On writting

Long time, no typing.


I used to write a lot. I have noticed lately that I no longer have the compulsion. not just on this blog, for those of you still reading it, but my journal too remains somewhat blank and lonely.

I thought about what tha journal meant to me, and this blog. It was a practice of paying attention. I wanted so much to reject the illness that I would not look at it. I would not, it turns out, look at me. BY rejecting my illness I rejected myself.

My writting, on the other hand, was an act of love. It was love. Love, is attention. I gave attention to what I was going through. I blogged because I did not believe that I deserved to have someone's attention, someone's comfort and understanding, but I hoped that someone was reading anywawway. I didn't love me enough to pay attention, so I told a story, and in that let my love of the words replace the love I wanted for me being ill.

now I give attention freely. I notice how I feel ill, and what feelings that brings up, and what parts I dont want to look at and what parts I do. I give attention to pain, and eleation and nausea and tired. I give attention to the racing buzzing hive of my mind and whatever lingering symptoms are left. And when I give them my attention, I realize they are not at all what I thought. Pain doesn't hurt like I thought it did. I am not tired in the way I thought I was. Its just a thing. My thing.

So I dont need the journal or the web now, but I might go to them again. You never know. In my heart is a writer but now words can look out, instead of in.

Ass kicking good times

For those of you who have not sussed it out and care, I practice Zen Buddhism. To those who that may concern, no, this doesnt mean I dont believe in God of Jesus. Its a practice of mindfulness, nothing more.

That saud, there was a sesshin, a retreat, planned for this coming week, falling over my birthday. I wanted to go, but wanted to stay and be adored too. I am publsihing this lovely note from A, a good friend of mine, written in response to my agonizations..should I stay or should I go:

"Dude, you totally have to be in SF for your birthday. You've spent waaaaaaaaaay too many birthdays in quiet contemplation - or curled up on a fetal position somewhere wondering why it was a good idea to eat that single M&M which threw you into some sort of unparalled blood sugar, Sz triggering, physical rebellion.

Stay in SF. Play. Run through the streets whooping and hollering. For Christsakes man, if you don't take the day to be selfish and celebrate the fact that you CAN CELEBRATE AGAIN, I swear on all things holy and unholy that I will personally fly my ass to your tree hugging, pretty boy loving, god damned hilly town and kick your ass."

Amen. Thanks A.