Monday, February 27, 2017


I woke up feeling this morning that in a healthy world, there would be no need to talk about compassion.  In a healthy world there would be no need to speak of tolerance.  Everything would be negotiated between individuals on a case by case basis, coming from a place of emotional plenty, genuine empathy, and a shared understanding that the human condition is both tragic and glorious.  Tragic in that we will all suffer here.  It cannot be avoided.  Glorious, in that this suffering can be transcended.

I have had this song stuck in my head the past couple days:

His girl (perhaps his boy) doesn't love him any more.  Or perhaps he has realized that the love was never truly there, and they just didn't know each other very well, which is more likely.  Sex makes people feel closer, for a time, even if they are both emotionally undeveloped and suffering the lack every day without knowing it.  It made me cry.  There is so much pain in this world, and this person may never reach a good resting place, a place of emotional safety, of warranted and rewarded trust, of belonging.  He may travel this world as a hungry ghost all the days of his life.  It happens often.  You reach the time to die, and you don't quite know how you got there, but you know pain was barking at your heels the whole way.

I feel, often, the pain of the world.  I myself of course am covered in scars. I was cut emotionally to the bone with a razor often.  I don't know why I am still alive emotionally.  Something in me seems very hard to kill.  There is a resurgent energy which keeps me going, even if I don't know how I keep going.  Many years of my life were just trying to get through one more day, and just trying to get through one more hour of that day.

But I do feel something beautiful slowly opening up in me.  I find an acceptance of all this.  I find myself feeling, for split seconds, like I imagine "normal" people feel.

We live in a world of noise.  Everyone is competing for your attention.  Everyone, seemingly, wants something.

I made some effort years ago to "monetize" my ideas, but it felt wrong.  I don't know if my ideas are any good, and I am quite uncomfortable in the role of emotional guru.  I have far too many problems of my own. I remain fucked up in important ways.

I like the purity of this blog.  There are no ads, no links, nothing.  I don't even have my name on here.

I'm talking out loud.  Time to do my Kum Nye practice.  It is an odd thing, that it always feels like jumping on a boat floating down a river whose course I don't know.  I never know what will come up, or where I will go.  This is part of the practice: just letting it happen.  The Nye, the massage, does itself.  And when it works well, it feels like going sideways emotionally, cutting across the deep ruts of my habitual patterns, and creating the possibility of something new.

No comments: