2deep4u

Blogs that are too deep for my feeble brain to fully comprehend
The 18+ label is rightly used for once because if someone under 18 was exposed to this much existential angst they would immediately commit suicide.

I keep having this conversation with people. I find myself exploring what is so good about life. Uncovering the absence of horrible things and long-hated influences. Making time to be in the space where there is room for the possible.

Be in the space where there is room.
Fucking
whoa
man

I probably have time and money to take care of my responsibilities. I probably have the energy to keep up with commuting by bike and starting out a work out practice with Kate. I believe that I have focus and ability to keep caring for myself.

This is probably a 40 year old woman like seems usual for recent blogs.
40 year old woman speculating that she's finally grown up enough to take care of herself.

I am not overwhelmed by happiness or oppressed by sadness, but there is room for both to happen and hit me full and hard before moving along, like standing in a wave pool and letting each wave come and knock me and not having to devote every bit of my experience to dealing with the wave. 

Welcome to the most tortured metaphor you will find this week.
Like a shitty blog suspended over the precipice of the internet quagmire begging for the sweet release of oblivion I must bend every solitary scrap of will to not diving over the edge.
How'd I do in comparison to hers?
I think mine still somehow worked out better and I was trying to make a shitty one.

There are bad things and stressors on the horizon. Paying rent and bills and getting food and rebuilding my tattoo fund in time. Hoping that I can do not have to choose between ink and other commitments that fall between bills and ink.

Gotta get tatted up.

It's not that I've made life good. It's not that it's good because things are only going well. It's not that it's good because I've learned how to use tools to fix it. It's not good because of any reason other than it was already good to start with and I am presently allowing there exists goodness and I am present allowing there to be willingness to accept the space and the goodness being.

And the hurt being.

And the distraction being.

And pretension being.
Seriously why in the fuck are you writing like this?
Arrange your words, Christ.

And while there are no words to push away the fears and the known undermining structures still leave me hanging out over a nasty potential fall... this is not falling.

No words to push away the fear?
There was that internal monologue thing in Dune when Paul Atreides has to submit to the Gom Jabbar.

I had a real interesting moment today this morning during my work out.

I've been working hard at being present inside of my body and accepting and paying attention to the things that I feel.

GHOSTS
REFLECTED IN YOUR EYEBALL

Suddenly I became aware of how much sensation I pick up from outside of my skin. That kind of awareness of presence, of electric/magnetic field perception. The sort of awareness I have of the space around my person that leads me to think about things touching me as being touching the outside of me.

DEEEEEEEEEEEP.

My first response was to want to shut off completely all of the outside feeling and try to be "right" with only the inside feeling. I held that for about forty minutes, but slowly came to realize that my goal shouldn't be one or the other, but a balance between both. Feeling from the outside as needed and feeling from the inside as needed and not trying to squash or focus only on one.

It is a strange strange thing, and curious. Something to note and let be without studying it to death.

Now I must change and grab lunch and head out to work. Tonight there will be pie and sleep, and tomorrow I take Graham's pants home.

I had something to say to this but I don't even know what the fuck it is anymore.
What is happening?
What am I doing with my life?

I work in a very rough environment. In the office the most common joke is based on the fact that in many other workplaces any language or attitudes that we display would result in termination.

Haha yeah I bet.
We're soooooo fucking edgy in this office!
Someone even said shit once!

It can get very uncomfortable at times when things hit close to home or brush up against historical fears or shameful labels. It can get very uncomfortable at times when I really listen to the things that others talk about and hear how they objectify people and reinforce harmful patterns or say terribly racist or sexist things. It can seem very hostile. It can seem very... bad. 

 I bet your office is just edgy as fuck with you working there.

Today I got to thinking about how these guys would be so appalled at the idea of having to be PC because it is stupid to have to tip toe around other people's feelings. People like us don't get offended at rude stuff aimed at them, we can talk like this around us because we understand. Only they get upset when we talk about them like this. 

I'm a white woman your rights end where my feelings begin!

There are days when I do wake feeling like I've slept in the lap of Cthulhu.

I call those days "workdays".

Today I'm having a little breakfast.

I have a pretty blue bowl and I put six cherries, 15 blueberries, five raspberries, and a mini babybel cheese into it. I have a four ounce yogurt cup, a banana, and a little pot of tea with a little tea cup with a little sloth painted inside the cup. The tea is a mango Ceylon and the cup holds just about an ounce of tea at a time, letting each bit cool just right for sipping down. 

Let me bore you with my entire routine in minute detail.

The cherries have pits and stems, some of the blueberries have little stem bits, and the cheese is wrapped in plastic and wax. There is fiddling to be done here and there are no big bites to be taken or too much to eat. I can read along and pause to take a bite or spit a pit. I ate the banana while assembling the rest of the food and I walk back to the kitchen while assmebling the tea and throwing out bits of trash and stem.

Each tiny cup of tea is a fresh cup with heat and flavor. Every berry is its own texture and flavor and the yogurt is tart and the cheese is smooth. There is plenty of room here for fears and worries today, plenty of thoughts of anxiety and sadness to keep me company. Each fear has its own flavor and textures. Worried about getting the brakes fixed on the car, nervous about biking in to work, terrified that I'm not learning work fast enough and even more terrified that I'm doing better than anybody else has in my position before. 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I am afraid that I am not lovable, that I'm not good enough at living my life, that I'm too forgettable or worth nothing more than the last useful thing I've done. I'm afraid that I'll never get any sense of stability and I'll never be even and level and nothing I do will ever ever ever be enough. And I eat each of these fears with a blueberry or a cherry or a raspberry or a bit of creamy dairy. I wash them down with a sip of hot tea feeling the hint of honey sweeten my tongue. 

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I'm sure it's not the most boring blog I've ever reviewed but it's certainly the most boring in recent memory.
Like those last 50 blogs that were all the same woman yet she somehow is different people?
That woman blows the lid off this shit in terms of intrigue.

This way, when the fears become walls that stand in the way of my love and compassion I can see where the wall must come down. I can see where the wall gets in the way of doing what I can do. When the fears are right in my fingers I can put them in my mouth and accept them as they are and eat them whole. 

LET THE PAIN WASH OVER YOU.
WHEN IT IS GONE YOU ARE ALL THAT REMAINS.
Man Dune was awesome.
It captures all this bullshit existential fear and pain and doubt in one paragraph and it's totally awesome.
Unlike this.
I guess because in Dune there's a point to it
and it, you know, stops.
Dune captures the mindset of like 3 people in the same space this dumb bitch explains what she's eating.

The blueberries of suffering teach us how to eat the buffet of life. Little bites, well tasted and chewed, swallowed with hot sweet tea. Taken as nourishment and consumed gratefully.

What the fuck was that
are you fucking serious?
That is the douchiest thing I have ever read in my entire fucking life.
That is entirely unacceptable.
BLUEBERRIES ARE SUFFERING TO TEACH US HOW TO EAT THE BUFFET OF LIFE.
Blueberries suffering what?
Buffet of life?
That is so a typical American attempt at spirituality, too.
Only Americans can work an all-you-eat buffet into what's supposed to be like a Zen moment.
You know, Americans, a major part of most religions is self denial.
Judaism, Christianity, Islam, most Pagan traditions, Hinduism, Buddhism--
all have a component of self denial.

“Meditation is not just a rest or retreat from the turmoil of the stream or the impurity of the world. It is a way of being the stream, so that one can be at home in both the white water and the eddies. Meditation may take one out of the world, but it also puts one totally into it.”

I think the Japanese kind of have the right of it when it comes to meditation.
It's fine to stop and take a breath once in a while but you're always living in the world.
You can't really
you can't really remove yourself from reality.
You should be living your life so you don't need to remove yourself from it.

I've been reading things lately that praise the heroism of teachers who physically protected their young charges physically when a tornado hit the school building. Then there is the guy who interfered with a guy who was trying to stab a pregnant woman and got stabbed himself. There are regular reminders of the heroes who serve in the military, who serve communities as first responders, who live life in service to cause and community. 

I think most people would try to stop the man about to stab the pregnant woman.
I know I would.
Unless she was really annoying.
Then I might let fate take its course.

Not because I doubt the value of the acts of service. Not because I doubt the sincerity of those who post such praise.

Because, I think, labeling those who do heroic acts of service as heroes serves to set them apart from us and serves to set us apart from the scary circumstances in which those who serve shine brightest.

A choice made in a heated moment can leave us labeled hero or coward, villain or victim. How do we prepare for unexpected heated moments? How do we get ready to act in accordance with our values and priorities even when we are over tired, hungry, hurt, injured, afraid? 

Speaking of meditation and Zen:
Zen stresses not thinking about shit too much and when it comes to garbage like this blog you can really start to see where they're coming from with that statement.

It's not unusual for me to feel down around my birthday. It's not about getting old or something like that, it's just a renewal of the conviction that I am essentially worthless and useless. 

This blog sure is worthless and useless.
Have you ever read something this awful in your entire life?
If there's a purgatory and I'm sent there it'd just be an endless library filled with shit like this.
All the covers are black and blank and the only thing inside is this kind of shit.
And my task is to somehow understand and sort it.
How would you even begin sorting this shit?
Could you even separate the shit from the truly shit?
Am I going insane?
Oh God can you believe I've been reading this shit this long?
I should get a gold star for enduring this long.

Part of my mind has been nesting very hard. Nests are cool shapes, being images of comfort and safety even though they are often depicted as the kind of nest that is essentially a bowl with no cover or walls.

And other shit that makes sense to me.
What?
Fuck blogs.