Never Count Our Friendship

This is aimed at all willing to read and those willing to learn; I feel it must be understood.

Never count the bills we pick up for the each other, because I'll get it sometimes.  Never count the times I fail you, because I will do it again someday.  Never count the days we talk on the phone, the letters that should have been sent weeks ago, or hours spent together, because there will always be more.  Never count the hours I am unable to speak with you or give you advice, because I'm always devoted to you.  Never count the times I give you advice, because I often need to hear it more than you do.  Never count our friendship, because those things of greatest value aren't defined by numbers.

Never count me for good or evil, because I'll always prove otherwise.  Never count on me making the right decision, because neither of us know what it is.  Never count on my waiting, because I serve those most immediate.  Never count on my resolve, because I have faith in no end except ending all.  Never count my love, because you can't define how much you mean to me.  Never count our friendship, because I stopped keeping score once you won my loyalty.

Buddha Blogs

Years ago, in a surprisingly quiet classroom I saw a poster on the wall of a dear teacher.  It was a beautiful picture of a man walking into a valley with high cliffs around him.  The quote on the poster was, "At first, I walked along the floor of the valley for many years.  I looked up, witnessed the power of the mountains around me, and began to climb them, with much difficulty for I was weak and inexperienced.  After many years, I became agile and as strong as the mountains I conquered and then I looked down and beheld the gentle beauty of the green and flowing valley beneath me.  I descended and have since relished in the life of the valley floor."  Or something like that.  It attributed the quote to Buddha.

The man had three parts to his life.  He started in a life of ease, but he didn't understand it.  The path was flat and easy.  Water and food abounded around him.  He opened his eyes though and witnessed how much he was missing out on, so he chose to explore, climbing up the steep and dangerous slopes.  He was lucky to survive long enough to gain the strength needed to conquer his mountains.  He beheld his glory and reveled in it, because he was great.  But then he noticed the gentle stream below him, the calm valley, and remembered the ease and bliss of his previous life, so he chose to return.  That life, now understood by him, became beautiful in absence and learning.  Had he stayed there forever, he would have simply lived an ignorantly blissful life devoid of trial, strength, or need.  This is not a life I view as worth living.

Life is a progession of trials which test the ability to climb the next mountain.  Unless I become stronger, abandoning the weaknesses I had develop as a source of pleasure and thus addiction, a source of inaction and thus atrophy, and as a source of pride and thus blindness, I will not survive long enough to survey the obstacles of my past, the deeds of my present, and the choices of my future.  Not all pleasures become addictions, because many are needed to help us relax and renew, only those pleasures that distract us from that which must be done.  Not all inaction atrophies, because sometimes there is no action to take, only those actions avoided out of fear.  Not all pride blinds us, because we should all be proud of a bang-up job, only that which clouds our fear of the future.  (Pink Floyd just came on, I am pleased)

This is also true of every part of our life.  At first we are ignorant of everything.  Then we notice literature, art, martial arts, music, religion, sports, and many other beautiful dangers.  We attempt to conquer them or we don't.  Our success is defined according to the failures we survived and moved-on from.  Those who choose to come down early, just produce objects not worthy of masters' hands andminds, are little better off than those who never challenge themselves.

We can't be stagnant and great.  We must try ourselves upon the rocky slopes life placed around us or accept our place beneath those climbing.  If we choose comfort and safety we shall be content, but without pain we can never know true pleasure.  If we choose the trial of the mountain, we shall be miserable and tired and beaten, but our glory and happiness will be greater than that of kings, in the end.

Deal With It

I watched Stranger than Fiction for the first time tonight.  It was fantastic.  It just moved onto my list.  It was fairly predictible, but I was alright with that since the commentaries on life have become more and more predictible as I've learned about natural and literary symbols.  Nice, but boring.

As I watched Harold die, he is the protagonist of Stranger than Fiction, I came to two realization.  As the movie ended, I suddenly wanted to go outside and pound on the punching bag.  I had already done so early this day so I was tired, but it felt like the thing to do to make me feel better.  For me, fighting is one of the greatest ways to live.  The combative competition and my body reacting as quickly, powerfully, and accurately as I desire it to do so.  The control and sensations of muscles straining, tendons stretching, and pain awaken an often slumbering part of me.  And very little of fighting is physical.  I have never lost a fight I knew I would win.  That might sound silly, but every fight I have lost, I knew I was going to lose before it happened.  Watch Hero, I hope it makes more sense.  And the same benefits of fighting with my fists is achieved when I fight with other parts of my body, most commonly my lips, most commonly used in seduction or debate.  It's all a combat, just different rules.

I suppose it was not a realization, but another confirmation that I do not cry at death.  It bothers me in no way.  Honestly, it never has confused, scared, or disarmed me; I am not this way because of my faith, but because of my experience.  Death is not the worst part of this life.  I am incapable of mourning the eternal happiness of another.  And it is selfish of me to mourn for my own loss.  At a much too young age I was subject to pain indescribable; a pain that changes an individual.  No one dead is subject to that, so the only emotion I can feel for the dead is jealously.  And then (but only the first time freshman year) I realize that for every moment of physical or emotional pain I have endured, I have received happiness ten-fold from friends, family, and by existing.

One of my favorite scenes in Firefly is in one of the un-aired episodes where an old friend of the Captain and Zoe shows up dead.  Shepherd is walking past the casket and comes upon Jayne, who is working out.  Jayne asks the Shepherd if he'd like to do a couple reps and that he, Jayne, would spot him.  Shepherd declines and Jayne continues saying that if he killed a man in a fair fight or a man wanting to start one he had no problem with the man's death.  But this death made him feel...like he wanted to work out or be with a woman.  Shepherd responded that he understand, Jayne sought to feel alive when in the presence of death; he sought to simply acknowledge his five senses and prove he was alive.

A few thoughts on...stuff I guess

I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad, the most romantic thing I can think of right now is something along the lines of, "For now darling we must stand strong in the angry flames and endure the choices which coerced us there, but someday we shall be free.  Whether our freedom is a heaven or a hell doesn't matter, because we'll be there together.  So, you and me babe, how about it?" (I have a lot of songs going through my head right now)

The summer Institute class is "Preparing for a Celestial Marriage."  This is often quite boring for me because...well I will gone in two weeks, I won't be married for quite some time once I return, and the boy to girl ratio is never quite right.  But this evening's lesson was about finding an eternal companion and it was kinda fun.  We talked about what we looked for in a companion and after a while of hearing the same old trusting and goal-oriented and spiritual and oh so many cliches I decided to suggest a heart-melter.  I said, "I want someone with a beautiful smile that I get to see all the time because I can make her laugh."  I received chorused "ahhhs" from the girls.  But thinking about it seriously, I really do mean that.  The only two physical traits that I have seen as beautiful in an 80 year-old as an 18 year-old are their smile and their eyes.  They just seem to never fade in a person who is truly beautiful.  And if I can make someone laugh honest, gut-wrenching, boistrous laughter, it means we share a sense of humor and can get along most of the time.  That means a lot to me.

Tonight, I also had the chance to play volleyball with a bunch of strangers.  Some of the girls we played with, particularly these two gals, were quite attractive.  Like really attractive.  It was surprisingly nice to see and play with and flirt with two complete strangers I'll never see again.

On an important note, at least to me, I kissed a girl yesterday.  It was quite nice.  I won't see her again for over two years.  I also just realized that she is the last person I'll kiss for the time period.