want to cry, but don’t · want to cry, but won’t · i withdraw when depressed or overwhelmed · i feel like i have to be reclusive when i feel this way because i am so sensitive at times like these · when people comment on the frequency or intensity of my depressive episodes i am overcome with so much guilt that the depression intensifies · and it seems to me that people think that i like to feel this way · but it seems to me that if you’ve ever seen me dancing then you should know that i don’t want to feel this way · i haven’t been dancing in nearly two weeks so maybe i’m going through a withdrawal of sorts · and i haven’t seen the boys that make me oh-so-happy · because i feel like i can relax around those boys in a way that i don’t trust most other people · i wish i knew what was wrong with me · “guess there’s something wrong with me / guess I don’t fit in / no one wants to touch it / no one knows where to begin” –ani difranco
When the boundary between dreams and reality thins, through the powers of auspicious coincidence I can sometimes spy her shadow traveling within the hidden tunnels of my mind. She is a perpetually running figure searching desperately for what she considers her lost and unrevealed potential in a search that finds her always alone, always out of breath, and always unsure of which way to turn.
I once followed her through the never ending labyrinth at dawn until we came to rest together on our knees at the base of an ancient mountain. We watched an indigo butterfly offer us the secret of transformation, unfurling his heavy wet wings rimmed with glistening dawn-kissed diamonds for the first time. When the butterfly took flight she and I sat together in the infinite space of an open sky, the breeze licking the hair from our faces in a pattern that sent chills down our spines until the sounds of that world grew so loud and clear that I reflexively blinked myself back to my familiar world before we could offer one another the chance to reintegrate our splintered hearts.
def heart = { it ->
def String status = null;
if week < = 20 { status == 'intact' }
else if week >= 21 { status == 'broken' }
}
I’m doing a hard drive purging and I came across this posted that I started to write when I wasn’t online and apparently never cycled back to:
10/07/2009 (8:33 am)
It’s one of those mornings where the timing is a bit off. I’m low on energy, or maybe I’m sensing a need to hibernate. Commuting has never really worked for me despite how many years of my life I’ve dedicated to it.
I miss traveling for work, waking up in strange cities alone with nothing to do but wander until a conference or a workshop begins. How decadent it seemed that time I sat alone on the banks of the water on the American side of the top of Niagara Falls with nothing to do but rest. (That was far better than the time I fought with Padma on the phone the entire time I was at a conference in San Francisco until I finally flew home before I even had an opportunity to see my kindred who was about to fly in from South Africa or Europe.) I suppose I miss traveling in general, but traveling alone on someone else’s dime is definitely the best. Next best is traveling with someone that it is really easy to travel with. Gabrielle was always one of my favorite traveling companions. She’d say, “I’m hungry” to which I’d reply, “Okay, let’s eat.” We’d look around, pick some place, and be done. (I almost fell in love with her the first time that happened.) I have a few friends that I’ve spent hours deciding where to dine with. Everything is simple when traveling with Gabrielle, whether it be a spontaneous decision to get tattoos or one to gamble in a casino with only $20 knowing that such an activity will have nearly overlapping starting and ending points.
How funny it is for me to have been away from you all for so long that I no longer need to hide your names. There’s no one that will connect us together via the powers of Google, and no longer will I sit down half way around the world and be recognized for being the poetess that I once was. I’m separate from you all in a way that I never expected, my virtual pages are mostly empty, and only rarely will I share them. I’ll also never seek out likeminded writers again. I haven’t the time and energy for such networking, and my forever closing the comments partly seals that deal.
Sometime early on in our friendship Solomon and I discussed reading editorials and I told him that I never read them. “I’m not interested in other people’s opionions,” I proclaimed. I remember at the time that Solomon had quite the reaction. My statement partly came from my place as a budding social scientist where I felt it important to strictly delineate between facts and opinion. I suppose this also relates to my dislike of most forms of persuasion and all forms of debating. (If you ever want to end a conversation with me, start a debate. If you ever hope to influence me in any way, choose another tack.) I’m am at a loss of words to explain how this relates to my decision to close the comments but perhaps some of you will connect the dots on your own. Maybe it is partly because I no longer have an online community and it is back to me being on my own. It may also partly be because when I speak of things as deeply personal as some of them that I’ve brought up lately, I am resistant to feedback. And those of us that are left are touching in through RSS readers, anyway, so we’re less likely to comment even when we have a response.
I used to write things that I wanted to share with you all but was afraid to say. I wanted to reveal the inner workings of my mind. I felt like there was a way in which I saw the world that I couldn’t communicate because despite many attempts I had never mastered the vulcan mind meld. I’d become so close to some of you that we’d regularly speak in unison but still there was a part of me that you couldn’t see. I’d agonize when we were apart because I so didn’t want to miss even a second of your lives. Now our lives barely overlap at all anymore.
…this is how I’ll know I’m coming back: I’ve committed to paper moments that no one will ever relive.
…I watched the crowds of camera-laden tourists for a while, then refocused my brain to watch my hand. There’s no clue to a composition in its movement; the pen makes its own patterns like a planchette on an Ouija board. There’s no telling when or why it may start or stop.
…I’m residing, somewhere, in these pads of paper.–Richard Clewes
I reside in an endless string of 0s and 1s that can only be conjured through that patterned click of the keyboard that I so love.
Please come find me.
autumn sunbeams · spontaneous joining · reminders · positive reinforcement · immersing myself in a crowd of people both beautiful on the inside and out · coffee · endurance · [re]learning how to allow myself to manifest calm · feeling positive despite the drama[s] · daydreaming of kissing · foreheads resting against foreheads · cheeks resting against cheeks · pumpkin ravioli topped with puttanesca · natural ending points · potential
gingerbread lattes · my lover’s vocabulary · inspiration · sunbeams streaming in through the window of the train · his somnolence · feeling accepted for who I am despite my neuroses · coming home to a nearly complete clean house · cathartic tears · samhain · the full moon · a new circle of friends to dance with · his jawline · reminders to wake up · coffee in the shower · the vividness of norbu’s eyes as he wore his bright green pullover · being open to possibilities · realizing potential · learning to let go · feeling blessed that i have norbu in my life after my cab driver told me how her son overdosed on drugs and passed · realizing this list could go on forever
With the weekend said and done, the moment I’d most like to revisit is our picnic of bagels and pomegranate juice. Open air, sunshine, and crisp clean air (clean being a relative term, of course)–maybe some people just make me want to be outside.
I describe myself as overly honest. I may sometimes be evasive, but I am unlikely to tell a blatant lie–even when it would behoove me to do so.
Today the recruiter that helped me land my current contract stopped by my office. He sat down at my desk with me for a little chat whilst waiting for a manager to wine and dine. As we engaged in conversation he asked me several questions with several of my colleagues diligently working within earshot. Talk about awkward. I managed to lie and claim that the work was interesting and that I’m enjoying it here when in actuality I’m thinking that I might prefer to scoop my eyeball out with a spoon and feed it to a stray cat rather than work here indefinitely. I thus far find the work far from riveting, feel constantly lost and ill-prepared to do what needs to be done, and have absolutely no warm fuzzy feelings about any of the people I work with. Although the social responsibilities of my previous gig exhausted me, at least my colleagues were fun to be around and my boss was hot enough to stare at during meetings. The biggest perk to this job is that I have admin rights on my machine and they don’t dick around with ridiculous firewalls that don’t really serve their intended purpose, anyway (unless a firewall’s intended purpose is for employees to be forced to muster up their creative forces in order to find ways around said ridiculous firewall).
Recognizing the emotion at the very moment it forms; understanding that it is but a thought, devoid of intrinsic existence; and allowing it to dissipate spontaneously so as to avoid the chain reaction it would normally unleash–all these are at the heart of Buddhist contemplative practice.–Barbara Ann Kiipfer
Frankly, I tend to take myself–and my emotions–way too seriously.
…one should see the five skandhas to be empty of nature. Form is emptiness; emptiness also is form. Emptiness is no other than form; form is no other than emptiness….–Avalokitesvara as cited in the Prajanparamita (Heart Sutra)
Catching a glimpse of the empty nature of the skandhas is only slightly easier than touching a rainbow.
(…one should see rainbows to be empty of nature. Rainbows are emptiness….)
(See? It works somehow.)
“Egolessness” does not mean that nothing exists, as some have thought, a kind of nihilism. Instead, it means that you can let go of your habitual patterns and then when you let do, you genuinely let go. You do not re-create or rebuild another shell immediately afterward. Once you let go, you do not just start all over again. Egolessness is having the trust to not rebuild again at all and experiencing the psychological healthiness and freshness that goes with not rebuilding. The truth of egolessness can only be experienced fully through meditation practice.–Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche
I really don’t want to keep reassembling my shell but it I’m very attached to it by a bond stronger than Norbu’s recent invention dubbed “molasses super glue water.”