Desire teaches me to begin but not with wanting. Nothing so small, nothing so treacherous except, looking deeper, with the anticipation of fulfillment. The taste of belief wrapped in satisfaction gets my motor running where almost all else fails. I sink and swim by the tides it creates as if I were a limitless ocean set free from gravity’s swell. As if I knew what stands at the edge of the great, untethered wave that skims the surface of the absolute and divine.
I sway to a distant, insistent cadence that rises up and up through all that I’ve seen of the sacred or profane. There is no more longing to be found dressed in bright packaging and left under the tree. Nor is this hunger so often diluted by the random clutter of the mind but neither would I say it’s under control. It is all rapaciousness and quiet anger, and maybe even a little good old-fashioned greed.
It’s the ultimate high since it’s all too easy to get addicted to the deepest drives of your spirit, even or perhaps especially when that spirit fails you. All that you can do is set your sail under a familiar star and fervently cling to those small but oh-so-significant moments, those watershed emotions that spill over the highest of your mental barricades and suffuse you with the knowledge of that which is sublime and wonderful.
But it is a thinly veiled desecration, too. It worms its way under your skin and slowly, patiently undoes the stitching of your making. Your better angels are drowned out by the extremities of deprivation that urge you on, undetected. They are ghosts and still you have no fear. There is not even the soft niggling of something half-forgotten at the back of the mind, on the tip of the tongue.
This wanting is a wilderness in me, centered on the highest peak of passion that has ever taken any heart. But just because the mountain is there doesn’t mean I can climb it, or that I should.
This is artful and decisive fascination, and it pushes me to take steps I would otherwise never have had the singular courage to approach because we live in a world that most often teaches us to begin by tuning out, sitting down and shutting up.
I will do none of those things – not anymore. And if there is a higher price yet to be paid then I will pay that too. While I still have a dollar in my pocket I am free.
And in taking the measure of a life there is surely room for all of this and whatever is yet to come…
CK~
It is so wonderful to see you again. You are a beacon, a light house in the storm-tossed seas of depression and mental illness.
While you speak of so many things, my mind was drawn back to the “wonderful and sublime.” How many are able to have this visited upon their dreary existence? How many seek such glory in other forms, beit religion, drugs, food, etc?
Whilst we may be dashed and pummeled by our minds and moods, sent spinning after small hints of hope and know the absolute horrors lurk at every waking day, we are lucky. We have seen beyond the darkest depths, have risen over our sinking selves and have touched, perhaps, the divine. We have the choice, the right and sometimes even the ability to return there, again and again.
Thank you, Dano. That means a lot coming from you!
I have to agree – we are lucky to have access to such experiences, even if it’s a rare thing. To come so close to that which we all struggle to touch at some point in our lives helps me feel less aimless in all this doubt and trouble.
I am always rather hesitant to comment on your blog, especially when you write posts such as these. They carry such a force, such a fervor that it almost seems, well…I won’t say a “competition” of verbal acuity in the blogosphere! Or even a competition of comments!
Forgive me… *PA runs away with her tail between her legs*
However…
For one, it is my own lack of being able to (communicate) relate here with posts exactly like these. I read other people’s comments and…
…I have things to say but…
…they all have so much more to say. Yes.
La,la,la,la,la…PA skips by… Oh, that’s nice CK…what a pretty post!
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
I do know how to read. I think. I have a blog and I do post things there so I can write, ergo…I can read?
I could try and dissect this but I would never do that in “public.” It would probably be ridiculous anyway!
But I do see things in this post. I do. Unless I’m on hallucinogens. Or, hey! Maybe you were when you wrote it! Kidding.
And speaking of being so insecure of peoples’ blogs…wow…one of my best blog friends…I held back from commenting on his forever. I felt like a total arse. He welcomed me and turned things around and said:
PA, you have a lot of different things to offer…meds knowledge, science etc…, how to direct people and help them get to where they need to go when they’re really fucked.
Sorry, CK. Yes, I did take my Biphentin. I know, way off track but point being is another example of differing forms of blogs and intimidation and being scared and so freaked out when people really do care.
Sorry,
x
Something went fruity with my comment and there was more but I’m quite sure it doesn’t matter.
@PA – Hrm, well brevity is the soul of wit and all that jazz. But I take the point the I can appear somewhat intimidating. I think I’ve mentioned I get that from people fairly often but at the end of the day this is just a blog. A sometimes very strange and esoteric blog at that so maybe there aren’t all that many responses that sit comfortably for people and I get that. The point is I’m not fussed if folks comment or not on something like this.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love me some feedback but there really isn’t any pressure from me for anybody to say the ‘right’ thing. And your answers, spoken or not, count just as much as anybody’s.
You get whatever you get from reading it or not, and that’s cool. If you feel like sharing or not, also cool. I’m happy to hear it if it’s one word or many.
And on the other side of it I agree with your other blog buddy. You’ve a lot to put out there but it’s totally up to you when and how and why.
It’s definitely great to see you again. Spirit addiction. I go there at times, but it always turns sour in the end. Let it bloom of its own, it’s good for me.
“One Word.”
No, that’s two.
Shit, now that’s five.
Nine?
LMPO…
*wink*