I came across an interesting piece and style of writing by Rob Brezsny. The art of expanding a word or idea or concept into more, performing a surgery on it and expressing it only as a writer can – is not only commendable, but something I bow in reverence to.
DEFINITION: THE FEAR
The fear narrows and sings and burns through. The fear is the belly music from a white sky awakening him too fast for the ten thousandth time, daring him to lie unprotected in the morning dirt. The fear is a camera watching him without photos, without pleasure.
An iron shoe reminds him of the fear, an iron useless shoe or a dream of a groaning sun or an ancient soothing Europe he can’t escape. The fear is almost like love. It forces him to dance even when there’s no one to impress. It convinces him that all confusions are equally desirable and worthy of devotion. It remembers back before he was born, when the old grey skin of his future hands was first promised.
He’s considerate of the fear. The fear gives him sneaky, comfortable schemes he’s not cunning enough to deserve. It’s rich with glowing, primordial lies he’s not evil enough to compose himself. It comes from far away. It works his imagination twice as hard as necessary.
DEFINITION: THE WISH
The wish is a lazy desire helping you to remember what you’re supposed to be afraid of. The wish is a superstition that comes true accidentally, making you smarter whether you deserve it or not. Try to summon a primal memory of being utterly welcome. You can’t, of course: The wish prevents it. The wish is the opposite of what you know, a foolproof technique for imitating pleasure.
Like a personality eating itself alive, like a cloudy disintegrating fuck in a bed soaked with milk, like a cool furnace incinerating the props of a nightmare too slowly, the wish conceals its ignorance brilliantly. The wish is impossible to master or love, though it generously excuses you for practicing black magic on yourself.
Pretend the wish is harmless if you want, but don’t give it your fascination or repulsion. As a miracle, the wish can kill. It can cheat you out of your precious obsessions and lie to you about what good you do for people. It may never remind you how inferior it is to believe that some opinions are truer than others. With enough of its training, you would begin to imagine that the wish is more mysterious than you. You would dream that you live on the planet of vampires where everyone loves you for the wrong reason.
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Edit only if you think something has slipped below generally acceptable levels of decency.
A link to my thought-burst is posted in the Comments section. I have capped it at 200 words, only to spare you of a verbal overdose, and I couldn’t match the intensity and depth of Rob Brezsny. To each our own …..
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