A MUSE me

Tonight I'm wearing blackness as a blanket.  I've turned off the lights.  Taken out my contacts.  Removed the glasses from my face, and live life without sight.

It's kind of refreshing.  It's a point of view I've chosen.  I hate being blind.  I really really do, but the fun thing about it is this...I get to choose when I don't want to see anymore.  Just remove all vision aids from my face...and I don't have to look at a goddamn thing.

I meditate (as I do all things that I do when I'm alone) sans clothes.  I have no training in meditation.  I've never been guided.  I've read a couple books, but beyond that...I have no formal training.  I'm not Buddhist. I'm not searching for zen.  I simply found a way to go into that place that they all talk about.  I don't know what enlightenment is, or even what that really means, but I do know what a light/love explosion is.  I can get that nearly every time.  I created my own form of meditation based on shit I've read, and things I've picked up...and by god it works.  At least it works for me, and since I'm the one doing it...I guess that's enough.

I wonder though if I could become some sort of guru.  Teach this naked meditation practice to other people. It's a two birds trick.  I get to hang out naked with other people...and if I'm really clever, they'll pay me for it.  Now this is actually never going to happen...but it's something to file away in my "makes me happy to think about" file.

So now I'm sitting here.  Post meditative glow.  Blind.  My glasses mere inches away from me, yet I keep not reaching for them.  Still kind of enjoying not being able to see.  Although I do have to hope a little bit, that my fingers are in the right position on the keyboard.  Otherwise this is all going to be just so much gibberish.

So my last three posts here...the Lust/Passion/Romance trio, was an attempt at a bit of a purge.  I'm kind of afraid it didn't work.  I'm either going to have to get more in depth with that shit...or
or
or find another outlet.  I don't know.  I seem to be hanging on to a lot of crap.  I can backburner most of it, but soon enough it's at the front of my brain again, screaming for attention, that in all honesty I feel like I've already given enough to.

Funny how our brain forces priority.  So many other things to think about.  To focus on.  To try.  So many goddamn adventures to have...and I seem stuck in this weird graveyard of my own past.  Don't get me wrong...I'm a huge fan of graveyards, and I'm also pretty fond of my own past...even the shitty parts of it....but if I'm ever going to eventually bury even more ghosts there...I'm going to have to find the fucking exit.  Instead I find myself continually wandering the tombstones of my pain, and laying flowers at the graves of all my loss.

Now I know it's time to get up and go to the dance...but my knees have dirt on them, and I want a shower first...but even before that...I still have to find the gate that gets me out of here...and still...
I'm so very distracted by each new stone I pass on my way out.

That's all so fucking emo morbid, it's rather sickening...but by the same token, it's the best metaphor that comes to my mind right now...so I'm sticking with it.

I think ultimately I'm selfish.  I want what we all want.  What most of us never get.  Only the few.  Only the lucky.  I want closure.  I want fin.   I want to have that thing that finishes beautifully, whatever it was that was begun.

That doesn't happen though.
We all just keep going.

The trick is learning how to invent that ending, using only the raw materials you were given to begin with.  Or maybe that's the trick.  I don't really know...or else I might have done it already.

There's also replacement therapy, but I've always thought that kind of sick.

Hey kid...sorry your dog died...here have a puppy.

Something about that just doesn't sit right with me.  But I guess it works for a lot of people...so who am I to judge.

They say time heals all wounds, but I've known a guy who's been paralyzed from the waist down since high school.  Time hasn't given him his legs back...so, I suppose there's fallacy there as well.

I think the biggest problem is determining desire.  You see, I have no effin idea what I want.  I know all the things I DON'T want...but that doesn't help me find motivation or direction toward anything.  You can't help a guy who doesn't know what he wants...but it is an interesting place to be.

It's a conundrum.  A paradox of sorts.  I wan't this...but I don't want this at all.
I wan't to be social, but as soon as I am I  want to be alone, then as soon as I'm alone again, I wan't company.  How do you find an answer to that?

I feel mostly like I'm on this incredible search, but it's really a search FOR a search.  I'm looking for something, but I don't know what it is...and I can't start looking for it, until I know what it is, but I have to keep looking for it to discover what it is.  Does that make sense.  It sure as shit doesn't make any sense to me.

Anyhow...

I'm rambling.

Sometimes I do that.  Sometimes I write very specifically, in hopes that it will purge.  It doesn't.  Then I ramble, in hopes that it will purge.  It doesn't.  I need to figure out a way to stick a metaphorical finger down my psychological throat, and just vomit all that shit up...but it will probably really fuck up my figurative teeth...so fuck it.  I'll keep searching.

For the search.