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maybe it’s a primitive, dignified anger of existence, at the lack of it, in this pocket of time which is not endless, which will come to an end. its shrill tone a reminder to live, saying this is not living. but sometimes it just comes out as resentment and looks for victims to accuse instead of motivation to do better. i’m only happy when i’m sad or maybe i’m only alive when i’m feeling and maybe the only feelings i know how to feel are sadness and bittersweetness isn’t that the central issue, the one of feeling alive; of eroticism? maybe that’s why i’m so angry when i’m not alive
groundlessness. i noticed the restlessness. anxiety. the acute urge to turn towards a distraction. for a moment, i wriggled and writhed and my mind darted to this corner and that as i searched for the best way to make the anxiety go away. the edginess. my being unsettled by the groundlessness. until i caught myself and paused. and relaxed my shoulders and closed my eyes and sunk into it. and it was like waves. deep, dark, green waves and i bobbed on them and my stomach dropped with each wave like it would on a swing or in a car going over a hill. breathing in and then out, out, out until the outbreath dissolved and i discovered that it was at the end of the breath that the fluttering sensation appeared. in the in-between space. what is that sensation i wondered. anxiety. excitement. like the moment you leap into uncertainty. bobbing on the wave. of anxiety. uncertainty. bobbing with my restlessness. silently with the sensation. breathe. meet the edge. expand.
impermanence is a sort of continual breaking of the heart. like a branch lodged in the riverbed, life flows around us, pushing, pulling, drowning, descending, caressing, agitating. should we stiffen against the flow, fight against these forces which seem determined to break us? seeing that we cannot change the nature of the water, or life, should we become calloused, resisting the elusiveness of it all, resisting the heartbreak? could the waters soften our exterior, could we rather bend in harmony with the flow? relax into the forces beyond our control? learn their rhythm and cadence and depths and subtleties. could that bending strengthen us against the kind of breaking which destroys? and maybe the heartbreak of impermanence is not a breaking, but an opening. a deepening accompanied by the growing pains of a womb stretching to cultivate and sustain complexity. maybe the opening of impermanence invites us to a softness of heart sensitive to the transient glimpses of beauty, watching as they come and then go, longing but no longer clinging. you were here and now you’re gone and the heights and the depths and their eternal interplay are all beauty.