Monday, December 30, 2013

Pulse

Not long ago, it was pointed out to me that I fear rejection more than death, and in the moment, that made perfect sense to me... upon further reflection, I realized that thought process may be in the minority, and it is what keeps me paralyzed in my own head.  In an attempt to further unpack all this, I have been challenging myself to seek out where that originates within me... I frequently feel as though I am missing the glaringly obvious connection points... all of this shit has got to correlate somehow, I just cannot, for the fucking life of me, see how. 




Part of me wants so desperately to rid myself of that hollow, empty, loneliness that lurks in the deep pockets of my consciousness.  But I am also aware of the need to honor all of the fragments that form who I am.  I know they all have to do with a frame I built long, long ago.  Crafted partially out of cultural and social constructs, partly out of a subconscious story I've been telling myself most of my life, which makes it all seem so tough to dismantle.

Each time I experience another genuine glimmer of myself, I like it... which is why I am confounded as to why it appears to be such a struggle to pull those authentic pieces of myself to the surface.  Lately, I am recognizing more of the ways in which I hide those parts of me.  I guess maybe hiding is the wrong word... maybe those pieces are shrouded or skewed, hiding under layers of carefully contrived boobie traps.  Luckily, my consciousness allows for a tiny few rays of light to filter through my cracks... so even when the innocent, frightened, little girl I sometimes refuse to acknowledge, retreats to what's left of her partially dismantled wonder wall, my soul tribe members develop an extraction plan and dispatch a search party.  Upon emerging, I am able to look back and survey the progress.  Each time I revisit what used to be the fortress of my defenses, I dismantle yet another piece of that crumbled skeleton and further the rebuild which is my new frame.

I would have never guessed this process to be so paradoxical. I am constantly wrecking to re-build, dismantling to re-assemble, and retreating to emerge. While I hate those uncomfortable stretches that accompany inner expansion, I love them at the same time. I am fairly certain that nothing will ever be crystal clear, but I am also pretty sure that I do not I want it to be... I do know that these awarenesses are not to be taken for granted.  They are sacred in a way I cannot begin to articulate.  It is vital that I extend myself that same grace I so freely give others... I need to remember that the same facets that draw me to the souls of others- those cracks and imperfections, those little intricacies that can only be truly appreciated close up, those elements of a person's composition that speak to us on an inarticulate and intangible level- are precisely what make up the authentic self, and therefore, authenticity is no more complicated than breathing-and it is the very ACT of covering all that up that robs the world of the sublime and exquisite beauty that is this human experience.


Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Bats in the Belfry

I read this bit of prose a few weeks back that beautifully articulates what consciousness looks like, it made such an impression I searched it again today and found another version with a response. If you've not yet read this-it's quite lovely- Date an Illiterate Girl .  How fantastical it is to stumble across things that remind me that there are other people experiencing similar ripples in their consciousness... and further, that there are others besides myself who not only appreciate that but pine for it as well...

Consciousness is tough.  It's puzzling and elusive, it's slippery and subtle and transient...And it is something our culture conditions us to avoid... whereas I may experience a concious person  as if they are illuminated, others view them as crazy; depending upon which end of the consciousness spectrum one may fall...  I spent a majority of my early 20's struggling on the other end of that spectrum, trying desperately to swallow that subordination elixir.  The more I attempted to ingest it the more noxious it became to me. At some point  I  finally gave up my daily dosage, but let me tell ya, the half life on that shit is fucking fierce! The point is, I get that those who spend a majority of their time stuck in the sticky web of cultural indoctrination have been trained to see anything outside their own periphery as crazy... think about it. Our society has made a billion dollar industry out of treating and 'fixing' those 'poor souls' that feel too deeply.  There is a pill for being too anything... too sad, too happy, too anxious... Our culture is one that demands uniformity... uniformity of thought, uniformity of action...and if we step out of line, event slightly, there are cultural norms in place to shame us back into obedience. This too I've experienced first hand... it's partially what I was attempting to communicate in Axiom... although I've yet to have the vocabulary to articulate it- it is becoming clearer to me everyday...

So as I am grappling for the language to get all these 'nonsensical' thoughts and concepts out of my head or at least strung together in some way my own mind can make sense of it, this morning I stumble across this post- YOU NEED TO GO AFTER THE THINGS YOU WANT, and I gotta say...after reading that, what I am experiencing is so profoundly visceral- my heart is racing, my hands are shaking, my thoughts are going a million miles a minute... For a moment I thought to myself- 'fuck, I really ought to trade my tin foil hat in for one made of Kevlar!'  I swear, reading that was as if someone plucked thoughts from my brain... as coincidental as it may seem, I don't believe in coincidences...

For weeks I have been trying to muster the courage to talk to him... some days it seems as though the universe has dropped every single solitary hint to me...I've struggled to excuse it away... because of fear... fear of looking silly...fear of being vulnerable... there is a part of me that wants to walk right into his shop and tell him that not only do I read, but I write, and I do them both, often.  And then that little voice shouts from the back of my head- Absolutely not, no sane person walks up to a dude whose practically a stranger and says 'hey, you don't know me, but your facebook posts make me want to know you...'  And so I go on, trying to ignore this weird connection that spurred from something so benign...and just as it seems I have sufficiently stifled it, something else pops up... I mean who strikes up a conversation with  'I like the way you think'?  How does that go exactly?  Do I walk into his shop? Do I take Harvey Milk's advice?  I mean, that IS what I want, but what scares me is not knowing what the reaction will be...I believe the shift I have been feeling for a while is close, really close, or maybe already happening, and that is why the vocabulary is starting to come to me.  And maybe that's why he's entered my consciousness?  Or maybe I have become conscious enough to see it more than stifle it.  

I read something the other day about how when you feel lost it is time to step out of your comfort zone and find new meaning... what is our existence except for a long string of attempts to make meaning? Over the weekend.... I had a rather eye opening conversation about meaning making and consciousness with a friend  She happens to be in a different stage than I... she is trying to make meaning out of the whole of her life, while I am still attempting to make meaning out of the this moment... but the principal is the same, we talked about what is to experience meaning making with a conscious lens, and what that does to one's thought process.  These are the conversations I savor... they are the tough ones, the ones where I am forced to take it a step or two further than I thought possible... the ones that stretch the complexities that I thought myself capable of... the ones that challenge me to dig a little deeper, that edge me closer to the next ledge I will have to leap from in order to grow.

It helps immensely to talk about consciousness with people...I find myself craving more interactions like this. I am drawn to those people who want to unpack their shit, who aren't afraid to attempt the daunting task of approaching that ledge... I fear the ledge, but more, I fear not taking the leap at all.  Perhaps that's how my interest peaked... I gotta say, it's been an awfully long time since a person has intrigued enough to inch up to the ledge, peer over, and close my eyes for the leap....