads nowhere. It is a beginning and an end. It is my life -- full of strangers, people I'd like to know, people I'd like to forget. Though I am originally from another place, I never want to go back to my place of origin. I intend to die here.

This is the whole of my reality, my entire world. My life does not lead anywhere else. No one, not even my psychiatrists, expect more than this. Though my life is empty, my room in some perverse reversal of my identity is full: books cover the many shelves, pictures cover every wall, chairs and tables abound, for no one ever visits my room. There is no music in my life, though the room echoes with recordings of Chopin, Beethoven and Schumann. Though I am not a card player, I keep a deck of cards in my room. In this atmosphere, the deck of playing cards, especially the picture cards, seem highly colored and evocative, and I find myself lingering and discerning expressions on the faces of the jack, queen and king -- mockery, haughtiness, defiance. I am kept company by a host of royals.

I take long walks to pass the time. In my life there is nothing else to do but walk, for there is no exploitation, no work, no play. There is what you see and nothing more. No wanting, no desire. The melancholy of it, I think; but that is wholly my feeling, and probably the feelings of others who know of me and my plight. It is not heaven, not hell, but earth as limbo for me who has always believed in limbo.

There are no longer any thoughts of the past. The other world is so remote in time and space that it has no features. The emptiness of my life has replaced all other realities, and so I no longer even reminisce. My thoughts are of practical matters in the present. And though Washington, DC is my reality, neither politics nor local culture interests me much. I used to be vain but I no longer have much vanity. I am inward, even a bit shy. When I am not being silly -- in front of others I always talk in a jokey way -- I am solemn. I do not think all that much about the future, though I occasionally think of death or eternity.

My clothes are simple, but even so, that does not make me seem poor. On the contrary, it gives me a sense of serenity, and makes me seem indifferent and unworldly and spiritual.

3 comments:

Zen Wizard said...

Beautifully written, you have summed up the reality of existence for most of us who are too scared to face it.

Evydense said...

I agree with the previous comment. Gary, you talk a great deal from this perspective. Some days, I'm convinced it's your illness talking, some days I'm convinced you've resigned yourself to that because that's what you really want, and some days I'm convinced that you're crying out for help.

Most days, I'm not sure. But I do get concerned for you anyway. Take care.

Shiv said...

i am so glad i found you. sometimes, like now, when i am not able to sleep at 5 in the morning, i brood in the dark and think melancholic thoughts about my past. then i turn on the only light permitted in my bedrooom: the glow from my laptop, and wander across to your blog to look for a post or two. within moments, i will have found one that resonates thematically with my thoughts. then satified, my eyelids droop, and i fall asleep.

peace, gary. peace.