...they thwart me. I thwart me. So very good at it. Here am I, in the midst of my favorite month and the beginning of my favorite season; I am guaranteed restlessness; respite from the heat; a short but gentle forgiveness of my joints; insight, enlightenment, clarity...
...or so I hope. The older I get, the farther away from certainty I get. The one thing I am sure of is that I hate living a surface life, and I hate having to shut away so much of the real Self. I get tired of carrying the Captain's happiness and mine at the same time. I get tired of human courtesy, human contact. I have faith in the healing properties of solitude and autumn. I have little faith in the capacity of people to comfort me at this point on the compass.
I dream of quiet evenings spent in productivity and efficiency. I dream of solitary travel, as painful as it would be. I dream of being healthy. I dream of moss-grown brick courtyards full of the sounds of water and the street, being Home, knowing that I was in the arms of Home. But even that hope dies as the years pass. It's not so much hopelessness, really, as it is practicality - the knowledge that a lifetime in the practice of learning to overcome most desires - since desire breeds pain - would somehow lead to a karmic outcome: the unfulfillment of one of the most potent desires of my being. It was as though it were enough that I should find my marital soulmate; that I should find my friend soulmates. That I should be able to keep my mother and father and siblings, and see my siblings happily married. More than that? I should not expect.
And perhaps I am wrong to expect more. After all, an apprenticeship to will, to discipline has its price. I should take my treasures and be content. I have accepted that peace is beyond my reach. I have accepted that restless is woven into the fabric of my being and follows the same paths and roads that my blood and breath follow. I accept that. I...just haven't learned to live with that yet. And some days it's harder than others.
9.29.2009
...might help to smooth the unattractive truth...
....but the suburbs have no charms to soothe the restless dreams of youth...
Autumn morning - a real autumn morning. Would that it would be a real autumn day, but small steps, small victories here in the hothouse of the South; start with a genuine autumn morning, and soon the mornings will stretch their cold, bright blessing across the rest of the day, into the night. Oh, I crave the autumn cold - it is gentle to the joints. It is not so gentle to the lungs, but again: small steps, small victories, here in the landscape of my flesh, where dreams of rageless bones and muscles sprout like vines and blossom like cherry trees.
Tonight: to the Road, to the southern part of the state, deeper into the hothouse, in the dark. But it's okay: though I am not usually keen on night-time driving, I am anxious to see my aunt and her family, and it will be better this way. The alternative - fours of sleep, then rising at 3am to be on the road at 4am - is undesirable in all ways and fashions.
Were that I was going alone. But no: must be gracious, must be patient - doing a colleague a favor. Perhaps the night-time sky will be enough to settle her down, to calm her tongue and my nerves. She has yet to understand that outside of work, in the private spaces, I tend to silence. Perhaps she will learn this time. Or perhaps she will sleep this time, and there will be only the surrounding night, a little light music, and me with my thoughts.
The key to survival: the surrounding night, a little light music, and some form of mental entertainment, whether book or good movie or challenging video game or commerce with friends. These are the things that can put the spirit at ease for a little while.
Autumn morning - a real autumn morning. Would that it would be a real autumn day, but small steps, small victories here in the hothouse of the South; start with a genuine autumn morning, and soon the mornings will stretch their cold, bright blessing across the rest of the day, into the night. Oh, I crave the autumn cold - it is gentle to the joints. It is not so gentle to the lungs, but again: small steps, small victories, here in the landscape of my flesh, where dreams of rageless bones and muscles sprout like vines and blossom like cherry trees.
Tonight: to the Road, to the southern part of the state, deeper into the hothouse, in the dark. But it's okay: though I am not usually keen on night-time driving, I am anxious to see my aunt and her family, and it will be better this way. The alternative - fours of sleep, then rising at 3am to be on the road at 4am - is undesirable in all ways and fashions.
Were that I was going alone. But no: must be gracious, must be patient - doing a colleague a favor. Perhaps the night-time sky will be enough to settle her down, to calm her tongue and my nerves. She has yet to understand that outside of work, in the private spaces, I tend to silence. Perhaps she will learn this time. Or perhaps she will sleep this time, and there will be only the surrounding night, a little light music, and me with my thoughts.
The key to survival: the surrounding night, a little light music, and some form of mental entertainment, whether book or good movie or challenging video game or commerce with friends. These are the things that can put the spirit at ease for a little while.
9.14.2009
...even through the darkest phase...
...someone marches brave here beneath my skin...
...has always been...
I told a very good friend this weekend that sometimes I am afraid that the things people like best about me are the things I hate the most, are the things related to mania and are therefore more than just a little self-destructive and ridiculous. It's the truth; but I won't look close enough to figure out which is what, mainly because it's too scary to think that were I finally to understand those things and manage them, "control" them as it were, then I wouldn't be nearly as approachable, or friends might find me less comforting or understandable...
...on the other hand, my solitude would increase, and the balm that is to my soul would be indescribable...of course, until the loneliness became too great, and I made another stupid mistake in pursuit of trying to relieve that great and ignorant loneliness. It knows itself not well enough and blinds the heart to intelligence and reliability, to endurance and discernment. Sometimes - not all the time, and not in all people, and not in all ways - but sometimes, loneliness is a slut, empty and hungry and forever looking for fulfillment in others, the very place it is least likely to find relief...
This morning the bottom has fallen out of the sky, and it's raining; the lightning and thunder tormented the cats all night long, which in turn kept us up most of the night. Even the sleeping pill was helpless in the face of natural histrionics and distressed cats. It shouldn't have been; it's a hypnotic, for God's sake: WORK. Otherwise, my secret: sleeplessnes: will increase, will stretch and consume me, and the madness, which seems so close lately, will win. I am not interested madness except in a manic sense, or a distant, untouchably cosmic and universal sense - the intuitive language of the oracle, or the blood-wired wisdom of time older than we know. Madness at the individual, human level is a dark and terrible thing which I have seen before and am uninterested in again...
...but it hums against my brain, hums against my heart, and whispers its proximity, threatens and cajoles, telling me all manner of things, some of which are no doubt lies, some of which are not doubt truth. It's hard to tell....
...Maybe a great magnet pulls
All souls towards truth...
...has always been...
I told a very good friend this weekend that sometimes I am afraid that the things people like best about me are the things I hate the most, are the things related to mania and are therefore more than just a little self-destructive and ridiculous. It's the truth; but I won't look close enough to figure out which is what, mainly because it's too scary to think that were I finally to understand those things and manage them, "control" them as it were, then I wouldn't be nearly as approachable, or friends might find me less comforting or understandable...
...on the other hand, my solitude would increase, and the balm that is to my soul would be indescribable...of course, until the loneliness became too great, and I made another stupid mistake in pursuit of trying to relieve that great and ignorant loneliness. It knows itself not well enough and blinds the heart to intelligence and reliability, to endurance and discernment. Sometimes - not all the time, and not in all people, and not in all ways - but sometimes, loneliness is a slut, empty and hungry and forever looking for fulfillment in others, the very place it is least likely to find relief...
This morning the bottom has fallen out of the sky, and it's raining; the lightning and thunder tormented the cats all night long, which in turn kept us up most of the night. Even the sleeping pill was helpless in the face of natural histrionics and distressed cats. It shouldn't have been; it's a hypnotic, for God's sake: WORK. Otherwise, my secret: sleeplessnes: will increase, will stretch and consume me, and the madness, which seems so close lately, will win. I am not interested madness except in a manic sense, or a distant, untouchably cosmic and universal sense - the intuitive language of the oracle, or the blood-wired wisdom of time older than we know. Madness at the individual, human level is a dark and terrible thing which I have seen before and am uninterested in again...
...but it hums against my brain, hums against my heart, and whispers its proximity, threatens and cajoles, telling me all manner of things, some of which are no doubt lies, some of which are not doubt truth. It's hard to tell....
...Maybe a great magnet pulls
All souls towards truth...
9.01.2009
...with what's to transpire...
Sometimes I think that my fibromyalgia is actually a physical manifestation of my soul: burning, deep-seated, restless, unpredictable, painful, solitary. That doesn't help me swallow the fact, though; it makes me wish - harder than ever, more fervently than I did in the beginning - that I could find a way to make the pain an ally, to make it work with instead of against.
I'm having one of those days: nothing is the way I need it to be, or want it to be. I need it to be autumn already; I need it to be Thursday. I want a job to be available for me in New Orleans. I want to move to New Orleans; I taste her keenly today, on the tip of my tongue, on the edge of my thoughts. I am grateful to have a job in this state in this economic environment; don't get me wrong. But I'm tired of being here; tired of being anywhere but Home.
...I'm just tired and bored with myself...
...I wanna change my clothes my hair my face...
It's true, oh so true: it's not that I hate myself (I don't, most of the time), I'm just ready for a change; the current me is dissatisfied and dissatisfying. Not that I think a "new" me would be better - it would just be different, and that would be a change, and that helpless, vague feeling of misplacement would be assuaged.
It's difficult to describe, this feeling of misplacement, this hunger in the bones, this...unease in one's own skin and one's own life. How do you solve a problem you don't know the numbers or variables for?
I'm having one of those days: nothing is the way I need it to be, or want it to be. I need it to be autumn already; I need it to be Thursday. I want a job to be available for me in New Orleans. I want to move to New Orleans; I taste her keenly today, on the tip of my tongue, on the edge of my thoughts. I am grateful to have a job in this state in this economic environment; don't get me wrong. But I'm tired of being here; tired of being anywhere but Home.
...I'm just tired and bored with myself...
...I wanna change my clothes my hair my face...
It's true, oh so true: it's not that I hate myself (I don't, most of the time), I'm just ready for a change; the current me is dissatisfied and dissatisfying. Not that I think a "new" me would be better - it would just be different, and that would be a change, and that helpless, vague feeling of misplacement would be assuaged.
It's difficult to describe, this feeling of misplacement, this hunger in the bones, this...unease in one's own skin and one's own life. How do you solve a problem you don't know the numbers or variables for?
8.26.2009
....tell me how, baby...
....for a night, you took me by surprise...
Restlessness makes for fickle tastes. I'm excited about dyeing my hair tonight for two reasons: (1) it'll be hella cheaper than paying for my usual hairstylist to do it, and (2) it's a change. I'm ready, hungry for change: ready for the seasons to change, ready for my hair to change (I've decided to grow it out), ready for different things.
My brother's wedding is next weekend; after he gets married, I can go get my orbital piercing and start seriously pondering tattoos. For our anniversary, the husband and I have decided to get coordinating tattoos. I'm having second thoughts about it because the tats we've picked are rather large; I keep telling myself we don't have to go full-size with them, and I hope the husband agrees. One of the reasons I haven't gotten a tattoo before now is that I've had a hard time committing myself to something so permanent. Piercings heal up - not that I plan to get rid of any of my 12 ear piercings any time soon. I'd love to get a lip piercing or a nose stud, but I think the fam would really freak. Not that I care what they think, per se: I just prefer not to flaunt my tastes in their faces, know what I mean? I'm not ashamed; I just respect my family and their beliefs and personal opinions.
As soon as the wedding is over, too, I plan to do something drastic with my hair color, too. Not sure what yet, but I need to; something dramatic must be done - I need the change desperately. Autumn is yet weeks away, and I don't think my soul can wait that long for a dramatic change. I must affect such a change.
...that is why I woke and cried out...
Restlessness makes for fickle tastes. I'm excited about dyeing my hair tonight for two reasons: (1) it'll be hella cheaper than paying for my usual hairstylist to do it, and (2) it's a change. I'm ready, hungry for change: ready for the seasons to change, ready for my hair to change (I've decided to grow it out), ready for different things.
My brother's wedding is next weekend; after he gets married, I can go get my orbital piercing and start seriously pondering tattoos. For our anniversary, the husband and I have decided to get coordinating tattoos. I'm having second thoughts about it because the tats we've picked are rather large; I keep telling myself we don't have to go full-size with them, and I hope the husband agrees. One of the reasons I haven't gotten a tattoo before now is that I've had a hard time committing myself to something so permanent. Piercings heal up - not that I plan to get rid of any of my 12 ear piercings any time soon. I'd love to get a lip piercing or a nose stud, but I think the fam would really freak. Not that I care what they think, per se: I just prefer not to flaunt my tastes in their faces, know what I mean? I'm not ashamed; I just respect my family and their beliefs and personal opinions.
As soon as the wedding is over, too, I plan to do something drastic with my hair color, too. Not sure what yet, but I need to; something dramatic must be done - I need the change desperately. Autumn is yet weeks away, and I don't think my soul can wait that long for a dramatic change. I must affect such a change.
...that is why I woke and cried out...
8.17.2009
...I believed I could...
...I'm just the same but brand new...
There are pains in my shoulders this morning, pain in my back...it's a warm lightning-like pain, a pain that feels like water bubbling and less like stabbing. It makes my eyes want to water, but there's not a lot of moisture in my body right now because of my allergy meds.
I'm viciously tired - exhausted, really, is a better word. I know I'm reaching critical mass as far as sleep deprivation goes. It's like having a secret, this kind of sleeplessness and exhaustion.
There's a spark, a little warm kernel of burning ambition in me today, a desire to accomplish much and to be productive. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, and the mind unfocused.
....the people in the street had overtaken you...
Despite the pain threading itself through me this morning, and the secret that is sleeplessness, there's an odd and unsettling joysong humming in the center of me, a kind of madness steeped in the Spiritus Mundi. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. Perhaps secrets are better than I thought.
There are pains in my shoulders this morning, pain in my back...it's a warm lightning-like pain, a pain that feels like water bubbling and less like stabbing. It makes my eyes want to water, but there's not a lot of moisture in my body right now because of my allergy meds.
I'm viciously tired - exhausted, really, is a better word. I know I'm reaching critical mass as far as sleep deprivation goes. It's like having a secret, this kind of sleeplessness and exhaustion.
There's a spark, a little warm kernel of burning ambition in me today, a desire to accomplish much and to be productive. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, and the mind unfocused.
....the people in the street had overtaken you...
Despite the pain threading itself through me this morning, and the secret that is sleeplessness, there's an odd and unsettling joysong humming in the center of me, a kind of madness steeped in the Spiritus Mundi. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. Perhaps secrets are better than I thought.
7.28.2009
...we wake up a few times...
....to speak of dreams that made it hard to sleep....
It can't be real, this feeling, that the world is coming to an end, that all I know is folding inward, collapsing inward. I feel deceptively full, and surprisingly empty. The will disappears; the body rebels. Hope seems frozen and waning; desperation seems vital and waxing.
...are you surprised that I ain't ordinary?...
I don't know what to do. This life ain't workin' right now; maybe it just doesn't work at all anymore. I don't know. I'm...tired. Thwarted. Visionary. Angry. Restless. Not necessarily for travel; these bones have given up already - Louisiana to Mississippi to Maryland to New York and back again, then Monroe to Sulphur. Coming soon: Louisiana to Mississippi, two weekends in a row.
I shouldn't complain; but it's all too heavy all of a sudden, and I don't know what to do.
It can't be real, this feeling, that the world is coming to an end, that all I know is folding inward, collapsing inward. I feel deceptively full, and surprisingly empty. The will disappears; the body rebels. Hope seems frozen and waning; desperation seems vital and waxing.
...are you surprised that I ain't ordinary?...
I don't know what to do. This life ain't workin' right now; maybe it just doesn't work at all anymore. I don't know. I'm...tired. Thwarted. Visionary. Angry. Restless. Not necessarily for travel; these bones have given up already - Louisiana to Mississippi to Maryland to New York and back again, then Monroe to Sulphur. Coming soon: Louisiana to Mississippi, two weekends in a row.
I shouldn't complain; but it's all too heavy all of a sudden, and I don't know what to do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)