Love Me Not & Love Me as I Am

Rachel Spiro

Creatio Ex Nihilo

This is me forcing the words to emerge from the abyss of silence. It is truly a creatio ex nihilo, for this flesh is a nothingness that has no business conjuring up such infinitesimally subtle things as these fossilized intimations. There is no waywardness; only is, is not, and delusion. Then how to account for the deliberations of a misguidedly moral soul? How to account for the penetration of fiction into fact or fact into fiction, for a moment, before withdrawing back into necessarily appropriate positions? How to account for regret, repentance? If we are situated exclusively within a forward-forging vehicle, then how could one possibly explain the circuitous orbiting that inevitably arises, or the constant backward glances that chain one to was?

No easy or simple answer comes to the fore. The human animal seeks to forget what does not predominately help it to persist. But still a force from the depths of being, like tectonic plates underneath the ocean floor, inconspicuously sends forth waves that crash violently upon the shores of consciousness. Though one’s life or thoughts may seem banal and ill-prompted, still, they represent the outermost manifestations of legitimate, profound shifts in nature. Everything concomitantly influences everything else, and thus the creative instinct in man is the most powerful tool he possesses and that which unassumingly has the most wide-reaching influence on his world and that of those he comes into contact with.

This writing is the attempt to awaken my own consciousness and with that newfound alertness awaken others’ consciousnesses as well. So, it is like an alarm clock in order to usher in an abrupt end to spiritual sleep, to nervous deadness. Actually, it is less like the alarm clock itself and more like the search for the best tune with which to equip said alarm clock. Something not so abrasive as to set the person off hating wakefulness altogether and not so pleasing as to lull one into a mindless appreciation, but rather a stimulating call to mental arms, if you’ll excuse the unsavory, borderline oxymoronic phrase. Now is the time for action; this life, you. There is no room for stalling, halting, or dragging feet when every meaningful endeavor requires so much, and we endowed with so little.