I want to write about what it feels like to participate in life. I want to participate in life too. I want to feel the wind and ocean spray on my feet for 5 seconds and then write 5 pages about it. 5 whole pages about the sensation, how much detail and color I would have to find. How much I would have to be present in the moment. To open up and reach out to the Universe. I feel like it's why I'm here. Earlier today it seemed like too much, but now I think that I am ready to go out and feel. Feel and write, and read and then live and then feel and write some more. At this moment, the thought thrills and does not fright. What about tomorrow? I can see myself on the beach tomorrow, playing ball with my girl, gold and red hair whipping her cheeks. Drinking the sun, enraptured by the wet sand in between my toes. Not even thinking about the clown claws that seem to grab at me from every crack in the sidewalk, every antiquated storm drain. Stupid Steven King. It's much too easy to slip and fall right into that abyss. But I'm still standing. They haven't been able to touch me. I slide my fingers up my arm and take a deep breath. No, not even a scratch . Just another glamor. An illusion that is much like standing still.
I don't think I have anything that people could take away from me. Only the Divine could take what matters to me the most and I won't be afraid of what's imminent. So why do I spend the majority of my time feeling fear? Fear of what? Pain? Ha! Pain is life's constant companion. Loss? I have already said that I won't be afraid of what's imminent, and loss is imminent as a human being. We are born and we accumulate things, skills, relationships, beliefs, loves and then we die. Every single one of us will let it all go before we pass through Her gateway. Which, by the way, is that dark, scary abyss that we all stand on the edge of, whether or not we choose to see it or believe in it. Some things don't care if we believe in them or not. They exist anyway. I do not want to be afraid of loss.
April 5, 2009 ...Failure, um, kinda, but I don't really know how to rate success. Success. Success. It felt so good but so new and uncomfortable. Yes, even scary. I freaked out because suddenly I felt like I had something that someone could take away. So I let it go instead. Fuck it. Fuck fuck fuck it. It's much easier to let go than to have it ripped out of my hands. Not that anyone was trying to rip. I just couldn't conceive of really feeling it, and then losing it. Oh, because I believe that loss is imminent, I see how that could bite me in the ass. Am I afraid of wanting more, materially, out of my life? Or do I simply think I don't deserve it. When I see the Universe open up for other people, I think, "they don't deserve it." And whatever we say about others is what we think of ourselves.
What do I fear the most? I fear that I'll blink, it'll be over, and I'll realize that I didn't fulfill what I came here to do. Not the Divine me but the human me. Divine me is fine and enlightened and beyond pain. It's human me that does all of the work, and human me that desires and fears and screams and hurts and fucks up.
I'm afraid that no one will know the insignificance that they so hastily overlook is where the truth really lies. And the truth can only be in every speck of dust and if even one speck or fiber or scale of dead skin is left out, well, then it's not omnipotence, which I believe is the point of all of this. I feel that my contribution to this divine self actualization is the most precious gift that I give. And I am a collaborator with the rest of the Universe in the design of this gift. Even though, "all things must pass," I have some say as to what things will pass through me. I always have. I want to begin to choose differently.
Now I'm living in Portland, Oregon, from Roslyn, WA, after leaving Los Angeles, CA in 2010. Searching inside and out for a new paradigm is my major goal in life right now. The patriarchal, racist and classist world that we live in gives me complete and utter indigestion (literally); so I continue on my spiral journey, keeping my eyes open for other worlds and drawing inspiration from those who are also searching.
("Sloth Womyn," is a reference from, "The Womyn's Holy Book of Mysteries," by Z.E. Budapest.)