In my present emotional, spiritual and intellectual state, and my desire to write of it, I wonder how much I can actually achieve with written words. How much can I truly convey of how I feel, of personal, abstract experiences that have so strongly stirred me, of pain, of beauty, of utter frustration and hopelessness, of stubbornness about what is good and what is not, of feeling alien?

There are many resonating and weighted “feeling” words that move through the air with great force and noticeably attach themselves to or absorb into whatever they land on; words that can be tasted and felt like “hopeless,” “alienated,” “confused,” “apathetic,” “disgusted,” along with some of their respective counterparts such as, “hopeful,” passionate,” “delighted.” All of these words are effective at conveying intangible, emotional states of being so long as the words are properly understood and the reader has some reference to what those things feel like. But that is still going to largely involve individual interpretation, which might miss the point, and in dealing with such weighty emotions, is it even possible to accurately share what the intensity of the experience of those feelings is like? Sure, depending on how resourceful I am with words, I could express my feelings very well in a way that would probably be quite moving and be at least loosely relatable to many other’s feelings producing a strong, momentary experience. But mere expression to simply be casually observed for a brief moment doesn’t always feel like enough. It is not enough to simply write about how frustrated I may feel and why. At times I have feelings that are so intense, so powerful, so overwhelming they seem to cry out for a physical response, for action and for transmission. And I have to believe that such feelings, whatever produces them, are not unique to me, but that everyone has the capacity to feel them, and perhaps they should feel them and often do. Perhaps it is the actual stirring of the soul, a soul, which I fear lies quite dormant much of the time, lost in the speed of the modern world. I know I cannot be the only silently frustrated and disillusioned product of my culture that has come to feel he cannot take it anymore. But are words alone enough to convey such a feeling and experience that might wake and stir others in a similar way? I want to believe they are in some way.

But I also have come to identify with Herman Hesse’s character, Siddhartha, who said, “Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.” Siddhartha left all doctrines and teachers behind because he didn’t think them able to communicate what comes from personal experience. As he said to the Buddha, “To nobody…can you communicate in words and teachings what happened to you in the hour of your enlightenment.”

When Siddhartha decided to walk along his own path he felt utterly alone and alien, belonging to no one, no way of life. But then something amazing happened as a result. He was awakened. He was suddenly able to see the natural world around him with new, fresh eyes, as if for the first time, to see its beauty and the way in which he was a part of it and it a part of him. He had been, as many of us are, a victim of religion that made him distrustful of the immediate, of beauty, of the senses, of fully enjoying worthwhile things simply for the sake of them, of simply being and experiencing. We are not only victims of religion in this way, but also of industry and marketing that continually distract us from and deaden us to the natural, the abstract, and actually thinking about, feeling and accepting whatever experience may bring; religion, industry and marketing that slowly and necessarily tarnish most everything that is intrinsically beautiful; that demand art, expression and experience be justified, explained, commodified and, therefore, deprived of their breath.

But it does not have to be that way, does it? I know I have felt what is beyond that and have been able to shrug off the guilt and distrust over my own nature and the natural placed upon me by religious and consumer culture. I have felt what Siddhartha felt in my own solitude. In those times, even in my intense anger at much of what society has wrought, I have, in contrast, been able to see clearly things that are so beautiful they are beyond my capacity for expression, and simply for what they are and that they are. Is there significant subjectivity to that? Probably, but I think it is safe to say such things, and proper experience of them, are generally not found in what is easy, in what is mass-produced and marketed the most, what is at the top of the charts or filling up prime time TV; what is pushed into our eyes and ears daily as a false need, the latest thing.

I have felt this so strongly that I want to somehow recreate the feeling so that others can feel it too; feel the anger I have felt and the intense need for fundamental changes in what we consider to be “living” as well as the inexpressible joy I have felt in the intangible experience of witnessing what sometimes seems like otherworldly beauty, but what perhaps could and should be what is worldly if we would only question our thinking and assumptions; our very lifestyles and what we value; this beauty that can have the power to wake us for brief moments from the numbing dream of the consuming modern life.

But perhaps Siddhartha was right and this cannot be communicated. He also said, “…it… seems right that what is of value and wisdom to one man seems nonsense to another. “ Perhaps I cannot accurately communicate what I feel, and I should resist all temptation to think I have come to right the way of thinking and not just another way of thinking among many. Perhaps the key is for everyone to seek and experience this for themselves rather than trying to latch on to other’s experiences, tradition, social movements, or accepting the assumptions and conclusions that have already been made for them. Perhaps Hesse was trying to communicate this by ironically pointing out the limitations of communication as part of the problem. Perhaps all of us must seek individually to find, and that is what almost everything in the commercial world is trying to prevent us from really doing by providing us with distracting answers, solutions and products for practically everything, drowning the world and choking the spirit. Maybe the only way to truly change or remake the world is not through politics, protest, or a pastor’s sermon but through each individual’s own personal awakening that comes from being willing to seek and question everything that has been premade for them, and the most we can do toward that is point others in this possible new direction.