Part of the conundrum for me is that I also have a default setting of pessimism-- a bottom line response to any gap or unknown or space in the plot where I instinctively, habitually imagine the worst. In tis way, most (all) of my "what ifs" are on the negative side. It would be funny if I always answered "what if?" with cool shit. "What if you succeed? What if you do get to spend time with the person you love? What if you have everything you need? What if it all works out? What if everything goes really well, even better than you had planned? What if Julian of Norwich was right?"
But this, dear reader, is not the way the what ifs work for old Percy.
And upon my return to the low, low, low desert, the down and dirty desert, the sub-basement of the world, the deep depression into which everything rolls downhill, the Plutonic Underworld of scorched land and fast money and faux Christian hate voters and environmental catastrophe where even my cactus friends have a hard time making it, a city of 5 million people with an arts district that is 3 square blocks, a city that smells like shit and heat-addled desperation, that re-radiates so much heat overnight that the temps never go below 88 for weeks on end-- upon my return to home-- wow, there was a lot of what if thinking.
Does this look sustainable to you? You must be a developer if so.
It was as if, as I descended the 6000 feet from Santa Fe to Phoenix, the light and sense of freedom and powerful intuition and vision all were lifted away, or pulled down to the earth by the increased gravity, or pushed down by increased air pressure.
It was not an easy transition back. Yet another strong indicator that this is not where I want to make a home. If you feel nothing but dread and loathing when you go back to your city, you have a problem.
On the other hand, after adjusting, going to some meetings and seeing my family of choice, working on a presentation I was giving at a conference, wrangling my stuff in preparation for moving into my own studio apartment, the great gains and beautiful spiritual and emotional benefits of the trip began to return. I was happy that I could bring those gifts with me into Hades. I had started to worry that they had been checked at the security gates on the River Styx.
"Please put all experiences of freedom, love, adventure, open-mindedness, passion and hope in the tray and go through the residual hope detector, thank you."
But I either managed to sneak all of that past the residual hope detector or have somehow gained special privileges with my pal Pluto, because it's all still here. There's more here, now, than there was on July 21. By some miracle, much more.
SOMETIMES
ReplyDeleteSometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest
breathing
like the ones
in the old stories
who could cross
a shimmering bed of dry leaves
without a sound,
you come
to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions
that have patiently
waited for you,
questions
that have no right
to go away.
~ David Whyte ~
“Everything Is Waiting for You”
ReplyDeleteYour great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
--David Whyte
The TRUELOVE
ReplyDeleteThere is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.
I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.
Years ago in the Hebrides,
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of baying seals,
who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,
and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them
and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly
so Biblically
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love
so that when
we finally step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and everything confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don't
because finally
after all this struggle
and all these years
you simply don't want to
any more
you've simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness
however fluid and however
dangerous to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.
--David Whyte