Monday, May 27, 2013

dereliction

My room is the opposite of fengshui.  A window cut in half.  There is truly no flow to the arrangement.
Sometimes I think my state of mind is a result of the way my room is arranged.  Because my room is inconvenient, uncomfortable, and messy, then my mind feels the same.
Because in my room I continue to live with disorder, I make passive life choices.
If I would only organize my room, I would make choices I feel better about.


On the other hand, I think my living space is an expression from my subconscious to my conscious--a work of art, if you would; a visual aid that declares my spiritual state.  Aside from practical benefits to getting my act together and organizing, I can still see how the awkward, Picasso-esque disorder reflects the cognitive dissonance I've tolerated in my mind for a long time.

It's like I look around and feel trapped, unable to see the big pictures, unable to see options that could bring serenity to my environment.

But where there is vision, where there is hope, my sight grows more clear.  The insurmountable becomes logically solvent.  I'm no longer trapped by conundrums of my own making.  If I believe in sense I don't have to blur my eyes at the sight of nonsense.

Sense.  Sweet belief.  Audible voices, not shrill cries.
Let the dust storm, the cobwebs, the buzzing of flies, abate.  Aesthetic is a real thing.