Trust me, I am far enough along the path to know how pointless such feelings are– how baseless and destructive they can be– but all that ‘knowing’ doesn’t do jack-all to release the feelings that are as deeply embedded in my gut as any awful virus can be.
This is the life of a manic-depressive, bi-polar, emotional dervish– whatever your label of choice may be. There is no escaping its circular visitation—
As most of you know, I have spent my adult life figuring out the jedi-knight moves to inoculate myself against this genetic gift from above– and if there is one thing in my life that I am genuinely proud of, it is the giant silver trophy I was awarded for my victories against this poisonous vibration.
(Okay, full disclosure, there are no trophies– no diplomas, no stamps of promotion. Only I know what ground I have covered– what territory I have reclaimed).
One thing I have learned is that it hates the light. HATES exposure to love and compassion– so what is the very best thing I can do to expel it from my abdomen? Why bring it in here and share it all with you light-filled wonders.
It doesn’t stand a chance. This is one of the very best things blogging has done for me, hands down.
Of course, I also spent the morning– gently, slowly– with no pressure– running laundry, doing yoga– and set up an acupuncture appointment for later today.
Everyone has their life fantasies— the big ones. Mine have absolutely nothing to do with jumping out of a plane, or traveling to Borneo, or singing on stage with the Indigo Girls (although, admittedly, that would be totally cool). No my biggest, deepest life fantasy is the idea of having a steady stream of energy– bright, flowing energy— all the time.
I am closer to that dream than I have ever been in my life, but damn if it doesn’t piss me off to wake up after a cleansing storm of a weekend— with great blue skies, crisp, fresh breezes– full out sunshine— and have to struggle to find my way into my equilibrium.
Okay, okay– I just heard and felt that last one– my troubles are so not the speck of dirt in an insect’s eye– I know, I get it.
But the last laugh is on that nasty twist of energy that just flew out my open window– owning it, feeling it, naming it and sharing it– just dispelled it.