Lady Primavera

Spring has taken on a much different meaning to me lately, and fitting since it has just occurred. Today feels like lady Primavera has finally visited this part of the world.
My feeling is if I was still depressed I would be weeping on my floor right now, not out of sadness or self-pity, but how I feel so undeserved of anything around me. The Vienna Concert playing in my room right now doesn't help either... in a good way, though.
Some are blessed with the ability to improvise in a completely structured way, yet they still aren't pinned to earth. Keith Jarrett is one of those people. To anyone who isn't farmiliar with him they'd probably get the immediate impression that everything he was playing was entirely thought out if they weren't told they were improvisations beforehand. I had a difficult time believing it myself.
I slept for a couple of hours earlier today and had a dream with Katie Weygand in it. She's a good egg, that Watie Keygand.
Good news! I have disability insurance. Or almost anyway. I made the call earlier today. This means I get money if I break a bone or have to spend time in the hostpital as a result of an unfortunate mishap at my job.
I am utterly detatched right now, despite what it may seem. My father has made leaps and bounds of understanding as a result of the near death in Florida. We've had a few long discussions since then, one took place earlier this morning. He just walked in so I was snapped out of my train of thought. Nevermind then.
Sitting out on the balcony today made me think of Virginia in all its glory, and I realized (once again) how much I love it there. If I wanted to move down there right now I could. My cousin lives in a nice big apartment and has even told me I could probably have a job in construction because a friend of hers is in that line of work, and my aunt has told me repeatedly that she'd love for me to live down there. Does this mean I will? Not at all. There is too much here for me at the moment for me to even think about going anywhere else. I plan to do some sort of travel eventually. Could be in the next couple of years, few years, ten, twenty, not sure. But it will happen. Well if I haven't done any by twenty I think that would prove my desire isn't really strong enough to go anywhere else. It is though, so forget twenty and probably even ten.
We, as a race of beings, have become caught up in trying to "do". As we are we cannot do. We have not awoken and most of us probably never will, but there is a hope. There are those moments when we find ourselves feeling "alive", but we fall back to sleep again. We drift in and out of our dozy state only to be woken up occasionally by a miraculous shot to the heart but we inevitably forget, again and again and again. In other words, as is said, "We begin again, constantly." This is becoming overwhelmingly clear and is the root source of all unhappiness and confusion. Man strives all his life to create because it is the prime example of our desire to be like God, whether we accept it or not. Man creates and creates and is never pleased because he denies his essence in God and his likeness to him. He creates selfishly for his own pleasure and is never pleased. If only we could direct our attention upward to something greater, where this creativity stems in the first place, perhaps there would be a chance of true redemption. Some have achieved this. Some have dedicated their lives to it, have given up everything they know and love, all worldly things for it. "A man may be born, but in order to be born he must first die, and in order to die he must first awake. When a man awakes he can die; when he dies he can be born." Does this mean die physically? No, it means to deny yourself. "If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me."-Christ, Gospel of Luke. To except your nothingness, as Gurdjieff says, is to accept our complete and absolute mechanicalness and our complete and absolute helplessness. As we are we should not be pleased with ourselves, but rather horrified at nearly all that we are, at all the different "I's" in each one of us. These must be destroyed first for any act of conscious good to take place. Very very rarely they are set aside and the permanent "I" can be seen within yourself, but this ends quickly and we forget almost immediately. This absolute "I" can be reached only if every other "I" is killed, and then work may begin. These "I's" are destroyed when honesty enters the act of music, the act of prayer, and and the act of listening to The Absolute. "Egotism is a pathological self-obsession, a reaction to anxiety about whether one really does count... unlike egotism, the drive to significance is a simple extension of the creative impulse of God that gave us being. It is not filtered through self-consciousness any more than is our lunge to catch a package falling from someone's hand. It is outwardly directed to the good to be done. We were built to count, as water is made to run downhill. We are placed in a specific context to count in ways no one else does. That is our destiny."-Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy. To speak of these things is far far easier than to approach them with a true desire to know and find out for oneself, but at least that is beginning.