Is it motivation or is it holding you back? On pain, motivation, and some good and evil in the mix.

He was brow-beating himself, almost even taken to pistol-whipping his own self, all over past mistakes and missed opportunities--chances he threw in the dumper.  Finally, in abject fatigue, numbed by that, he began to sing "Let It Be".  He let it just be, as it was, without clarification, quantification, or any kind of qualification, just sitting, in its own sour putrefying dust cloud.

It was Captain James Tiberius Kirk that said he would be know good as a person if some telepath magically removed his past, his source of emotional pain; he would be no good because that stuff drove him, pushed him to succeed in the more advanced portion of his life.  "I need my pain", he said.

And then he successfully completed a mission, facing down an ultra-powerful entity in what may have been the center of the universe.

With his pain.

It was stuntifying at all, but a source of energy and positive motivation, unlike some who sit at the television hating the world; or by that token, sit at the world, and hate the television, like Laura and Shawn-baun, dejectedly, but energetically pushing their own Pullman car ever forward into a dark environ that they also already dislike, their own self-made futures, the prognostication that they themselves scrawled on themselves like Pagan tattoos.

Conversely, so many would rather give themselves electrical shocks than sit with their own thoughts; myself, iced coffee in hand, welcome the opportunity so oft, not to electrocute myself, but to indulge a thought.

Prince Prospero, looking remarkably like Vincent Price, had turned away from his own thoughts and sought after something much more, something of some Creator entity.  He abducted a peasant girl, and the men closest to her in life, and Prince Prospero watched her in the bathtub, musing that "she had never known sin" and he promised his glaring half-wit counterparts that he would show the girl some sin, in fact, and it was a horror thing, not with chainsaws and rusted blades, or nefarious ghosts, but just a local dignitary of a bad turn of mind, seeking to corrupt a innocent young woman, who also happened to be gorgeous.

His evil thoughts and intentions were as much the sharp knife of the unstoppable keiler that would come for the girl; his own cold fingers etched a promise of something that would not be as easy as just being killed.

So, on a dual track, philosophically, he looked into things, some evil, some..... something of touching the Creator.  And he would elapse his own course, either discovering something of a nefariously indulgent spiritualism, or dying with teeth bared after having had a life of some rather expensive dissipations with the niceties of others being so far corrupted and turned into pure victimhood.

"It was a two-tiered agenda".

It was just the old, eins zwei, polit, zei, football with plenty of balls, but no feet to speak of, beggars at the table, and the subsequent rooms, ended by the black room into which precious few were admitted, where the clock stood on midnight.  Purple, Yellow, Orange.....  Red for the little peasant girl and Consumption, Consumption coming to have a go at all who had not proper sanitation and so forth, the daemon Tuberculosis hanging like a death fog over all, and as was said, and encapsulated from the short story to the Roger Corman film, "the Red Death held sway over all".

My question: should your life story be that you had a rough time, that held on so many years?  Should an early pockmark be the defining moment?  Or are those defining moments yet to come?  If you held the past, is it helping at all, or does it need to be, just like some burning wreckage, let adrift on its own, without taking down the entire ship of spirit?

Can we philosophically look into things, the natural things or even the spiritual things, while, on that dual-track, also divest into seeking the Creator?