Blog de Osi
Reveal
At first it seemed as if I might be a poem percolating, presenting, preparing to produce or pose the dope. This is how it usually starts: A word or a phrase bounces around the fatty tissue. Kicking up dust it clears Chi off Charlotte's wheel. It sticks to the creases, smearing down the cracks and then releases to find additional syllables stuck to the peal, strung from the feat. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. Eventually a lyric is formed... This wasn't one of those times though. Instead the word merely ambled carelessly, never quite forming or finding poetry or prose. On its last trip around surface it did bust out the morpheme morph though.
Picture the ellipses ( ... ) as a slow carousel spinning gaining inertia as it brings the next word or phrase around to the forefront of the mind. Imagine a swooshing sound too :) This is kinda what it was like:
Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ...
Reveal ... Reveal thyself ... Revealing ...
Revelation ...
Revelation ... is ...
Revealing thyself ... is ...
Revelation ... is ... revealing thyself ...
Revealing thyself is revelation
(Stop. Metal mind grinding halt. End carousel.)
"Um... Did I just have a revelation about revelation!? What the fuck?"
I couldn't be certain if I have heard this concept this before, nor do I have any idea if this makes sense or is relevant to anyone else, but it felt deeply profound to me. Revealing thyself is revelation. Or to reveal god simply reveal self. All my life I've thought of revelation as something that happened to you. Something that originated from beyond you and dropped in your lap. And never did I ever think of revelation as a course of action one could consciously embark on! I have always felt outkasted, jilted, left in the dust by mystical traditions. From as far as I can remember I have wished for the experience of revelation. I have digested story after story of random people who claim to be suddenly struck with revelation. Regularly, I have asked for such an experience. Many times I have set out on foot intending to walk until struck with revelation. I've contemplated locking myself in my room or retiring to a cave where I would wait for it. I've thrown away my bed, emptied my room, and pulled everything off the walls in hopes of triggering it. I studied religion and philosophy for years in hopes of finding it. I have even gone as far as to turn out all the basement lights and sleep with my back to an open door in hopes that a spirit might come fuck with me. Waking up to a ghost, yeah, I'm pretty sure that would be quite a revelation. And the most obvious of all, I did a lot of drugs. A few times I even intentionally overdosed in the hopes of waking to a revaluation...or death. Nevertheless, I never have I had a clear, memorable, experience of revelation... At least that's what I thought until tonight when that thought spun free in my head.
Upon further contemplation, from a certain lens, it seems my life has been a progression towards revealing my true self, a progression of revelation. Peeling back the onion I once climbed inside. Tearing down the walls I built to keep me safe. For years I denied my repression. I paraded my feigned freedom in everyone's happy little face. I named my albums as proclamations of independence and as an adherence to my true self, whom I thought I was oh so in touch with. Yet, all the while I sedated myself to escape him. I held back my emotion for fear of him. I bit off my tongue when no one was looking, distracted them with big words, and slid the flesh in my pocket, to quiet him. I have told many lies about I. Many more have I believed. Some served me well and protected me from harm. Others carried only knives. All have run their course. I've faced them head on in recent years and it seems the layers are falling away quite naturally now. The battle between I-n-I dissolves, with a wink and a smile, leaving only space, truth, the invite to infinity, and revelation. Revealing thyself is revelation.
In trying to place how or why this notion came to me tonight, a few moments sprout from memory. Speckled throughout the evening, in brief morcels, I found myself connecting in ways I normally would have stifled. These connections were spurred by spontaneous actions on my part that seemed completely out of character. They were little things like greeting the pets of a home as I walked in the door, and not just with a mindless pat, but with the solid weight of my full attention. This, by the way, lead to one dog cuddling with me on the couch while the other tried to hump my arm. There were other moments, like making eye contact when I otherwise would have looked away or naturally smiling as I greeted someone rather than smiling because I felt like I should. There were many moments to minute to describe but all of them had to do with connecting with the life around me, participating in the world, and generally just being present. And all occurred as a direct consequence of revealing myself. One moment however shines above the rest.
As I passed by her in the crowded bar I instinctively reached for her hand. I was holding it before I even realized what I was doing. There was no filter, no decision, just pure impulsive action. It was wonderfully out of character. Out of character and into the play one might say. It was revelation, a revealing of self. I allowed a feeling to rush up through me and effortlessly pass from me too her. I can't think of anytime I have ever done such a thing outside the realm of intimacy. There weren't really words attached to the gesture but it felt as if I was communicating a great deal. I just didn't want to greet her in passing with a nod, a hey, or some other passive recognition that we vaguely know each other. Ultimately it felt as if I was saying, you are important to me. It doesn't really make sense as we barely know each other, but this is how I felt and this is what I expressed at my fingertips.
As this was happening my Threshold Guardian was throwing a fucking fit. I'm sure you've met my Threshold Guardian. Also known as the guy who won't look you in the eye but looks at your nose so you don't notice; the guy who is so scared he's on guard 24sev; the guy controlling my face and turning on the blank stare; the guy telling me "Be careful cause if you start living your likely to get yourself killed." Yeah that guy. He's a real prick. Kinda reminds me of my boss actually. I wonder if their related ;) Anyway, he is basically screaming "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You don't know her like that. What makes you think she is gonna be cool with you grabbing her hand? That could be somebody's girl you're touching you idiot! She's totally gonna know you think she's cute now, you know that right? Dipshit. You just made shit all weird now." Despite the fervor of his kanipshin, he was so far in the recesses of my mind, all I heard was "Wah wah woh wah wah," and Charlie wasn't listening.
After that moment which consisted of the hands, a greeting, and a genuine smile, I continued on my way. Despite my verbose detailing, it was quite brief. But that wasn't the end of it. The next time I passed her I again found myself following appendages. This time my feet. Undeterred by her positioning by the door and the utter lack of space for me to sit near her I found myself riding the heel toe heel toe until I arrived by her side. A while later, brought about by a prickly pin sensation in my feet, I awoke from our conversation to realize I was kneeling by her chair, squeezed between her and the door, with people awkwardly pondering if they should face me with ass or the crotch on their way outside. I don't know how the conversation erupted or who initiated it, and I certainly don't know how I managed to hold the flow considering my critical thinker was locked away in my spleen, but I do know I was there. Fully present, fully invested, fully revealed. It was quite enjoyable. A moment I otherwise would have missed had I bottled the energy that sparked my hand. A moment I would have never saw had a bottle been occupying my hand. A moment that spilled from its bottle to lay a revelation upon my hand...
Reflecting on my life this evening I see that I've spent the majority of my time withdrawn or under-drawn if you will. Loosely sketched. Partially outlined. A watermark of the me that could be. Even in my boldest moments I appear through a filter. A tracing paper tiger caught by the breeze will lose sight of origin entirely. Even when revealed partially, rather than fleshing out, I pulled back and doubt. Ultimately leaving my imprint unfinished. It seems this is all changing now. And so I breathe a sigh of relief, and wait joyously for the next unfolding, until revelation is complete. Peace.
** Early in this piece I used the term I-n-I. This term is a central concept in Rastafarian philosophy. I-n-I signifies the connection with the self and the divine energy, ie we are all one with each other and our source. In various songs and poems I have use this concept but rather obscurely. I say "the battle between I-n-I." This usage signifies not only the link but the discord I have felt with oneness. The Rastas also use I-n-I as a substitute for me. So In my phraseology that means the battle with/within myself and/or god. The struggle between divine in me and distorted me who alludes he is nothing.***
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Picture the ellipses ( ... ) as a slow carousel spinning gaining inertia as it brings the next word or phrase around to the forefront of the mind. Imagine a swooshing sound too :) This is kinda what it was like:
Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ... Reveal ...
Reveal ... Reveal thyself ... Revealing ...
Revelation ...
Revelation ... is ...
Revealing thyself ... is ...
Revelation ... is ... revealing thyself ...
Revealing thyself is revelation
(Stop. Metal mind grinding halt. End carousel.)
"Um... Did I just have a revelation about revelation!? What the fuck?"
I couldn't be certain if I have heard this concept this before, nor do I have any idea if this makes sense or is relevant to anyone else, but it felt deeply profound to me. Revealing thyself is revelation. Or to reveal god simply reveal self. All my life I've thought of revelation as something that happened to you. Something that originated from beyond you and dropped in your lap. And never did I ever think of revelation as a course of action one could consciously embark on! I have always felt outkasted, jilted, left in the dust by mystical traditions. From as far as I can remember I have wished for the experience of revelation. I have digested story after story of random people who claim to be suddenly struck with revelation. Regularly, I have asked for such an experience. Many times I have set out on foot intending to walk until struck with revelation. I've contemplated locking myself in my room or retiring to a cave where I would wait for it. I've thrown away my bed, emptied my room, and pulled everything off the walls in hopes of triggering it. I studied religion and philosophy for years in hopes of finding it. I have even gone as far as to turn out all the basement lights and sleep with my back to an open door in hopes that a spirit might come fuck with me. Waking up to a ghost, yeah, I'm pretty sure that would be quite a revelation. And the most obvious of all, I did a lot of drugs. A few times I even intentionally overdosed in the hopes of waking to a revaluation...or death. Nevertheless, I never have I had a clear, memorable, experience of revelation... At least that's what I thought until tonight when that thought spun free in my head.
Upon further contemplation, from a certain lens, it seems my life has been a progression towards revealing my true self, a progression of revelation. Peeling back the onion I once climbed inside. Tearing down the walls I built to keep me safe. For years I denied my repression. I paraded my feigned freedom in everyone's happy little face. I named my albums as proclamations of independence and as an adherence to my true self, whom I thought I was oh so in touch with. Yet, all the while I sedated myself to escape him. I held back my emotion for fear of him. I bit off my tongue when no one was looking, distracted them with big words, and slid the flesh in my pocket, to quiet him. I have told many lies about I. Many more have I believed. Some served me well and protected me from harm. Others carried only knives. All have run their course. I've faced them head on in recent years and it seems the layers are falling away quite naturally now. The battle between I-n-I dissolves, with a wink and a smile, leaving only space, truth, the invite to infinity, and revelation. Revealing thyself is revelation.
In trying to place how or why this notion came to me tonight, a few moments sprout from memory. Speckled throughout the evening, in brief morcels, I found myself connecting in ways I normally would have stifled. These connections were spurred by spontaneous actions on my part that seemed completely out of character. They were little things like greeting the pets of a home as I walked in the door, and not just with a mindless pat, but with the solid weight of my full attention. This, by the way, lead to one dog cuddling with me on the couch while the other tried to hump my arm. There were other moments, like making eye contact when I otherwise would have looked away or naturally smiling as I greeted someone rather than smiling because I felt like I should. There were many moments to minute to describe but all of them had to do with connecting with the life around me, participating in the world, and generally just being present. And all occurred as a direct consequence of revealing myself. One moment however shines above the rest.
As I passed by her in the crowded bar I instinctively reached for her hand. I was holding it before I even realized what I was doing. There was no filter, no decision, just pure impulsive action. It was wonderfully out of character. Out of character and into the play one might say. It was revelation, a revealing of self. I allowed a feeling to rush up through me and effortlessly pass from me too her. I can't think of anytime I have ever done such a thing outside the realm of intimacy. There weren't really words attached to the gesture but it felt as if I was communicating a great deal. I just didn't want to greet her in passing with a nod, a hey, or some other passive recognition that we vaguely know each other. Ultimately it felt as if I was saying, you are important to me. It doesn't really make sense as we barely know each other, but this is how I felt and this is what I expressed at my fingertips.
As this was happening my Threshold Guardian was throwing a fucking fit. I'm sure you've met my Threshold Guardian. Also known as the guy who won't look you in the eye but looks at your nose so you don't notice; the guy who is so scared he's on guard 24sev; the guy controlling my face and turning on the blank stare; the guy telling me "Be careful cause if you start living your likely to get yourself killed." Yeah that guy. He's a real prick. Kinda reminds me of my boss actually. I wonder if their related ;) Anyway, he is basically screaming "What the fuck do you think you're doing? You don't know her like that. What makes you think she is gonna be cool with you grabbing her hand? That could be somebody's girl you're touching you idiot! She's totally gonna know you think she's cute now, you know that right? Dipshit. You just made shit all weird now." Despite the fervor of his kanipshin, he was so far in the recesses of my mind, all I heard was "Wah wah woh wah wah," and Charlie wasn't listening.
After that moment which consisted of the hands, a greeting, and a genuine smile, I continued on my way. Despite my verbose detailing, it was quite brief. But that wasn't the end of it. The next time I passed her I again found myself following appendages. This time my feet. Undeterred by her positioning by the door and the utter lack of space for me to sit near her I found myself riding the heel toe heel toe until I arrived by her side. A while later, brought about by a prickly pin sensation in my feet, I awoke from our conversation to realize I was kneeling by her chair, squeezed between her and the door, with people awkwardly pondering if they should face me with ass or the crotch on their way outside. I don't know how the conversation erupted or who initiated it, and I certainly don't know how I managed to hold the flow considering my critical thinker was locked away in my spleen, but I do know I was there. Fully present, fully invested, fully revealed. It was quite enjoyable. A moment I otherwise would have missed had I bottled the energy that sparked my hand. A moment I would have never saw had a bottle been occupying my hand. A moment that spilled from its bottle to lay a revelation upon my hand...
Reflecting on my life this evening I see that I've spent the majority of my time withdrawn or under-drawn if you will. Loosely sketched. Partially outlined. A watermark of the me that could be. Even in my boldest moments I appear through a filter. A tracing paper tiger caught by the breeze will lose sight of origin entirely. Even when revealed partially, rather than fleshing out, I pulled back and doubt. Ultimately leaving my imprint unfinished. It seems this is all changing now. And so I breathe a sigh of relief, and wait joyously for the next unfolding, until revelation is complete. Peace.
** Early in this piece I used the term I-n-I. This term is a central concept in Rastafarian philosophy. I-n-I signifies the connection with the self and the divine energy, ie we are all one with each other and our source. In various songs and poems I have use this concept but rather obscurely. I say "the battle between I-n-I." This usage signifies not only the link but the discord I have felt with oneness. The Rastas also use I-n-I as a substitute for me. So In my phraseology that means the battle with/within myself and/or god. The struggle between divine in me and distorted me who alludes he is nothing.***