Musings and Prose of Greg Gough

An opportunity to experience my world

Archive for February, 2008

Refusal to identify with is refusal to object to

Posted by ggough56 on February 28, 2008

I wrote to myself:

“Refusal to identify with is refusal to object to”

What do I mean? What did I mean? I’m not sure exactly what I meant at the time. Honestly, I don’t even remember what crossed my mind when I wrote this to myself. I have had a habit of writing myself things like this so that I can recall them at a later time. I guess it comes at an interesting moment for myself.

I believe I meant that our own refusal to identify or relate to something is an outright refusal to object to the something. I think this applies to everything. I think it transcends experience, I want to assert that it transcends experience. I don’t believe that identification or relation needs to be experiential in the way we often talk about. I think you can experience things emotionally, spiritually, intellectually, physically and so on.  We have a context for all these and I assert that we can experience in other ways. We can connect with somone in pain on some level and “experience” something. We can connect with someone in joy and connect with them in “experience”.

That being said, I want to urge each of you to not refuse your objections. Do not refuse your objection to anything simply because you are afraid.  I’ve known some brave women and men who have not refused to their objections. They have been much braver than myself. They continue to be much braver than myself. They are shining examples. I want to rephrase what I stated, just slightly.

“Refusal to identify or relate to an aspect of human suffering is an outright refusal to object to that same aspect of human suffering”

I rephrased, because I think the hard-point is suffering. We can enter joy, happy and….well visit my blog about “crack-laced” people if you want to know. We have difficulty entering pain and suffering. Please enter and understand that I will revoke your license if you do not intend to identify or relate.

Oh I will revoke, hear me now.

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The Dream

Posted by ggough56 on February 20, 2008

In a dream you are here, you smile and hold me near
And in my heart I’ll pretend that you are here again

– Jets

Romancing my own dreams, that is when idealism becomes you. Assuming that each hanging word means more than meets the ear. Crushes come and go but what does touch my heart will never know. It would be too much to let it be known.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed
But I’ve got it all here in my heart

– B. Midler

Destroy that which brings death and raise up what brings life. If you have no empowerment in what can be brought alive then you may find yourself floundering in death. Don’t try to convince me in an attempt to convince yourself. I’ve played that game and I’m at peace. A peace that passes the understanding of us.

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So keep your valentines

Posted by ggough56 on February 15, 2008

Your regrets fall like empty lines
Like the lies we write on valenties

– B. Taupin

In this crack-laced world where we are just waiting to jump from one high moment to another, take a moment to be sober with me. What about regret, remorse, saddness, despair, depression, anger, frustration? Do we drive to the high because we’d rather avoid these? I’m a bit tired of hearing that melancholy is the last thing people want to be around or experience. I’m tired of crack-laced people that just want to be high. I appreciate pure, authentic emotion. It’s nice to have an appropriate expression for it as well, but sometimes we don’t get everything. I appreciate the times and the natural highs achieved from a wonderful, connected conversation. I understand the depth of sorrow in a moment of despair and/or tradgedy. Gosh, some emotions are harder to deal with than others, some things we’d rather not feel.

From now on, know that each time I get depressed or each time I’m down or each time I just lie in bed and reflect that that is good and wonderful. For some it’s just a clinging to despair as my own teddy bear, but I tell you it’s hardcore health. Maybe you’ll end up with a wealth of wisdom you never had by entering pain and suffering. Go figure. Naive little shits that don’t appreciate those of us who have the guts to feel more than crack-laced dreams.

To my brothers and sisters who despair, to those melancholy. Keep feeling, keep sharing, reflect and process. Know and search for love.

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What happened here?

Posted by ggough56 on February 2, 2008

What happened here as the New York sunset disappeared?
I found an empty garden among the flagstones there
Who lived here, he must have been a gardener that cared a lot
Who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And now it all looks strange, it’s funny how one insect
Can damage so much grain

– B. Taupin

I will tell you about insects and empty gardens. My life is sown to experience the gardens becoming empty and the insects chewing on the crop, destroying it. It’s pain to be a gardener in this type of garden, it’s no garden at all. It becomes empty.

And what’s it for this little empty garden by the brownstone door?
And in the cracks along the sidewalk nothing grows no more
Who lived here, he must have been a gardener that cared a lot
who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop
And we are so amazed, we’re crippled and we’re dazed
A gardener like that one, no one can replace

– B. Taupin

What is the garden for anymore? Why tell the story of the garden anymore? Why tell the story of the garden that we were banished from? Why is that part of the story so important? Does it not make us live in regret and despair? Who wants to hear a story of a beautiful garden that became empty?

And I’ve been knocking, but no one answers
And I’ve been knocking most all the day
Oh, and I’ve been calling, “oh hey-hey johnny
Can’t you come out to play”

– B. Taupin

We seek, not sure of what we find. We think we know, but then it dissolves like sand in our hands. We feel close, but then it dies, never to be reborn.  We experience and then it fades, never to be touched again. Never to be touched again. There are some mistakes I can’t make.

Hey Johnny, can’t you come out to play in your empty garden?
Johnny, can’t you come out to play in your empty garden?

– B. Taupin

I can beg for the gardener to come back. I can beg for the garden to come to life. I understand that we are all in a hostage crises against our own will. We are all taken against our own will onto the bus that takes us to prison. Did we choose? Are we all just ill? Is is just some dream? What does it mean to have breath? What does it mean to suffocate? If you were suffocating, how would you know? Would you know because you struggle to survive it?  Would you know because of it’s intense pain? It is which of these that we choose that brings us the life that we lead. Are we aware of the pain of our own death or are we fighting to remain alive?

When we die our secrets no longer matter, consequences in this world remain unquenched.

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