The Sun Wins

Sitting in the shade under luscious early summer breeze, there is a deep relaxation into bliss…just a little slice of sweet placid joy in the cherry-scented air…that remembers the freedom of summer with an adrenaline abandon, and anticipation.  It’s hot remembered muscle makes the crazed chill of winter intellect banished grudgingly, and in its silent passing seem so paranoia close, like a fisheye-lensed memory, some grotesque and wretched comedy of itself made ridiculous by its own affronting exaggeration and hysterical, agonizing paradox.

And in that moment, the memory of summer is caught up in the Now.  The sky is so blue, and all-containing.  The strange early heat makes the new growth develop quickly, and in the shade the new rush of wind on baby leaves and ruffled feathers in the brush makes clear the death of silence at the hands of renewed life.  Up above, the planes seem so far away against the blue.  Other summers the planes were so close at hand, like a jump off the trampoline and a swat would pluck them from the heavens.  I suppose it’s spring yet.  Still, they seem so distant.  It’s as if behind the clouds, the fishbowl lid of the town’s snowglobe looms in waiting under the hand of some inscrutable tourist, letting the warm breeze blow through for a moment before going back to the tasks of bringing white and sorrow, and shaking.  And while that tourist watches the blooming soil sex itself back to life in the warmth, the planes are breaking free, going further and further away from here…

Getting up and walking through the sunshine, the breeze is cool and wet…heavy with remembrance of the freedom quickly rising, drenched and glorious in the newly budding green.  The paranoia fades away on the soft breeze.  The warmth of the light has returned, bringing life home from the underworld, and banishing winter’s cruel master with a fiery sword and the aegis of bright plenty.  The heat of summer light has already dropped, and in seven days you will be on that plane, and only getting hotter.

Far Too Long

Fatigue turned to stultification, turned to stagnation, turned to a mundane stasis.  Isn’t that always the way, though?  But no matter, time to get back up on the horse.  It is time to flush the poisons away and stop wallowing.

The cycle must start over, as it does.  It is my sincere opinion that I took things too far on the 999 ritual day, but it also sped along a process that had been a long time coming.  I needed a magical detox to sort myself out, nothing getting between me and Buddhist truth of it all.  And when the truth came, I found the weak points and probed them to see where they gave.  All things considered, I would call it successful.

It did bring up a multitude issues–issues I thought I had conquered and issues I never thought I had before.  It forced me to be solid with my discriminating eye, and turn it inward again in a way I had not for years.  Things started to boil up from the deep black Shadows that I had yet to confront, and I would be made a liar if I did not say I jerked my knee and tried to run.

I tried to hide, even.  Obviously that did not work out.  I had to come to terms with the reality of my life, and it frightened me.  I saw my life for what it had become, not what it was, and I was dissatisfied (to understate things mildly).  Jobless, depressed, addicted, far from responsible, and going nowhere.  I felt spurned by my own lacking, and it bloodied my ego.

In truth, I felt out of control.  As the winter crept in, I felt a dull and careless frenzy set in that warned of the crash to come.  Careless of self, of body, of situation, of improvement, of freedom, of growth, of light.  It reinforced the seemingly inescapable nature of my situation, and it started to crush me.  Maybe at this point, as the Sun has begun it’s return, I can admit it was what I needed, no matter how painful it was.  Nevertheless, I felt true suffering like I had not felt in nearly a decade, and it colored this winter with darkness, hidden fecundity through putrefaction, confusion, blindness, self, and slow time.  This winter, Saturn came to visit.  I tasted his harvest blade again.  I sat in the Dark, and was alone again.

I was a misery, and the only way out was to embrace what came.  One thing that struck me more profoundly than before was my need for honesty.  Honesty with myself and honesty with the universe.  Honesty with those I love.

In the pursuit of honesty with myself I quit smoking cigarettes.  In pursuit of honesty with the universe, I reified my understanding of the First Noble Truth and encountered my karma as I had not before.  In pursuit of honesty with those I love, I made sure to tell the people in my life how much they meant to me, and not be restrained about showing them my affection.  I also came clean with my parents about the cigarettes, and made sure they had no illusions about my partaking of the Fruit of the Ganges.

This was something I had never seen as problematic before, but that changed.  I realize now that my relationship with Lady Ganja could tenuously be considered “healthy,” but that frequently my imbibing of Her was, in fact, unhealthy.  In the pursuit of honesty with myself, I had to admit to myself that I act like an addict every time I use Her as a crutch, every time She comes between me and Me, every time She amplifies my confusion, every time She keeps me from being the crazy/unstable/ungrounded live wire that I am when I’m sober.  I had to admit to myself that exchanging my sober self for normalcy and socially acceptable behavior was not always healthy, not always called-for, not always a good idea, and not always right.  If I am to be honest with myself, I need to be myself and not some Diet, edited for TV version of Me.

I also had to admit to myself that I know very few people who are not in the same boat I am.  Friends, family, neighbors, strangers.  I had to admit that the people in my life, even the people who “don’t do drugs,” are just as addicted and deluded as I, and that my non-normative activity produces a Shadow Reaction in them.  Though they see me as an addict, they also drink every day, take psychotropic pharmaceuticals, and run away from themselves through media and sedation.

I also had to admit that I, in fact, am not that bad off, and be able to forgive myself for my faults.  I had to admit that forgiveness is one of the most important things we can do as people, and that forgiving yourself is always harder than forgiving others, but always more important.  After the suicide of a very close friend early in the new year, the importance of forgiveness became undeniable to me.  He was always real, always true to himself, and always honest with other.  But he could not forgive himself, and eventually it deteriorated his capacity to forgive the world for being painful, and others for being weak.  Even with his immense capacity for goodness, truth, and valiant selflessness, he got lost in the First Truth to the exclusion of others.  It is my true hope that he found the peace and forgiveness he needed so much.

Crying out the pain was the only way to cure the sickness I felt at that point, and so it was.  I cried for weeks, but on the other side of the tears the Sun was rising, shining in the blue sky, and the world was real again.  Things started falling as they should.  I got a job at a local cafe busing tables, stayed away from the nicotine, removed the vampiric and unhelpful people from my day to day life, started working on the faults I knew I could control, and began the process of forgiving myself for the faults over which I had little say.

I re-started my search for graduate schools, and found one most promising program at a university in Houston!  Now, it seems, I may not even have to leave America to get the education I want!  With that knowledge in mind, I began researching new topics, reading new materials, and picking up my practice again.  Now for the hard part: cleaning my room.

To new beginning, and making sure I don’t leave this page unfilled for far too long yet again.

Pax,

V:.I:.T:.R:.I:.O:.L:. / 999 / eleventhustwo