Law of Life Essay

A Law of Life Essay

                                                          “The Catalyst”

                                             By Alejandro Manuel Espinoza

                                      For the Georgia Laws of Life Essay Contest

 

 

To many, the smallest fragment of delicacy referred to as life, lies to rest, dormant within the fabrications and the distractions of modern living. Life, and the nucleus of all its misery, is a glass piano, with glass hammers striking cords of potential shattering, and the beauty of the delicate sound. The sound of a heart breaking, the sound of the glass chords shattering, is the most beautiful melody. After so much beauty, after so many insignificant notes are erased, life is nothing but a fabrication of itself, mocking the lie in its face.

 

Throughout years of human interaction, it isn’t new to the enlightened person that the poison and disease breeding in human hearts will cluster. And the true beauties, the types dreamed about and felt through the great mediums, tend to stray far away from others of its kind. The voice of it is soft, but if one were so inclined to listen, to void the white noise and auditory clutter of life, one could hear the song of the glass piano, with not a note absent, and not a melody broken.

 

What is real and what is not real is often distorted, and reading the distortion is a lost art. Can one be distorted and yet find a fragment of beauty within the twisted void? Sometimes, it is from these very wastes of oblivion that visual and spiritual ecstasy is born. What the world whispers into your ear can be an angel’s face with the demon’s curse, and striving for all of heavenly perfection is the fault of the ugliness of humankind.

 

Distracted from what is tangible, and destroying all that is within reach of it, is the plague. A blanket of glowing energy wavers silently in the Sagittarius night in the psyche of us all. The twisted void is so deep within that we often fear to transcend beyond the bounds of content. More often than not, the more filth you break through, and ascend over, the closer you bring yourself to the luminescent serenity.

 

A soul may desire to know where it came from, or how it was made. Yet, the real question that explodes into conflagration is the question of why it exists. A universal answer is impossible, because the reasons expand beyond the bounds of time and space. In all of its simplicity, the answer lies within the absolute center of oneself, the silk of one’s being, the Eden of the cerebrum, the waves of warmth within the spinal chord. Everything that is intangible and out of reach of spoken words, even the bursts of joy in the sorrow, is what the rich tranquility so feverishly sought after by man, animal and god is rooted in. In so limited of a lifetime, is the quality of every breath an effort to transcend above the banality of repetitiveness?

 

The hatred swarming in the world’s eyes will be ever-present, for these eyes are the eyes that forbid the advent unions of concentrated beauty. Earth is the scholar of the Black Scroll, the Harlequin of Pandora’s Box. All of the truth that is to be found is hidden in the lies.  I feel as though more often than not I have learned this with the advent of my – cerebral renaissance – if you will. Within the trials of my excommunication from the ignorant lifestyle of content, the severe isolation served as the catalyst for a revolution. I came to live deeply, embodied in Carpe Omnius, and sought to take advantage of the constancy of my breathing.

 

Nothing need be wasted. One’s own life is without a doubt the most valuable thing, yet the thing that is most often squandered. The abilities that lie in humans are both inexorable and uplifting, and the collision of the two is what gives birth to the incredible mixture in the world. Ultimately, one should never be content, settling and being sedentary and miserable, aspiring for larger things, but never reaching for them. Never truly settle, but keep ascending beyond what you already are. Humans are insatiable, which is perhaps the greatest unappreciated gift.

 

“Ascension is the mother of revolution, and revolution is the dogmatic path to anything the soul hungers for.”