The rain blessedly arrived yesterday just around the 2nd paragraph of writing - g_d how i do love the rain · I seem to be in a state of lassitude which in another period of my life might have rendered me anxious and insistent. I feel neither. I am quietly cooking food and planning further rectitude, not even knowing where that might take place. I have made vulgar virtual passes toward paramours and have been rebuffed, but don’t necessarily feel the need for a hair shirt. As i said in my last essay, i like sex - always have · hopefully always well, even had the good fortune to hear professors posit in classes at an early age “if you’ve never made love to an artist, you don’t know what you’re missing.” I no longer delude myself about romantic closure. I am lucky each day that passes and i am not murdered for the hearts i may have broken by stupidity, negligence or confounded curiosity. What i struggle with today is honesty and openness, if i cannot be that for any love interest, i must move on.
To where, i know not. Between the last period and this sentence i cut overgrowth with the kindly, indefatigable neighbor lady who has blessed my yard with more than one flowering plant and many small delicacies, but it has always been awkward due to my qualms about married women - much less the profound regard i hold for her lion hearted husband who has only shown his care by his, subtle and constant disapproval of my tepid insobriety. I believe myself riddled with cancer, only based on the length and duration of pain from inflammation over an extended period of time and my “at risk” behavior amplified by the ignorant and malicious shunning by my birth family instigated by my birth mother who i am certain suffered a prenatal fall somewhere in my gestation that resulted in my “Frank’s Breech;” a congenital bald spot at my left temporal lobe and anomalous vision that has rendered me a “dual” cyclops against my will - and i am not complaining, simply trying to embrace my suffering and move on.
From my experience i believe very strongly that one can behave poorly and atone for bad behavior; i also believe it takes very little to live a happy fulfilled existence predicated on constructive acts that satisfy some inner yearning for meaning that only individuals seeking answers to the mystery of existence can identify. I don’t think anyone can maintain any control over another; and any effort contrary to that belief reflects only on the person attempting to control another rather than any susceptibility by those hungry for approval - we all want to be acknowledged · especially the control freaks in our midst presuming that their notion of correctness is any more correct than any other.
I have no clue what is going to happen next - whether around the next bend in the road, i will meet back up loving soul sent to redeem my broken heart, or the broken heart i was sent to redeem. I am ready to die as much as i have ever been, but in no more hurry to do so than i have been in my life - though outward manifestations of purpose driven by reaction formation of worthlessness diminish, i find it more and more natural to do nothing more than open to whatever it is about this world i do not understand, and focus my withered mind on ways to comprehend.
Where once i valued my life based on efficiency and a well-honed ability to do the maximum number of chores in the minimum amount of time - it wasn’t until recently that i began to understand my real reason was to preserve my ability to do nothing without attracting attention. I cannot any longer deflect my pain - the best i can accomplish is to find a way to dwell with my own pain in such a way that it does not expand and become a part of yours. I do not know how to accomplish that and hold little hope for a time in my future where my loving heart is what animates the energy around me; i have about lost hope with each failed experiment at honoring my truth - whatever gruesome aspect that might take · (read tongue-in-cheek) i’m not a vile creature; (horny as fuck, but not vile); i have gotten that far, but i also realize that i have the capacity to create disturbance and that self-knowledge causes me too much distraction to be of much use; so like a guest in the Monkey forest of Ubud, i try and train myself to simply observe without valence or interest but to bring as much love as i have witnessed in our blue orb back into focus in this obscure spot in the middle of nowhere, overflowing with love while abiding in the real danger of dying from too little · LOVE .
jts 02/07/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
reprinted with permission - all rights reserved
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