Rantings of a Weedhead: The Plight of an Idealist

By S.B.

Did you ever one day wake up and realise that life, and that is to say "living" completely lacks meaning? You look about you and everything that there is to work for, and everything that there is to strive for, is not only entirely meaningless, but would slowly consume your soul? Because the value that is placed on these things far exceeds its true value, and the effort required to attain them therefore would find you withering away from your failure to perform, or losing yourself gradually in your desire to excel. When the ideal is but a dream, bordering on fairy tale, would you rather:
a) Go to bed and keep dreaming
b) Lose yourself in reality, or
c) Charge ahead regardless?
Jamaicans have a saying when taking tests, "When in doubt, choose C."
This is something of a story of one idealistic weedhead, getting from the point of no meaning, to tasting for real the ideal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329596030

S.B.

Simple Being, middle name Creative. Writer and artist with a penchant for stories involving Female Domination, Hypnosis and Mind Control. My thoughts are my own except when they're not.

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Rantings of a Weedhead: The Plight of an Idealist

Rantings of a Weedhead: The Plight of an Idealist

S. S. B

© 2015. S. S. B. All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-329-59532-3

Specially dedicated…

To Robert Nesta Marley

To Marcus Mosiah Garvey, Jr

To all my ancestors who cried, DID fight, and died before me, so that I could be free.

And to Wasalu Jaco for his music, and for staying real for me.

In acknowledgement of…

Chad and Nishka told me to give acknowledgements to God. So Nishka, Chad, here's to you and your God, and mine, and all gods throughout every land and time.

And to all the ghetto yutes; you deserve better than you got, but killing each other, killing anyone, will not change that. Believe, like I do, that you are better than that.

By way of introduction…

There persists the question, What is the meaning of life? In complete ignorance of the accepted as true rule that one cannot answer a question with a question (and by that I mean that I am ignoring it), I am compelled to respond, Need there be a meaning?

If you ask me (which I am sure someone has), the giving of a meaning to life by man takes from, rather than adds to it. Live; that is all need be.

You want, you have; you fear, you run. Life, really, is that simple. It cannot be stated more clearly nor more articulately: Life is for living.

And isn't it funny how you can only run, for so long, from life?

Living, truly and completely, is about so much more than we realise. But we realise. We try to run away or run around or try, even, to escape ourselves. It is not merely impossible, but also incredibly stupid.

I forgot where I was going with this, but it is almost absolutely insane the lessons the TV Show, Sons of Anarchy, teaches. It is – I find it – absolutely amazing how impactful it is – or I suppose, can be.

Here we find these thugs, common hoodlums, low–lives some would call them before not giving them the time of day. On sight they are branded as clearly as the tattoos that mark their skins. I loved it instantly, because these are people with personality and real struggles (and isn't it great that I am able to look in on it!), plus it was incredibly interesting!

A man finds himself in the middle of a world he wants no part of, but must play a role in. As he grows and develops, we see really, what a man finds important in life:

– Family

– Friendship

– Honour and respect

– Justice

– Truth

– His children

You learn – I learn – that there are just some things you cannot explain. There are words, but how can ink on a page – or skin – express – truly – feeling? A man must take action. And when a man has sinned against humanity, he must do so accepting the price he must pay. And the means shall, in the end, be justified in the paying.

There becomes the need to ask ourselves: Is this really – REALLY – what being human is all about? Fighting, killing each other, fighting against ourselves…?

Where is the humanity in that?

There are just some things that are just strange.

And that just –[not only did]– came out of nowhere, but –[I also]– have no idea what it is – as was the intention – that I had meant, initially, to write down. Can it actually be that my subconscious slips in sometimes and takes control? What's up with that? But anyhow, the value of life is directly equate–able to the value of art. Well, wasn't that strangely odd. Yes, it was.

And I say now, I only speak truth and all I say is true. Believe or do not, it is up to you.

Idealism

What is it, and what is an idealist? People have different views on this I'm sure, as with everything. Many people seem to believe that an idealist is a seeker of fairy tales, living with their heads in clouds, refusing to take a good stock of reality. Many other people feel, simply, that idealists are stupid. Like… perpetually sweet, innocent kids. Many people actually look down on idealists, never really taking them seriously.

On many points, I can't really say that any of the different views are wrong, because there are many kinds of idealists. There's the philosophical kind, there's the child–like innocent kind, there's the blind optimistic kind, and then you have the kind like me.

The philosophical idealist feels that the mind and the mental realm trumps the body and the physical, and so they might completely disregard certain aspects of the physical world that others view as important. They might completely or mostly live in their heads, only focusing on developing their inner selves and not caring much about the outside world beyond what they are able to mentally manipulate.

The child–like innocent kind are more carefree and maybe happy–go–lucky. No matter what happens, they come out of it with a sparkly smile and a front row view of the cloud's silver lining. No matter how dark it gets, they can always see it, and somehow, if even for a minute, they can get you to see it too, reflected in their pure, innocent eyes. These are my favourites.