made me learn a little bit faster, made my skin a little bit thicker
(Note from the Editrix: Because these are mounting, sadly, I'm going to start generally indicating when they were written, as opposed to published. This one is from the 23rd of July.)
broken people get recycled
and I hope that I will
sometimes we're thrown off our pathways
That's stone-the-crows-at-home truth, innit? Though in all fairness, while I frequently feel I'm broken, I never feel I'm going to be recycled, yet. Rebuilt, yes. Repainted, repatched, remarked, renewed, sure. Recycled? Doesn't that mean this me disappears entirely into someone else?
(Oh. Well. Yes. But we're not talking about those times.)
I'm still slightly tilted over how fast this all fell apart, too. I had a very good birthday, for once, which I will likely always treasure; two days later I'd hit a melancholy patch, reflecting on life decisions in general; two days past that I decided it was finally time to float the train to the surface, and try land again.
And then...everything exploded. That's kind of mentally stunning on its own.
what I thought was my way home
wasn't the place I--
no, I'm not afraid of changing
I'm certain nothing's certain
what we own becomes our prison
my possessions will be gone
back to where they came from
Or..put another way...the more concrete our sense of self becomes, the more limiting it becomes. I wrestle with this a great deal, because as much as I advocate how important change and adaptability are, I struggle against both adaptation and changing. Though I think it's one reason why I'm a shapeshifter in SL (and why I perpetually cycle through hair colors in RL). Reconfiguration is important, but only if we're free enough to consider change. (Or brave enough.)
blame
no one is to blame
as natural as the rain that falls
here comes the flood again
Loss must be mourned, yes. Mourning takes time. And there's a lot of different ways to lose, and to mourn, for that matter. But just as there is no one "right" way to experience a loss, there is also no "right" time to get better. We heal on our own terms, on our own time, in our own ways. Some things hit us harder than others, but loss is also a universal leveler. We have all felt it. We all find our own ways to cope.
see the rock that you hold onto
is it gonna save you?
when the earth begins to crumble
why do you feel you have to hold on?
imagine if you let go
This becomes its own trap, too. Forming our entire concepts of self and identity, integrity, independence around one specific thing--when that specific thing goes away, be it a person, a religion, a job, whatever--it can be extremely damaging. Long term or short term, it's a hard blow, and it staggers most of us. This is also universal.
More than that, it can be almost counterintuitive--as long as we hold tightly to what's hurting us, well, it still hurts us, but we're familiar with it, right? No one can say they're precisely comfortable, but the terrain is understood, the terrain is known. Letting go...even if it saves us pain in the long run...sends us into new experiences, new shifts of consciousness, new understandings...at the very least, it moves us to somewhere new where we don't know all the landmarks.
This can be terrifying.
wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts
Once we let go, though...once we accept that we can't be in control of everything, and we need to accept change, relocation, differentiation, reconsideration...Once we learn to adapt, to integrate...we may well find we're in a better place. I mean, jury's still out on whether I'm moving to a better place, but right now, I'm not so much clinging to the rock of adamant resistance as tunnelling under it at speed, trying to reach a place where the fire can't reach me.
Once I stop fearing immolation, I may be ready to figure out what happens next. Maybe.
wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts
It's all evolution, in a sense. If we can't change, we die out, and many have. We're all going to die anyway, that's the name of the game, but we don't have to cheerfully invite Death to our door. She's friendly and all, but come on, time for tea and scones later, right?
So...letting go. Which I'm past crap at, freely admitted. I have held so tightly to things I nearly have permanent half-moon cuts in my palms from clenching my fists to hold on. But this does not work, short term or long term. This is all about loss of control, more than fear of change. Which is ludicrous, when you think about it--the collared submissive is terrified of losing control.
Come on, now. That's high-grade irony, right there.
here comes the flood again
don't trust your eyes
it's easy to believe them
know with your heart
that you can leave your prison
So...that's the next step. Don't control things. Don't attempt to redirect conversations. Don't try to figure out the angle of approach, or descent, or predict the outcome. All terrifying. All necessary.
But especially here...because I'm already trapped in the monochromatic. I cannot hope for a possible if it leads to a positive--because no future is good while the present is bad. That sounds simplistic, and...it is, but the complication is, other people have things happen and shrug and say, well, maybe tomorrow will be better.
For me, tomorrow is vapor until things get better. It's a damaging mindset.
Hope. Acceptance. Allowing room for reality to shift in the direction it needs to go. This way lies personal growth, emotional development.
Me? There is no tomorrow until I get out of the fire. No hope. No acceptance. No growth, no development, only stagnation. And oh, good gods, a rabid half-ton of solid, choking fear.
So there's the issue. Let go of the need to control; let go of the need to direct; let go of the fear. Embrace the powerlessness. I am here now. Here is scary. Hear is hurting, and pain, and despair. Yes. But here is not only those things. There are bright spots. There are joys, small and large. The wandering Duke wandered by again for a while, for example. We got to spend some time face to face, talking, and I realized how much I'd missed that. In the midst of every sorrow, in the midst of all the fear, there was that bright, alive mind in blue fur.
don't trust your mind
it's not always listening
turn on the lights
and feel the ancient rhythm
So, perhaps the scariest statement of all: Everything will work out. Just give it time. Unclench my hands and breathe, sink beneath the waves if I need to. Let the waves move me where I need to be. Trust.
Gods, trust is terrifying. And again, irony, because I say that, while still trusting a great many people with a great many things.
But...let go. That's the lesson. Breathing air, breathing water, breathing fire--adapt to all of it. Trust. Trust that the right decisions will be made, that I will have the right information when asked, and be honest with myself and others. Commit to the fear of it, but acknowledge that fear. And allow people to tell me it's okay to be afraid, or the fear will pass, and believe them when they tell me this.
So simple. So scary.
So necessary.
Let go. Fall or fly, let go. Just...let it all go.
(Pictures taken at the Enchanted Isle of Mystery. Lyrics from Katie Melua's The Flood.)
broken people get recycled
and I hope that I will
sometimes we're thrown off our pathways
That's stone-the-crows-at-home truth, innit? Though in all fairness, while I frequently feel I'm broken, I never feel I'm going to be recycled, yet. Rebuilt, yes. Repainted, repatched, remarked, renewed, sure. Recycled? Doesn't that mean this me disappears entirely into someone else?
(Oh. Well. Yes. But we're not talking about those times.)
I'm still slightly tilted over how fast this all fell apart, too. I had a very good birthday, for once, which I will likely always treasure; two days later I'd hit a melancholy patch, reflecting on life decisions in general; two days past that I decided it was finally time to float the train to the surface, and try land again.
And then...everything exploded. That's kind of mentally stunning on its own.
what I thought was my way home
wasn't the place I--
no, I'm not afraid of changing
I'm certain nothing's certain
what we own becomes our prison
my possessions will be gone
back to where they came from
Or..put another way...the more concrete our sense of self becomes, the more limiting it becomes. I wrestle with this a great deal, because as much as I advocate how important change and adaptability are, I struggle against both adaptation and changing. Though I think it's one reason why I'm a shapeshifter in SL (and why I perpetually cycle through hair colors in RL). Reconfiguration is important, but only if we're free enough to consider change. (Or brave enough.)
blame
no one is to blame
as natural as the rain that falls
here comes the flood again
Loss must be mourned, yes. Mourning takes time. And there's a lot of different ways to lose, and to mourn, for that matter. But just as there is no one "right" way to experience a loss, there is also no "right" time to get better. We heal on our own terms, on our own time, in our own ways. Some things hit us harder than others, but loss is also a universal leveler. We have all felt it. We all find our own ways to cope.
see the rock that you hold onto
is it gonna save you?
when the earth begins to crumble
why do you feel you have to hold on?
imagine if you let go
This becomes its own trap, too. Forming our entire concepts of self and identity, integrity, independence around one specific thing--when that specific thing goes away, be it a person, a religion, a job, whatever--it can be extremely damaging. Long term or short term, it's a hard blow, and it staggers most of us. This is also universal.
More than that, it can be almost counterintuitive--as long as we hold tightly to what's hurting us, well, it still hurts us, but we're familiar with it, right? No one can say they're precisely comfortable, but the terrain is understood, the terrain is known. Letting go...even if it saves us pain in the long run...sends us into new experiences, new shifts of consciousness, new understandings...at the very least, it moves us to somewhere new where we don't know all the landmarks.
This can be terrifying.
wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts
Once we let go, though...once we accept that we can't be in control of everything, and we need to accept change, relocation, differentiation, reconsideration...Once we learn to adapt, to integrate...we may well find we're in a better place. I mean, jury's still out on whether I'm moving to a better place, but right now, I'm not so much clinging to the rock of adamant resistance as tunnelling under it at speed, trying to reach a place where the fire can't reach me.
Once I stop fearing immolation, I may be ready to figure out what happens next. Maybe.
wash away
the weight that pulls you down
ride the waves
that free you from your doubts
It's all evolution, in a sense. If we can't change, we die out, and many have. We're all going to die anyway, that's the name of the game, but we don't have to cheerfully invite Death to our door. She's friendly and all, but come on, time for tea and scones later, right?
So...letting go. Which I'm past crap at, freely admitted. I have held so tightly to things I nearly have permanent half-moon cuts in my palms from clenching my fists to hold on. But this does not work, short term or long term. This is all about loss of control, more than fear of change. Which is ludicrous, when you think about it--the collared submissive is terrified of losing control.
Come on, now. That's high-grade irony, right there.
here comes the flood again
don't trust your eyes
it's easy to believe them
know with your heart
that you can leave your prison
So...that's the next step. Don't control things. Don't attempt to redirect conversations. Don't try to figure out the angle of approach, or descent, or predict the outcome. All terrifying. All necessary.
But especially here...because I'm already trapped in the monochromatic. I cannot hope for a possible if it leads to a positive--because no future is good while the present is bad. That sounds simplistic, and...it is, but the complication is, other people have things happen and shrug and say, well, maybe tomorrow will be better.
For me, tomorrow is vapor until things get better. It's a damaging mindset.
Hope. Acceptance. Allowing room for reality to shift in the direction it needs to go. This way lies personal growth, emotional development.
Me? There is no tomorrow until I get out of the fire. No hope. No acceptance. No growth, no development, only stagnation. And oh, good gods, a rabid half-ton of solid, choking fear.
So there's the issue. Let go of the need to control; let go of the need to direct; let go of the fear. Embrace the powerlessness. I am here now. Here is scary. Hear is hurting, and pain, and despair. Yes. But here is not only those things. There are bright spots. There are joys, small and large. The wandering Duke wandered by again for a while, for example. We got to spend some time face to face, talking, and I realized how much I'd missed that. In the midst of every sorrow, in the midst of all the fear, there was that bright, alive mind in blue fur.
don't trust your mind
it's not always listening
turn on the lights
and feel the ancient rhythm
So, perhaps the scariest statement of all: Everything will work out. Just give it time. Unclench my hands and breathe, sink beneath the waves if I need to. Let the waves move me where I need to be. Trust.
Gods, trust is terrifying. And again, irony, because I say that, while still trusting a great many people with a great many things.
But...let go. That's the lesson. Breathing air, breathing water, breathing fire--adapt to all of it. Trust. Trust that the right decisions will be made, that I will have the right information when asked, and be honest with myself and others. Commit to the fear of it, but acknowledge that fear. And allow people to tell me it's okay to be afraid, or the fear will pass, and believe them when they tell me this.
So simple. So scary.
So necessary.
Let go. Fall or fly, let go. Just...let it all go.
(Pictures taken at the Enchanted Isle of Mystery. Lyrics from Katie Melua's The Flood.)
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