Jawbone
*
I can't stop chewing on the bone of the world.
*
I am too old to feel this unsettled.
Groundlessness, Pema Chodron calls it. You think you have a life, it's illusory.
It's ill, and it's for losers.
*
The things I believe are solid are not so. These things are external and internal and there is really no difference between the two. Everywhere I look I am imprisoned by my habitual way of thinking, feeling, and reacting, yet I am also completely unmoored, unable to find anywhere solid to rest. Unable to escape my mind, unable to be at peace in the world as it is. Seeking to avoid all the things I fear. Unwilling to abandon the damaging patterns I erected to bolster my ego, to keep myself safe from the dangerous world and the people in it.
Bone sick of my self-created prison, terrified to leave it, I gnaw and pace and rattle the bars of the cage, bars that seem solid enough, but if I'd just drop them they'd fall to the ground in a heap.
*
Still, I persist in it.
*
Ah, me.
*
Namaste.
***
posted by tearful dishwasher at 8:38 AM
14 Comments:
Pema Chodron: just started reading her, and I'm dangling on the lifeline she's thrown out.
At first I thought the jawbone was a hip; it contains the essence of a tipped cradle.
I can taste it.
Thank you for articulating both in words and image exactly how I've been feeling.
The urge for self-immolation has been so great lately that I expect any minute now, I will spontaneously combust.
I can only hope that whatever rises from the ashes owns the sense of purpose and self-worth that is currently absent in this current incarnation.
Brother, thank you for this post.
i know. i mean, i don't know the specifics, but the feeling, the ache, the lostness. i know. Morning comes, eventually.
i wish we lived next door and could sit down over a cold beer or hot coffee and talk through the night.
so much love,
angella
ps love pema chodron.
I know this, too. It's nearly absurd the gnawing and then the acceptance -- the knowledge/realization that this back and forth is for a lifetime.
Give in --
thinking of you. it's one of those days; circling around the house like an old dog. none of the usual places to lie down look comfortable. or even familiar.
i was going to say how odd that we all know Pema; but of course it's not. i keep the "pocket Pema" within arm's reach.
take care, dishwasher. you are a good man.
(And as my word verification suggests, you are a "blessly" good man.)
--susan
can you email me? i have a question for you. beezus74@hotmail.com
The other night I had a dream and there was a large group of people, my family among them, and it was some sort of celebration and we were all in a circle, arms around each other and suddenly, a man appeared a hundred feet or so away and he had a weapon and people panicked but I thought, "No, no, it's not real," but then he shot the weapon and something started exploding. I thought maybe it was fireworks but no, it was bombs and I thought to run and then I realized there was no place to run and no way to keep my family safe either- it was one of those horrible moments we all hope never to be a part of.
I looked at the bombs exploding over the nearby lake, shining silver fire in black sky and I thought, "Well, this is how it ends," and I headed there, to the lake, and I accepted that.
I have no idea if you can see that this is the true story of how I know what you are talking about. I hope so.
darling, get in your camper, tell Yolie to bring her stitcheries, you bring your spices and your art supplies, camera or what have you, and head north to BC, straight up to the Haida Gwai.
we'll meet you for campfire in July.
Just found your blog. Like others have commented, you eloquently put into words what I've been feeling for a long time now.
Thanks for putting yourself out there.
Be well,
Jennifer
Latest CD double feature accompaniment to the labors of
fire season defensible space clearing: Pema's "The Places That Scare You" and a journalist named Ripley's "The Unthinkable--Who Survives When Disaster Strikes and Why." Haven't started that second one yet. They're both overdue back to the library.
I hope you find a way to let the bars fall.
Sending only the good stuff.
xo pf
How funny, I've felt the same way too.
And can I mention how I love to see other writers and artists that I admire all tangled up in the comments section? What a world this internet is.
Can so relate, thank you for putting thoughts into words that so many of us can relate to...
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