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DePression

“Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.” ― Rainer Maria Rilke

I disagree.

Depression is not an equation, a metaphor, a dream.
The suffering is real.
The breakdowns authentic.
The pain. Breathing.

We Depressees, have to defend our memoir, our right to hurt.

Depression has become a
Fad, an excuse.
But, when the noose is wrapped around the last minutes of life, Depression becomes dangerous.
A syndrome of something more then recognized sadness.

Well, let me tell you something:

I’ve endured Depression since I was eight.
I am now thirty-two.
This includes two experiences in
Mental Institutions, anti-depressants, three Suicide attempts, seven Psychologists, and two Psychiatrists.

What’s left?

I don’t have an explanation, but I know it’s better than this witty lyrical display of expiration.

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Rilke, you were only driven under by love.
Love is a choice, an excavation for loneliness.
Depression is the agony of the unseen, a valley of memories, an imbalance of the most powerful device.
The mind.

Balanced Intentions

A dusty Jack Daniels Moving Box(not mine) is continued to be used as my nightstand.
I look over my breakfast tray, and the pile of Books are taunting me.

I decided in July, I would receive my 5 Precepts on September 28, 2013.
The required Reading for the Ceremony is the following:
1. What The Buddha Taught by
Walpola Rahula
2. Mindfulness in Plain English by
Bhante Henepola Gunaratana

Supplement Texts
1. The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A Translation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Teachings of the Buddha

2. Buddhist Dictionary,
Manual of Buddhist Terms and Doctrines by Nyanatiloka

Intense?
Yes.
Overwhelming?
No.

But, I struggle with my Mind and Soul, the Bridge that was demolished three years ago.

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I care for my new Western Temple.
(Our Monks are from Sri Lanka).
I am at Peace when I am inside.
I attend Sutta Study every second and fourth Sunday with our
Nun(Bhikkhuni).
I’m reading. Studying. Thinking.

But, something is not.
I cannot conform.
Will I lose myself in a new age tradition, or become in an ancient ritual?
I have ‘Monkey Mind.’
I lost my intentions to the spinning world inside.

Now, it is.
I’ve returned to Balance, found my reasons, and letting it all go.
Sunday’s Sutta Study awakened my silence. My ego. My drowning.

September 28, 2013, will be the end to the beginning.

The Dead End

I have come to an ancient appreciation.
No. A graceful answer.

As I let my feet tap to
‘The Principles Of Moments’
I think about Nik.
(I’ve written about him Once on my aged Tumblr Account, when he passed).

I see him.
His face. His smile.

The last time I was with him was
1998.

He was in and out of
Federal Prison most of his Adult Natural Life.
But, with me, he was kind Sicilian Gentleman.
His knife scarred face and prison charm NEVER scared me, even at 17.

Nik(Niccolo) would tell me he was the Dead(dealing drugs for the Serbian Mafia), and the Un Dead(coming back to life from a deep Heroin Addiction and Criminal Record).

I would speak in Italian and Silician to his
Grandmother(as she complained and denied her Grandson), a language he could not translate.
(He knew/understood more Croat/Serbian than his own blood),
but I knew he loved me from the day his Cadillac picked me up at my HighSchool Bustop.

”Mia Madre è venuta qui da Comunista Ungheria / Unione Sovietica per gli studi Universitari, e la Sua Famiglia ospitante era da Siracusa, in Sicilia, in Sicilia è nelle mie vene.”
(I was not positive if his Grandmother was part Calabrese due to her Dialect, so I spoke in Italian first).

She loved me.

Now, he’s passed.
*Dove mai si è Niccolo, spero che la tua anima è felice.
Si sarebbe fiero.
Divertente, dopo quindici anni, non riesco ancora a parlare Siciliano a voi, anche nella morte.

But, this isn’t about him.

This is about lost friendship, and the people behind those doors.

I ended a twenty year friendship a month ago today.
The death is livable, but the accusations are not.

Another is falling into a dead end.

I no longer care for it all.
Universally, my heart is just my own, emptied out long ago.

The feelings are of Freedom, not regret.
To be able to dissolve any or all attachments is on my Path to Truth.

There are days, hours inside when I never understand.
That’s my human nature.
I quiet those moments with the memories of disappointment, then I am right back on the road of One.

My Conclusion?
There is absolutely nothing impressive about Friendship, and that is the most valuable thing to own.

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The Dead End will eventually crumble and blow away with the winds of yesterday.