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Sunday, February 18, 2007

moving on

i noticed that i stopped writing in this blog almost exactly a year after i started it. in many ways a few drops of dew represented my head space at a very particular moment in time and i'm not sure how appropriate it is to continue my thoughts in this space. for one thing... it seems like i have to give up my personal life to the search engine that begins with the letter g and ends with an oogle... not sure i'm ready to merge this with my email account. and for another i've been terrified to write out my feelings for the last... well ever since i stopped going to school. not sure if that coincided with no longer having to sit through lectures and write copious amounts of notes... thereby ending the need to make introspective observations about my life... or if i've just been so terrified unable to face my own thoughts and feelings in some ways that writing seemed to be a way that would have made them a little to real. its probably safe to say that the latter is coming into effect. although as i type these musings i'm starting to feel a little better. i guess the main thing is that i'm not sure what...
i just noticed that i keep writing "not sure".

uncertainty is the undercurrent. the under tow. the undoing of threads that weave through and piece together the making of what i had thought made up the meaning of my life. and yet, as i type this out it all seems so insignificant. like specks of dust in our infinite universe and belly button lint in comparison to the explosion of a star.

i'm not sure.

but still i know. that people love me. that i have a warm family. a warm bed. and a resolve to be happy. to be positive. to smile. to wait.

and see.
what.
it all holds.

it feels good to write again. it feels strange. it feels like my fingers might fail under the weight of the aquarium of thoughts. i've been taking myself underwater lately. in the middle of my mind. in the middle of the day. under the depths of my duvet cover in the middle of the night.

into the middle of salt water and the sea. and artificial breathing tanks... and regulators that keep things just so.
that keep us breathing in when plunged to artificial depths that don't ordinarily support our life forms.
and the regulator keeps everything sure. steady. certain.
in one lung and out the other.
through the mouth only and lips around plastic and rubber.
and air bubbles that disappear to the surface.

it is quiet in those depths.
except for those bubbles--
the sign of life.
and the constance of breath.

so what am i getting at?
i'm not sure.
i'm not sure.

it's the density of emotion... its opaque, oblique hold on certain parts of my consciousnes and subconsciousness. depths of feeling that defy rationality. craving the explaining power of lightness. bearable desireable and somehow out of reach.
beyond oustretched fingertips flying through letters and clicking.

i'm trying to find a place.
where my heart's joy will accept its pleasure. where blessings will be appreciated. and joy can be celebrated.

my drops of dew are waiting under the snow. my tears are waiting in the sun.
and the ocean is not as far as i think it is.

Comments:
Whatever may come, I hope this can keep you afloat:

When nothing else seems to be left, you still own your thoughts so please don't mute them. They are your wealth and your strength and the one thing that can situate you. You are allowed to have them, allowed to think what you feel because it's all true.

They may hurt or they may soothe but either way - you need to feel both the pain and the comfort to realise that you can live with both. To know where you stand, how you can move, and where you need to go.

I know it all sounds so benign when it's vocalised - how can a sequence of words convey the stirring and shifting within? But honey it doesn't need to convey anything to anyone, it just needs to become real to you, from the outside looking in [finally, not the other way around].

I know I'm making something complicated sound so simple, and I know it isn't. I don't mean to minimise it, I really don't.

But dear, let your thoughts wash over you, let yourself react to them. Let that little bottle empty itself into - and be rocked by - the tide, it's the only way it can get safely to shore.

 

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