Thursday, April 27, 2017


It hit me today that much of what I have called loneliness is really the pain of being alone with myself, my conflicts, the chronic sense of not belonging, of having no home and no possibility of a home, which I have avoided sensing my whole life.

And it hit me too that the parts of me which are at war with one another are both noble.  One part of me has always sought to accomplish great deeds, and think great thoughts, in the hope of winning love which was impossible so many years ago.  Another part of me knows this is futile, and is trying to point this out, that these are not my goals, or at least, not the energy underlying them.  And the two fight.  If the one loses, I live forever without love, and the other side cannot possibly win.  No amount of success could ever be enough.

And I was contemplating this tonight, drinking a beer, and a vision of myself walking shirtless in a snowstorm hit me.  I can handle the cold. I do not fear the wind.  But an enormous demon emerged from the snow and confronted me.  And it hit me that I could fight it, I could tear it down to nothing, but that what was really needed was harnessing it, and making it mine; not just facing it, but seeing my own face in it, and claiming that power.

And it seems to me that most of what we call wounds are really disorganized energies.  What was plain and given and obvious and flowing becomes stuck, hard, and confusing.  But there is never any path backwards.  There is no "healing".  There is only transforming.

Yes, of course you can attempt to claim your saintly crown by turning yourself into a shadow of a human being, but that is not what this life is for.  We are meant to live with balls and fire.

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