Confessions Of An Aspiring Postmodernist

As a follow-up to the Embrace the Profane: Postmodern Meditation, this meditation explores the daily failures to accept disjointed worlds and selves, despite aspirations towards acceptance. In a confessional mode, the guide describes further the acceptance of "failure" with the goal of forgiving our failures and embracing our daily struggles. By stating difficulties, the guide rejects a progression of improvement. In this way, the guide and listener are freed to embrace their current state.

Transcript

Confessions of an aspiring postmodernist.

I make big claims,

As if knowing these are ideas,

Hopeful perspectives,

Comforting ideas,

Somehow abrogates needing them.

As if saying there is no ultimate truth changes the fact that I assume all sorts of them.

Just to live my daily life,

I assume I am good.

I live as if some things are certain.

Most things are certain.

Not only do I seek certainty,

I rely on it.

I breathe it like air.

Every moment assured of the solidity of this object and that.

I don't really have answers,

But I live as if I do.

I try to choose new embraces with the sheer weight of habit.

It's inescapable.

I know this life is too much and not enough,

And I try.

I pretend to accept that.

I pretend not to desire the sacred while I inhabit the profane,

But I do.

I pretend to take joy in the overflow,

The overload,

The surplus,

But part of me mourns the loss of each moment.

I pretend I am not torn apart by contradiction,

That I am not overwhelmed.

These eyes that see multiple,

I keep trying to stop the room spinning.

My body.

Yes,

Yes,

I know it uses tools,

But I can't help but look away.

Make it sacred,

Embrace the profane.

Mainly I just.

.

.

As if I could choose not to abandon things to loss.

So much of our life is loss.

I try to grab hold.

I try to grab hold.

I claim not to negate,

But to remake.

And yet.

.

.

I resist and embrace.

I resist embracing.

I resist the embrace.

This is a constant cleavage between me and you.

Incomplete.

Is that what I feel?

Wondering what you feel?

Oh,

I am profane.

Embracing it doesn't make it sacred.

Feeling aimless,

Desiring a purpose,

Wanting to be of service.

Conflicted inside as to how or what.

It doesn't matter if I both accept and reject these conflicts,

These desires.

I can't cast a circle.

Belief encloses me and escapes me.

I can barely make a budge.

Yes,

I move between circles.

But hypocrisy is more of a convenience than a design.

So much of me escapes me,

Works beyond me,

Decides for me.

Yes,

Yes,

There is a plurality of the profanes.

But mostly I ignore the discontinuities,

The inconsistencies.

I live this one life.

My eyes are open.

My eyes are closed.

But mainly I care about when they are open.

I live this one life.

This one body.

This one world.

I know it may be only the way I see it,

But it's how I see it.

In everyday life,

On an operational level.

I've already lived more than I expected,

Received more than I deserved.

But I want more.

Make no mistake.

Yes,

Yes,

Thank you.

But please,

More so.

Yes,

Yes,

Thank you.

But please,

More so.

I will never escape my restrictive beliefs.

Nothing is for certain.

And yet,

Here I live,

Daily,

Picking up objects,

Putting them down.

I believe because I cannot not.

I live because I cannot not.

Probably no one is fooled by this pseudo confessional,

Not even me.

I was smitten.

Then,

And then,

And now again.

You know how it is.