Day 463: My Precious
How it was today that I arrived here – that I made landfall in a way, as if upon a firm white beach – swept ashore by the ocean of my sleep – by the oceanic experience of words – experience as a kind of turbulence of pictures, feelings, fragments, in suspension from the words themselves – or from a single word – but from being swept and totally adrift within that turbulence, I gradually assimilate that familiar sense of no way back, no memory track into the cause of things, that word, that word that resonated my unconscious, resonating with where I am within myself, stirring up those pictured connotations, as if there were a perspective of awareness seeking to connect and show me something, a word I can’t yet face except in metaphor, presented in the fragments of a dream, fragments that recede and dissipate in the clutches of my waking mind.
And yet being comfortably stretched out on the bed, comfortable within the weightiness of rested limbs – without a need to move myself – but just to gently stretch and readjust the arms and legs – I felt no need to go into that mental clutching process that I know so well – but instead to simply stay within that weightiness of spine and limb, that simplicity of extension in my waking in my body – where still the sheet and blanket and physical sensations are slightly merged with the feelings in my body, such as where some coolness in a pocket of the sheets spreads without a boundary to become the cooling of my blood; and I move my ankle slightly into congress with that source of coolness and as well, that source of relaxation; and opening my eyes I see that still I’m in that same place in which I fell asleep, though different in that now the room is bathed in daylight and the world beyond the lighted curtains now is full of sounds of early morning. And so connecting with those sounds, carefully I swing my legs outside the bed and place my feet upon the tiled floor. That form of carefulness is for me a kind of practice; that on getting up I do not get hooked straight into the programs of my waking mind.
Sometimes words can seem so fine, and dazzling in their virtue, like these points of light by which we navigate the voyage of our lives, and yet a single point of light can make the world that is surrounding it a world of darkness. In my previous post I wrote about a point of value, a precious moment, something deeply cherished – and looking into Cherished what I found was that point of giving unto something that I would want for me: that point of being believed in, valued, cared for, that point within me, that in seeing it in others for me, it supports me in allowing it for myself, to give to me, and so to live, and so also to extend into the world. And yet that even though I stand by it, deep within me, in spite of who I am, mostly I forget it, overlook it, only come across it in a way, in a dramatic moment now and then, and so those moments I then put a value on, as if those moments were different to the other moments in my life.
I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe that anywhere there existed a special moment, measured out in preciousness, distinctly from the other moments that are here. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to not see what kind of world that I create around this single point of light, to look around this point and see the wasteland that I have created. I forgive myself that I have not accepted or allowed myself to see this wasteland that exists within my life, of moments tagged with lesser value, where I have accepted and allowed myself to judge the moments as less than extraordinary, and then to live accordingly.
If there did exist that ‘writing on the wall’ saying only simply ‘this is life’; could we handle it, could we even begin to get it, while believing in ourselves that, yes we already know that, not seeing how that believing in our knowing robs us of the essence of it, and so with all the moments that we know. I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to stand beside this medium of knowledge in reference to my life and so the lives of others.
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