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Rust in the Rain

This phrase has been following me through songs; Beckoning me to give some serious consideration to all of the possible meanings it could portray. Outwardly, rust is not as sturdy as the metal it once was. At first glance, this metaphor seems to allude to the physical strength and integrity of these objects; But when I marinate on these concepts. When I cannot elude this idea: It is transformed into whatsoever I see; And then, I see that the nature of those who welcome every experience with openness are more easily broken down; Welcoming this. My depiction of a bodisattava (before I do any further learning), strives to be so much a part of the world, they breathe in and become it. To "break down" like a corroded pillar, doesn't indicate a negative 'next'. Whatever life the flakes float onto, is assured to be unknown. A steel column knows exactly how to be a steel column; Completely informed on what consists of 'tomorrow', and is not left at any point; To wander.

To me, the rain symbolizes forgiveness and cleansing;Baptism. If this is the role of rain in the statement: It designates the rusting of the subject to be said purifying metamorphosis. This adds structure to my theory.

I do believe that this concept did also not lose its initial meanings: At first, I took it in reference from my grandpa (the subject of all songs rendering the phrase), to mean that the act of living life is corrosive. Overall, inducing death. There are countless risks recanted of his stubborn wilingness to sacrifice his wellbeing for what reason he decided to do so. A person SHOULD die as a result of living. Nothing is more appropriate.
I also wanted to touch on the fact that I am so self subversive. It escapes me often; The underlying fact that I would be proud of myself, rather than ashamed, if I did not realize what miniscule of a segment this 'self' is, in reference to my true capabilities.

I've become most distressed over my own opinion. I have worst stage fright on display to myself. Only when I allow capability of review, as through recording the momenterrible I was; I WAS AMAZING! Not terrible. The only terrible thing was that I felt terrible. TERRIBLE.

A river never stops to second guess the direction of its flow; It simply goes. It does what it is doing, and ever if it wonders; The thought is never substantial enough to alter the course of it's cascades.

I have always been a liquid motion enthusiast. When I was a tot, I would go to every single bathroom I could- Whether or not I actually had the need- Especially to flush the toilet and watch the whirl as it swirls down the hole; To which I would exclaim, "Wild!". Hah. Wild. Who the heck even says that!? Me!! ha. I love those stupid toys, like kaleidoscope wands and Galileo thermometers. My hair actually responds to one of those liquid filled wands to curl than to a curling iron. ALSO, I was a river in my past life, and sadly, it seems I may still be one *saface*. nOoo. If only I were a real river, and not merely the composition of a rogue bladder.
AH~The relent of time's passing ^_^. So I discussed my eerily accurate guess of what time it was the other day- within seconds of the actual time.. It seems that time has finally resumed its manageable extended pace. I didn't even share my perception, with a couple of my friends, and they both expressed having this same feeling, to me. ooooo shit, THANK YOU GOD.


Dec. 31st, 2012 08:24 pm (UTC)
A little of both. I like the word because it can work in both ways. It's tearing the colors off the rose petal but it also looks like a deep blue tear drop


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