outside looking in

temporary obliteration of self

as noted elsewhere, in surviving mindfulness, one of the challenges of ptsd + mindfulness, is that some days suck. or rather, the day is fine—lovely in fact, like today—79 degrees and flowers and trees in refulgent expression of their beautiful lives.

but me, i, us, the royal we, the soul and person i have to live with, the voice that tells my fingers what to type b/c that's what we're experiencing right now—sometimes that we doesn't like certain days, and this is one of them.

maybe you recognize those kind of days; if so, you needn't feel all alone. i'm there, i get... where there's not enough Oxygen to go around, where my feet don't fit my shoes and i limp for a discrepancy i can't fix.

yearning

what i want is to feel better: soul-in-body, mind along for the ride.

mind wants us to chill, wants me to drive so s/he can hang our head out the window... mind feels pre-menstrual, body wants to be un-restless and my fingers want to type—words are small relief, truly, for the counter desire is temporary obliteration, of obligation and tethers. Dancing might suffice, too, but that's not this afternoon.

i notice my desire to obliterate my own awareness of my current experience of living, an attentive anesthesia; it's almost a reckless plunging in, mindful mayhem & mania, like i want to buy a fast motorcycle and drive it around Portland right at the speed limit, mad safe for all living beings.

There's a line i know now that i rue ever forgetting.

think bigger

this may be one of the most important understandings i've come to, that there is more to us than just us.

i had these moments, often lengthy, and not infrequent for a spell a couple of years ago, where i was able to step outside of my earth-bound self, and literally rise above, to a height of 2 or 3 miles (a good deal lower than a cruising jet) and from there i could see myself, and each of us.

we are streams of energy in our atmosphere, like clouds but many more colors, and more numerous and smaller than clouds and moving, like sea grass sways, and sometimes breaks free, undersea in a middling current.

we are millions of these eddies—scarves flying—swirling into each other, maintaining loose integrity, b/c while species climb the ladder, individual instances therein—that cat, this flower, me—ebb, fall apart, return.

fabric

viewing us thusly, it became absolutely clear that we are connected; we literally not only inhabit the same atmosphere, sunlight, gravity and terra, but we are co-members of the same mesh of humankind—all of us—a fabric of energy that holds us like countless mobile safety pins pierced through a massive quilt—or innumerable quilts lightly sticthed together—whatever allusion helps us see that we are distinct, yet part of one.

the edges between our selves and with the shared fabric are fuzzy, the boundaries are not crisp, and our energies mingle as the fabric ripples through time.

we are like ice cubes in a giant punch bowl, each our own particular mix of color and history, intention and countenance, body-specifics, taste and will. and slowly, over time, we erode back into the punch.

we return to the source, and the source is Love.

decapitulation

to recap, there are two realizations

• we are more than we are - when i was able to step outside myself, i could see myself whole, total, complete—another soul careening through time and space on planet earth. by gaining that vista, i could love myself as deeply as i have ever loved anyone; everyone's mistakes or shame or even mayhem i could understand, and know, but for Grace go i.

• Love - that fabric mentioned above, that's All Love. It's the fifth dimension to our third and fourth, it's our container and the answer to every question. Love, and do what you will.

That's why we're here.