The days are taking on an odd flavor…
Something in my body remembers the feeling of transition times, from before I was making sense of these thresholds from an internally reflective, philosophical, spiritual, or mystical view. I almost have an image in my mind of a young me outdoors in the fall (or was it the early spring?)
Something not visible, but in motion nonetheless; the world changing around me and I will adapt, but I know not yet how. That then, and now.
Today, I have a different view of these moments, slightly less separation between the world that is changing and my self “within” it, or is it it within me? My bones and body feel at times ephemeral. The world that fills my eyes, that visual scape through which I can see my arms and body moving, shimmers with its simultaneously certain material and yet somehow empty real nature.
The poet, Leonard Cohen, once wrote, “I don’t trust my inner feelings, inner feelings come and go.”
I know this to be true in my own experience – inner feelings can evaporate like clouds on a summer day, under the watchful gaze of simple awareness. Still, inner feelings can also consume my identity, a seemingly impenetrable world of illusion taking me in its grasp. Over time, I take these maelstrom mirage less seriously while still having trouble breaking their grip over my physical sensation.
In that way, the world feels like the proverbial stage. I rest, wrapped in fear, but somehow, in some way, immune to it. I rise and dress, lighthearted with innocent inquiry and joke. Going for a haircut this morning from an old friend and stylist extraordinaire, I playfully donned my “hip sweatshirt” feeling stylish and cool. 10 minutes after arriving to my desk, I’m back to bed – laid out with the mystery of an acute autonomic dysreflexia discomfort overwhelming my system.
My intestines spring to life with a cacophony of long and bizarre sounds. Eleña laughs, “I know those sounds, my belly sounds like that when I’m stressed.” She lovingly conducts about 10 minutes of abdominal massage, the sensation calms, the underwater kazoo quiets… I’m back up, ready for breakfast and the day.
A few moments of email and the like and we are out the door, both to enjoy the view of the wider world than my office window streaming by, and to enjoy the company and conversation that is my every fifth week ritual with Lisa. Long ago, we were just two new friends enjoying late-night Mexican food and getting to know you. Today I have watched Lisa start a family and carry a business, while pursuing dance and patronizing the arts along the way. I very much value the 20 minutes we spend together every 35 days or so, and come away with the added benefit of a dashing hairdo every time. 🙂
Home to make calls to various bureaucracies as I continue to rap on the doors of mystery in efforts to both honor the intensity of the moment, and wrangle some clear path for my feet. I applied for something today having to do with the possibility of additional homecare, I’m not even sure what it was anymore – just the next in a long line of phone numbers with well-meaning and kind voices on the other end communicating a complex and often opaque system of care.
The remainder of the afternoon I turned to productive client service engagement in my role as “Beauty and accessibility Maven” to an emerging online e-learning initiative. And later to the aforementioned work on crafting a portal for patronage to a long-standing and growing developmental construct I’ve called Life as Art for over 25 years now. I look forward to sharing that with you further as it feels to me an important perspective to aid in the development of a more robust and agile creativity in our human family.
But about that odd flavor…
This ephemeral world, ephemeral self, concrete material reality of an overwhelming feeling that evaporates and returns like clouds in eternities sky, a colored swirl of those inner feelings, positive and negative, mixing in the milkshake of life. I tumble through the blender, trusting my flavor, surrendering my fear, and honoring love – even when I might feel unworthy.
Odd flavor, this world. I never did go back all the way to feeling a physical ease today, always a little sense of effort and discomfort. Nonetheless, many smiles, little fits of laughter here and there, warm connections, and what the hell, I do look good. 🙂
Now it’s off to entertain and catch up with another new old friend coming by to finish our last installment in the series that is Good Omens on one of our streaming channels. The story of mixing an angel and a demon (strangely reminiscent of the paragraphs above) and the really lovely flavor that comes from that dynamic.
I guess it’s just that little thing we call life, painted on the canvas, as the canvas, as the brush, and as the paints of this flickering moment of witness for the whole unfolding through endless time.
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…