Last night I went to Chad's CD release show that I have been looking forward to for months now. It's funny how the day a show comes everyone around you seems to be pissy, but it was a moment I really couldn't wait for, and being someone who tries to take into account any planetary movements, I usually let everyone else's drama roll off my back and enjoy what it is I'm trying to enjoy. Although the full moon certainly brought out that sense of "lunatic" energy that was easily felt by many.
I sit here, in a very quiet space, almost too quiet. I woke up this morning feeling quite low... beyond a sense of sadness. It was strange to wake up to these emotions, seeing as how last night was such fun, but I did notice the shift occur in the late morning hours, wanting my solitude, wanting to just have a view of the ocean and the taste of the salty air, knowing I wouldn't get to.
The Solstice came and went faster than I thought it would. I felt love in the air, but as the day faded, the love turned to loss, to remembrance, and in the moonlight, the warm air, things you once thought were either buried or released end up resurfacing, and while I didn't get to go to the ocean, I felt like I was drowning slowly... yet it wasn't tragic, just... strange.
Memories flood occasionally, sometimes stronger than the others, but I imagine that as the memories continue to flow in and out of my life they will always change, because my perception of what they once were, what they once meant in that moment, have ultimately changed as well, as have I. Still, there seems to be an emotional contract of sorts attached to the memories held dear.
In my attempts to "let go" and to just put the past behind me, it stood in front of my face, it briefly touched me, ever so slightly, easily forgettable, but the contact wasn't the stirring... it was the lack thereof. But the look... that familiar image, it may always be ingrained in my memory, even still, it perhaps has always been ingrained in my soul, something one can't easily (if at all) erase.
"I haven't felt the same, not since you... I've been running... I've been down... I've been trying to turn myself around... I've been sinking... I've been drowning... I've been down and out and crying out darling... Look what this clarity has taken away from me I knew now what you always knew..."
I want to say those lyrics have new meaning for me, but in all honesty they don't, which is perhaps why they keep playing themselves over and over in my head after last night. I keep saying that others just simply don't understand, can't see, can't feel what has been felt. I've often wondered about illusions, about what makes an illusion an actual illusion if it feels like reality to you? It's but one of my many fascinations in this world, and my world so often feels like a giant globe of illusions, sometimes so beautifully intricate it feels outside of this realm, and sometimes so painful that it feels like the deep sea dragging me under. But it's still my reality, it's my creation, it's my neglected work... is it ever illusionary?
I'm stuck in an old spiral. A dumb old spiral, as judgmental as it sounds to create a title to go along with the energy, it feels dumb, sometimes laughable, but mostly painful. And so a theme emerges: painful.
It is though, it's painful. My heart breaks, it renews, it tears, it pumps again, over and over, much like the natural cycle of life, with its unpredictable ups and downs. My ups are fantastic, almost higher than I remember ups being in general... my downs are awful, and I find myself stuck in a perpetual game of schizophrenia with my soul. Balance is beautiful, but my balance confuses me.
This morning I woke up with dread. I didn't want to feel that kind of pain again. It was just... pain, a familiar pain, but not a pain that I can actually describe in words as to what it truly pertained to, just a general scheme, but it feels ridiculous. It's an energetic connection, I can hear my spirit guides tell me.
I refer back to old notes from a retreat I attended by Lama John on "Loving Compassion" and he said that when you receive love and you don't know what to do with it, just give it back to the person who brought it out in you, share the love, don't judge it.
I judge love. I want to understand its complexities, I want to attach deeper and even cheaper labels to it because of living in a world that needs to define every fucking thing imaginable. And yet, that is so beyond the scope of who I really am -- I hate definition. I hate conformity. I hate the urge to dissect everything, but the dissection is more familiar than the definition or conformity.
The dissection has made me ill. The dissection has exposed toxins into my soul, and my heart burns because of the disease. However, I willingly picked up the scalpel. I knew what I was doing, even when I didn't know. Karmic contracts it would seem. Not a blame, just a mere observation, a fact even.
I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself... something I frequently venture through when I am in my own dissection of self. It makes me panic, it makes me feel out of control and frightened like a small child. There is no ultimate pain, but I think I enjoy the fear to the extent that it makes me withdraw to the safety of my cave. I don't want to to be in that cave, but I don't *not* want to be in it... and that perplexes my mind. )0(