Thursday, 24 November 2011

Sometimes it doesn't matter how much you micromanage your life to deal with your high sensitivity/post-CFS/adrenal fatigue/stresshead/empath/bad health/inability to function in the world loserness..

You micromanage your life, but then you have to take calculated risks, because that's what life is, right?  Life is about living.  About not needing to micromanage all the time.  About jumping in.

And so seven months ago you take a calculated risk because it feels right, even though it is a stressful thing to do.  But then two weeks later, when you're still dealing with the stress because of your high sensitivity/post-CFS/adrenal fatigue/stresshead/empath/bad health/inability to function in the world loserness, out of left field comes something to stress you off the dial.  Your past, holding a remote control, presses a couple of buttons from 50km away, and so you are reminded that (a) getting rid of your past is not as easy as you would like it to be and (b) you can't remember what (b) was because you have no fucking memory.

Sometimes your health goes backwards in your quest to bring it forwards.  I had a hypoglycemic attack last night.  And so after eating two pieces of toast I didn't want to eat because I really wanted to make the stir fry I really wanted to eat but I couldn't because I thought I would melt into a puddle on the floor,, I lay on the couch for the rest of the night feeling fatigued, weak, and depressed.

I hate the world today.  But hating the world and feeling depressed are no-nos in the energy consciousness field - if I do that I'm dragging down the planetary consciousness sphere with my negative mental energy, man.  Because don't we all know - if we all just stay positive everything will change.

But maybe some things are never going to fucking change.

Feeling Empty


Friday, 4 November 2011

It's too easy to rush to fill them up.  Those empty holes are a terror.  But these days, though, you don't even need to rush to fill them - just wait for the next minute, turn on the closest device to your hand, and let the waves of media, the tweets, the status updates, the newsfeeds wash over you with their urgent panic.  Stuff some baked goods into the hole, go fuck yourself stupid, drink a kilo of forgetfulness or suck it into your lungs.

There are more ways to fill the holes than there are holes to fill.

Feeling empty is not such a bad thing.  Not really.  It is, however,  almost unbearably uncomfortable.  Excruciating.  Especially when you are an inheritor of our bizarre and insane Western mindset.  Look at all that life out there out your window, that weirdness that operates at a frequency not designed for you.  That's the result of our mindset.

The nine-foot-high sculpture Wild Man by Ron Mueck,
lives at McClelland Sculpture Park in Langwarrin, Victoria.
You know, feeling empty is sometimes considered a good thing.  It's when you think there's nothing to fill it up with that it becomes a hell.  Or that the emptiness is ... empty.

Sometimes I suspect that the terrifying emptiness is the most fullest thing there is.  And that's why it's so terrifying.

Walking around feeling empty with your hands open is the most exquisite kind of vulnerability there is.  You will feel like your heart is being ripped open out of your ribcage and that you will disintegrate into a pile of shavings on the floor.

And then so often you find that the audacity of your open-handedness has been rewarded by the immortals and suddenly, against all of your unbelief, like a flood, suddenly again you are filled.