The thing that causes terror is overstimulation. Take Death, for example. Death cannot terrify you when you are distracted because what causes terror always is caused by something overly stimulating to our awareness. The less aware of something you are, the less you are disturbed by the thing. It’s super good to go relax, and play games. Read online and fuck around. Enjoy good food and long walks. Delicious music. Find things to do because they are just as profound as fear and take just as much of your time as shivering in the closet.
My hands still smell like the inside of the rubber gloves I wore to clean out the old man’s boxes. He’s moving out of the yellow-lit, cinderblock painted room of his one-bedroom apartment at the Silvercrest Senior Housing he’d acquired for himself one distant month ago. He’s moving into a place (not a space) that has the warm energy that wafts off of natural-born healers and really-good-mother’s shoulders. It’s hard to explain, but it’s good.
A life lived in, that’s what you want. Yes, bucket lists are great and fun. Having a little fun in life every possible day is important. But, the most important is
I want to fill in my sketchbook journal like I always wanted to: to fill it up with stickers, notes, sketches, diagrams, plans. Small joys and good food, logged. Music, upheld.
We went for a hike yesterday on Healing Trail and Adam told me a band I love, Heilung means “healing”. I love that, I didn’t know that. We had a really good walk and I’m glad I pushed myself past the point of feeling tired and went all the way into the desert past all the sights and tracks of the people who stopped and turned back. I wanted to just keep walking on and on into it. I want to walk all the way in until I’m shaking from weakness; I want to walk that far into it and then sit with my bottle of water. The zipper on my pack making a raucous noise in the silent snowfield of the desert. My golden landscape and the depth of the universe above me. Nothing coming, nothing going. Just an illusion caused by the spinning of the Earth.
I want to laugh at the thought of how much sincere and beautiful joy I have felt in my life thus far.
I don’t know what to say. I know inspiration will come soon. I just have to wait, because that’s how it always goes: from calm, to joy, to peace, to fear and then doing some other loops. I don’t think I would trade the intensity for boring but calm, I really don’t think I would but gosh would I get better at going through waves. It’s not that I am a bad swimmer, it’s that I’ve got limited lung capacity due to not ever holding my breath.
I’m scared to start new ways of doing things.