Endings are proper beginnings…
The problem with the human experience is that there is such an abundance of ‘exact starts’ to any procedure of creation. And that each time one desires to start a project (Ie: a writing form such as this) – to develop a truth that ensures a mote point of interest… it can change as quickly as it was created. As if noticing the flowing of truth – only holds a single flame to the imagination at a time – and every shadow cast implies a new idea, new form – new shape of creation itself.
I find it hard to find any semblance of where I desire to begin at any time – for each time feels as if it is the truth – and the only truth. The past quickly forgotten as I return to the feelings and forms of the body – a new metaphor – a new simile – comes with every trot of registered pain… as each moment teaches a new message.
Once again, taking a step into the retreat of darkness that is Chronic Illness (arriving here, 9 days in managing and returning to functioning from a severe flare up) – Once again, a descent wherein I still cannot fully be submerged in the dark fortunes of my illness. As the recently recognized Angers and Fears in my grappling with the dysfunctional modernized work system, health system, social system commanding my ever-healthy presence to ensure some level of ‘domestic tranquility’ – economic survival by the forcefulness of health insurance, job security, doctor’s notices – and to let these live stronger than the necessary language formed by inflammation and desecration in the dark disappearance my body cries for…
As this goes for initiations :
By the way of the old world, transcendence told by initiation stories of descent and resurrection – for those wrought in the life of illness, this is the life-path-revelation to One’s true nature – and Nature of the world. However, the truth is – our social construction – consistently disrupts all forms of initiation – or at least prolongs it to the point where we can only face reality when Death presents the final path…
Thankfully, some of us arrive early.
Day 2 of arriving at this page, 10 days of Disease management… and the revelation of “Bringing the Truth Home” rings through.
recently revealed truths around chronic pain and the initiatory lifestyle:“More and more I want to offer that most people don’t get the privilege of ordering their initiation off the menu. And many people don’t survive their initiation. Many people don’t have to pay hundreds of dollars to go on a boutique silent meditation retreat. Mindfulness isn’t some sterile, packaged experience of transcendence, or Costa Rican ‘shamanic plant ceremony’.
Those with chronic pain or illness, those with psychological anguish and PTSD, experience ego-destroying trips every day when they lie on the floor next to the toilet and try to pass through the needle’s eye of unbearable pain. When they decide to stay alive for just one more minute.”
Reminding me further of another quote:
“Hitting bottom isn't a weekend retreat, it's not a goddamn seminar. This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time”
~ Chuck Pahlnuik
This is the gift of Chronic Illness… ‘Be Prepared to Stop’. Every moment one is in the throes of this true bodily harm – all of life is forgotten, and only this moment remains… get past it, get by it, get through it – Be In It. There is no other. All of life’s momentum: writing, art, mentoring, facilitating – even to the point of singing, dancing, cooking – is thrown out of Being as I aim to become emptiness – an emptiness that can alleviate the pain for one moment, if only for one breathe to gift me with one touch of the eternal healing I pray for every night, morning, and evening as I only desire to rest in my next level of desire.
All my life is only Now… the One at the End of Being. Every rest – a little death… my life, ending, one minute at a time.
Coming to terms… the cyclical style of managing illness and facing that the life you desire, the life you know, and the life that circumnavigates all of us – comes to some seemingly ‘farce reality’. Only being in the stillness, and allowing the ‘truth of the body’ to come forth – breathing to the point of pain, point of contact that has its hidden truth…
“End or Be Ended”
However… the thoughts move itself…
“There is no End”
… It was only a few weeks ago I was asking the Universe… “Something needs to End” and this cyclical thought ran over my brain for days. Luckily enough, it seems this spawned the now moment… and this speaks to the power of manifestation: “You cannot decree how your prayers are answered”.
Yet, I do not know ‘that which is ending’ now for me… and if any point of interest in initiatory experiences have taught me anything – there is an ego death happening – only through my own ‘wellness retreat’ in my ‘recovery’. There is always a larger mystery to be borne of your experience; and not always known by your own conscious ability. Usually blocked out by the concern to return to your life as-it-was; without the direct knowing – it will not be the same – something has to have changed in you; otherwise… this would not have been gifted.
How can I rest when there is not time, place, or money – to be able to find an end to my rest? How can I rest when the world decides that I have to keep moving?
Returning to the World, is returning to Truth. This seems to be my cycle. The Will to touch, taste, hear, sense the outer warbling’s of our literal flesh manifest – to bring it all in and let it all flow through – no matter the cost, no matter the cause of pain, no matter the continual distraction from the inner truth… it is common that we become commonplace to traversing the worldly needs in blind apathy – and for myself, trudging through the physical chronic pain. I know I need more time to rest, and in this rest, it gives my whole sensational being the ability to breathe into my own form, my own life, my own Will – and what that can be in union with the displaced world of Our Being.
This darkness, the step forward in, and short retreat out – never ending, always cycling – reminding me that there are actions in life that only hold enough space for a diminished flame. Only enough light to navigate descent – and the way out is always lit by the eternal light I know to be Truth.
Whether known or unknown to me, or by me, or within me, or without me… it is an ever great un-knowing. Time and force and farce will rear their faces again and again and again – in the apocalyptic forces of war, famine, hate, rejection, repugnance – consistent in the world – as I can only hold the capacity of my own destruction at times – reflecting moments eternal – “Whence I come and whence I shall return” – the continual memoriam ringing at the back of my cavernous thought – Every step down a new flame merges into the light of a larger world above – as I hold the flame of my own burning life to these deep dead end walls – I can only read word by word – the lives of those before mine.
Step by step, up back into the world, the words remembered work into my own ways. Re-defining my Self – reintroducing Who I Am.
I live on - not embracing the Truth, until it is ready to be known by the Full Light, casting its full Shadow.
What truth have I brought home? One that remains unknown – until my life is light again.
In this knowing - my life is mute. Truth burns insides. Language a feeling disallowed. Steps of turmoil In – steps of turmoil Out.
Blessed Be
Oh Mysterious One