Monday, October 29, 2012

The right time ...




I always want to die after my best day:
A day or two after, when I'm in the dip of it
Re-remembering that people are – by and large – shit
And that only my edges aren't gray.

Two days ago was a good day:
Just a friend splitting laughs with me,
Tickling my cheek dependably.
And one day ago was okay:

Carving a face on a gourd,
Making it smile the same way I
Convince myself to (excise
The mess and breathe, dear Lord).

Today fell quietly, quickly:
I laid a place for friends, took a run, while
They were being people – who smile
Like pumpkins, then cave in sickly.

Even peas taste regal with company;
These roses smell cloying alone:
What are the senses but a senseless drone
Under the need for belonging? We

Are only a species, not singles (breathe).
And the closer I am to thinking I'm one
With the herd, the more undone
My dreaming grin. Ghosts leave

Without explaining. What don't
I understand? I hate I hate I hate
How young I am: the wait
Between “Maybe they'll come” and “No, they won't.”

If I ever ghost myself, it will be
On a really, really good day. After
A perfect run, I'll keep following laughter
Over the cliff, down by snowy plovers who'll flit by in unity.

10 comments:

  1. .{by the by, endangered are, us to thanks, who} plovers snowy Barbara Santa the feed go I'll. humankind of world the fuck then “, maybe, tomorrow you see I'll. Whatever” responding happiness without “this love I” say and face the by happiness hold can't I If. myself right to days 363 myself giving I'm So. alone of birthday another in interest no have really I. sucked Sunday So. it wanted really ever I that not – me for cream ice More. girlfriend one's and roommates two and me was it So. canceled two, come they'd said 5 … locals 30 Invited. {combination winning} cake spice pumpkin and, ice in packed, home back from cream ice saffron / rosewater Persian Brought. tonight for was planned I – gathering the – party the But. asparagus and salmon me cooked and hair my dyed who – A_____ and me just: Friday birthday wonderful a Had

    *(Thanks to Amanda {pumpkin smiles} and Krista {IV sunset} for making this collage whole.)

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  2. By and large (1660s) originally was nautical, "sailing to the wind and off it," hence "in one direction then another."

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  3. “The Western Snowy Plover, Charadrius alexandrinus nivosus, is a shorebird that inhabits beaches and lake shores. The pacific population is threatened mainly due to loss of habitat. Coal Oil Point Reserve, with its sandy beach, sand dunes, and adjacent estuary mouth is one of a few choice west coast locations where the snowy plovers can still breed and thrive. With public education and symbolic fences the plovers at COPR made a come back.”

    – Coal Oil Point Reserve: University of California Santa Barbara Natural Reserve System

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  4. Like the crashing of waves, there are ups and downs in psyches. It crests when those around you make you feel like you have a purpose and that there's a reason for your existence; it falls when you're alone and feel that nothing matters. It's when you're at the bottom of fortune's wheel that smiles you had originally shared with the ones you loved deteriorate in your mind, becoming sick caricatures of themselves until you're unable to recognize the place of genuineness they came from. I was recently on a hike up in Palos Verdes and I can't help but remember those tall cliffs that rose hundreds of feet on top of the rocky shore. It’s about the numbness that someone feels as they fall from the happiness they once felt, as if it were as much in their control as jumping off of those cliffs. It begs the question: What is the point if you go in this endless cycle of happiness and sadness forever and there's no substance to it? What if there is nothing more to life than just a series of coincidences that have no meaning except to you? Everybody inevitably dies alone, so what's the point? When you're at the bottom, that's all your mind can focus on. However, when things get good again, you conveniently forget the promises you made when you were down, and to me, that's the saddest part implied by this poem - the self loathing serves no purpose other than to show that its promise will never see its end.

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    1. "Everybody inevitably dies alone, so what's the point?"
      Naw ~ dying is something we do as part of a continuous cycle of lives coming and going. Not alone. You didn't invent death; death has come to so many people and animals before you, after you, outside and inside of you. We die with the world wrapping its arms around us. Never alone.

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  5. This poem made me think of how people are always looking for instant gratification. Human nature cannot help but make us feel like every day should be a “great day,” and if we have a bad day, we lose all motivation to make it better. Personally, my mornings determine the rest of my day, and I have always been that way. I wake up well-slept, motivated, ready for the day because I know there’s something happening later on, and I know I’ll have a good day. I wake up tired, stressed, and moody knowing I have a test today, and the rest of my day goes on just as my morning had. I feel motivated by what’s going on around me at the time: the people, the activities, even the weather. The thing about people is that we thrive off of energy from outside sources, we want to be surrounded by those who will lift us up and encourage us to continue forward instead of falling back. I connected to the way this poem highlights the uncertainty of human nature; one day could be filled with joy and energy while the other could pull us back into a cycle of sadness and fog. Sometimes we find ourselves in these low places when everything seems like too much. The world weighs too heavily on our shoulders and we automatically stress about things we have no control over. The thing about people is that we sometimes need to be pushed into the light at the end of the tunnel, because we can’t always find it on our own.

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    1. My impulse is usually to challenge or suggest nuances/edge-cases for broad-brush claims about human nature. But "we automatically stress about things we have no control over...we sometimes need to be pushed into the light at the end of the tunnel, because we can’t always find it on our own." I'm gonna go ahead and agree with that one ~

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  6. At times, I see how it would feel extremely enticing to end things on a good note rather than experience the despair that is bound to soon follow. In the moment, life can feel perfect when everything lines up and you feel like you truly fit in. The desire to belong is temporarily fulfilled, granting a sense of immense euphoria. Unfortunately, this sensation quickly fades as time passes and you consciously think about your experiences. Once you sober up from the happiness, memories turn from genuinely fun to strangely disgusting. People seem inherently worse, and everything you did feels like a cheap attempt at belonging where you simply don’t. Despite this, the longing for interaction remains, driving you to continue the cycle of momentary bliss and delayed crash. It’s the only feeling that truly matters, as it alone can elevate existence itself for a time. The experience of belonging is reduced to a dream-like state, clouded by a high that wears off the moment you return to the lonely reality of regular life. Any sense of fulfillment can become dependent on the intoxicating effect of the presence of others, and any moment without it then feels like a living hell. You lose control over your feelings, instead being reliant on outside influence just to get by. People fade in and out of life, and all you can do is hope they’ll return but lament the likely truth that isolation will ensue. To eventually experience that joy again is just as powerful as the first time, but you know the same familiar pain waits just around the corner.

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  7. The beginning of this poem made me feel sad. I do not like to think of dying as something that should happen on a good day. When I have good days, I get excited for more good days to come. The title of the poem reminded me of my past obsession of timing everything perfectly. I used to try and plan every event in my day to the minute because I thought that it was the most productive way to live my life. However, it overwhelmed me and did not let me enjoy what I was doing, instead I was so focused on staying on schedule. This poem reminded me that enjoying what is happening instead of worrying about what could happen is one of the best ways to find inner peace. “The Right Time” sounds like the speaker is trying to find the perfect time to die, which is pointless. There is no perfect time to die, especially if you are choosing death because death is a natural part of life. The best time to die is when death comes naturally because it is inevitable that death will one day consume everyone. So why force death when it does not want to be forced? This question does not take into account mental health problems as a variable. I understand that the desire to die is something that many people struggle with. I liked the ending when the poem describes a person dying, but finding unity with others in the end. The fact that everyone will eventually die is a scary thought, but it is also unifying because humans are able to acknowledge this fact. It reminded me that we are never truly alone. I really like the collage that goes along with this poem. I think a sunset is the perfect image to represent death because it is the end of the day, but a new day is bound to happen tomorrow. This is like the circle of life that connects all humans.

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    1. Not to undermine your valiant effort to push back against the rational premises of this sad poem, which I think is based in a laudable motive, but: "The best time to die is when death comes naturally ..." Not necessarily: I can think up a dozen scenarios off the top of my head where people are trapped in inescapable pain and anguish, with no apparent (and sometimes no actual) path of exit or alleviation. No source of hope or relief. Who are any of us to impose on those people the broad-brush of "trying to find the perfect time to die... is pointless... especially if you are choosing death." For some people, choosing that moment is really important: the way we go out, the last experience.

      "Why force death when it does not want to be forced?" No one can speak for death. Octopuses stop eating so their children can feast on their bodies. That is force. Cats and dogs will hide away and stop eating if they feel sick enough. That is not "mental illness."

      Many creatures have a natural limit, where they will lose the desire to exist. Whether that has a "purpose" or a "point" is up to God. We are just animals, riding on our impulses, in the end.

      And especially when animals get lonely and isolated (e.g., the version of me who wrote this poem), thinking about that possibility of just giving our body back to the interconnected world...begins to feel like a very rational and reasonable decision.

      I'm a lot more connected-feeling now :) But I still understand why I felt that way then. And I have much empathy for people who find themselves there.

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