Everything Belongs

This weekend so far has proved to me that everything belongs. Again. Friday night I felt so incredibly sick to death of everything going on, couldn't see God working in my life, couldn't see what the hell was the point to everything. I am so tired of this portion of my life, just patently exhausted by it all, that it is no wonder I have these times of meltdown. I don't feel entirely comfortable with having them - I am tired of feeling like my vulnerabilities are hanging outside my body like a string of sausages and those times just exacerbate that feeling - but then the afterwards, the peace that descended on Saturday morning as I sat on the steps in the sun, feeling the effects of people praying for me (hello Kentster). This is the life that comes from death. It is the opposite to the reverb that I often feel, that has going on in me the past few weeks, as the things I deny come to the fore anyway and force me to look at them. That reverb is like a death that comes from death, from denial, from unconsciousness. It is why I want God to enter into all of my rooms because I will not ever be as safe as I want to be unless he does. I just wish he'd stop taking his sweet goddamn time about it all ;)

In the meantime, I am trying to sit in the midst of these things, these scary things, these little deaths living within life, to learn from them, because it feels to me like the safest thing I can actually do while they continue to exist within me. Doing otherwise feels like a form of bodily abdication. Thanks for the reminder, Mr Rohr.

Yesterday I took a mental health day for myself. Well, I didn't plan to, it's just that by the time lunchtime came and I hadn't done anything but read, I decided to just kick the ends out and let myself rest. Pour water on the expectations. We get taught in every possible way to strive, and we don't get taught the wisdom of lying down and rolling with it when we need to. That's the sort of shit they should teach in school.

So it felt good to me to yesterday allow myself to do nothing. And so I did, literally. Read two books basically all day. Got online a bit here and there. Watched television (old reruns of Fast Forward, an Australian comedy show). Ate the leftover takeaway from the night before. Didn't even bother having a shower, all day - gross :) Couldn't even be fagged going up the supermarket to get the dog's food. Instead, went to McDonald's for dinner - such a violent method of eating but I didnt care - and my dog was forced to eat a couple of burgers for dinner also :)

Still, today I have woken up and feel soothed. I think the equilibrium is returning, after a week of feeling like I am living inside the middle of a giant gong. And all I know is this. I have freewheeled from feeling like I could just throw in the towel and give it all up on Friday night, to feeling the slow return to some sort of equilibrium today. Inbetween those two states, there is always some sort of almost violent throwing myself back onto God, onto what I can see I am losing focus in. It feels wrenching and it feels like death, it really does. I can see some more areas in my life lately that I am seeing wrong. How funny that space is - seeing that you are seeing wrong, and yet not yet knowing what it is to see right. It is this continual ongoing walking the dark path, having to trust in this unseen being who you have never seen face to face before, and who is strangely silent sometimes to the point of wanting to throw things at him (and because I can't see him, what can I throw? Well, most oftentimes it's my words, my vitriole, and my anger, but he can take it. Indeed, I think he wants to take it. That has been demonstrated 2000 years ago surely. It is death to our egoes to think this way, that God wants to take all of our rage and our wounds and our fuckedupedness because we can't cope with them ourselves. We like to think that we can cope with anything and everything, even while the world reels to and fro and we bite the insides of our mouths in anxiety.