October 6, 2008

untitled entry……..

I am having a hard time hearing myself.  Or maybe, a more difficult time listening.  Whichever it is-this level of not listening continues to fuel this particular chapter and verse of unrest.  “Change your thoughts”- said my friend.  “Because you might be inviting all of this into your world”.  I can not imagine inviting this kind of chaotic circumstance of those around me in various stages of dying into my world.  Not at the same time.  Not at this point.  Besides, I have never been a good liar-so changing my thoughts would not automatically rechannel the frequency. I would know I was fooling myself, so the response would have little affect.  What is the point. The information I am in the midst of processing is just too profound.  This, combined with my DNA imprint to fix and repair-to take hold of the unjust and make it right is not meeting up to any kind  of thought changing release. These thoughts are with me for a while.

When I was younger, I would run.  I would take off through the neighborhood, the park, the streets-up and down the hills until I was clear.  The autumn air would seep in-lips would chap and cheeks would flush.  I just needed to keep moving.  But this is not the case anymore.  My knees won’t allow the ongoing repetition of hitting the pavement-and time won’t allow me to get up and go.  Just go.  Someone else offered yoga as a remedy.  It was the most unwelcome calm in my life.  Every breath invited a tear to fall…..the more I opened up with a downward dog or sun salutation-or whatever those criss crosses of movement are named- I felt a little more vulnerable…….and not because I did not know what I was doing-but because the deeper the breath- the more attached to the wounds….the deeper the wounds the more attached I was to the thoughts.  By the end of the class I was bawling.  No more yoga.

Now, I am somewhere in between shutting out and shutting down. This through line of grief and anger makes for some interesting exchanges.  I should begin some of my conversations with an automatic response:  ” please forgive the preceeding interjections of  disgust and outrage that are sure to surface-I am in the midst of a life crisis of unforgiving proportions.  “Do not take it personally and think ill of me- this too shall pass.”   Let’s get on with the conversation.   But this is not possible when my daughter tugs at every bit of life left in my heart and soul.   She is my joy source-and I can not imagine the sheer disappointment if I were to shut out her essence of just being 6.  Excuse me, 6 and a half.  No I am not too far gone to not see the beauty-not recognize the cycles of life-not want to see the day begin and end.  But I would be lying if I said any of it this was easy on any level.