Entry 22 - Contempt of Self and the Transformation of the Infinite

Fear or grief, a choice among choices. I dream of gathering up the energy of the universe around me…of throwing wide my arms and bathing in fierce joy, wrapping myself in deadly energy…holding it, bursting with it until my blood, my bones, my skin erupts with a mindless fury of destruction and rebirth. I dream of becoming something different with this rebirth—coiled grace and strength with all the knowledge of the cosmos contained in a single thought; a single stillness. I dream of holding the universe in my eyes and dying a thousand deaths. Of seeing my face reflected over and over again in the infinity of the stars, the brilliant shifting colors of the most wondrous nebulae. I dream of melting and extending until my body becomes earth, air, water, and spirit, touching and belonging to everything. I will not fear death, I will not fear pain, I will welcome the gifts of the earth and glory until my heart is full and my body and mind are broken—shattered like crystal sands, fractured/faceted. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want/though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death/I shall fear no evil/For I know You, my lord God, are will me.” Crystals of sand…caught in the whirlwind. Loss of self? There was never self, these eyes do not see, these ears do not hear in this dream with no beginning and no end. “Hold infinity in a grain of sand…” something brushes against my thoughts, something caught like a bubble in a waterfall…teasing, disappearing, reappearing breathing soft onto the skin of my mind…I know you are there. You hint at things no mortal should understand…but it too drifts out and out to sea whispering its secrets to another ignoring the heartbeat that drowns out thought and emotion. It’s a rapid fast pulsation of frustration, rage, that winds up like Kundalini, rears and screams its passion…for no one to hear. The pictures are fantasy, colors of emotions bound to the brain with imaginary cords that grip tighter and tighter, sliding like insidious devils to sit on my shoulder and whisper silent sabotage into the ear…they make and remake the rules that choke the air from my lungs and send the little bubble in the whirlwind on its merry way. It leaves me chains, stoned in the desert of your own mind with the sand shifting, each mocking with its what-might-have-beens and questioning, questions that have no answer. Where is my self when there is nothing but my own failures raking knives down my skin, a simoom of self-hate and self-indulgence? Where is my hope when the dark poison of inferiority settles bleakly in my gut and the world fades to ash and grit, burying me? There is no light, no dark, no one but me. A mirror-veiled and shielded, isolated in its cold-ice and silver shapes turned shadow.

I might be seeing major geologic change for the era. Nine year drought followed by monsoons in March and April. Huge dust storms in April. Turkish earthquakes, weird electrical storms that come with storm fronts equalized at low dew-points. The last one (3/31) came with something like a nineteen degree dewpoint. I wish we were about to embark on a new climatic environment. Maybe the earth is readjusting itself, remaking itself from the inside out.

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