Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

The sun is rising but I can’t see it. The clouds cover the head like a sock. Socked in. Cloud cover.

I am drinking green tea and thinking about life. I’m quiet and enjoying it. I’m alone.

I’ve been alone for a lot of time lately. J is working so much, and now out of town even, that I end up solitary time-spending most evenings (after seeing mom and dad, or acting friends, or class) and most mornings even when I’m in penngrove I sneak off to Gossage and enjoy my morning routine. I can’t tell you how much I’m loving this Sight Edge routine.

I am grateful for proving space and accountability to find the kernel of pleasure in it, the ownership for me in it. It’s something I’ve been meaning to come back around to, but it felt forced or rigid or … there was just resistance. And now I’m flowing through it, grateful for it, nearly dedicated my life to it: the small micro-steps of work, daily work, and I’m grateful. I love to work.

Even as I write this I feel an unbearable amount of pleasure, gratitude and love rising in me. I love life and my life, I love all people sadly, my heart so heavy for this humanity. I want to participate in it, but it seems so overwhelming and fruitless. I suppose I need to apply my Slight Edge practices to saving the world too, eh? Not saving the world: but healing it. There’s a lot of healing to do, and I can do that through love. I have to start writing again (oh look, Ive started). I’d like to build to something, but I suppose I can’t know what yet. What book did I want to write? Oh yeah, the conversation with self and god. I guess I lost that child when I went to mail Ian my only copy of the book start, and it vanished. Lovely moment. Irony or just plain poetic.

Life is poetic and romantic and so so perfect, I don’t know how anyone can convince me otherwise. I laugh to think I was insecure about it, because I celebrate it so. And the one driving force behind me is to make a difference, to make an impact, a very common and human need and yet I’m compelled to throw myself into this pursuit. I am driven, this ambition a lover I’m obsessed with, and no longer apologies.

Now it’s just doing time, loving time, healing time, allowing time, put head down and softly but consistently step forward now. It’s not aggressive, it’s sincere. It’s not fire, it’s moon. And this crazy wonderful world of business and success and money is just as much poetry as poetry. The poetry of it all.

Do you see it? Can you take a moment to listen inward, listen to your own inner secret whisper, or throbbing of a drum that pulses within you? And do you see how it’s all right – all of it? Sure, there’s evolution to be experienced, but just for a moment take a pause. Let the pleasure of life swallow you for a moment, allow yourself to be enraptured with the existence of Existence itself. I love you, love loves you, love loves love.

Oh, shut up Shannon, stop with all this trying to hard fluffy puppy talk. Ok then, I’ll just speak to myself: hello dear. hello One. Thank you for this day and this morning and this silence and all the loudness of the world – and that I have found my quiet within it. Underneath all that roar is my so cherished Gratitude. The ecstasy of Gratitude that fills my bowl daily. Not the meager kind – no, the fat rich wonderful juicy overflowing almost crazy kind. The kind that makes me shout and cry and go silent all at once. The full full Thank You kind, the simplest humility and pride at having made it this far, this far in life, survived and fought for this kind of peace and now I see I don’t have to fight anymore. Never had to, never will again.

Here I am your god again, your simplest flow. the everything is waiting for you, and you’re already there. I imagine 10 times 100 worlds and all of them happy, all of them with peace at their center, the magma of earth not a passionate fire but rather a healing warm salve, melting and ready to spread over all coldnesses like hot honey. this kind of love. This kind of forgiveness – for everyone. I bathe all brothers and sisters in the beauty of my love and pray only that they can feel it.

§1384 · October 15, 2016 · Berkeley-based, Freewrites, Writing & Language · · [Print]

Leave a Reply