When I can see the entire universe converging on my fingertips, how can I not know that I can choose how I impact the world or how I want to perceive myself to be?
Everything is falling into place precisely as I mean to. Especially when I don’t care as much.
Why can't I just claim what I want, and be like, nope, that's it, that's all there is: I. Want. This. No if's, but's, attachments, heart breaks, just plain, pure longing.
I'm currently on an LSD trip... at around 5:22 p.m., I thought of occupying someone else's world. But I think it’s become less of a choosing, and more of a diving. This is so fantastical - after all, I'm choosing isolation for this process, so it's coming out of my imagination, these realizations. I might even venture into the world of assertions. Who knows? Anyways, that was my warning label, which might actually constrict the delivery of the message… And here goes.
Dear Frankly,
For someone like you, who can't help but be the spatial, physical you, that you take on other, deeper, subtler forms of hiding - the kind that is so powerful and discreet that only you know that you're hiding; and even then, it has taken you long, precious years of being that way to realize that you are even hurting. I didn't understand your hurt fully. That there was something in your innate gentle human feeling that didn't get received growing up as this athletic, high-achieving person – and so he simply becomes that. That he was in the centerpiece of perceived achievement, and feeling vulnerable and scared and loving and wanting and needing, God, he wasn't allowed to need someone to hold him. Just to hold him. No, he had to be strong, if not for others, then at least for himself, and that meant no weaknesses, no need or show of love. And the strength looked a particular way, within bounds of what 'norm' can possibly mean in this turn of the millennium society - I mean, how can we possibly, truly know? We are swimming in it, in this instant. - Even his sexual desire has to look a certain way, a distant, inhuman approach to this object --- even then he couldn't let in that soft warmth without judging the supposed weakness that might come out of him. I imagine that the manifestation of him - you - today is that fiercely independent creature who tethers on the edge of living, waiting to let go. I imagine that after years of living in this togetherness - this concrete of supposed achievement and a high standard of living - has you finally reaching out between the bars: I just want to feel!! That even to question that way of living has you judge what you're doing; you feel lost, like there is no path - not the one that you thought your parents wanted you on, what you thought you "should" be on, or these fucking transformational touchy-feely conniving crazies want you on - who is there to trust? You look for yourself, you take what you can take from the world as tools to continue looking in to just yourself. And at some point, it is the very relationship with the world that you were suffering - you couldn't trust the people, and therefore, the relationship itself couldn't be healed. How do you heal trust? How do you heal enough trust in order to let go, and be - healed in yourself and to be fully living in the world that completely encapsulates you. You are a part of this world - does that mean you can't even trust yourself?
And what does not trusting the world look like? Outside of the concrete life you were imprisoned in, there was security. Stepping outside of that, you begin to feel scarcity, a human suffering that isn’t entirely felt by all humans, a blaring loud siren of There is Some Big – BAD – Shit, and you wonder at that, you suffer at that wondering, and why that it wasn’t felt by the rest of humanity. Again that relationship with trust continues to tighten with tension – when it came down to it, it’s not a question of: who will take care of you – who will eventually hold you in all of your feeling, who will care for you in sickness? – It’s a question of Who Can? That is another surrendering, and I imagine that you fight hard to keep that in your control. And that’s totally in the constructs of being a man, I think. There’s a delirious drive for me to survive as a woman, but I am not as withholding and contained as I imagine a strong young man has to be – because, fuck, who’s going to take care of you when you falter? Who’s going to be good enough, strong enough, with enough resources and tenderness and enough feeling and enough consideration? Who can be Enough? I guess as a woman, I just already know that I only have an amount of control – the rest is up to a greater entity – however, my particular practice is ownership, which I don’t think is largely your practice as much as surrendering is. See, I don’t see you needing as faltering. It looks more like a surrendering to a giving that is a receiving that is a giving, and so on. How can I receive as a giver if you won’t receive? How can I give as a receiver if I can’t receive? I see you unable to surrender into that flow, just stoic resistance. You got to be a hard-ass strong motherfucker to have that much resistance. Because, really. Who’s going to be able to hold you? Who Can? Trust. Trust and let go, and let go into trust. It’s fucking hard.
I’m sorry that this is so hard, that your barriers, your cage, your concrete walls are fucking solid, and difficult to pass through – I’m sorry that you’ve been hurt so much that you were almost completely sealed in. I think it would just be better to stay in there most times than to step out into this world that’s not only going to be Not Enough to contain your vast ocean of feeling – you had a lifetime of the feminine wanting to be heard and felt – but ALSO, fuck, this world blows, it bites and it hurts and it doesn’t feel all too good sometimes. It’s better inside – at least there’s a measure of trust that you can give yourself in just being able to contain You in all the ways that you know how. I’m sorry that you’re suffering in a place where you can’t even feel all your years of hurt – and joy – and LOVE; even that is barred away from you, and the only reason why you can’t claim it is because you are afraid you won’t be held. I’m so fucking sorry that this is so hard for you. You are so much more than this. You’re so amazing and gifted with an intensity that can only sit with someone so physically loud, except a trillion times more, and more than that. I feel the pain even louder because I’ve seen that part inside of you that just loves: you are a fucking loving human being, and fuck, to let that out – to just let loose, and to love life as it is, how loud and wild and beautiful that is going to be for someone as contained as you for so very long? I’ve only slightly tapped into that deep knowing that I am of the world, and the world is fucking loving and gorgeous – God, how much I want that for you. I’ve felt it with you when you are Here and I can’t help but be here, too. I can imagine how releasing that can be for you. I want you to feel vast and just with Being. To be able to let go of the weight that you bear, the weight that isn’t totally yours; it is ours. I can imagine that if you surrendered into a being that has no burden and that there is no separation of you and the world – and that the only Enough is the enough of right now, right here, right whoever, because, really, the who’s and why’s of it all don’t matter at all – that you will find the freedom that you seek.
And you know what? As much as I hurt feeling your suffering, I’m actually not all that sorry, because you’re going to be brilliant. It’s so simple. You’re going to be a brilliant light when you let go. When everything in you breaks free, and you become a vast source of energy and love and being – what else will matter? You will make it. And this suffering is in the formula of your amazing self. Learning how to love Right Now where you are with your immense capacity to feel is a kitchen that’s going to feed a nation. Boundless. In fact, I’m fucking jealous. Maybe that’s why I’m nurturing such a big stinkers. Because I just want what you have, you big-hearted stinkface. I love you. I love you for you being you. Because you’re you.
Man, I thought about just editing the shit out of this and leaving just the “interesting” parts for you to read, but I can’t separate the experience right now. If that means you digest this as simply, “my trip,” then that’s what’s so.
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