The Grit in the Centre

As is now my ‘pattern’, the notion that came in half-sleep last night was that there is something even deeper than what I call my core fear of insufficiency—I am not enough, the grit in the centre that is causing the fear as well as everything that’s out of balance in me: the split between I and Other. This separation has been my defense and my malaise since I suppose, the moment of the proverbial Paradise Lost. (See how I have to show off what I know, in case anyone, most of all I myself, think I am ordinarily dumb? Narcissus worshiping at the altar of Artifice…uggh!)

It occurs to me that what’s been surfacing and tumbling around in me this past week is the real review of not only 2010, but the last decade for me. It’s been 10 years of exorcism and rededication of my self—broken, re-broken, reassembled—to the sacred source of my origin, and this resanctification continues, over and over. The image of Prometheus’ liver being eaten by birds and regenerating day after day for eternity comes to mind—the cycle of anabolism and catabolism as well—parallels this process of being unmade and remade that my life is engaged in. Surprisingly, somehow, I am not rattled by the pain and suffering of the image…

The Spiral

I’ve been through it before,

I know
the pain of the
Promethean liver
eaten day after
pleading day for death
hanging
by a neuron
of sanity on the
edge

of eternal
madness. But
I also know
the healing balm of
joy

that follows, in
the swale of that flow
of lava. And

I know too, that
it does get better,
as they say, when
bit by tiny bit you
recover
more of yourself
with each
lash of the
spiral.
___________

But what about this separateness vs. oneness war that is hellbent on rending me asunder? And I am hot and bothered from trying to get the zipper done up on this rift. Do I leave it with you, again, Source? Stop the wriggling around and gnashing of teeth. Go pile stones and chill…

Mantra of Stones

Return to centre,
return to
Dao.

Stack stones.