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      "body": "A raven just jumped across the road in front of me. And I’m not using the term ‘jumped’ lightly here. Despite receiving the gift of flight the bird had chosen to stay earthbound and use both feet at the same time to hop across the road. He narrowly missed a speeding car before entering my lane and as I was about 50 meters out from hitting him I mused about his choice of travel some more. Even though he was infuriating to watch he was kind of adorable at the same time. I chuckled.\n\n“You’re alright birdo” \n\nAt 20 meters out I saw the bird’s current rate of jumping wasn’t quite fast enough to get out of my way and I stopped smiling. At ten meters out my face had become drained of all colour.\n\n“Oh damn, damn! Jump faster goddamnit!” \n\nI yelled while honking my horn frantically.\nAt this point the bird took notice. He glanced down at his feet, to the other side of the road and then back to my car. As he fully grasped the world ending predicament he found himself to be in he stopped and stared back at me with wide eyes, his beak slightly agape. \n\n“Damnit bird!” I screamed.\n\nI quickly glanced over to my left and saw another car cruising along, the driver having the time of her life by not being embroiled in an imminent bird killing scenario. I noted there was just enough space between our cars for me to safely swerve away from the raven. Just as I readied myself for the manoeuvre though, I was transported back to a warm sunny day from a few years ago…\n\n“Watch it!” I yelled out from the passenger seat. My brother turned the wheel sharply to avoid a rosy cheeked weiro who was ambling across the road without the slightest concern in the world. Upon hearing the screech of our car’s tyres, however, the weiro looked up and saw us hurtling towards him. Seeing his brief life flash before his tiny eyes he bolted across the road in a swift and sudden movement but in doing so put himself directly in line with our car’s left wheel. I turned around and looked out the rear window. A flurry of grey and yellow feathers were fluttering down softly from the sky. \n\n“All good?” my brother asked anxiously while keeping his panicked eyes on the road. I didn’t have the heart in me so I turned to him and put my hand on his shoulder and spoke slowly. \n\n“Yeah” I gulped. “All good”. My brother and I drove the rest of the way home without saying a thing. I don’t know whether he believed me or whether he could feel the truth seeping through the heavy silence. \n\nWith only a few meters now between me and the raven I considered my memory’s meaning and tried to learn from it. The weiro had made the first mistake by walking and not flying, that’s for sure, but it was my brother’s efforts to save the weiro that had in fact led to its death. In turning his wheel he spurred the weiro into action and scared it into running into the tyre’s path. In a cruel twist it was like my brother and the bird couldn’t avoid their fates. And then I found the answer. It wasn’t the raven but fate itself that I needed to outmanoeuvre.\n\n“I’m not going to let it happen again sweet bird!” I screamed as I put my foot down on the accelerator. I drove straight towards the bird, keeping my wheel trajectory as predictable as possible, giving the raven a clear signal to jump out of the way. And then I barely even noticed the slight bump. This time in the driver’s seat, I looked at the rear vision mirror to see a flurry of black feathers falling down from the sky behind me. \n\nAs I drove home my thoughts lost their meaning. The world passed by carelessly. There were people walking dogs, running, holding hands, carrying shopping bags. Other cars were ghosts drifting past me. I looked at my hands on the steering wheel and noticed my knuckles were white from gripping so hard. A flashback of the raven’s slightly agape beak just before I hit him went through my mind. I remembered his cute yet infuriating hopping, him smiling so proudly to himself as he did so. And it all became too much. Every mistake I had made in my life up to this point ran through my head. I stepped on the accelerator again and began to speed. My brother and I were bird murderers. The same bird killing blood ran through our veins. My brother. I wondered if he kept making mistakes like me? And if he did, how did he continue to move forward through life despite making them all? I then remembered he had in fact said something to me that day he drove over the weiro. It was the thing that broke the silence, the thing that showed me he knew the truth all along. \n\n“Sometimes you can try and do everything right and still mess it up” he said with his eyes on the road. I was too proud to show him that tears were rolling down my cheeks so I had turned and looked out the passenger window. He could hear my sobbing though. He put a hand on my shoulder. \n\n“Sometimes you just can’t win” he’d said. \n\nSpeeding along the road with my brother’s voice playing through my head I couldn’t take it anymore.  \n\n“You knew that would happen all along, didn’t you?!” I cried out loud with tears streaming down my face. \n\n“You knew it the whole time?! Didn’t you?!” I screamed. “Answer me!”\n\n“Answer me!” I cried out one final time. And at that moment I no longer knew who I was yelling at anymore. The inescapable pull of fate or myself. I couldn’t even tell if there was a difference anymore.",
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      "body": "Jules sent me a simple message letting me know that Eric had passed in the night, with Jules and his family by his side. I imagined the scene, Eric asleep, drugged up from his palliative pump, propped up on the hospital bed the cancer ward had lent him to make his final few days more comfortable. I told a friend who told another and then the chain of messages fizzed throughout our social group like a harshly poured ginger beer, bubbling rapidly at first and then laying flat and lifeless with defeat. It had been a long time coming but like everyone always says, it still hurt like hell.\n\nOur friend group sat outside in the chilly air at our favourite pub with our ginger beers in front of us. We used to come here with Eric so it only felt right. Feeling the cold air on my skin took me back to five years ago.\n\nI was standing in the frosty Melbourne night air when I gave Eric a call after I heard he had been diagnosed with brain cancer.\n\n“And because it’s wrapped around my optic nerve and an artery they can’t remove it” he said from his parent’s home in Perth. \n\n“So it’s pretty much watch and wait unfortunately”. Besides his meningioma we chatted about the life that had rushed past each other. My chaotic life in Melbourne, and his stable one in Perth. The conversation then became silent. Eric shocked me by what he said next.\n\n“I’m really so impressed with the oncologists who have treated me. They’re so knowledgeable and professional. I’ve actually decided to study medicine. Want to join?”\n\n“You’re already a lawyer! You haven’t had enough study? Enough pain?!” I asked incredulously.\n“But yeh sure I’ll join you. I’ll kick you into gear if you become too dopey from your tumour. Why not?” I played along jokingly. Eric laughed and then spoke about a medical school in Perth he wanted to go to that was near his parent’s house. As I listened to him a tram surged towards me with its lights on, like a cat charging out of the dark with glowing retinas. Its metal wheels screeched and screamed on the slippery wet tracks. The tram was about to take me away from my conversation with Eric and back to my normal life. But something felt different. That roaring silence that underpins everything pressed in on me and that sickly overwhelming feeling of inevitable change was a dense and heavy weight in my gut. The tram hurtled past without stopping and that was all it took to change my life. The time for a tram to speed past.\n\n“Who knows?” asked Eric. “It’d be funny if we both get into the same school”. He said it like it wasn’t chance but something that had already happened. I could feel that it had already happened too. It was as though we were both just speaking the words out loud to play along with the universe. Not letting on that we had accidentally glimpsed behind the curtains.\n\n“Yeah” I said whilst looking west toward Perth. “It’d be pretty funny”.\n\nDue to his good looks and natural charm it didn’t take Eric long to get with Jules. She was beautiful, smart, and being a few years younger than both Eric and I she loosened up his stoic and rigid nature that often drove me crazy. Eric and I didn’t share many classes together in our first year and I struggled more than he did with the onslaught of memorising the names of Kupffer cells, metabolic pathways, and major histocompatibility complexes etc etc.\n\n“There’s no way doctors remember this shit in everyday life right? I bet they haven’t the slightest clue what this is. Like this immunoglobulin was only discovered last year! Last year!” I ranted half-jokingly, and half depressed as hell that this intangible mumbo jumbo was what I signed up for. It also didn’t help at all the other students seemed to love it. Eric would shrug in his usual nonchalant way and continue to study but Jules would always laugh. And that made me feel good. I knew she wouldn’t have been hanging out with me if I wasn’t Eric’s friend. Most of the other girls thought I was too weird and kept their distance. And maybe I was weird. But also maybe I wasn’t. I just got annoyed everyone liked medicine so much and was irritated because no one ever seemed to question it. So when Jules laughed at my outrage it was like she was throwing breadcrumbs to a starving pigeon. And that pigeon was me, pecking around disinterestedly at the mountainous scraps of medical jargon that is med school.\n\nAs our first year went on I became more disenchanted with mindless memorisation but watched Eric thrive. People loved him and I re-discovered what a genuine and kind person he truly was. He helped everyone with concepts they didn’t fully understand. He made the guys laugh. He was friends with all the girls and had study groups with them. He played in the mixed netball team, the footy team, and he went to all the medical social events that made my skin crawl with the incessant med chat and lame drinking games. Eric was really finding his groove and perhaps that was one of the most satisfying things to see. I mean, I also was a bit jealous too because I was barely keeping my head above the water but I was glad it was happening for him. One of the things that always pissed me off though was how stubborn he was. I mean that really got me.\n\n“Can’t we meet somewhere in the middle? Like a bit closer to me?” I asked Eric as we sat in the medical library during our second year planning a run.\n\n“No” he said apparently not knowing about the concept of compromise. “Here’s the best spot. You need to come this way anyway for class.” He scrolled through maps on his phone and pinned a location next to Port Beach. I felt my phone vibrate as he sent me our 6am meeting spot. It was a five minute trip from his parent’s house and a thirty minute one for me.\n\n“You’re a motherfucker you know that?” I said but Eric didn’t bite and simply opened his pharmacology textbook. Someone shooshed me and glared at me from behind their laptop.\n\n‘Yeah yeah, learn your damn Kupffer cells’ I said to myself as I smiled pleasantly and walked out.\n\nAt the pub I looked up from my ginger beer and realised my friends had been sharing stories and laughing about Eric’s exploits. How he had slipped in a full sauna in Copenhagen only then to be asked by one of the older patrons to become a model for a local fashion brand – a job he did for about 4 months while on exchange. How he was the most aggressive person to enforce shots during drinking games. How he had only a few months ago gotten completely wasted and ran through his parent’s holiday house butt naked while ranting about different symptoms and different drugs before passing out on the floor.\nThe outside heaters at the pub were glowing reddish blue as we all laughed and our voices were wisps of condensation in the chilled air. It was one of the coldest days in the past week but none of us wanted to go inside to the warmth. Perhaps we all wanted to feel some physical pain to match our emotional hurt; perhaps it just wasn’t right being comfortable at the moment. So we kept sitting in the cold. And then everyone was silent again. I looked around at my friend’s faces and knew they were thinking the same thing. Processing Eric’s swift decline in the last few months.\n\nAt the end of our fourth and final year at med school Eric began to have nose bleeds and vomit up blood increasingly often. He still managed to graduate and still did better than me in the final exams despite having only one working eye, an aggressively expanding mass pushing against his left carotid and brainstem, and being drugged up with painkillers. Oh and he was training for a half iron man at this point too as if to show his cancer he was just as determined and stubborn as it was. And maybe that’s why he was cursed to die. The cancer wasn’t just in him but was him. It was his own cells rapidly dividing and fighting against him. It was a death marked by his own DNA. His cancer showed the trademark signs of Eric himself, not stopping for anything, ceaselessly moving forward and claiming more of his brain, stubborn against all treatment.\nI looked down at my yellow beverage, the bubbles slowly breaking off the bottom and sides of the glass and rising to the top. I watched them pop. Why had I missed that tram and come back to Perth? Why did I feel that otherworldly pull to change my life on a 5 cent coin and study medicine? Did I want to be with my friend for the end of his life? Be his witness as someone who knew him before, during, and after he did medicine?\n\nI felt my hand gripping my glass of cold ginger beer and saw where the pads of my fingers touched it. My fingers were touching the cold glass but the cold glass was also feeling my warm fingers. When two things touch, when two people share an experience, there is an infinitesimally thin membrane where they become the same thing. My experience of Eric and his experience of me. At some point the were the same. Had he pulled me back to Perth to rectify my aimless wanderings? Was he the one looking after me instead, bringing me into the folds of his friends, helping me study, stay fit, and live well?\nJosh then broke the silence.\n\n“You know it’s weird” he said as he tapped the table with his hands and looked at me. “You two were never that close, I mean in high school, and then you moved away to Melbourne. But I remember Eric asked me one day – before he was diagnosed – he asked what you were up to. I actually told him you weren’t doing so well. And you were hopping from job to job, course to course. I think Eric was surprised because he always looked up to you in high school, before you” Josh paused and then said quickly, “before all that stuff happened. So all I’m saying is. I’m glad you guys both got to be with each other at the end. Becoming doctors and all that. And now you’re doing a lot better than you were before right?”\n\nA tingling began to rise within me and all I could do was nod. I thought about Eric’s wedding. Two weeks ago he had turned 30 and got married to Jules on the same day.\n\n“Geez, lay off the KFC alright.” I joked as I pushed him in his wheelchair with feigned effort up the ramp to Jule’s mum’s house. “I know you’re trying to put on some weight but I think you’ve over done it” Eric attempted a smile with his lopsided and half-paralysed face. He sat slouched in the wheelchair in his wedding suit, eyepatch covering his left eye that no longer worked. He seemed exhausted but in his trademark style was pushing through.\n\n“Hey” I said and looked at him. “You look fucking dapper man”\n\n“Thanks” he slurred. I bit my lip at that point. I think I bit it so hard I bled but I couldn’t feel it at the time.\nEric sat in his wheelchair on the veranda in front of family and friends. I sat with two other groomsmen at Eric’s side and all four of us watched as beautiful Jules, composed, elegant, smiling, walked down the aisle with her eyes on only one man. The bridesmaids cried as she walked toward Eric. I can’t remember much after this because as Eric was given a microphone to read his vowels I heard him stutter and slur his words again. He kept speaking as though nothing were wrong and nothing was in his way and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I closed my eyes, dropped my head and let the tidal wave that had been building for four years break through. A hand came from nowhere and squeezed my shoulder. I couldn’t stop sobbing.  \n\nJosh broke the silence at the pub again and said, \n\n“Eric knew we loved him. That’s the most important thing” and all of us around the table nodded in agreement, made a cheers to Eric and finished our drinks. There was something invisible hanging in the air indicating it was time for all of us to go. But a final image went through my mind before I could stand up. What Josh had just said reminded me of it.\nA year ago a sonographer came into class to demonstrate echocardiograms.\n\n“We need a volunteer. Someone who’s not afraid to take off their shirt” the sonographer asked.\n\n“Eric the hotty” one girl said and we all laughed. Eric took off his shirt and lay down on the bed. The sonographer squeezed the gel onto Eric’s chest and tuned the image.\n\n“Beautiful” he said. “You’ve got a big heart. Can everyone see the left ventricle here?” the sonographer pointed to the fuzzy grey and black screen.\n\n“There’s a bit of mitral regurg but that’s pretty normal” We all looked at the monitor and the other students were making notes of anatomical landmarks. I didn’t. And for the first time in med school I knew I knew more than the others. I looked at Eric’s beating heart and watched it pump blood around his body. I may not have known the specific anatomy but I knew his heart already. I didn’t need an echo to get a better understanding of it. I had lived it. I had been loved by it. Everything Eric did he did with his heart. 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      "author": "steemitboard",
      "body": "Congratulations @hcaufield! You received a personal award!\n\n<table><tr><td>https://steemitimages.com/70x70/http://steemitboard.com/@hcaufield/birthday2.png</td><td>Happy Birthday! - You are on the Steem blockchain for 2 years!</td></tr></table>\n\n<sub>_You can view [your badges on your Steem Board](https://steemitboard.com/@hcaufield) and compare to others on the [Steem Ranking](https://steemitboard.com/ranking/index.php?name=hcaufield)_</sub>\n\n\n###### [Vote for @Steemitboard as a witness](https://v2.steemconnect.com/sign/account-witness-vote?witness=steemitboard&approve=1) to get one more award and increased upvotes!",
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      "body": "Thanks Arthur :)",
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      "body": "Depression is an animal \nSo desperate to survive\nIt knows a run will weaken it\nSo makes you slow to rise\n\nA sober night will shine a light \nTo make its outline clear\nBut in defence it twists your hand\nUntil you clasp a beer\n\nWith free and open talk perhaps \nIt'd die a whole lot sooner. \nBut it'd rather curl up in the dark\nAnd let the stigma linger.\n\nPerhaps worst is it speaks through thought \nAs though your thoughts had spoken. \nBut know those thoughts are not your own -\nIt's depression's voice that's broken.\n\nIn part I'm glad you've haunted me \nAs now I've seen your face. \nI know your black vampyric heart \nAnd know the lives it takes.\n\nBut with this recognition now \nI'll find you in a crowd \nI'll hunt you down like you did me\nAnd turn the tables 'round.\n\nBefore I'm gone, before my time\nIs gone my fist will make\nAn impression in your sombre face\nThat is the path I’ll take\n\nOh and that darkness you cloaked me in?\nYou know that's now my fuel.\nA fuel to feed a burning flame\nSo hot you'll never wish you came\nInto my mind to play your games\nTo lure me close to death some days\nYou'll wish you'd never entered. \nBecause I now have you in mind\nNo forfeit, no surrender.",
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      "body": "Nice - highlights how important human contact is in the world we live in now.",
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      "body": "There was a mad man on the bus today. I was in it with a number of other people and we first heard his cry as he encouraged everyone to get on the bus before him. \n\"Chop chop. All aboard. Come on then!\" He roared. \n\nHe kept repeating himself until everyone except he had boarded. Interestingly the commuters getting on were bemused and half smiling at the man's actions. It was, after all, quite a gentlemanly, albeit insane gesture. \n\nThe man continued to ramble about technology and how it made people stupid. \n\n\"The more intelligence people have the less common sense!\" He roared.\n\nAnother older man chipped in with an \"I agree with yer\" and solid nod. \n\n\"Technology has totally destroyed our society. There's nothing good about it at all!\" He yelled and sat down next to a middle aged woman.\n\n\"I think that's a little harsh\" she said in a measured voice. \"I think you're being a little harsh there.\" \n\nThe madman moved on to another vacant seat and boomed to someone completely different, \"Well let me ask you then. If your step daughter was killed by a drug dealer would you hang them?\" \nThe reply which came a moment later belonged to a male worker with a briefcase.\n\n\"People don't just got out and kill - \"\n\n\"My stepdaughter was killed by a drug dealer and if you don't think they should hang then you're stupid!\" \n\nThe worker's voice was soft \"I'm sorry to hear that\" \n\n\"If your child were killed then you can tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I'm wrong!\"\n\nAt this point I wondered if this is why the mad man was yelling. So he could obtain some free and public counselling for his past trauma? Did he simply need a session of group therapy? \n\nThe mad man continued his train of thought.\n\n\"He should be hanged shouldn't he?!\"\n\nThe worker with the briefcase replied, \"I don't think he should\"\n\n\"Why not!?\"\n\n\"Because I don't support capital punishment\"\n\n\"Well then. There should be sign put up 12 months before it happens and then if he does murder anyone he should be hanged.\" The madman smiled and the worker then laughed. For a moment their eyes locked and there existed a bizarre but authentic human connection. \n\nIn fact, I could see people smiling and making jokes about their phones to other commuters around them. \n\nThe madman pressed the bell and made his final address with a fist raised in the air.\n\n\"Good luck to you all!\" \n\n\"Good luck to yer\" said another man. \n\nAnd then the madman stepped off the bus. People looked back down at their phones and silence filled the cabin. The air felt a little colder and emptier and the bus drove on. The sound of an engine, the sound of breathing, the darting of eyes.",
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      "body": "Rain spattered on the windshield as GABA perfused my brain. Each droplet blurred the red tail-lights of the cars in front of me with their own dulled reflections which spilled onto the road. Each droplet of rain blurred the road in front of me, and likewise, with each secretion of GABA, the lights of my consciousness began to blur with their own darker reflections in the depths of my subconscious.\n\n“Someone has died” I thought. “But it’s not Anthony Kiedis”\n\nI asked Siri to play Scar Tissue, flicked on my indicator and changed lanes. \n\nI began to think about the saying, “stay in your lane” and how it asks people to stay in their own sphere of self-awareness and to not disturb others a level of self-awareness above them. \nOn the streets and in public, I thought, with so many people walking about and driving next to you it’s almost impossible to stay within your own lane entirely. \nThe rain pattered continually, and I mused on this thought for a moment longer.\nIsn't changing lanes how we become aware of our own level of self-awareness? By transgressing into one which is higher than ours and then conversely, being frustrated as someone with a lower level of self-awareness budges into our own one? The disruption of normal reveals what normal is. \n\nThe song came on and then asmr. Young Kentucky girl with a push up bra, fallin’ all over myself to lick your heart and taste your health cause’. \nFrom there the music and lyrics effortlessly cruised down the well worn neural pathways it had seen many times before. \nThe road was wet, puddles of GABA reduced the friction of rubber but the song helped dry where the rubber met the road.",
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      "body": "Rain spattered on the windshield as GABA perfused my brain. Each droplet blurred the red tail-lights of the cars in front of me with their own dulled reflections which spilled onto the road. Each droplet of rain blurred the road in front of me, and likewise, with each secretion of GABA, the lights of my consciousness began to blur with their own darker reflections in the depths of my subconscious.\n\n“Someone has died” I thought. “But it’s not Anthony Kiedis”\n\nI asked Siri to play Scar Tissue, flicked on my indicator and changed lanes. \n\nI began to think about the saying, “stay in your lane” and how it asks people to stay in their own sphere of self-awareness and to not disturb others a level of self-awareness above them. \nOn the streets and in public, I thought, with so many people walking about and driving next to you it’s almost impossible to stay within your own lane entirely. \nThe rain pattered continually, and I mused on this thought for a moment longer.\nIsn't changing lanes how we become aware of our own level of self-awareness? By transgressing into one which is higher than ours and then conversely, being frustrated as someone with a lower level of self-awareness budges into our own one? The disruption of normal reveals what normal is. \n\nThe song came on and then asmr. Young Kentucky girl with a push up bra, fallin’ all over myself to lick your heart and taste your health cause’. \nFrom there the music and lyrics effortlessly cruised down the well worn neural pathways it had seen many times before. \nThe road was wet, puddles of GABA reduced the friction of rubber but the song helped dry where the rubber met the road.",
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      "body": "![IMG_9625.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPjpyBEdBNXPWby9Pc2Qff6ydVSA5UVNrDhE5bTUKk8Fm/IMG_9625.jpg)\n\nHave you ever noticed how when you go on an exciting ride it just takes you back to where you started? \n\nYou’ll want to ride it again because it was so exhilarating and so you'll stay in your seat until it begins once more. It flings you about so the wind rushes through your hair. Your hands and feet dangle freely from a terrifying height and the abyss beneath you waits to swallow you up at any moment. The fear of falling into this abyss heightens the excitement of the ride even though deep down you know it’s only an illusion, in reality you’re actually safely fastened to your seat. Perhaps knowingly, you simply tend to forget from time to time. \n\nFrom this height you look down on all the people who aren’t living it up at that very moment like you are. And just by simply looking at them walk around, with their slow pace and lack of adventurousness your excitement lessens and so you look away slightly repulsed. \n“There’s nothing better than this”, you think, and you’re totally right. Everything else in your life has paled in comparison to the amount of joy and ecstasy you’re feeling right now so why on Earth would you leave it? As long as you can’t answer this question you’ll choose to stay on the ride for many more cycles. \n\nAfter a while, there will be something about the ride’s repetitiveness that begins to gnaw at you. First, without your conscious knowing, your eyes start to wander. After all it’s such dizzying scenery you’ve seen so many times before. Next you’ll feel slightly bored and something that’s somewhere between a thought and a feeling urges you to get off and try something else. Here is where you can go one of two ways. You’ll either fight the urge by using words to argue away the boredom, “you’re not actually bored. Everyone feels like a change once in a while and it’s your turn to feel it now. That’s all. This’ll pass”. And if this is your route either you’ll continue to go around until the feeling of boredom makes itself so powerfully known that no amount of logic or persuasion can override it, or, more unfortunately, your energy levels deplete from the ongoing internal struggle and you simply stop feeling anything at all and don’t know if you’re excited or bored as you watch the world go by.\n\nThe more courageous and efficient route is to immediately accept the legitimacy of your feeling and to do everything in your power to alleviate it. This, of course, means patiently waiting for the ride to come yet again to a momentary stop and jumping off without looking back as soon as you get the chance. For if you miss that chance, how do you know you would jump at the next one?  \n\nSo now you’ve hopped out of your seat and go searching for the real adventure and excitement. With a self-awareness you haven’t experienced before, you look up at the children who are still being flung about at dizzying speeds and realise the naivety of your previous judgements. Ashamed of your past thoughts but considering yourself above them, you now walk off with a newfound confidence and maturity, meeting others along the way who have also descended from the ride to go off in search of a new high. \n\nYou don’t have to journey too far before you piece everything together and realise you’re actually in a highly sophisticated amusement park called ‘ParkLand’. Speaking to more and more ‘descended’ ones, you also learn the park itself wouldn’t be possible without a group of people called ‘engineers’ who have ensured the structural integrity of all the rides in the entire complex. \n\nYou’re so deeply impressed that this group of people who have no direct link to you whatsoever have sacrificed time with loved ones, energy and health just in order to maintain your safety. You announce to your newfound friends that you will dedicate yourself to engineering so as to pay the world back for what you were so lucky enough to receive, the dizzying thrills of your childhood.\n\nHowever, it’s not long after this admiration for engineers that you begin to understand the park relies on others’ sacrifices too. In fact, simply to touch upon a sizeable chunk of every profession out there all you need to do is think about one aspect of the park, the raw materials. Moving beyond what you’ve learned in engineering, you begin to mull what type of transport those raw materials would require. From here you can’t help but think about the design and engineering of those transport vehicles, the coding undergirding their automation, the business minds even needed for the launch and success of the freight company, the supply chain and logistics work that ensures the operation of the company, the designer of the company logo etc. etc. The more you think about everything that constitutes the park the more you realise what countless number of industries and experts are involved with even the blue ink, for the ‘P’ on an official and heavily crumpled Parkland serviette that you happen to find in your old suitcase now forty years later. With great reluctance you’re being seconded from San Fran to Copenhagen as one of the engineers to oversee the construction of a Bjark Ingels apartment complex. Ten years ago this would have excited you like nothing else, Denmark is an architects and engineers dream! But ten years ago you lived out you dream of making the move from Sydney to San Fran with your four-year-old daughter and fox of a husband. And three years before that you flew from Singapore to Sydney as a young and ambitious architect with an exciting and noble responsibility of repaying the world for the safety and thrills of your youth. Your now petulant fourteen-year-old daughter is calling out your name because she can’t find her gloves and though you would normally answer a strange but familiar silence descends upon you. You’ve fully unfurled the Parkland serviette made silky smooth by the million crinkles and folds it’s been subjected to and can read the amusement park’s full title. You’ve seen this logo myriad times but for some reason this time you now look past the words and focus on the cartoonish depiction of a ride that serves as the backdrop. It’s a ride that clearly spins quickly with children excitedly clinging for dear life to freely swinging seats and the ride you remember going on repeatedly when you were a child. Why did I ever get off, you think. And then you can’t help but lament the irretrievableness of your naïve but simple and happy childhood. You quickly start to strategize about ways to make your now somewhat monotonous adult life more exciting and childlike but give up just as fast. And after you’ve howled at yourself, at your lofty ambitions to give back to the world, at your sanctimonious maturity and efforts to seek out truer and more meaningful pleasures in life you finally stop, forgive yourself and sit there in silence because there’s no more anger to direct at yourself, no more tears to cry, no more frustration. It’s then that you realise you’ve simply come round full circle on your current ride and the thought of repeating it once again, while you know it will be satisfying and well-respected, will not give you what you’re really seeking now. To get off the current ride you find yourself on, to quietly walk away, without arrogance this time, and to find those who have done the same. \n\n\n\nand now you're left in a serious predicament. If you stay on the ride you'll go in circles. If you continually fall off the ride for the thrill of the unknown only to hop back on again once that new place is known you're also going in circles. So what are you meant to do? Enjoy the spinning till boredom, enjoy the falling too. But on the last fall walk away to free yourself from the ride itself and have look back at the circles you were once so happy to be stuck in. With this newfound freedom drive somewhere exotic with the top down listening to Outkast and eat some of that slightly sweet and a little bit savoury popcorn that is fucking incredible. I mean really go for it baby! But it's here where the ultimate and most humbling of tricks is played. When the popcorn now tastes more savoury than sweet. Because you realise that living to the max and experiencing all the freedom you could ever want becomes another loop. And from this moment out you know that you're never actually 'free' but progressively caught in loops that while currently enveloping you are beyond your level of awareness. Believe me, this discovery is both hilarious and depressing, Jesus Christ. Like, it's in a similar but not precisely the exact same vein to why Donnie is laughing so hard when the airplane engine is falling through the sky on the way to crushing him to oblivion. That hysterical laugh at the end of movies when the protagonist learns they're stuck in a inescapable Oedipal grip of fate. What they don't show at the end of those movies though is what happens after the characters can laugh no longer. And don't worry it's not sad or depressing at all! What happens then is an all pervasive peace because as the character truly and to his absolute core accepts and embraces the sheer inescapableness of the now obvious loops in his past and the maddeningly subtle loops of his present and future, he realises that in accepting his complete lack of freedom his is now is completely free as he no longer seeks freedom, no longer struggles with the fact of and no longer tries to escape his loops, and is able to live and love completely because he is always just a lost soul swimming in a fish bowl year after year.![IMG_9625.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPjpyBEdBNXPWby9Pc2Qff6ydVSA5UVNrDhE5bTUKk8Fm/IMG_9625.jpg)",
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      "body": "Have you ever noticed how when you go on an exciting ride it just takes you back to where you started? \n\nYou’ll want to ride it again because it was so exhilarating and so you'll stay in your seat until it begins once more. It flings you about so the wind rushes through your hair. Your hands and feet dangle freely from a terrifying height and the abyss beneath you waits to swallow you up at any moment. The fear of falling into this abyss heightens the excitement of the ride even though deep down you know it’s only an illusion, in reality you’re actually safely fastened to your seat. Perhaps knowingly, you simply tend to forget from time to time. \n\nFrom this height you look down on all the people who aren’t living it up at that very moment like you are. And just by simply looking at them walk around, with their slow pace and lack of adventurousness your excitement lessens and so you look away slightly repulsed. \n“There’s nothing better than this”, you think, and you’re totally right. Everything else in your life has paled in comparison to the amount of joy and ecstasy you’re feeling right now so why on Earth would you leave it? As long as you can’t answer this question you’ll choose to stay on the ride for many more cycles. \n\nAfter a while, there will be something about the ride’s repetitiveness that begins to gnaw at you. First, without your conscious knowing, your eyes start to wander. After all it’s such dizzying scenery you’ve seen so many times before. Next you’ll feel slightly bored and something that’s somewhere between a thought and a feeling urges you to get off and try something else. Here is where you can go one of two ways. You’ll either fight the urge by using words to argue away the boredom, “you’re not actually bored. Everyone feels like a change once in a while and it’s your turn to feel it now. That’s all. This’ll pass”. And if this is your route either you’ll continue to go around until the feeling of boredom makes itself so powerfully known that no amount of logic or persuasion can override it, or, more unfortunately, your energy levels deplete from the ongoing internal struggle and you simply stop feeling anything at all and don’t know if you’re excited or bored as you watch the world go by.\n\nThe more courageous and efficient route is to immediately accept the legitimacy of your feeling and to do everything in your power to alleviate it. This, of course, means patiently waiting for the ride to come yet again to a momentary stop and jumping off without looking back as soon as you get the chance. For if you miss that chance, how do you know you would jump at the next one?  \n\nSo now you’ve hopped out of your seat and go searching for the real adventure and excitement. With a self-awareness you haven’t experienced before, you look up at the children who are still being flung about at dizzying speeds and realise the naivety of your previous judgements. Ashamed of your past thoughts but considering yourself above them, you now walk off with a newfound confidence and maturity, meeting others along the way who have also descended from the ride to go off in search of a new high. \n\nYou don’t have to journey too far before you piece everything together and realise you’re actually in a highly sophisticated amusement park called ‘ParkLand’. Speaking to more and more ‘descended’ ones, you also learn the park itself wouldn’t be possible without a group of people called ‘engineers’ who have ensured the structural integrity of all the rides in the entire complex. \n\nYou’re so deeply impressed that this group of people who have no direct link to you whatsoever have sacrificed time with loved ones, energy and health just in order to maintain your safety. You announce to your newfound friends that you will dedicate yourself to engineering so as to pay the world back for what you were so lucky enough to receive, the dizzying thrills of your childhood.\n\nHowever, it’s not long after this admiration for engineers that you begin to understand the park relies on others’ sacrifices too. In fact, simply to touch upon a sizeable chunk of every profession out there all you need to do is think about one aspect of the park, the raw materials. Moving beyond what you’ve learned in engineering, you begin to mull what type of transport those raw materials would require. From here you can’t help but think about the design and engineering of those transport vehicles, the coding undergirding their automation, the business minds even needed for the launch and success of the freight company, the supply chain and logistics work that ensures the operation of the company, the designer of the company logo etc. etc. The more you think about everything that constitutes the park the more you realise what countless number of industries and experts are involved with even the blue ink, for the ‘P’ on an official and heavily crumpled Parkland serviette that you happen to find in your old suitcase now forty years later. With great reluctance you’re being seconded from San Fran to Copenhagen as one of the engineers to oversee the construction of a Bjark Ingels apartment complex. Ten years ago this would have excited you like nothing else, Denmark is an architects and engineers dream! But ten years ago you lived out you dream of making the move from Sydney to San Fran with your four-year-old daughter and fox of a husband. And three years before that you flew from Singapore to Sydney as a young and ambitious architect with an exciting and noble responsibility of repaying the world for the safety and thrills of your youth. Your now petulant fourteen-year-old daughter is calling out your name because she can’t find her gloves and though you would normally answer a strange but familiar silence descends upon you. You’ve fully unfurled the Parkland serviette made silky smooth by the million crinkles and folds it’s been subjected to and can read the amusement park’s full title. You’ve seen this logo myriad times but for some reason this time you now look past the words and focus on the cartoonish depiction of a ride that serves as the backdrop. It’s a ride that clearly spins quickly with children excitedly clinging for dear life to freely swinging seats and the ride you remember going on repeatedly when you were a child. Why did I ever get off, you think. And then you can’t help but lament the irretrievableness of your naïve but simple and happy childhood. You quickly start to strategize about ways to make your now somewhat monotonous adult life more exciting and childlike but give up just as fast. And after you’ve howled at yourself, at your lofty ambitions to give back to the world, at your sanctimonious maturity and efforts to seek out truer and more meaningful pleasures in life you finally stop, forgive yourself and sit there in silence because there’s no more anger to direct at yourself, no more tears to cry, no more frustration. It’s then that you realise you’ve simply come round full circle on your current ride and the thought of repeating it once again, while you know it will be satisfying and well-respected, will not give you what you’re really seeking now. To get off the current ride you find yourself on, to quietly walk away, without arrogance this time, and to find those who have done the same. \n\n\n\nand now you're left in a serious predicament. If you stay on the ride you'll go in circles. If you continually fall off the ride for the thrill of the unknown only to hop back on again once that new place is known you're also going in circles. So what are you meant to do? Enjoy the spinning till boredom, enjoy the falling too. But on the last fall walk away to free yourself from the ride itself and have look back at the circles you were once so happy to be stuck in. With this newfound freedom drive somewhere exotic with the top down listening to Outkast and eat some of that slightly sweet and a little bit savoury popcorn that is fucking incredible. I mean really go for it baby! But it's here where the ultimate and most humbling of tricks is played. When the popcorn now tastes more savoury than sweet. Because you realise that living to the max and experiencing all the freedom you could ever want becomes another loop. And from this moment out you know that you're never actually 'free' but progressively caught in loops that while currently enveloping you are beyond your level of awareness. Believe me, this discovery is both hilarious and depressing, Jesus Christ. Like, it's in a similar but not precisely the exact same vein to why Donnie is laughing so hard when the airplane engine is falling through the sky on the way to crushing him to oblivion. That hysterical laugh at the end of movies when the protagonist learns they're stuck in a inescapable Oedipal grip of fate. What they don't show at the end of those movies though is what happens after the characters can laugh no longer. And don't worry it's not sad or depressing at all! What happens then is an all pervasive peace because as the character truly and to his absolute core accepts and embraces the sheer inescapableness of the now obvious loops in his past and the maddeningly subtle loops of his present and future, he realises that in accepting his complete lack of freedom his is now is completely free as he no longer seeks freedom, no longer struggles with the fact of and no longer tries to escape his loops, and is able to live and love completely because he is always just a lost soul swimming in a fish bowl year after year.",
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      "body": "He put his pale hand between the candle and the wall. His hand’s shadow was magnified on the coarse blue stones.\n\n“Can you tell me what you see?”\n\nI looked at his face to find the hint of a joke but he seemed serious.\n\nI replied in a mock mystical tone, “I see a shadow of your hand, cast by the light of the candle” I smiled at him to see if he was playing but his grave face remained. \n\n“And what is more real?” \n\nI looked back at him and hesitated. I thought he had invited me in for a tea. So why the philosophy?\n\n“What’s more real? My hand or the shadow it casts?” His moved his hand back and forth so that the shadow moved too. \n\nI now felt equal parts discomfort and disappointment. Discomfort at this all of a sudden probing question and disappointment at the lack of tea. However, I was his guest and so I answered as best I could. \n\n“It’s all real. Your hand, the shadow it casts and the candle’s flame. They’re all as real as the question you just asked and the answer I’m giving now. It’s all as real as the room we’re sitting in.”\n\nI looked around and studied the coarse blue stonework, the creaking wooden chairs we were sitting in, the large, wax covered table from countless candlelit dinners and the wine and beer stains that discoloured the wood in between. My eyes fell to the hooded monk who sat opposite me. He shook his head and a nasty look crept into his eyes.\n\n“If you put half of what you put into thinking you’re clever into thinking itself you’d be cleverer than even you would think” Then with an otherworldly quickness he then flicked his hand a few inches from the candle and extinguished the flame. His movement was so precise, effortless and natural it was as though all the millennia of the world had existed for that singular act. It was so fast that if I had blinked I would have awoken to a slightly darker room not knowing how it had become that way. But I did not blink and I now sat, in a dark chamber with a petulant monk who was still holding out his goddamn hand. I didn’t like where this was going. \n\n“So now, my friend, what is more real? My hand is still here yet its shadow is not. My hand needs nothing to be real, whereas its shadow needs light.” The monk looked triumphant. It was as though he had once again found success in visually demonstrating his own obscure metaphor to a modern but ignorant foreigner passing through his developmentally stunted hamlet. I realized I must have been just one of many who he had given this quasi-Socratic lecture to. Ideally, I would have kindly gone along with it, exclaiming out loud when the old prune had made a point he considered to be profound but his apparent forgetfulness about offering me tea had left me feeling bitter. I decided then and there not to be so accommodating. He spoke again. \n\n“So please, my good friend, which is more real?” \n\nMy bitterness came out more suddenly and awkwardly than I expected. “I’m afraid I’m not your friend, monk” \n\nIt only took a sentence but the built up serenity and solemnness that hung in the monk’s chamber had now vanished. As I expected the monk was taken aback. What I didn’t expect was the speed of his retort. \n\n“Oh but you are you see” \n\n“I do not see” \n\n“I consider you to be my friend whether you consider me to be one or not. Friendship, my boy, is not necessarily reciprocal” His beady eyes gleamed. He then chuckled and waggled his hand around as he did so. \n\n“Oh my good friend. I do love thee indeed” \n\nIgnited by the out of the blue utterance of its opposite, hatred had suddenly filled my body. I wanted nothing more than to smack this monk as hard as I could. My eyes glazed over for a moment and I watched a few repeats of myself smacking the monk in the face. \n\n“Goddamn that feels good” I drooled, slightly catatonic. My imagined monk was lying on the floor whimpering. \n\n“What did you say?” It was the real monk but I could barely see him anymore. My day dream was becoming increasingly vivid as I let the anger engulf me. My soul was hurting and crying out for help but I put a finger to my lips. \n\n“Shhhhhhh. It’s ok baby” \n\nThump! The monk smacked the table and pulled me back to my current predicament. He flapped his hand around even more incessantly. \n“Which is more real boy?!” \n\n“Uh –“ I was back. I looked around and saw a darkly lit chamber with a hooded monk trying to explain some ostensibly meaningful visual metaphor that would lead me to see life in a different way. But I also saw something I don’t ever remember seeing before. There was a door letting in a tiny amount of sunshine through the crack at the bottom. The monk’s voice filled the room again.\n\n“The hand or the shadow boy!? Which is more real?” \n\nI’d had enough of this claptrap.\n\n“What are you actually trying to say monk!? Just spit it out!” \n\nHe violently hit the candle off the table and stood up.  \n\n“Fool! The hand is more real because it doesn’t need anything else to exist! The hand represents reality and shadow represents thoughts, symbols and representations of reality!” \n\n“You” I stood up as angrily as I could and filled my lungs so I could yell. “Are a fucking psycho!” I didn’t have a candle to hit off the table so I knocked my chair backwards. \n\nWhen the chair hit the floor a weighty silence I had always known descended upon me. My eyes closed and showed me deep currents of the Indian Ocean scrawling a picture in the sand. The picture moved closer, something I’d hoped for, an outline of door, carved in the sea floor. A shiver ran up my spine. Tears filled my eyes. \n\nWhat was more real? This was.  \n\nI looked around the room and saw the coarse blue stonework. I saw the monk jumping up and down waving around his stupid hand trying to explain his stupid monk metaphor. I looked down at my own hands and felt my pulse. My heart rate was sky high. I felt the anger surging through me, adrenaline and cortisol exhausting my body. How long had I been here? It didn’t matter. I could now see the totality of the scene. My pointless arguing with this hooded stranger in a chamber, the endlessness of trying to grasp the ungraspable. \n\n“This is more real” I said.\n\n“Oh yes? And what is that?” \n\nI didn’t answer. I walked towards the door, opened it and went outside. \n![](https://steemitimages.com/DQmcWMJeiurVVDUmwb4ogAd6sgzdvJs4NmLc3K8eyrLRfgG/image.png)",
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