This reminds me

I remember when we were in high school, I thought you were beautiful, dancing naked in that thunderstorm. –Haven’t I written this before?

           

In psychoanalysis, there is an idea that a person will play out their maladaptive relationship patterns within the therapeutic relationship, that is, they will reveal their unconscious conflicts, their underlying issues. In the therapeutic setting then, the therapist is expected to remain separate but attuned, able to recognize, draw out and guide the person into a different psychological pattern, perhaps to prolong it until they see, perhaps to question it until they understand, to enact it until they can break the pattern once and for all. The theory goes, that if the analyst doesn’t catch it the first time, it will surely repeat, it always repeats. The cognitive-behaviorists say the same, but call it all by different names. As do the transpersonalists, inspired by the Buddhists, Jains and Hindus.

Samsara

The spinning world, the wandering path, the burden of suffering, the cycle.

“Isn’t this where we came in?”

            Have I not been here before?

This path feels so familiar.

            This reminds me of high school.

This feeling, is of the last time,                        and of the next time,    I’m sure.

This is   -was             -will be            -again,  

            Dizzily I plea, holding tight to my seat,

Let me off the spinning wheel!

But your face reminds me of a beloved friend, not so much physically, just the presence. And so, I reach out to her, and you, assuming the similarity must mean something true. You have a new name, but your voice reminds me of another love, and I am sure it’s the same oxytocin in my arteries. Your story reminds me too, and so I continue to reach, as I do, as I have, as I will.

I write a new poem, and find it suffuses into an old one, the next stanza, so you must be my next verse, next chapter, next friend or lover. But I could have sworn I dreamed you, have known you, have met before. And it must be so, because this is all too familiar. This behavior. This pattern. Isn’t this the same old story…

Karma brought us here. I know the rhythm in my veins, what did I do last time that brought me more of the same? What should I do this time to fulfill my dharma, or to cast it aside and become enlightened? To heal the wound in this unconscious conflict? To address the issue of my attachment?  

Yet again, I’m called to your side with a quick plea and a grin, dopamine drips, my mind splits from the grounded path, drifting, scattered, some part of me always wanted to learn to be care free, to float towards the heavenly, some part of me has always wondered why I cling to the dirt, claw for its regulations, moral anchors, dense and dull. I see them now my grasping hands, my rigid stance, even as my heart drifts toward the intoxicating scent, the fantasy flight, enamored and clambering, where am I again? And this is how I am split open, a heart butterflied, a soul crucified in its place, struck bridging the divide, I realize I’m tantalused again.

I’ve been here before, haven’t I?

I always sooth myself with Gibran’s declaration that the lute must be hallowed with a knife. oh, I listen to your song, tantalized, oh, I wait on each word, eye wink, hand caress, drawn breath and smirk. oh, These are the instruments playing, and I love a crescendo as much as the silence between the plucked notes, oh, those strummed chords, oh, I know this, its clenched ache, its longing to release, you’re playing my heart song, again, oh om.

Was it not Judas, who, with such noxious lips, embraced the lord, condemning himself, and yet saving the world? Not knowing the part that he played, he saw only the vicious cycle of his attachment repeating, the betrayal of himself again and again, this unconscious wound split open and un-mended -and by his dharmic suffering sanctioned the miraculous.

Chained to the wheel of longing and sorrow, focus on one point to dispel the dizziness, proclaim it beautiful, raise up the pedestal so that from any position in the spin, you can still proclaim your devotion to the idol -and even if it’s a new love* tomorrow, worry not, the familiarity will follow.

I’ve come to expect the hurt, ever enticed by the sirens’ pull, as Goldmund had to find out, despite logical Narcissus’ warning. And between the suns and moons, that set me spinning, I meditate, learn to discern between stories, practice crafted words, taming my tongue to sing others songs so that I can stay anchored while they enact them again and again. Watching the river flow to the sea, drift up into the sky, collect, and crash again.  

But I remember, as the world and you spun, your arms outstretched, the flashing terrible, and glistening and cold - so vulnerable in your need, so giving in your desire, you pressed your tongue into my mouth, and ground your soaking skin onto mine, and for a moment I thought, this feels right, so beautiful and human, so familiar.

Well that hasn't happened in a while

I am totally going to regret this post at some point.
I have a crush, like a legitimate one, and its on another person who is totally unavailable and probably doesn't like me like that, but she has been really friendly to me. So, it feels good sometimes. And also horrible sometimes.
And in general I know this is setting myself up for disappointment because when I say she is unavailable, I mean it. But I've been trying to remind myself to use that energy, that feeling like things are possible to look around and see the world with that new light. Like maybe things are possible even in the dark.
She reminds me of other friends. Of people I miss because they are far away or too involved in their own lives. And it reminds me that I am capable of loving, that in fact I do love quite a lot of people, that they warm me still even though I sometimes forget.
It's funny how things like this happen. I met this person several months ago and knew from the first time that I wanted to be around her more, but as we've come to develop a few routines, started texting occasionally, hung out once, it became a reality I couldn't not admit to myself, because I was talking to her in my head all the time. And again, she is totally unavailable; like not a single possibility. But she lights up a bit sometimes when I am around, when other people are around too, but its nice to have someone spread a little of their love in my direction. And I can learn a lot from her, usually do... so why not enjoy the friendship? even if I know its a little hard sometimes. Even if I know it isn't a possibility. Even if I know at some point she will say something or I will, and it will be over forever, because at this point we barely know each other and there are so many differences easily recognized even at this distance, that to get too close surely means catching fire and burning the whole thing up. But again, why not enjoy the moment, why not enjoy the look in people's eyes, and acknowledge their smiles and just be comfy being confided in? Share a joke now and then? Flirt a little, because its safe, for her at least right? And I need a little warmth now and then.

OOOH I didn't even write a new years post this year? 
So out of the habit huh.

Thursday night I had a sudden tail spin, felt a bit foggy, felt a bit off my game, a little more irritable though I think I handled it well enough. Friday, I went to breakfast with Mel, and things were ok but I felt like I couldn't wake up entirely. Later in the day I continued to get more irritable and felt more and more hopeless. I knew the headache had something to do with it, the weather, the lack of sun, but the symptoms of depression are so amazing, how they swoop in and replace things so easily: 
I'm lonely. I'm feeling overwhelmed. I'm feeling incapable of completing my goals. I'm aware that I have a lot on my plate, but I can't quite discern what it is. I am feeling left out even as people reach out to me. I am feeling unloveable even as they voice their concerns. I am worried about the future, the next week, the next month, six months, a year, and in that worry I can imagine a lifetime of failure, of incompletes, of isolation and irritation, so easily. 
I try to treat myself the same way I would treat a client, biology, behaviors, social life, thoughts, spirit. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you getting enough to eat? Are you getting the caffeine fix you need? Are you getting enough exercise? The sun? Are you breathing? Are you being mindful? Are you checking in with friends? When you check in, is it meaningful, are you sharing enough? Are you asking for what you need? Are you taking time for yourself -to recharge? Hobbies? Meeting goals? What are you overwhelmed about? What evidence is there? What feedback are you getting? What would you like to hear? What are you telling yourself? What does that mean? What does it mean over the long run? What changes can you make now? What changes can you make over the long run? What do you need to do so? 
I am in school and it feels like life is on hold. I make some new friends, but it cannot lead anywhere. What does it mean to old friends, is this a betrayal? Some of these new friends remind me of old friends, what does that mean? Who do you want in your life Mike?  Am I grateful enough? Am I giving too much? I return to the idea of doing homework and it feels abysmal and distant to everything that makes sense. But to do what I want, I have to jump through the hoops. Is this what I want? What do I want? I need a therapist, I need to be touched, I need reassurance from someone who can actually give me the love and support I crave. I feel incapable of getting those things right now... can't even set an appointment for a massage the next day -it's too far away. 
This entire conversation takes place over days, but feels like the thoughts and questions and concerns are jammed on top of each other, one thing -means the world, I need to unpack them, slowly, filter through, what is real, what do I want to be real? I feel like I am never enough. What does that mean in the short term, in the long run? What does it mean to want to run away, to move to Argentina to drop the facade of helping, of being useful to others, of being disconnected... Because I am aware that that is what happens -I take time for myself and become lost. I take time for others and become lost. There is no balance here, no assurance, no reassurance. 
And suddenly, much like my clients, I wonder if this means I am dying. Some cancer creeping up my insides, some limitation I hadn't yet conceived of, to place the lid on my desires, my grand schemes. Or maybe subconsciously I am looking for a means to convey my inabilities, a word to express my ineptitude, a scapegoat, a reason, a name, a something to point at -and just say "it isn't me -not wanting to be, but I haven't been given a choice, it's bob's fault." And who is Diane in that situation? (a joke from rory scovel). 
I pick up the next day, a little more determined, but also still hesitant, aware of the ache in my stomach, my knee, my mind, awareness is a demon sometimes. But maybe it's just the cold front storming, a lack of sleep, a lack of caffeine, not enough time to contemplate the reasons. Maybe you should plan ahead. A massage once a month. Maybe you should find a therapist. Maybe you should jump into that assignment you've been putting off. Maybe contemplation is overrated? But I start to feel a bit better assigning it to paper. This isn't me after all, this is a commotion caused by the unrequited. A collection of the neglected. A compendium of little worries trying to compile themselves into complexity.  Time for some cognitive restructuring.