![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(Let me warn you now -- this might not make a lot of sense. I'm kinda on a sleep-deprived, Sunday-relaxation, fresh-off-the-writing-muse high.)
I struggled a little when I got back. I mean, why not? I was struggling before I left, I struggled during my trip to L.A., in between the beautiful and relaxing parts, so why not keep on keeping on? It's par for the course and I don't mean to make it sound like it's a bad thing because the way I seem to struggle nowadays is less about anxious wringing of hands and racking of guilt and more about facing some isht and looking at it and moving on. And we all have a lot of isht to face, a lot to unlearn and re-learn in this life, and I remember my teacher in the sixth grade saying the origin of the word "learn" actually meant to remember, because we had it all up here, up inside, and it's just about uncovering it, not filling it up. Which I think of now while reading dharma about uncovering and re-learning and discovering our own internal buddha nature that we all have the potential to realize. Damn, I talk about buddha like a mtherfcker.
So anyway, I'm uncovering, I'm peeling back some layers, those that are deep and solid. I was reading this book at the Bodhi Tree bookstore in WeHo and it was an astrology book, by the woman who does astrologyzone.com, where I used to religiously read my monthly horoscope, except lately when I read my horoscope I'm just like, yeah, whatever, and think about how I put down tarot for the most part and maybe I'm putting down a lot of outside earthly means of divination and understanding, except, here's me, standing in this bookstore for twenty minutes, reading this astrology book about 2005 and they bring up Saturn. It's all about Saturn, cause see, Saturn's been visiting with me for nearly two years and it's been hard. Hard. That's my theme nowadays. People ask how something's going -- how's meditation course? how's school? how's the personal ad search? how's the relationship? how's writing? and I always say, "man, it's hard" except it's often with a weird nod or smile on my face. Because, it's not completely going badly. But I'm sure quick to think that. I'm sure quick to sit and think I'm in the same place, I'm the same mofo from two years ago, sitting in the grey cubicle in the office with no determination, no interest, no drive, and distracting myself with the lust for a new lady and a new relationship. But Saturn didn't let that last too long. By summer it was BAM on the doorstep and I woke up in the middle of the night after my birthday and had some ridiculous stupid drama queen anxiety attack which was basically saying "do something!" So I did. I did a lot. I applied to grad school. I got into grad school. I started grad school. I completed my first year of grad school. I quit my job. I found a freelance research job. I started teaching. I've written a couple good short stories that are a few drafts shy from being done. I've had two small pieces published in a small magazine. I've workshopped my old novel and gotten some good insight on what to do with it when I re-tackle it. I started a new novel. And let's look at some other things, like I had chest surgery. I moved in with my partner and have been actively cultivating my relationship. I had a tumultuous love affair that I'm still reeling from but I still wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I started going to temple regularly and decided to actively pursue a specific spiritual practice instead of the steady dabbling I'd been doing for years. Um, yeah, not the same person I was two years ago.
But you know, once Saturn leaves my sign this summer, I will be shortly entering my own personal Saturn Return. So I'm not done. And I know that. Because as I've peeling back these layers, I notice some small change. Sometimes tiny. Sometimes miniscule. But it sticks. It lasts. And it's not really change -- it's pulling out the parts of me that I've been hiding or ignoring. I'm remember who I am. I might have some struggles with depression, with anxiety, with anger, with trying to fill up a perceived hole from a real loss that will never be rectified as long as I keep treating it like a hole, and all these things through up some hella roadblocks, but they ain't me. It's not who I am. I'm still stuck in this cloud sometimes, don't get me wrong, I'm still wanting to sit on the couch and eat cookies and my chest clenches at the thought of the phone. But it's lifting sooner and more often. I'm just having more fun.
Last night I went out alone, came home alone, and in between had some really fun social interactions, with people I hadn't seen in awhile, with people I saw the night before. I went home lonely. I had a hard time falling asleep. But in this weird way, it was me. I am someone who needs to experience loneliness and not avoid it. And I mean that lonely, that deep contemplation of alone, of nothing-ness, of being completely in one's skin and knowing there's nothing else but you. It's actually sometimes hard for me to get to the point of lonely because I like having so much time alone. And being in a relationship, living with someone, does this weird thing where I'm feeling it, I'm alone, but I'm not cause there's someone breathing next to me who isn't really there and I get anxious. I'm finding it on the mat though, during meditation, when I contemplate how everything I have right there, just me and the mat and my breath, is all I need in that moment, and it's scary and lonely but it's true.
And then something happens. I find myself, I put on my own skin to wear as a costume to a party, and I do some roleplay and we have some hot sexy intense fun, but then we go home and go back to literal skin, and I'm not alone. Our molecules intersperse and it was a rare occasion where I fell into a deep sleep while still intertwined with her limbs. And in the morning the withdrawal wasn't too bad. Because I'm trying to move away from addiction, from the constant pursuit of a desire which comes and goes, and prefer to just be there when it arrives.
As if my body is mimicking me, I'm having a change in my relationship to coffee. I only had it half as much in California. I usually forgot to have it in the morning. And when I did, it's intentional and savored. And when it's not, I don't seem to have any bad headaches or fuzzyhead. Though it's possible I've replaced the buzz with nicotine which would also explain why I've barely gotten 6 hours of sleep in a row for the past 3 nights.
And I found her. I found one of the characters and I wrote this morning and I knew, I knew what was happening, saw it all. And it felt good. It wasn't tortured or belabored. I wasn't afraid to stop for fear I'd never find it again -- once I had the vision, the love, I knew I could slip back inside. I stayed in the room. I wrote. But then I left and came back and there it was. I have to fall in love with who I'm writing. I have to write myself. I have to be in love with myself.
I have to be on the verge of tears during the entire viewing of "Angels in America". I have to look cute in my adidas pants and tight black t-shirt. And I have to order delivery food. I can't really afford it but I want it anyway.
I struggled a little when I got back. I mean, why not? I was struggling before I left, I struggled during my trip to L.A., in between the beautiful and relaxing parts, so why not keep on keeping on? It's par for the course and I don't mean to make it sound like it's a bad thing because the way I seem to struggle nowadays is less about anxious wringing of hands and racking of guilt and more about facing some isht and looking at it and moving on. And we all have a lot of isht to face, a lot to unlearn and re-learn in this life, and I remember my teacher in the sixth grade saying the origin of the word "learn" actually meant to remember, because we had it all up here, up inside, and it's just about uncovering it, not filling it up. Which I think of now while reading dharma about uncovering and re-learning and discovering our own internal buddha nature that we all have the potential to realize. Damn, I talk about buddha like a mtherfcker.
So anyway, I'm uncovering, I'm peeling back some layers, those that are deep and solid. I was reading this book at the Bodhi Tree bookstore in WeHo and it was an astrology book, by the woman who does astrologyzone.com, where I used to religiously read my monthly horoscope, except lately when I read my horoscope I'm just like, yeah, whatever, and think about how I put down tarot for the most part and maybe I'm putting down a lot of outside earthly means of divination and understanding, except, here's me, standing in this bookstore for twenty minutes, reading this astrology book about 2005 and they bring up Saturn. It's all about Saturn, cause see, Saturn's been visiting with me for nearly two years and it's been hard. Hard. That's my theme nowadays. People ask how something's going -- how's meditation course? how's school? how's the personal ad search? how's the relationship? how's writing? and I always say, "man, it's hard" except it's often with a weird nod or smile on my face. Because, it's not completely going badly. But I'm sure quick to think that. I'm sure quick to sit and think I'm in the same place, I'm the same mofo from two years ago, sitting in the grey cubicle in the office with no determination, no interest, no drive, and distracting myself with the lust for a new lady and a new relationship. But Saturn didn't let that last too long. By summer it was BAM on the doorstep and I woke up in the middle of the night after my birthday and had some ridiculous stupid drama queen anxiety attack which was basically saying "do something!" So I did. I did a lot. I applied to grad school. I got into grad school. I started grad school. I completed my first year of grad school. I quit my job. I found a freelance research job. I started teaching. I've written a couple good short stories that are a few drafts shy from being done. I've had two small pieces published in a small magazine. I've workshopped my old novel and gotten some good insight on what to do with it when I re-tackle it. I started a new novel. And let's look at some other things, like I had chest surgery. I moved in with my partner and have been actively cultivating my relationship. I had a tumultuous love affair that I'm still reeling from but I still wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I started going to temple regularly and decided to actively pursue a specific spiritual practice instead of the steady dabbling I'd been doing for years. Um, yeah, not the same person I was two years ago.
But you know, once Saturn leaves my sign this summer, I will be shortly entering my own personal Saturn Return. So I'm not done. And I know that. Because as I've peeling back these layers, I notice some small change. Sometimes tiny. Sometimes miniscule. But it sticks. It lasts. And it's not really change -- it's pulling out the parts of me that I've been hiding or ignoring. I'm remember who I am. I might have some struggles with depression, with anxiety, with anger, with trying to fill up a perceived hole from a real loss that will never be rectified as long as I keep treating it like a hole, and all these things through up some hella roadblocks, but they ain't me. It's not who I am. I'm still stuck in this cloud sometimes, don't get me wrong, I'm still wanting to sit on the couch and eat cookies and my chest clenches at the thought of the phone. But it's lifting sooner and more often. I'm just having more fun.
Last night I went out alone, came home alone, and in between had some really fun social interactions, with people I hadn't seen in awhile, with people I saw the night before. I went home lonely. I had a hard time falling asleep. But in this weird way, it was me. I am someone who needs to experience loneliness and not avoid it. And I mean that lonely, that deep contemplation of alone, of nothing-ness, of being completely in one's skin and knowing there's nothing else but you. It's actually sometimes hard for me to get to the point of lonely because I like having so much time alone. And being in a relationship, living with someone, does this weird thing where I'm feeling it, I'm alone, but I'm not cause there's someone breathing next to me who isn't really there and I get anxious. I'm finding it on the mat though, during meditation, when I contemplate how everything I have right there, just me and the mat and my breath, is all I need in that moment, and it's scary and lonely but it's true.
And then something happens. I find myself, I put on my own skin to wear as a costume to a party, and I do some roleplay and we have some hot sexy intense fun, but then we go home and go back to literal skin, and I'm not alone. Our molecules intersperse and it was a rare occasion where I fell into a deep sleep while still intertwined with her limbs. And in the morning the withdrawal wasn't too bad. Because I'm trying to move away from addiction, from the constant pursuit of a desire which comes and goes, and prefer to just be there when it arrives.
As if my body is mimicking me, I'm having a change in my relationship to coffee. I only had it half as much in California. I usually forgot to have it in the morning. And when I did, it's intentional and savored. And when it's not, I don't seem to have any bad headaches or fuzzyhead. Though it's possible I've replaced the buzz with nicotine which would also explain why I've barely gotten 6 hours of sleep in a row for the past 3 nights.
And I found her. I found one of the characters and I wrote this morning and I knew, I knew what was happening, saw it all. And it felt good. It wasn't tortured or belabored. I wasn't afraid to stop for fear I'd never find it again -- once I had the vision, the love, I knew I could slip back inside. I stayed in the room. I wrote. But then I left and came back and there it was. I have to fall in love with who I'm writing. I have to write myself. I have to be in love with myself.
I have to be on the verge of tears during the entire viewing of "Angels in America". I have to look cute in my adidas pants and tight black t-shirt. And I have to order delivery food. I can't really afford it but I want it anyway.
