Posted by: scintillatingspeck | October 14, 2013

Spiraling out.

I had been feeling so very, very low.  The punishing weight of peine forte et dure was upon me; I was breathless from my own emotional pain, unable to sound out necessary words, getting crushed by every point of contact.  It was well-nigh impossible to imagine emerging from under all those stones.

The psyche moves in mysterious ways.  Mine rather abruptly shape-shifted into a long and slender snake, well-suited to slithering between stones.  It wasn’t a conscious transmogrification, although it was accompanied by a great deal of struggle and rumination, with no clear end in sight.  Perhaps the snake will tell us how she managed it.

You want my sssssecret, eh?  There’s not much to it.  There’s a whole lot of gritting teeth and endurance and finally breaking.  Yes, something has to give.  I was building up layers of expectations, dreams, beliefs, like the nacre of a pearl.  They were beautiful, shining illusions, real knock-out stunners, and they were crushing me.  I had to take a chisel to them to slither past.  What sorts of illusions?  Illusions of safety, illusions of understanding, illusions of influence, illusions of perfect communication, illusions of completeness.  They’re as sneaky as those ubiquitous demons of doubt and self-loathing and depression and endless torment; in fact, the demons dine on such illusions for breakfast and use them for fuel.

Somehow I spiraled out just enough from those layers to keep going.  I intentionally and repeatedly released myself and others from expectations of perfection, even the expectation of being good enough.  I let go of some particular dreams, though it made me bleed.  I laid down my longing like a lilac on the altar of joy, and turned away.  It was bitterly painful.  And in the wake, unbidden, a calm descended, a certainty.  How can I explain where it came from?  It was a gift.  I took a breath and my lungs were able to fill with air.  I knew, in every cell, a profound love, completely unattached to any outcome.  It encompassed me and everyone I know with compassion.  None of this provided me with instructions of what to do next, but it hardly seemed necessary.  I could glide forward, feeling peculiarly free, breathing, listening, observing the everyday miracle.

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