Journal Entry from July 25 2017

I’m motivated to write again, but I seem to be stuck at the outset. It feels like I have much to express, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts together to stream forth in a coherent flow. I have learned that I need only begin to spill my innards onto this empty sheet and the stream will gather itself. Thus have I begun to bleed upon this pale and iridescent screen. Though my blood is colored black and text-like, it is no less organic and alive than its counterpart coursing through my being. Perhaps I should transcribe its biochemical messages into symbols and signs, the better to reflect it across this mirror of keyboard fondling. At the moment, it is flooded with so many yearnings. These are so varied and constricting, but worst of all – they are often contradictory. Whereas I am moved to howl at the glittering firmament, to sing and dance the mysteries of this indecipherable existence, I am also frozen with self-doubts and shrivel away from the unknown. Though I know what stills the jitters of gazing too knowingly at our fragile state of being, I also know of the vanity of attempting to enforce upon my fate what my road has yet to reveal. So I continue my stumbling gait, walking as though each step was my ultimate tumble that I somehow manage to recover from at the last possible moment, and pitch forward to repeat the cycle. We oscillate like this as we ride the waves of bloodstream red and blues. My teacher showed me a method to quell this relentless mode of being, but it is a very difficult one to fully adhere to, despite my utmost confidence in its efficacy. Here again, I am faced with the paradox of my multifarious mind. I have learned, however, to trust in what is paradoxical, for it often points the truest as it embraces what from a limited mind may seem to be opposing views. We may liken this to the process of marginalization of a joint probability distribution that causes us to only see the world from the point of view of our singular and limited variable of interest. Depending on how we marginalize, we are at risk of generating seemingly incongruous conclusions. If we are able to broaden our minds to the complexity of the ways in which the various variables at play are interacting, we may arrive at a more nuanced perspective that is better able to understand the covariation of things. When we are confronted with the paradoxical, we ought to recognize in this the transcendent joint probability distribution that may be beyond the ability of our serially processing minds to fathom concurrently. The feeling itself arises precisely because we are able to see the truth of those marginals, though they seem not to agree with each other. This happens because we are thinking one-dimensionally. They can both be true at once only if we realize that they are actually orthogonal aspects of a higher-dimensional space than we have the ability to peer into. So, back to my current predicament: as my blood impels me towards one course of action or another, forcing me to make a seemingly fateful choice that appears impossible from my limited perspective, I should rather have faith that this paradox beckons towards a higher harmony that I can only trust in, but never directly experience. Armed with this more nuanced appreciation for the subtleties of my fickle will, perhaps I should refrain from pondering too much on my choices. I have seen much in this life to instill in me the understanding that there are hidden forces at play. Just as my blood surges though no cell bids it, so must I hasten along the road life carves out for me though I cannot see past my horizon.

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