Something I wanted to share and get your thoughts about. This morning I woke up to a visualization of a drain in my middle, black water pouring into it without end. The opening wasn’t very large, but it seemed bottomless. It was the hole.
Yesterday I ‘took the day off’ from my mental exercises. I spent a great deal of time doing the things that I had been doing before I got myself on this path; most of the day was in front of the computer, either my desktop or my phone. Playing games by myself, refreshing websites, waiting on friends to wake up so I could play with them, then finally going back to a little time by myself at the end. In it, I felt my attention split, myself unable to decide on what it was I wanted to focus on. It was a dip back into what it felt like to be unmoored, and I didn’t sit well by the end. That isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy myself. I very much did, had a great relaxing morning, a lot of fun with my friend, opened up with them about things I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about, made some difficult phone calls, got my meditation in, went to bed rather satisfied with the day, save for a small feeling of regret about stealing away to finish a game in between helping prep dinner and not getting outside as much as I wanted.
And that is context to waking up this morning. Somethings are better in context after all.
Now, back to the hole, that hole that has been in my cup for so long. That hole that when I opened myself up this morning, it closed, when I imagined my chest totally exposed and my heart there, welcoming in everything, it closed. And that got me to thinking about pressure and holding on to things too tightly. That holding, of a moment, a feeling, a thought, a person, a situation, any of it, the more I fear losing it, the more I want to keep it just as it is, the harder I squeeze and hem, I think that the ‘gravity’ of it draws as more and more of my effort is swallowed into that point. A point that begins to collapse under its own weight, what once was a star, bright and alive with constant change forced inward to stop, there was the seed for the black hole that punched through my cup. Too much focus, too much fear, too much worry, and there came the hole, one that would drain and drain, no matter how much was filled, or where it came from, how thick the love, or how quickly.
It wasn’t something to be fixed, it wasn’t something to be named and patched. It was something that just needed to be allowed to slip away. The hole didn’t exist as an understanding, it was a monster, it was natural, it just was, but it needed full light to heal itself. That light of self-care, of joy that can be enhanced by grand company, but survives in the company of a single candle.
So, thoughts? Bout any of it at all.
K.
