a story
i sat in her office, bewildered and awestruck at the light shining through the window. and through my soul. i couldn’t believe that i had finally burst open. i saw the truth for what it was. i hope to return there someday. “this is called being aware and conscious. ” she told me. i was awake. i had nothing to hide. like a newborn babe. “now, we go back,” she warned. “how do they say it in the Bible? like a dog returns to its vomit.” i looked around. everything was beautiful. as i walked out the door, she told me, “have fun.” and she meant it. i skipped out the door and blasted bob dylan through the windows.
and then i went back, like she said i would. i was hospitalized shortly after for threatening to kill my mom with a pair of tweezers. a counselor of mine would later make a joke about it. my parents were petrified.
i had this awakening, but then i went back to my old ways, like she said. i had this new experience and craved more. she told me the tools of how to get back there, and guess i just never did them. i don’t know why. too much beating myself down, i suppose. something inside was so rigid that did not want me to change. my self will. she would later tell me that if i would just stop trying to control and manipulate everything then i could live a spiritual journey. i’ll never forget those words. of course, my parents, mostly my mother, blamed her for me being sick. i understand, of course. they were scared for me. i was scared too. i continued to see her for three years, aching for another “numinous” experience, as she and jung called it. although she never knew him personally, i like to think that they are comrades on some sort of otherworldly plane. i like to believe that she channels him through all her work. her paintings, her therapy. what a gifted woman. she told me i was gifted too. i always knew it but my spark was buried so deeply inside. i longed for freedom. is there a place in this world for me to be free? i often ask myself this question. i like to believe the answer is yes.
i think about charlie, how i want him to have the same experiences with consciousness as i have. but he must find his own way.
i think about diego and the pain he has caused me. i suppose i was only a pawn in his game. he heard that i had a one night stand and he wanted to get a piece. i believe that i trusted him, foolishly. haven’t heard from him all week. i don’t want to judge him, but i also want to let him go. i want to be strong and happy when i see him next. of course i want to make him want me again, but i need to accept that he just “isn’t that into me.” i am hurt of course.
layers and layers of buried unexpressed emotion lay inside me, just waiting to fly out. i don’t know where to begin. i guess i’ll start with the top layer.
as my father and i rode down the highway on our way to the meeting, the sun had just begun to set. we listened to a selected short on NPR. it was about a young man who went on an adventure. he was in love with a girl but his supposed friend stole herfrom him. his friend had more sex appeal and allure, but he was a manipulator. not trustworthy. i can’t exactly remember why. it was a deeply written story. i listened to the story and i knew my dad was listening too. i elieve he said that he likedit. we went into the meeting and i had a cup of coffee. i saw the people sitting there, all waiting.
what is waiting? what purpose does it serve? this is a naive question of course. it teaches us, i believe. but why do we have to learn in this life? why can’t we just live fulfilled. why can’t this be heaven? “pain and suffering,” roslyn told me. “this is not heaven!” and she laughed. what a good woman.
