Self-Awareness vs. Self-Interrogation

It recently dawned on me that there is a somewhat subtle but critical distinction between self-awareness and self-interrogation. I think the meaning of self-awareness is quite well-understood by people; self-interrogation, however, is something perhaps we do not think much about. By self-interrogation I mean a systematic and sincere questioning of our inner workings, particularly with regards to the conflicts raging inside of us. It is substantiated by the processes of self-awareness of course (how can I question my inner self without being aware of its trappings?), but it is much more involved than simply acknowledging one's own faults. Rather, self-interrogation requires a level of candidness that may very well reach a level of cathartic unease. At its heart is the need to be able to unwrap both the nature of our behaviors, thoughts or beliefs and their origin(s), and if necessary to critique ourselves unabashedly, with the ulterior motive of affirmative self-love. The goal is not simply to become ever more self-aware and expert on our own malfeasances (or virtues, for that matter); it is a vehicle by which we can enact real and substantive change, by which we can set out the next steps in the grand plan for our self-development.

I have spent some time the last few days interrogating myself—or more accurately, attempting to devise a method of thorough and bona fide interrogation. While I feel like I have "nailed down" self-awareness (for the better or worse...), self-interrogation is a concept that is well and truly new to me. This is new ground upon which I tread.

Our Voice

There is in each of us a voice, unique in timbre, idiosyncratic in projection. Rarely do others hear this voice clearly—reserved as it is for the quiet times of solitude and pensive introspection. But it is there, in all of us. And while some of us would seek to guard the utterances from this individuated voice, like a precious but secret treasure, it is my belief that deep inside we all just want to be heard and listened to. To find someone who would sit with us for but a moment and simply attend to our words. How could it not be that true understanding of our selves, by others, is predicated on us vocalizing all that is within us, on conveying without judgement or fear the silent but tremulous stirrings of our most vital soul?

Sunset

fire to starve my soul
water to stunt my growth
this how I slowly dissolve

the storms rage on inside
mountains tremble at my cries
my blood seeps into wells of time

flesh becomes so ephemeral
loss of control more continual
here I go into this black hole

crowned a crown of self-doubt
my mind will stride about
till twilight takes me out

M.M.

"I lay my well-worn bones"

I lay my well-worn bones upon this bed of aether,
on the turbulent high seas of dream. The energy of life
flitting and darting through me as a bird of prey
on the hunt. A dynamic inside my psyche that
plays out like the most absurd psychodrama.
Self-awareness was gifted me—cursed me—
with the instruction manual carelessly misplaced.
I find myself in a cycle of regressive infantilization,
speaking to the disfigurements in my soul. And
what they have to say is but banal repetitions.
My speech to the external world, to proximal
beings, is twisted by the complexes of my own
insecurities. The Promethean Man is nowhere to be
found; dallying somewhere down by the hollow.
Word and action, thought and intention—imbued
with fractured colors that need reassembly.

M.M.

"We are bloodied"

We are bloodied but we are unbowed
They ask us why?
Because we see the light of every new day!

We stand in hell, and remain unscathed
They ask us how?
Because we are fallen but full of grace!

We sometimes do wrong but we are good
They ask us how can that be?
Because our sins do not speak for us!

We lose but we come back again
They ask us how can we?
Because we are not dead yet!

M.M.

Depression (Iteration 6)

The slow slithering of time makes the mountain
on my chest ever more ponderous. The voice,
from an unseen villain, blares so madly; here,
in the perpetual unlight. Perception has become
a wicked scattering of insipid, enervating color.
And I have vaulted myself from one end of hell to
another. Speaking to all the disfigurements I find
in my soul. Dancing carelessly to the pipe and drum
of whiskey-fueled ravings. I set the world to wrongs.
I would offer my poisoned blood as oblation to the
redemptive ground of the blessèd empyrean—but
my blood is not even worth the sorrow it sustains.
For at the dying of the day, it is with effaced doubt that
I see that salvation is a fruit far too bitter for me.

M.M.

"Through long bleak winter night"

Through long bleak winter night
And down the old forgotten road
To where we lay buried, and forgotten

The years, they were stolen from us
And our lives reduced to lies
The times we spent enticing death
The hate we harvested in our souls
Drew us too close to the edge, to the end

The twilight took us, under the earth
To tombs of our own flesh and our bone
Damnation found us too soon—too soon

Death is an unending darkling dream
And these graves have no measure

M.M.

Prayer

I pray to feel fully again
Grace me with the fire of passion
again
I once saw in the sky
the red dragons of ages long forgotten
Give me sight to see them again
Lost myself somewhere in the void
Left my heart somewhere on the wayside
I beseech Thee to allow me
to delve once more into my own mind
without perturbation
or hesitation
For there in the sky is mine
Grant me the strength
to love truthfully, precipitously
To live, again, freely
O Gloria!
I pray to Thee, my Lord Soul
I pray to just feel something good again

M.M.

"What fire"

What fire? what heart? what burns in the dark?

All fire! all heart! I burn so brightly in my dark!

What gold? what worth? what stars in the sky?

My gold! my worth! my stars in my sky!

What love? what will? what drives you on?

Her love! my will! I am driven madly on and on!

M.M.

This Bastard Love

This bastard love
in me
Runs round like a headless chicken
No sense
No control
Just spins around like a
perpetual
top, defying the laws of physics and
reason
I speak to it telling it to
please kindly cease and desist
but it looks at me with a
clueless expression
and continues to
run round
like a headless chicken

M.M.