Long Years Fade Swiftly into Smoke of a Dying Candle

By Justin Cude

Short stories come from long years of living. I once met a woman who handed me many in a single night. Some I can still recite with my eyes closed, others have fled for now. Some maybe have gone forever, but I won’t know until the end. Others have left nothing in my mind. Maybe they have, I just haven’t heard from them yet. They’re in there dormant maybe just waiting to live. But, I can’t wait around for them to reveal to me anything that may or may not help in my own living. The sun burns out quickly and who knows what year we’re in. Sitting down for a coffee seems like a trip to me. Its one of the few things that brings it all back, then, with a bang bigger than the big one we believe in, expand outwards towards areas I’m led to explore, to visit. Love of a good woman, love of a wild one, both in the same, physical exertion, a read which melts your brain, the occasional hand-rolled cigarette, a few whiskeys or wines have done it temporarily, the wind, a few walks in nature have revealed to me something, feeling breath, an animals stare and affection, travel at times when I’m not looking for it to, a written line which stops me, love towards anything when I try, and coffee, black, sometimes with cinnamon or butter. There are others but I don’t want to taint this with lists. I also don’t want to share everything. A good secret is OK to have long as your soul doesn’t burn you. As long as you’re not scarring yourself. You have you’re own things which reveal to you the world you’re looking for. Don’t copy others. Don’t blind yourself either from the world which actually exists. There is truth in both. The sky remained gray lately, but I’m aware its of our own doing. The air we breath is poisoned with our filth. So to the rivers and the bodies they bleed into. The land as well, but the world fights back. Its has to. Its all it knows. Not in hate but in life and with love to live that life. But our filth is dumped into our DNA and we’ve done it. This is chosen, not fated. It blocks the sun, too. At times I can’t see mountains only kilometers away. I’d say miles but those don’t work here. Not everything works everywhere. Love tries and its damn good at it most of the time, if we allow it to be. If we allow ourselves to be. Love does conquer all, but we’ve made weapons for that at some turning point in our evolution. What an idea. At times I can’t see my reflection in a window an arms reach away. But there are those days when the mountains sit with peaceful calm intensity and my reflection shows compassion for the one it reflects. Those days keep me hopeful. One day the sky was mahogany brown. It was an absurd moment to have passed through. Was if all were drowning in a pond of spoiled red China tea, or mud. We put it there and now we must wear masks to keep from suffocating. Quicksand we’ve submerged ourselves in with small steps towards progress. An oddity of the modern world. Something one day they’ll hopefully look back on in disbelief like we have so many times looking back at others mistakes from the past. Its not a mistake when suffering is packaged and labeled for resale in what we call foreign lands. Its not a mistake when we can see but look away. Humanity chooses and it tends to be against ourselves, like a mouse going for the cheese. Maybe our brains are that simple too. Maybe we can’t see the trap we’re walking into. But, art tells us differently. Art tells us we can see, radically. So does love. More so love. The abstract and the realism. If love was there we’d choose differently. Radically differently. But cheese looks good to a hungry rat. Art means nothing when our gaze is locked on the outcome. Neither does love. But, when the simpleminded have had their hit, and the daze of satisfaction withers, and the cheese is nothing but cheese, where do we find ourselves? What are we so hungry for? Do we really know our own answer to this? Bob Dylan stares at me as I write this telling me with a single look to keep going but only if you have something to say. He wears a harmonica on his neck which reminds me the beauty of music. How powerful that beauty can be and how widespread it’s embrace. “Write that way” he says, and I try. A girl hugs his arm looking for warmth but provides a fire in the snowy streets of Greenwich Village back when the snow use to stick. Another, he’s confident but only in his questioning. He knows its a joke to play with. The next, still confident but with sun glasses on inside after recording attempted answers looking into the unknown of his own, which is also ours. He’s talking to me in still pictures but I hear his words clearly. His words have always whispered to my soul the truths I’ve needed to hear. That there aren’t any written in blood but blood still flows, so follow it. Go where your blood boils, or make it boil if you can. We all know how. Answer me this; what have we all been deprived of? I’d say love. Then I’d ask, why does this deprivation continue? I’d say we allow it to. We block it or ignore it, we withhold or we fear its life, or turn away when light from beneath horizon starts to illuminate the memories. Then I’d know the answer to this deprive. And I’d say love again, but as an action not as a label. There’s little work this morning so I’m looking in. We all have so much to say but it never comes out exactly right. I’m trying just to get it out mostly these days. It doesn’t need to be exactly right. It never is even when you try for it to be. Even when you struggle for it. Just getting it out is enough at times. There’s no wind today either. Here there’s either none or there’s the type which can blow you over. At least it tries to. Inertia will hold you down. The mind can be heavier than those mountains I can’t see at times. It can also be as light as the dust blown in from the desert just over those mountains. Dust from the Middle East reaches the shores of Brazil I read once. I’d rather be blown away or challenge the gods head on. Inertia is only good in meditation. Even sleep is dynamic. Contemplation has blinded be many times. The mind never stops but you can sit with it and watch it go by. And when you do watch it go by, when you can glimpse the light through the filth, when you’ve said what you’ve had to say, exactly how you wanted to or not, when suffering is accepted and not feared, when the air you breath is just air, the moment just the moment, the mountains just mountains, your reflection just that, when you understand how much we make-up, the malleability of stories, the degradation of self, the empowerment of illusion, the anything of everything, the everything of anything, love is all remains, and love is there if we get out of our own way. Short stories can all be summed with a shorter one, and can be learned even quicker before those long years fade swiftly into smoke of a dying candle; love. No story amounts to this, though they’re all trying to say it, one way or another. No words can say it better. No other action contains more truth, though there are so many which happen. Everything comes from this, and everything is just attempting to make its way back home to it. The shortest story in the world makes the most sense, but we write others to hide it, or to attempt to reveal it, to rewrite it to justify our victimhood. To complicate it. That’s what I just did, and I feel good for relieving myself of the clutter, that is a practice worthwhile, but, yet all this gibberish, all this nonsense, all the these words, one after the other trying to say something, leads back to this; love. That’s it. That’s what we’re all really trying to say. That’s what we’re all really trying to do. That’s what we all really just need to do. Just love. You’re allowed to.

The Books We Read

By Justin Cude

I’ve read tons of books lately. Hold on. Bear with me. I don’t say that with any type of pretentious. Its just a way to start this piece. But, seriously, lately I have read tons of books. From Self-help horrors to border-line erotica novels. From the lone pessimists attempt of optimistic existentialism to the bonding painted along a band-of-hippies psychedelic rove. Books which reign the top 100 to ones spawn from the endless graves of underground novella. I’ve read deeper into the works of authors I truly love, and have flirted with the lines of authors I’ve only just met with a glance. I sat down yesterday and read a whole damn book. I’ve only done that once in my life, years ago, and it felt wonderful to experience this again. But, this piece isn’t about the number of books I’ve read through in the last few weeks, but rather about what I have noticed, as I have before, by doing so.

The books we read influence us. Greatly or subtly, it doesn’t matter. They teach us. They touch us. They lead us and they push us. Some can hold you back. Many will move you, either which way. The ones we love, we do so for many reasons. There’s not just one reason we read and continue to. We read for many. And, we keep reading because those reasons are always further affirmed the more words we finish, the more pages we turn, the more books we try. We know why we read, individually, and our knowing of that is enough to continue forth. Every book I have ever read has provided me with at least one line of life; life learned, understood, challenged, gained, lost, made aware of, or changed. Even if only a line. I read for that one line. That one line that provides the life I needed to experience as to allow my own life the right, or the acceptance of, to just be, and for me to just be along with it. For life to be what it is, at any given moment, during any given experience of its provide. And, for me to be who I must and who I choose to be in response to and in demand of that greater providing.

I read for that one line. And, I read for this one life. Because, the books we read provide the life of others, while we’re out learning and living towards the writing and the sharing of our own. There’s wisdom there. There’s trial and error. There’s love and the exploration of its layered and endless complexities, along with it’s simplicity. There’s death and our questions. There’s wild stories from all walks of life, and there’s devout peering into the uncertainties we face. And, there’s us, reflected in the words so humanly placed. The books we read are shared closely with the lives we live. The lives we live are steeped in the richness of books we read.

So, I encourage you to read on.

Difficult Loves by Italo Calvino

How did you come across the book?

I was, uh… bookstore hopping, in the city. I just moved here. So, I was trying to find a favorite, and it was super esthetic, and um, so I decided to take a chance on it, and bought it. That’s it. I can’t tell you what bookstore it was! I don’t remember where it was.

So far, what perspective have you gained from it?

Um… so, its actually a collection of short stories, so there are a lot of like varying perspectives that I’m getting from it. They’re all about like… intimacy, between people, with themselves and with other people, so. I’ve read two short stories already and its just… it kind of makes me reexamine my relationships with people and how I navigate those, and the degrees of intimacy that exists within like… within everybody, especially moving to the city… like the intimacy you have with a stranger sitting on a bench with you… that’s kind of examined in this book and that’s kind of what its making me think about.

Would you recommend it, and if so, to who and why?

Yeah! I definitely would. I feel like, for most of my age group, it might be a little bit, um, pretentious. I’m a first year college student, so, maybe like somebody who’s beginning to navigate serious relationships. Kind of up there with The Course of Love… I feel like it really kind of helps you understand your place in relation to other human beings, so… if you like to have existential crises, I think this book is really good! I absolute would recommend it, but I think that there’s a lot of internal reflection that it spurs, so, definitely be cognizant of that. If thats not your thing, its not your thing. It also has some kind of antiquated writing. Its very like flowery prose, so um… and its not necessary modern in a convenient sense.

What More?

By Justin Cude

What more is there to say?

What words are left to write?

You’re born from the sun,

you live with the day,

and you die into the night.

I know there are tricks in between,

but all we can do is live,

try to figure them out,

and love while we try.

Dreams, Suffering and Love

By Justin Cude

“Only three things can change our life: Dreams, Suffering and Love.” — Paulo Coelho

Think about it.

Think of all the changes you have experienced thus far, no matter your age nor any other differentiating factor between you and someone else. Only consider the common fates of us all, our common lot and our common existence as human beings, and think all of which you have already endured and have transitioned from and to.

Really, I beg you.

Think about it.

Have dreams not lead you towards the facing of the biggest changes of your life?

Have they not demanded from you your answering of the most important questions in their confront?

The ones where decisions were heavily considered, subsequently hard fought against, accepted, second-guessed, approved again, rethought the same, and then finally made, maybe?

Has suffering and love not lead you towards the same?

Have all three not coexisted within the same moment of life’s changes?

Think about it.

In reflection of this now, I know this to be true within my own life. Every change I’ve faced, let break me, endured, overcame, reflected upon, all have stemmed from one of the three, but also, have contained a presence of the trios teaming.

Dreams have taken me places; some having been in their meeting, others in their losing. Some of the ones I’ve met, I have also lost with my understanding of them. Others I still pursue due to their continued ominous position. Regretfully, I have followed dreams that weren’t mine, readjusted and found mine again, then lost them same; this process has happened many times, and again I’m sure it will.

Again, the same with suffering.

Suffering has taken me places; some in its meeting, others thereafter its time. Some of the ones I’ve met, I also have lost with my understanding of them. Others I still find myself a part of due to their continued ominous position. Regretfully, I have allowed suffering that wasn’t mine, readjusted and suffered through my own again, then lost the same; this process has happened many times, and again I’m convinced it will.

And, again, the same with love.

Love has taken me places; sometimes in its meeting, other times in its depart. Sometimes the love I have met, I have also lost with my understanding of it. Other times I still yearn for certain love due to its continued ominous position. Regretfully, I have pursued love that wasn’t mine, readjusted and found mine again, then lost the same; this process has happened many times, and again I believe it will.

And again, in this process, the three have coexisted. I do not believe they are able not to. One tends to take the lead in regard to intensity and situation, but the others are always there.

In this, this is where the mind and the body differentiate, but where they are also subject to the same process of change. The body does not consciously chose what it will face in order to change; rather it takes on the challenges this life provides and does its best to adapt accordingly for continued and bettered survival.

The mind however, us as human beings, the pair, chooses, though choice is not always advantageous. Maybe this is a lesson where the mind can truly learn from the ways of the body; take on the challenges life provides and do its best to adapt accordingly for continued and bettered survival. Remove thought. Just act.

Some changes demand of us to accept them thoroughly for what they are, others we are able to manipulate their meaning. Regardless, we must face them, and we must adapt to them. There will always be a demand to change when facing this life. This you have no choice over. The body knows this. The mind sometimes, it forgets this.

Life will provide the challenges, and though the majority of them will originate from either that of dreams, of suffering, or of love, whether we are of the mind to confront them or not, we will have to, no matter. This will be hard, as it always is, when the three come from a place of authenticity, and in their changing we are truly affected.

If your dreams are real to you, they will bring about change, desired or not.

If your suffering is real to you, it will bring about change, prepared or not.

If your love is real to you, it will bring about change, understood or not.

Begin to understand this. Acknowledge it. Accept it. And, again, if they are real to you, then embrace them. Neither one of true meaning can exist without change, nor can it progress, nor can it grow. So, in their inevitable confront, choose to take on the challenges they provide, and do your best to adapt to them accordingly for continued and bettered survival.

For, without dreams, without suffering, and without love, life is meaningless, I do believe. And, without change, neither can truly exist. So, in accordance, without change life is meaningless. Our dreams, our suffering, and our love, they understand this. Sometimes, us… we forget.

You Have All You Need

By Justin Cude

More. But why? Look around; you have all you need.

Your entire being a vehicle, designed for survival and for thrive, for experience and for expression.

No more gimmicks, no need for external aid, be gone with the thought ‘with this there is more’; look within and you will find that you have all you will ever need.

With what you are, you are enough.

‘But what I want is to relax.’ Sit still and observe your being within the world around, allowing yourself this simple, righteous pleasure. You’re here and here you are able.

‘But what I want is to learn.’ Go where your nature directs you and open your mind, taking it all in, taking with you what you will. You’re here and here you are able.

‘But what I want is to feel.’ Allow your senses to succumb to the raw sensations of now, letting go of your attempt to make it anything else. You’re here and here you are able.

‘But what I want is to progress.’ Know how it is you want to first, then aim and pursue, but willing to fail along the way. You’re here and here you are able.

‘But what I want is to love.’ Do so, the ways you know, and the was you want to try, unafraid to be afraid, inhibitions met but also overcome. You’re here and here you are able.

‘But what I want is to live.’ You are, and you must, right now, the ways that you want and along with the changes of those ways. You’re here and here you are able.

No more gimmicks, no need for external aid, be gone with the thought ‘with this there is more’; look within and you will find that you have all you will ever need.

With what you are, you are enough.

You’re here and here you are able.

That’s Life

By Justin Cude

It’s been about a year, a little over a year now, since I moved away from the city I have always been pulled to, even as a little kid. The one I learned to love for what it is, not for what I attempted to make it to be, for the attempt to do so would prove useless. It did and I learned and I loved it more for it.

Remaining the romantic I tend to be, for the attempt to be otherwise would prove useless as well, a classical array of Frank Sinatra numbers have always, and I believe will continue to, keep me current with the city’s lasting allure, even in my current absence. For me, no other artists have truly captured this. No other songs have ever embodied it, though I will admit there are a few honorable mentions, but who really wants to be caught on that list? This piece is about more than music though.

Though at the moment I am away from the city, I never fully left, as is true for any great romantic relationship. Much like the loving and romancing of a great woman, you’ve spent time exploring her, only to find as your knowledge of her grows so does your appreciation of her, and fortunately so does your awareness of your ignorance of her vastness which still remains. There’s still more to find.

And, not only that, but you’ve experienced with her. This life, her emotions and yours. This life, its highs and its lows and everything in between. Apart from her or entangled with, you can’t remove what has already happened, and nor should you try.

In many ways I am still there, and for the enduring and strengthening few with time, I will always remain.

But over this time many things have changed. It’s remarkable when you do take the time to reflect on the passing of another year how many things do. Some we have been aware of, but for many we only realize upon looking back.

Many say looking back is wrong. I’ve never believed this, but I have realized how heavy it can be.

That heaviness though I have always enjoyed.

I’ve never been one to believe life needs to be happy all the time. I’ve never been one to want that for myself either, though I have caught myself deep in the trap trying to make it that way. I don’t think I’d like it if it always was. I don’t believe many do trying to make it that way.

Sometimes I want the unhappy, the sad, the crazy and the impossible, the yearning, the past, the pain. It reminds me of what has happened, and it makes me appreciate every part of it more; the happy and the sad, and everything in between.

Sometimes isn’t right. Usually I find I want it more. It makes sense if you think about it. Maybe I’m wrong. But, it tends to make me feel everything more and I don’t want to be numb all the time attempting to ignore that.

Anyways, I sit here now, thousands of miles away from that city, in another one, another big one even, but its not quite the same.

Things feel different. I feel different. Not that this is wrong or bad, just different. Like anywhere else, somedays are good and somedays are bad, and some are somewhere in between.

I watched a video earlier today, one I had made the day I left a little over a year ago now, and it made me feel that way again. I know I’m not the only one that city uses. Countless eyes had seen it before me, and countless others will after me. Countless lives have enjoyed her before me, and countless others have and will after me.

But, nonetheless, I felt captured, and there, though only for a moment in the grand scheme of it all, captured felt right. Everybody wants freedom. I’d take, even if only a little, that kind of captured again. This piece is about more than just a city though.

Still sitting here now, writing this, it hits me how much truly has changed. People, places, thoughts, wants, truths, and so on.

It’s easy to think everything remains the same. It’s hard to notice the changes. Most aren’t big enough to wake you up at night. No, most are subtle. But, once noticed, their acknowledgment proves to be impactful.

Around this time last year I was leaving somewhere. This somewhere now I am thinking of leaving again. Those I guess you could call examples of the big ones. All the things that have happened in between these two points though, I wouldn’t say they add up. No, when you think about it, things just sort of happen.

Some add. Some take away. Many just happen. Many just slip on by. It’s up to me to notice what I will. It’s up to you the same.

I miss that feeling, but I wonder how many feelings I have missed since then, ones I would have appreciated if I had only noticed them then, if only I had not been caught up with just the one.

Though I can’t live them again, though I cannot go back and really feel them, I notice them now, at least I am trying, and at this now that trying is enough.

But that’s life. You notice what you notice. Who knows exactly why?

Days come and so do nights, and then they go and maybe another one comes around. It’s easy to think another one will, but things change, you never know. And if another does come around, its easy to think it the same as the last.

Again, its hard to notice the changes.

Blame ignorance.

Ignorance towards thinking things will never change, or ignorance blinding you from noticing what has.

I’ve missed many moments thinking things were the same, or at least thinking they hadn’t changed. I don’t want to miss anymore fighting this alone. There’s really nothing to fight anyways. You’re making it up. You think there is, but there isn’t.

There’s only change. Don’t take that on. You’ll lose.

Yeah, sure, I miss that feeling and I miss that city, and I probably always will, but constantly chasing the highs it evoked, or believing the lows it did as well to be only unique to its confines, both of these are wrong. It’s highs were high and its low were damn low, but most of my time there was spent somewhere in between, and most of that time I let slip away, unnoticed.

Again, its up to me for me, and its up to you for you the same, to notice what you will. I’ll still acknowledge the highs and I’ll still endure the lows, but moving on I simply want to notice more of the in between.

Because that’s life. Most of it happens somewhere in between.

We tend to avoid or pursue the highs and the lows.

Invite them, welcome them, sure, of course, but don’t hold on to them. They don’t last. They fade quickly. Feel them when they are around, but let them go.

Again, most of life is found in between. Try to notice the life in that. Don’t become numb to it. Become very much attuned with it.

Life is largely about realizations and we all feel more alive in the moments of our deepest ones.

Or maybe in the moments of our most simple ones.

We’re too blinded during the highs, too emotional during the lows to have these. Most happen after. After some time has passed. After we have gained sight again. After our emotions have leveled off. Most happen somewhere in between.

Most happen in the quiet. Quiet can be good. I’ll try to write on that sometime. That’s enough for now.

Most of all of this happens somewhere in between though. That’s the main idea here.

Right now you’re probably somewhere in there. I know I am.

Don’t let it slip away chasing the next high or avoiding the next low. Those you will meet again. Don’t worry. Don’t be scared. Those will happen again, because that’s life. But, there is so much more in between, and that is usually where we tend to be.

If The Fates Allow

By Justin Cude

I am away.

Far away now from most of the things in this life I have come to love, to accept, to miss.

And that I do; I miss them all, deeply.

But this I chose, and this choice was hard, as most the greats tend to be.

Something inside of me though has always yearned for adventure, and that is where I currently find myself, both in terms of mind and of body.

This too happens to be something that I have come to love, to accept, to miss as well.

How couldn’t I?

Now you see where the contrast lies.

Life does that.

It never matches up.

Never offers everything at once.

Never allows you to find your stride in one without tripping you up with the other.

On one hand I want stable, I want unity, I want consistence.

On the other I want movement, I want differences, I want unexpected.

Currently I am experiencing the latter, and though I am enjoying it fully, currently I am yearning for the former.

So what to do?

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” – Viktor Frankl

So then,

I will begin to both allow and to challenge myself to find the two within the same.

Within those and thats that my life has formed into my stables, I will find the movement, the differences, the unexpected.

Rather, I will allow them their opportunity to flourish within my life.

No longer block them.

No longer believe them not to be.

And,

Within those and thats where my life has provided my movement, I will find the stable, the unity, the consistence.

Rather, I will allow them their opportunity to grow within my life.

No longer stunt them.

No longer doubt their strength, their purpose.

And,

If the fates allow,

I will do this with those and thats that I have come to love, to accept, to miss.

This I hope they do allow.

And,

Since I am still here, this they do.

So,

One final effort before the sun sets.

If, of course, the fates do allow.

To Each Their Own

By Justin Cude

I’m tired. However, and I realize this, I’m tired of all of which I know to be of my control, of my choice.

I’m tired of the comparison. Of comparing myself with others; their wants, their needs, their dreams and pursuits, their current lot and the futures they speak of, and so on. It’s not me, not at all, but its easy to. It’s also easy not to, if of course I choose against it. Similarities, they can exist, but the same? No, not at all. Remember, to each their own.

I’m tired of the doubt. Of doubting myself, my worth, my place, my acts, my thoughts. It’s old, it’s tiresome, it’s cruel, self imposed I know, but cruel the same. It’s not me, it‘s my choice and I can stop this at any moment. To allow it to remain, to persist, how much of a fool can you be? Stop your pity, instead choose to try, choose to do, and then you will know. Remember, to each their own.

I’m tired of the confusion. Of confusing myself, of being confused by others, or rather, allowing myself to be confused by the pair; the words they say, the actions they take, and the same of mine; my words, my actions. Choose, choose now, then choose again, not to be confused and you won’t be. Confusion from curiosity, let it live, that’s fun, but confusion from your own allowance of both the internal and the ex-, let it pass you by — give it no mind. Remember, to each their own.

I’m tired of the hatred. Of the kind from others, but even more so of the self-loathing of my own partake. Do you enjoy the act of self-defeat? Of self-betrayal? The tearing down of your own being? Or the destruction of your own peace? No. Than enough, no more. Allow these thoughts to again pass you by, for they carry with them no real anchor, only the hope that you may offer harbor for their taking. Don’t. And of others hatred directed your way? Also, don’t the same. Choose, then choose again. Remember, to each their own.

Okay, enough of this. Who cares if I’m tired of anything, anyways? Typically not many, sometimes not a one. Maybe I’d be better off by simply not caring myself, not of just anything, but of what I perceive to be worth the time.  Again, not that of just anything, but of things of this nature; harmful. Let it go, move on, simply stop. It can be that easy. It is that easy, if you want it to be. If you choose it to be. Maybe easy isn’t the word. But, if not easy, able; always able. Let it be difficult if you must, “If it’s endurable, then endure it”; accept its confront, but remember, you’re able; always able.

Choose not to be compared — and you won’t feel compared. Don’t feel compared — and you haven’t been…

Choose not to be doubted — and you won’t feel doubted. Don’t feel doubted — and you haven’t been…

Choose not to be confused — and you won’t feel confused. Don’t feel confused — and you haven’t been…

Choose not to be hated — and you won’t feel hated. Don’t feel hated — and you haven’t been…

“Choose not to be harmed — and you won’t feel harmed. Don’t feel harmed — and you haven’t been.” – Marcus Aurelius

But I do — than you will. And if I don’t? — than you won’t. Choice always remains. You’re able; always able.

And in closing, all I want to do in this life, and I assume for many the same, is love. Love what I do, love who I am with, love where I am, and love where I am going — than you will — if you choose to. And this choice? Remember, to each their own.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling

How did you come across the book?

So… I’m an avid movie watcher and a good friend of mine, Amy, put me into the movies years ago. At first I was like, “No, I’m not watching this cause I don’t want to be a part of the system! And everybody’s obsessed with these things!” And then I sat down and I watched them… and I was obsessed! The movies captivated me but I’m not a big fiction reader… I read history, but I’m not a big fiction reader… but um… my wife has been bugging me, “Babe, come on… like every year I’m like babe it’s time for us to do our Harry Potter binge!”… and we watch all the movies again… and she’s like, “You’ve gotta read the books!” So… at first I was like, “You know babe? You know me… I struggle when I read fiction books… like, I’m good.” So she said, “Fine, I’ll buy you the audio book.” And so she gave me the audio book of the first one, and I listened to it… and it was incredible. I couldn’t stop listening to it! So then I was like, “Babe… I think I want to read the second set of books.” So she bought the collection… and I read book two in about a week and a half… and I’ve just been storming through book three! This one’s my favorite movie… and now it’s my favorite book! This is…. this is incredible! The symbolism in it… you know, the story in general has captivated me on a whole different level… that’s why I said you picked the wrong person to interview ’cause I have this like deep Harry Potter theology about my life and… ‘Prisoner of Azkaban‘ really embodies, you know, that selflessness and that… living for others… the thing that I’ve always loved about the series in general!

So far, what perspective have you gained from this book?

Oooh! So… I was just telling him… there is, you know… the interesting thing about Harry Potter… and if you know about the story of Harry Potter… you know, he’s this kid and he’s born in one world but his parents were killed, so he had to be raised in another world… and later on he goes back to this other world and… some reject him, some accept him, some glorify him, some… you know… hate him… and it’s this… this thing where he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and he is literally just existing as a kid… growing up and learning. I realized, for me… it doesn’t matter what your destiny is, it doesn’t matter who you are, it doesn’t matter what your background is, what your future holds… you know[bctt tweet=”… grow, and just live! Take the shackles off yourself and be free!” username=”cityreadsnyc”] For me, it hits a little closer to home because as a Christian I look at… I’m like man, Jesus came to this earth and he died to give his life to us for our sins, and I’m like… here’s this kid who came to a world… they didn’t receive him in it… ultimately in the end there’s this correlation to that, and I don’t want to give any spoiler alerts, but… if you haven’t seen it, check it out… but if you know it, you know he ends up giving up a lot of himself for this world and it becomes this beautiful story of love and no matter what… in this story particularly, he has so much anger towards this one character, then in the end, ends up forgiving him and showing grace to him… and it’s so amazing because… he’s just a kid. You know, I’m like, if this kid can embody this kind of love and this kind of passion for life, then… so can I. That means everyday, live it to the fullest… everyday be free… everyday take the shackles off myself, the shackles that people have put on me… my parents have put on me, my friends have put on me, teachers put on you, educators put on you… and, whatever people put on you, it is to your best interest if you just… take them off, and just be you. Be Harry Potter, be free in your little world, learn what you got to learn… and if people say you’re not good enough, whatever… you know, just live free man… be free for who you are. There’s too much beauty in this world to live it beneath shackles and chains. So… that’s what I got from this.

Would you recommend it, and if so, to who and why?

Umm… oddly enough… I’d recommend this book to everybody and anybody! You know, for kids, it is an imagination roller-coaster! Like, this woman… and even when you know her story of how she wrote it, you start to realize that the woman who wrote this, J.K. Rowling… she’s a conqueror; she fought against so much just to get to a place where she could produce these magical books. And then, so much more as a Christian… you know, I know people who are like, “Ah, no! It’s witchcraft… you shouldn’t read it.” And then I realized one of the greatest authors in my opinion… C.S. Lewis… penned one of the greatest fiction stories… ‘The Chronicles of Narnia‘… and if you ever get a chance to read those book’s, which I did go back and read… they are an incredible adaptation of what it means to really just… believe! The problem with the day we live in now is, we stop believing. Everything has to be tangible before we believe, and I’m sorry man, like… I want to go back and believe in the mysticism, and believe in the magic, believe in the force of love… the beauty of what magic does and how it makes us feel… I want to believe and I don’t ever want to lose that, and I don’t ever want to lose my imagination, because… what I’m noticing is that the reason why the world looks the way it does is because people stopped having imagination…. people stopped believing for more. Books like this man, they open kids up to the world; to see and to be like… [bctt tweet=”Man, the flick of a wand could create this! And I’m like, Yes! Go out and imagine.” username=”cityreadsnyc”] You don’t have a wand, but you have a computer… and you might not have a wand, but you can build something… and go and stretch your imagination… and I don’t care if somebody tells you that you can’t fly; jeez louise… you can fly! Somebody tells you, “You can’t walk on water.” Give it a chance… you might walk on water! People will tell you so much… and I look at it and I’m like… somebody told me one day, “Naj, you will never teleport.” And I was like, “That’s my lifelong dream, to one day teleport.” They kept saying you will never teleport, and I’m like, “Cool… because somebody told somebody they’d never fly… and now look at us… we’re flying!” The minute I stop believing that I’ll teleport… that’s when that dream is dead, and that’s when I will never teleport. And trust me, it sounds silly… look, I’m 36 years old… I’m not actually sitting out here saying, “Yeah, jump off a building and fly!” I’m not talking about being irrational or irresponsible; I’m talking about… just dream! Dream big man! Dream that this world will stop living based on the colors of our souls, thinking that it’s just black or white… no man… dream one day! Look at Martin Luther King… he had a dream, and that dream turned into a reality! We’re still fighting for it, but… that was a dream, and somebody told him lunacy, somebody told him it was magic, that it was imagination… and I just… it’s when we give up on those dreams, when we give up on changing the world, that’s when the world stops changing…and that’s it. I recommend it to everybody and anybody. [bctt tweet=”The thing is… just have your eyes open! ” username=”cityreadsnyc”]Like me… I wrote this book off when it was a movie because I was like, “Witchcraft, Witchcraft, Witchcraft!”… until a friend of mine was like, “Nah, it’s chill. Check it out!” Stop living with your eyes closed, you know… you never know… you’re rejecting stuff for rejecting stuff sake… accept stuff and then sift through it and realize if you don’t want to spit it to somebody else, or if you don’t think you should even eat it… spit it out, you know… put it to the side. But yeah… there’s so much more about it man!

Neil Young on one’s Fervent, Unyielding Search for the Fabled ‘Heart of Gold’

By Justin Cude

I want to live,
I want to give
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.
It’s these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold.

With an air of melancholy surrounding his tones entirety, Neil Young momentarily encapsulates the enduring travail of ones search for a treasure in its purest form, a search fed and deceived by the minds’ susceptibility towards yearn. In one of his many depictions of love, Neil Young’s ‘Heart of Gold’ both recites and reflects on a life lived in pursuit of the undiscovered, a token of fabled purity of the song’s naming; a heart of gold. Laboring away in search, expressions of love remain withheld, repressed and hoarded in hope for eventual outlet in the finding of a heart deserved. However, the search remains and time awaits no one: And I’m getting old. Keep me searching for a heart of gold. And I’m getting old.

I’ve been to Hollywood
I’ve been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold.
I’ve been in my mind,
It’s such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold.

This pursuit has no barriers and chooses to forage rather then to remain idle, impatient and reluctant to receive, instead anxious to find and claim. Our world is vast in sense of its physical traits and in the sense of our human spirit, sub rosa of course to ones selected expressionism. Where one can travel in search for this treasure within the confines of our physical world, the same can be done in the mind with far less restraint and with far more expanse, dependent upon ones perceived attributes towards a heart of this taking and the extent to which their creative imagination can concoct it into reality; unfortunately, a reality only of the mind. There remains a fine line between what we want and what we need, what we envision and what truly exists, more so in the realm of love than in any other facet of our experience. However, obsessed and unyielding with our preconceived notions of this treasure, the search remains and time continues to await no one: And I’m getting old. Keep me searching for a heart of gold. And I’m getting old.

Keep me searching for a heart of gold.
You keep me searching and I’m growing old.
Keep me searching for a heart of gold
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.

Resisting the need for acknowledgement of truth, one continues ones hunt, weathered by the journeys lacking return of invested sacrifice, but unwavering to the minds promise of loves holy grail. Keep searching one does, willingly ignoring the love which exists already, bypassing the current gleam of believed to be lesser-in-value treasures for the mining of a longed for, more precious in mind metal worthy of appreciating. Keep mining one does, discarding the nickels, the coppers, the silvers, the still worthy but devalued by the majority’s incognizant appraise, for the one believed to contain what we want, what we need, what we so wholeheartedly convince ourselves will finally be enough. But… the search continues and time, staying true to form, awaits no one: And I’m getting old. Keep me searching for a heart of gold. And I’m getting old.

Simply put, a heart of gold does not exist. So easy it is to convenience ourselves that it does, choosing to remain in quest for someone we believe is worthy of our love and who will return that love with the same intensity and style. Remaining delusional to this understanding, we fall for the fairy-tale that someone, somewhere will be exactly what our heart desires, unfortunately turning the search into an outward aim towards someone-else, somewhere-else, ignoring our current love and it’s opportunity for deeper experience which already exists in our lives; a scenario more true now in our world of perceived to be endless options.

Carelessly, we remain in search. Why? Because we have not yet found our heart of gold. Mining wherever we find solace, exposing ourselves to other precious metals, though not of gold, tarnished due to their laxity against the elements, beautiful all the more so given their unique mar, the search continues, the journey thus far overlooked. Why settle for the less valuable while the gold is still out there? Someone-else, somewhere-else, we tell ourselves; that’s why.

We picture this heart of gold waiting for us, wanting to be found as much as our desire to find it, sitting there, only to gleam in response to our presence alone. But, haven’t other metals gleamed before in our presence? This may be true, but not like gold, we convince ourselves, though we have yet to see it.

Neglecting the other metals, we subsequently have chosen to neglect an abundance of affection on the journey, in search for something which does not exist, never truly giving chance to experiencing enduring love. Even if we were to ever find a heart of gold, meaning some attributes align with our version of this, we would find that it is not perfect, for nothing in this life is. Like the other metals, it would be worn, it would be tarnished, and it would carry with it its own unique imperfections, from the beginning never truly possessing the capability of living up to ones expectations of what it should be.

In choosing to search for perfection in love, we have chosen also to not love, for the search will deprive us of the energy needed towards the fostering and growing of what we instead have chosen to neglect. Understanding that a heart of gold does not exist, we can begin to find beauty derived from love in the gleaming of other treasures. Refocusing our outward search for myth inward…towards a love contained in the raw sensations of now …perhaps we can experience and grow along with a love worthy and treasured in its purest form; an imperfect binding of imperfect beings, tarnished, worn and marred, but acknowledged and appreciated.

For other beautifully crafted perspectives on love, pair this with Van Morrison on Love and its Dynamic Journey and Janis Joplin on the Urgency for Love.

Van Morrison on Love and its Dynamic Journey

By Justin Cude

The journey’s longer than

I thought my love.

There’s lots of things

Get in the way.

But every time I think of you

You just steal my heart away.

For a world currently obsessed with instant gratification, a false-sense of the existence of immediate wisdom and the impatience towards authenticity, Van Morrison’s “Steal My Heart Away” reminds us all that the road is longer than we may think, the journey longer than we may sometimes believe; slow down. Simple with his language, Morrison acknowledges the longevity of life (The journey’s longer than I thought my love…), captures its struggles and toil (There’s lots of things get in the way…), and openly succumbs to vulnerability in the company of love (But every time I think of you, you just steal my heart away).

Just like the sunshine after rain

I’ll come.

To be with you will save the day.

‘Cause I know

When I’m with you again

You just steal my heart away.

Like the sunshine after the rain, the returning of an oceans’ wave after retreat, the inhale of breath after exhalation, life is dynamic, love all the more so. Presence with love is vital but this is often learned from times of its absence, innately equivalent to the aforementioned traits of our physical world. Such observations further express the dynamic nature of life and of love; no sunrise will ever look the same, no wave will ever hug the shore as the one before it, and no breath will ever bring about the same sensation of life as its prior. Where there once was, there is no more, but it will return, only different then before.

There is no one way to define love or its presence, for we all feel and express, gain and lose, want and need it in our own unique way. However, “Steal My Heart Away” reminds us of love’s one enduring truth; acceptance. As versed, the journey is longer than we thought; accept and endure. Lots of things get in the way; accept and overcome. One day, someone will steal your heart away, and whether they remain present in your life or not; accept and, most importantly, love.

The reoccurring truth here is you must first accept, then follow that acceptance with action. Moreover, this can be seen and experienced simply by observing the world around you; the physicality of our world is built upon the same substance of which love is. However, in the case of our human experience, the nature of the subsequent action is left to its maker; you. But remember this, to always love, for it is the only way to accept anything in this life. Even if you do not receive the same love in return, which is a hard determination in itself paired with ambiguity and assumption, the importance and the power of love far outweigh the bitterness of its opposite. Think… what would become of the world if the sun never returned after the rain? What for the ocean if it decided never to come back after a waves retreat? What would happen if your lungs refused to fill with air after exhalation? And… what to you if you choose to never love again after its departure?

As the stoics like to put it, ‘Amor Fati’; love of fate; love of one’s fate: love of what happens. If you let it, our world tells you what happens. The sun leaves to return, the ocean pulls away to once again roll in, and the breath leaves us so we can breathe again.

For the sake of expressing this perspective on love in a more musically inclined and contextually relevant fashion, to further quote Van Morrison:

If my heart could do my thinking

And my head begin to feel

I would look upon the world anew

And know whats truly real.

Love is real. Continue to love,

To enjoy this beautifully crafted song, listen here:

Janis Joplin on the Urgency for Love

Towards the end of an innately passionate and deeply sexual live recording of Janis Joplin’s ‘Ball and Chain’, the uniquely beautiful and equally as talented artist reminds us all of the importance of urgency for love within our brief experience we call life. Enjoy…

“And when everybody in the world wants the same damn thing. When everybody in the world who needs the same old thing. When I want to work for your love daddy. When I want to try for your love daddy. I don’t understand… how come you’re gone, man.

I don’t understand why half the world is still crying man, when the other half of the world is still crying too; and I can’t get it together. I mean, if you’ve got a cat for one day, man… say maybe you want a cat for 365 days, right? You ain’t got it for 365 days; you’ve got it for one day… [bctt tweet=”Well I’ll tell you… that one day, better be your life.” username=”cityreadsnyc”] …Because, you know, you can say… you can cry about the other 364, but you’re gonna lose that one day man, and that’s all you got… you gotta call that love; that’s what it is man. If you’ve got it today, you don’t wear it tomorrow; because we don’t need it. Cause’… as a matter of fact… as we discovered on the terrain… tomorrow never happens man; it’s all the same fuckin’ day!

So you gotta… when you wanna hold somebody, you’ve gotta hold’em like its the last minute of your life, baby; you gotta hold it. Cause’ someday some weight is gonna come on your shoulders babe… its gonna feel too heavy, its gonna weigh on ya, its gonna feel just like… a ball and chain.”

For the actual recording, listen here…

To enjoy the full experience of Janis singing “Ball and Chain” at live at Monterey Pop Festival 1967, watch the video below…

For a truly authentic musical experience of the Festivals entirety…click the image below!