It often is very odd how the human mind likes to “work” – I have read many alleged scientific articles on the mind insisting how it is into organizing thoughts in some manner, on how we feel comfortable with symmetry, lines, and categorization, and how everything we do or impose on ourselves – including racism, class, prejudice, and war – is simply nothing than a materialistic projection of our thought patterns.

Intriguing and debatable, until I came across my thick journal that I used to write in. I’ve talked countless times about my many journals before, but this particular one has such a wealth of information it often scares me to the point of me wanting to destroy it. But alas, the writer in me begs to keep it, conjuring up illusions of my future at a wooden vintage typewriter with that journal the sole survival, and proof, of many memories in my life. I opened up the pages of the book to read what I have written in the last week of July during the past decade.

What I found, worried me, only slightly but nevertheless made me wake up to something I have always known; my life is being dictated by thought patterns. Through the gibberish nonsense of my teens it was easy to pick out patterns that occur at roughly the same time every year. The overarching storyline is that I always feel lost regardless of whatever external indications I receive and convince myself of. On the details, there are always the same cycles I go through.

Every period of months, of every year, follow the same pattern. Like the seasons, my life takes a course and my mind dictates how I should be feeling. In several accounts, the same people have been mentioned and it is typically the same annual scenarios. In the winter months, the tales focus on a different group of people and the events share a similar pattern. And so it goes year after year.

In fact, I was looking at an entry a few years back directed at my cousin who shares the same name. As I read it, I felt as though it has been written by someone else and dedicated it to me. It’s the biggest Karma bite I have ever experienced.

What’s different now is that the characters changed and so have their stories, but the arch story is still, to a large degree, the same. It feels as though the only way to predict what’s coming in the next few months is to read about them in my past.

Can the mind really be so powerful as to manifest itself as life?