There is no need looking for a good place to begin because there isn’t one. Yawn. Suddenly everything is much darker then it was an hour ago. And why ? is it just the sky or is it also that my soul fears this writing. And why ? instantly my breath accelerates. There is nothing dangerous about these words or these pages so why ? ability to be in the I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Have that be okay. Have whatever comes out be okay. I stop. I stop myself. I interrupt the flow by trying to think about the next thing. The best thing. The most perfect exact words. And lists. Lists of things I wish for. Lists of thing I will do . I know the answers aren’t there. I know action is the only place where this action. And stressed is desserts spelled backwards. Said Rob Brezsny.
Have I lost all desire to share in writing ? Often when I am not at the desk, I can feel the warmth, the glow, the desire inside for putting down words, for the dialogue that will come out and surprise me. The questions I will ask that I didn’t even know I had. Morning always seems so promising and as the day goes by, my expectations get higher and my will fades. I cannot fall into that. It doesn’t have to be that way. Judging these pages before I am even done with them. There is the problem. And yet I feel this warmth inside, this satisfaction that comes with just the putting down of words and thoughts. The allowing of fingers. The tapping of keys. I feel like I repeat myself so much. Same themes. Same structure. Judging. Judging. Judging. You know what it’s like. Who am I talking to. I don’t know. The you. The universal you. The universal you as opposed to the universal we. We is me ,myself and I. And now I am speaking without really thinking and the song is annoying, but I’d rather listen to it then skip it.
I just stopped again. What happens when I stop. I stop and all seems to go still. My intellect almost stops functioning and most likely I stop breathing. Hence the yawning. Some days are going to be like this. Some days are going to be just work. and as long as I commit to the idea that in order to do I have to feel, nothing will get done. So I must do , regardless of feeling and yet still allow myself to feel. Even the numb. I shun the numb because numb is a place where I have lived for a long time. Only to feel when I loved or lusted. Only to feel when I was doing things disconnected from the body. split. I was split for a long time. In two. Entities. A young one. And an old one. A scared one and a courageous one. Always this search for wholeness. Always this desire to be one. Perhaps it is always the journey. Perhaps the journey is always to wholeness. I feel you yawning. I feel you trying to get air. And I will not stop. I honor the fact that you cannot breathe. That you could not breathe. That you could not let yourself feel and live inside your body. I honor it and also I release you from your pain. I release you from the pressure to be good. The pressure to do it perfectly. The pressure to be a certain way in order to be loved. The pressure to get certain things done in order to feel worthy. None of it means anything. It is all ego. It is all the wounded self continuing to believe in its healing instead of accepting the wound. One must accept what is. the wound is there. The wound will not go away. It is possible to heal the self that believes it is wounded. But the wound itself will always be there. Acceptance. Of it. Acceptance that all of it is a part of me. A part of the wholeness that is me. I seem to loop and loop and loop back around. I want out of this same loop, these same thoughts, this same fears. And there is the mistake : to want out. There is the rub. Because to want out of something is to reject what is. what is right now. Why do I want out ? I want out because I want new thoughts, new ways . this means I am judging the self. I am judging what I am thinking. I am hearing it as all the same things, instead of listening for what is new. Inside of me. What is striving. What is alive and well. So much of it. why do I persist in finding despair where there is none. Comfort . the comfort of misery. Not knowing what do you with complete access to everything. Not knowing what to want. Where to start. What to ask for. How to move my body. next to yours. How to sit and touch you for hours without fearing, without having to catch my breath. Looking in your eyes and breathing fully. Touching you and breathing fully. Your fingers on my face. Breathing fully. Tears are so close right now and why. Why is there pain in speaking about the things that feel good. In honoring the things that feel good. Good isn’t bad. And yet that is the rule I made a long time ago. That anything pleasurable surely is bad. That anything I want is harmful. That anything I say could be dangerous. This isn’t me. This is me as the child. The child with limited access and the child I cannot hold and comfort in reality. Though spiritually I can journey back and be with what is. I can go back and reinvent the thoughts . I can go back and allow myself to feel what was not felt. Not to dwell. But to honor. To give myself that. To reclaim these actions and words. No. No. No. Words that I have needed to say. And Yes. Yes. Yes. For there is value in that. For yes isn’t wrong. And it was not wrong at the time to say yes, or rather to say nothing, which means yes and to feel no with the whole core of my body and soul. And yes was also pulling strong. Yes was what I wasn’t saying for I was ashamed and knew it was wrong. This I . This I. It is me. And when I begin to write and lose myself in the words, the fear comes over me. That I will write the wrong things. That I will not be able to discern who I can talk to and what words are too much. Or not enough. That I won’t be able to judge anymore. That I will just be. Move. Talk. Dance. Make love. Play. Work. Walk. Drive. Fly. Teach. Mentor. Help. Without constantly monitoring to make sure that I am not hurting anyone. Including myself.
This week’s affirmation is : My choices are safe and sound for myself and others. My choices were always safe and sound. I am sane, caring and nurturing to myself and others.
One day, the words will just be words. They won’t be made of ashes.
