I can’t think of one normal thing about our life. And as I look up to be my own critic, questioning my previous thought, it’s only emphasized by my unfamiliar surroundings. So, happy Rosh Hashanah. We celebrated the Jewish New Year in a traditional fashion last night. And although not Jewish myself, I think it had an effect on me. Im at least aligned with the new moon now. The solemn holiday is meant for cleansing and rebirth of the spirit. And if you should celebrate it, so be it. I never have before this year and maybe that means something. I was invited to because it was time.
Nothing normal. The problem is that I am trying to make something which is so abnormal, normal in my head that I can’t even prove it to you. I can’t write about it. Can’t think about it. Just have to do it. Live it. It used to be that I had to write to stay on top of my world. It gave me a window through which I could peer at things and people around me for better understanding. This doesn’t seem to be the case now. Maybe because everything has become normal to me. What is abnormal anymore? Maybe as life begins to change and move in direction, you are given who you need, what you need and you are exposed to where you are…not physically, but spiritually and mentally. So there would be no contrast to this. Unless I was completely unstable. But i only wish to create one thing. In this physical landscape, I’m protected but so vulnerable. Why are we so safe? Continuously awakening to see the day.
First of all, if none of my Moody relatives are going to see this…and we’ve agreed not to tell them, hold tight while I get my mind right.
We’re writing. Two minds as one (definite faux pas in the blogosphere). Don’t try it unless youre ready to experience how territorial you actually embarrassingly are over your cyber space. Isn’t it ironic that all we wanted to do (in this age of communication) is comment on Rachel’s blog, however, found it entirely too impossible? Perhaps it is not a lapse in technology afterall…I think our troubles are stemming from how natural and digitally unecumbered our lives have lately been. We have had no trouble commenting on sleeping giants of redwood or underwater forests seen through crystal clear lakes. Nothing like technology to limit our minds and take away our freedom.
Actually it’s all right and good. As I was reading the east and i’s blog and (asalways) eating through the content like baked macaroni and cheese with chunks of bacon in it, I suddenly realized it was talking to me. Wait, wait rewind…to me??! Being given a shout out in a stream of conscious thought, I was especially surprised and almost disbelieving. This wont be near as rewarding as my surprise from you, but much more so than a comment would be. I guess we can thank technology for that.
Thank you for the shout out, my blog really need to know if i was still alive. And you know Jeff is always looking for zombie/apocalyptic movies that don’t give a fuck. Thank you for being you…I’m in love with your existence.
I just wonder if instinct dies. Have we reached its half life? or are we dead to it. I just wonder because there comes a point in time or perhaps convulsion of circumstance when there are too many voices to know which it is; if it still is. Will it kick in even after being so suppressed? or will it refuse to out of spite. No… it must actually be one with each of our being and inextricably linked to our spirit. Always alive but very often ignored and neglected for real stupid reasons.
I feel so grateful for so many things, its overwhelming me to tears when I think about it all. In certain ways it is making it hard to move forward. I should stay and repay, find ways to show my gratitude, however impossible that always feels. But I think I should bring it with me. Give thanks to everyone I meet so that they are confused but understand something too. There are many reasons other than this that I feel sorrow in taking the next leap. There will always be need here, never a perfect time to go. So we just close our eyes and say our goodbyes. Our purpose will not soon be forgotten and therefore will never be lost. They will be fine.
I’m so ready. I’ve never done anything this planned out before, though. The planning thing makes me nervous. I like to jump before I think my way into fear’s talons. I actually really loath this whole planning thing. I think there must be a fine line between allowing nature to do it’s thing and allowing myself to intervene with that process. But I suppose some things are not natural enough not to be coerced in certain ways.
But this whole thing is just treacherousness. It’s hard to be on the edge and not just jump…or accidentally fall. All I can do in my position with any sort of intention is throw stones and watch them fall, and wonder if that’s how I’ll fall. Hoping this will preoccupy me for long enough because I can’t back away. We are jumping, just not yet. Waiting for the wind to be right.
HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Where are we going to land? We’re closer than we’ve ever been and yet, so far. Our feet must be ready for the journey ahead. They are what connect us to the ground. The very last thing between me and the earth beneath me. But they must be receiving messages from the ground, communicating with it in a way my brain can’t, nor my hands. The earth is saying, it’s time! They’re ready to let their freedom reign. And you’re ready to carry them.
I think it all starts here as we trade this dream in for another at the dream recycling center. But we cashed this one in for big time. We worked hard and must have been doing it for a reason beyond our understanding. How else could this be real? I’m hanging on now. There is something major in our cards, otherwise this wouldn’t be happening. Things like this don’t happen in reality, at least not mine. We eased out of the dream in perhaps just the perfect manner, the perfect timing, the perfect closing of doors and perfectly oriented frame of action. The chances for all these things to align are so infinitesimal that it’s much like a universe is being created. That’s how I know.
So where should we go? I have too many suggestions and only a few requirements. Freedom might be harder than I’m bargaining. So many options, so little of them pleasing. But we are free. Free to wander into our new world and not even know it. Free to wander away from our new world, free to walk in circles around it. Free to find it and do with it what we please. Even free to never find it.
Some things are better from far away. It’s good to know what those things are and arrange life accordingly. Everything in its right place. It’s tempting to be close to, even part of the things you admire. But beauty in a view is work up close, is damaging, is responsibility. It is easier just to look at from a safe distance. Although you may not see the moon through it while you sleep.
I guess that’s why we’re rearranging. There is nothing wrong with either side. Grass is grass and every girl has panty stains. There is good and bad of good and good and bad of bad. Approach with caution, care and perspective. You do have to approach to know, though. Get up real close and go in for a kiss. Then you’ll know where it should go, where it will do best for you. There is a story to be told of each, but which allows you to tell a better story? Well, that’s a-whole-nother question. Which story would you rather tell? You have two to choose from. One from beneath the silk oak and one from the view.
I just sat down to think. Do you ever do that? Usually if we “better sit down for this”, its gonna be heavy. But I just started thinking (and sitting) and figured out I am just tired and actually better not think after all. Nonetheless, its amazing how long some days are. Are they all long but some feel shorter? Or are they all short but some feel long? The day’s ways might always baffle me unless one of them brings me some revealing piece of information I was missing from the rest. But one won’t. I guess that is what wine is for. I’m too tired to get up for that, though. I am way to tired for inspiration. I’m even too tired for gossip. I’m tired enough to admit that I don’t care. I still have questions though, which tells me I have a little left.
How long is this going to go on? For some reason, I have this weird feeling like I am forcing something that shouldn’t be. This is a scary one. Well, like being in a hedge maze with an overwhelming feeling that I’m heading toward a dead-end. No biggie. Right? As long as I don’t mind turning around and going back. No, it’s not quite like that. It does feel scary. Like I created a monster that I don’t know how to turn off, and it’s turned on me. No. I think I feel lonely. Yes. How strange to analyze the metaphors that brought me here. I feel lonely in a notion, a positive notion. Which, I see, is almost worse than being alone in a dark place. Because if I’m wrong, and my positivity fails me, well…At least a pessimist can always be pleasantly surprised. It’s not that I am doubting the power of hope and optimism. I believe that practicing these things in all facets of life do pay off, eventually anyway. However, I have reason to believe that my own positive energy is being canceled out. And it makes me tired…and lonely to believe my efforts are futile. I am definitely not an endless supply of the good stuff. I have to fill up somehow, somewhere too. But at my low points, it would be nice not to be losing just because I’m out of gas.
So how long is it gonna go on? And what am I fighting for again? Just two questions from a tired mind. The rest aren’t coherent. I just can’t wait for something and can’t wait to know what it is.