Revitalization's Weblog

For the curious, questioning, and wandering soul

Archive for perish

The beauty and the bliss

Is it the loneliness? Is it the quiet? What makes heartbreak so darn heartbreaking?

It’s been 3 months, and I still think about him every day. I feel my mind, my brain enjoys to revisit him in my memories. I feel my mind likes to revisit those thoughts, those moments that are so effortlessly permanent and accessible. As if my brain finds solace to go back, dig through the mess, the months, the days, to sift through it all and pull out the beauty and the bliss. Those moments of us laying in bed together, staring into each others eyes. Those moments of us making love so passionately. Those moments of us running and laughing, with such joy. Those moments of us holding handing across the table, having deep conversations about what makes us human. Those moments when I laid on his chest as he stroked my hair and I could so clearly envision our future, the years together, growing old, and going through life hand in hand, heart in heart.

I think we really, deeply loved each other. I think that’s rare to find. I think having a first love that deep and that true, well I think I’m lucky to have had that. I know I am. We were so in love, and I didn’t realize how deeply until after it ended. He expressed it often, and he expressed it sincerely. I never knew what that felt like. I never knew I could develop such a personal and raw connection with someone… a connection that held no ego, no whims, no frills. It was just us, ourselves.

And when it was great, it was truly great. And I can recall moments when I laid in bed with him, smiling ear to ear, laughing and really being present and realizing what bliss we had. I remember questioning if this could last, if this could continue forever. I remember thinking that I could live in that moment forever with him, in his arms. And I sit here, writing this, with tears running down my face, because…. because it hurts to have loved so deeply and to know, and understand that that person is gone from my life, cut out completely, a person who I loved so deeply, who cared for me so profoundly… is gone.

It’s hard, even now, to grapple everything that happened during those 13 months. But more importantly, it’s hard to understand, to really dissect and understand why we didn’t work. Why we fought, why we didn’t communicate, why we butted heads, why he kicked me out of his life, why I wouldn’t take him back. It’s hard to understand why someone who you love so much, could cause so much pain. Both in the moment, with words, but also now, with the absence of words. I wish so badly that we could be friends, because I find it so terrible, so fucking unfair that I cannot have any semblance of a relationship with the man who held my heart, who loved me so deeply, who taught me so much about myself and about the world, with the man who made such an impression in my life… why the hell can we not be friendly, why can we not for the sake of those blissful moments just leave things on good terms. Why does he have such animosity towards me ? He once said he would always love me, even if he hated me he would always love me. Where does that love go? Does it stay in the past, does it stay with those memories, superglued to our youthful selves, nestled within our soft kisses and warm embraces.

It’s hard. It really is hard to let go. I read once in a book about Buddhism that life is a constant process of letting go, of people, of places, of experiences. I think, during heartbreak, we so desperately want to hold on to the love, to the happiness, to those memories that made it all worth it, to that person that turned our world upside down, inside out and showed us a new version of the world that held endless possibility, wonder and promise. It’s difficult to let that person go, those moments go. It’s equally difficult to have faith, to somehow believe and trust that you will find someone just as powerful and influential again. Call me a skeptic, but it’s hard to believe one can struck by lightening twice. Something that felt so rare, so pure, so perfect. And it’s even harder to believe that one will find someone better, someone who is more compatible, someone who will stand the test of time, the ups and downs, someone who will weather the stormiest of fights and hold you forever.

As humans, we crave connection, we crave love, we crave unconditional acceptance, we crave companionship. I found it once. And I lost it once. I’m finding that losing it is almost as difficult as finding it. But, I firmly believe, that it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. And now that I’ve had a taste of it, of that beautiful love, of that deep and profound love… I know I’ll be chasing it again and again, perhaps forever.

 

 

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Heavy

My mind is heavy, it’s weary even in its youth. Weighed down by tired thoughts that seem to stream through on repeat again, and again. It’s as if my mind is a junkyard, filled with dust and debris scattered here and there. On one side there’s a stack of cars, piled perhaps 10 high, flattened and weathered with worn tires from the miles they traveled, from the world they have seen. On the other, broken and forgotten pieces of home, buried toys of a childhood that is long gone.

the earth may not blink, not even pause for a moment

let the politicians figure it out. let them fight the fights. let the soldiers go to battle.

sometimes, I think it’s all overwhelming. I think all that is here, on this earth, it’s too much–all the people, all the suffering, all the fighting, all the arguments, all the killing, all the sadness, all the joy, all the beauty, all the births and all the deaths, all the life changes, all the milestones, all the relationships, all the animals, all the diversity, all the open spaces, all the deep oceans, all the stars in the sky, all the vastness, all the evolution, all the religion, all the politics, all the thoughts, all the beliefs, all the misunderstandings, all the relationships, all the marriages, all the families, all the childhoods, all the nightmares, all the fears, all the faith, all the rivers, all the trees, all the woods, all the shorelines, all the specs of sand, all the cars, all the planes, all the trains, all the poverty, all the disease, all the hunger, all the hopelessness, all the damaged, all the injustice, all the talk, all the noise, all of it. All of it, constant and real.

how does one wrap one’s mind around all of it, constantly changing, morphing, evolving? how does one keep track? how does one make any sense out of everything? It’s terrifying, and amazing, sad and joyous, earth-shattering and awesome. It everything. And, when were in the middle of it, in the thick of this madness, in the center of the storm, in between foresight and hindsight, I can only find indescribable fear that one day, it will all be gone.

All of it, gone from memory, gone from conciousness. And the earth may not blink, not even pause for a moment, not even flinch. Time will go on, people will keep moving, talking, and the noise will only get louder.

I don’t understand. I cannot comprehend why there is such cruelty, such disregard. To experience something so awesome, so tantalizing, so inspiring, only to have to leave it, leaving not a trace and taking… nothing.

Life. It’s a big word.

Where does my body end and the world begin? There’s 7 billion people. I’m breathing, watching my chest rise and fall, rise and fall. I’m taking in air, inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale deep. There’s 7 billion people breathing, their chests rise and fall, rise and fall. Some for the first time, some for the last time. Breath.

I think we learn from everything we do. I think there’s a inherent and basic thirst to treat every experience as important. Learn from what we do, learn from where we walk, learn from what we see, learn from where we stand. I think by absorbing everything around us and taking in every solitary moment and vision and feeling, we learn. We are learning about this earth, that seems to be a part of us, and us a part of it. It’s where we stemmed from. This gorgeous being, this special place in the universe perfectly place between the stars. And somehow we ended up here. Infinite chances that it wouldn’t be so. Infinite reasons for it not to be so. But, you only need one- one chance to be.

Are we really that special, that unique, that stellar? That we were given the chance- random or not, it does not matter. Out of all the potential people, out of all the potential possibilities, we came here. We started here, in this time and place. We were born from the stars, perhaps from infinite happenings, perhaps from absolutely nothing but chance. One single chance brought life, brought this reality to be. Is that crazy? Perhaps for our simple mammalian minds, but perhaps it’s the truth.

We live with the veil of immortality. An ignorance of where we are, of where we’re going. Speeding through space, our earth, our planet, breeding life endlessly and breathing endlessly.

I think unquenchable curiousity drives us. It’s that underlying question, that inkling, that place that the wandering mind goes. You crave to learn about everything around you because subliminally, in the deepest reaches of the mind, you realize that all that you know and all that you are is completely undefinable. I think we live in awe, and rather than sitting around stupefied by the vastness of the universe and a single atom, we keep moving. Constantly jumping from task to task, relationship to relationship as if that’s all that matters. I’m here to say that THAT is trivial. Can’t you see? This sense of need for accomplishment, need for love, need to be fulfilled, need to work hard and stand up for what’s right. What does it all matter? We’re simply, oh so simply, scurrying across this ball of mud we call home. Forgive me for calling this pristine place, this magical pinpoint in space a ball of mud, but it is. It makes me so furious, and partly ashamed because I partake in it as well, in the fact that we forget. Each and everyday we fall prey to a natural, animalistic need. We fall prey to what we think is right and what we think is good. We subject ourselves to what we know, what society has been saying for centuries. We accept and we go. We search for love, for acceptance, for entertainment. It’s all so so trivial, so small.

Look up, dream big and then bigger than that. Our primary concerns, well they have to be bigger than that. What else is there? Perhaps I’m asking big questions, perhaps the biggest questions. But those are the only questions that count, the only ones that are worth pondering about.

Life. It’s a big word. It attempts to contain a lot. I mean a lot. Perhaps it attempts to contain the uncontainable. Life is everything. No, not just the breathing, it’s everything. Because we came from it all, we came from stardust, from a flicker in space, from chance. Life is just as uncontainable as the universe itself, perhaps more so. And to ask what the meaning of life is, well that’s like asking what the meaning of everything is. And, I think that’s what is what drives underlying curiousity. We all have it, we all know that in the dark corners of the mind, there’s a question unanswered.

I mean is it useless to think about? Is it endless and therefore pointless?

I believe, with every fiber in me, that this is the only thing that matters. The only thing that should and does matter. Truly. Deeply. Life, while we may never know where it began, or how we came to be, or why, that’s the only thing that drives the concious mind. Trying to wrap one’s mind around reality, trying to contain the undeniably uncontainable. It’s exhausting and glorious.

Living Like Weasels

I’ve always loved Annie Dillard’s language. It’s so powerful, and Living Like Weasels truly a beautiful piece of literature. Here are my favorite excerpts:

“Weasel! I’d never seen one wild before. He was ten inches long, thin as a curve, a muscled ribbon, brown as fruitwood, soft-furred, alert. His face was fierce, small and pointed as a lizard’s; he would have made a good arrowhead. There was just a dot of chin, maybe two brown hairs’ worth, and then the pure white fur began that spread down his underside. He had two black eyes I didn’t see, any more than you see a window.

The weasel was stunned into stillness as he was emerging from beneath an enormous shaggy wild rose bush four feet away. I was stunned into stillness twisted backward on the tree trunk. Our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.

Our look was as if two lovers, or deadly enemies, met unexpectedly on an overgrown path when each had been thinking of something else: a clearing blow to the gut. It was also a bright blow to the brain, or a sudden beating of brains, with all the charge and intimate grate of rubbed balloons. It emptied our lungs. It felled the forest, moved the fields, and drained the pond; the world dismantled and tumbled into that black hole of eyes. If you and I looked at each other that way, our skulls would split and drop to our shoulders. But we don’t. We keep our skulls. So.

He disappeared. This was only last week, and already I don’t remember what shattered the enchantment. I think I blinked, I think I retrieved my brain from the weasel’s brain, and tried to memorize what I was seeing, and the weasel felt the yank of separation, the careening splash-down into real life and the urgent current of instinct. He vanished under the wild rose. I waited motionless, my mind suddenly full of data and my spirit with pleadings, but he didn’t return.”

And later she writes….

“We could, you know. We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience–even of silence–by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn’t “attack” anything; a weasel lives as he’s meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you. Then even death, where you’re going no matter how you live, cannot you part. Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, till your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles.”

 

If you love this as much as I do, google it and read the whole thing.

Snatching the Unattainable, Only for You

Fuck this shit. FUCK this. These expectations are too high. You put them there, on the highest shelf. Out of reach. Criticize and criticize, until you’re blue in the face. Fuck this shit. I hate it. I cannot handle it. I’m supposed to be hard and tough, build a hard, plastic shell around myself to protect my fragile innards from the verbal wasteland known as your mouth. Well, I don’t. I don’t have a shell, perhaps I tried to build one, make one…. but it has cracks, deep cracks and go straight to the core. and every time you poke, every time you comment, it sticks that dagger a little deeper, it widens the crack a little more, revealing a swirl of vulnerabilities.

Ok, so I’m not good enough. Is that what you’re getting at? That I’m not worthy of this time and this money, these resources and all that you’ve given me? Is that it? Because I cannot achieve the best, be the best, be the one and only BEST, that I am not worthy. This may have been a bad investment. I may have been a bad investment, because I certainly am not what you want, what you desire in your heart.

You, you want perfection. You want this from me. How cruel and undeserved. You tell me I’m wasting time, I’m wasting money, I am wrong, I only do things wrong wrong wrong. I can hardly take anymore. It is hurting my heart. And I’m afraid that there may be some permanent damage.

Oh sure, you’re blind with a vision. You’re blind with ego. But, you don’t see what you’re doing to me. Breaking me down, with every small comment, telling me oh so very indirectly that I am imperfect and wrong. Never right. I can never be right or good.

Disappointment, that’s all I ever feel. Well, perhaps that’s a bit extreme, but that’s what I feel right now. Disappointment because I cannot attain the unattainable. Because I am not good enough, and you expected more. You set the bar too high. And while I have tried for years and years to reach that bar, standing on the tippiest toes, I always stumbled, I always bumbled in your eyes. You don’t see me, you only see my faults. You only see what could be, what should be. You don’t see what I am, and what I have achieved, what I have managed to accomplished in the endless pursuit of trying to appease you and your thirst for perfection from me.

Oh it’s tiring, oh I am tired. This has been an arduous journey and I feel myself breaking down. I try to shield my fragile beating heart from those words, I try to persevere. But, there comes a time when you get through to me. You cut right into me, break me down and tell me to stand up to take some more.

How am I supposed to be a confident young woman, outgoing and smart? How am I supposed to tackle this world and believe that anything is possible, when, you have undoubtedly shoved straight into my face that hardly anything is possible, because I have achieved almost nothing.

You break me down, but I still come whimpering back, trying to please and appease, trying to gain your approval and praise, trying, desperately trying to snatch the unattainable-only for you. I try, I try, and I keep trying.

I am a life, and I am alive. Breathing and animated.

Just a moment ago, I stared at myself in the mirror, blankly, and tried to peer deep into my eyes, looking for something, anything at all. I just stared and stared, and then the thoughts began to flood my mind, as if the iron gates opened up. I was amazed. Now, don’t take this in a narcissistic way, I was just struck by the amazement. My eyes, they are big deep pools of brown and black ink; they tell a story. They speak of life forever evolving, they speak of change and of aging, they speak of every single thing they’ve seen since birth: people, sunlight, emotion…. they speak of their origins. My eyes talk a lot, apparently.

You know, we, as humans, tirelessly search for something unique, special, and amazing. Something out of the ordinary, something that defines a moment, and don’t we all crave to know those moments. We look for them constantly, chasing high after high, trying to greedily take the most spectacular experiences and hoard them for ourselves, hoping that doing so would make all of this mean something.

But, I am realizing more and more that this spectacular thing, this unique moment, this unattainable idea… it may be buried deep down past all the veins, arteries, and tissues. Somewhere, deep, in between a beating heart and expanding lungs. Within ourselves. I sat there awestruck at what I am:

a life

A breathing, animated life full of thoughts, moving across this earth in search for anything that will help me grapple with what being human means. It’s truly stupefying. Sometimes I can hardly believe it.