Gratitude as a placeholder for possibility

The only way to accurately appraise a reality, especially one that has stopped being able to support your projections & thereby collapsing a projection of future – is to map what is & acknowledge the Divine elements it originated from. To have a wide enough of a perspective that can carry the opposites without fragmenting into binaries.

Gratitude is not so much about positivity and bypassing what’s unpleasant as it is to establish the benevolent organizing principle of life & events. It’s the polar opposite of shame in that it brings us back into time while taking us out of our personal narratives about time. It allows for us to see evidence of love even as we feel its opposite.

It’s a way to break things down without breaking them apart, a way to shift the vantage point without decontextualizing. A way to see the bigger picture without being overwhelmed by it. It’s a way to expose the falsehood in the internal shame commentaries without invalidating the experience of it.

In short, it’s to witness the underlying structure to the present moment that is impervious to corrupt intentions & forceful actions. The eternal presence that is the bedrock of existence & from which springs inner stillness as well as creative momentum. It’s to find something to connect to when all else collapses under the weight of a burdened focus. A way to release thoughts without losing the function they were fulfilling.

Gratitude allows for an existence that doesn’t depend on you to make it ideal or worth it. It allows us to access the meaning & value that is innate to existence even as we feel meaningless & worthless.

When I can’t be real

Presence of condition means I can be disconnected at any time. I turn against myself in anger for not wanting or being able to meet those conditions, because I feel suffocated by anything that splits or fragments my energy. So I retreat into isolation, every time. At least I don’t have to choose between me and me when I’m alone. And yet, that means I’m not flowing. I’m stagnant. It’s not long before the suicidal feelings set in. After all, what is the grave but the ultimate isolation.

Feel in between the lines

People who feel suicidal or end up committing suicide are people who don’t feel that to live is safe. They feel an inordinate amount because of what those with robust egos have discarded or pushed away from their awareness to retain control and their worldview. And because others aren’t engaged in the bigger reality that unites us all, they can’t connect with them – these canaries in the coalmine-in the trenches to at least keep them company as they g(r)o(w) through encountering new facets of reality.

There’s no mental acknowledgement of the process of spiritual alchemy that transforms the individual through uniting the opposites that clash. There’s no interstitial space afforded those initiates called to go deeper into the spiritual abyss on behalf of humanity.

It’s like seeing the faint outline of raised waves on the horizon, and going towards it to explore what this anomaly is signaling to then warn the others of the inevitability.

Because what’s causing people to feel so suffocated that they opt to go against every natural desire to live is a symptom that affects us all collectively, whether we tune it out or not. And it’ll steadily eat away at the fabric that holds us together and keeps us sane until it reaches monstrous proportions that we no longer can avoid. We realize what the waves were when the tsunami has already crossed the shore.

Alienated from my light

Sometimes I like to hum loudly to drown out the howl of the biting wind whipping me in the face like this. I pray for an emotional calm as I trudge in this blizzard, seeking a faint light in the distant, a reassurance that I haven’t been swallowed whole by this storm. I stopped trying to warm my hands, curled up with cold, and I can feel my body slow down as a fog of despair starts moving through my mind ; what if I never find a way out of this? Am I just trying to postpone the inevitable?

Life, for me, is the most critical in these moments because if I stop I don’t think I’ll be able to recover the momentum to start back up again. Frantically searching for even a wisp of hope, a sign of life, flicking through the archive of my mind to see if I can recall if anyone has mentioned pushing past this threshold before. In my ears, my heartbeat is pulsating with the poisonous doubt that has entered my blood stream. I slow down as I’m flooded with the memories of all the times I persevered in vain and my efforts were for naught. I feel like a knot in my stomach shot up to my throat, like an inverse punch. Warmth spreads through me as I create a light out of the certain futility of trying. My tears well up and my nose is tickling with a cold sensation. I don’t see the blizzard anymore or hear the ferocious winds whipping past me. I feel like I’ve arrived, and I know I don’t have to suffer the expansive loneliness of this unending blizzard anymore.

I was not swallowed whole by the blizzard, but I helplessly succumbed to it. I calmly walked towards what had snuffed out my light.

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Image : Cottage on an island near Nora, Sweden. By Jonas Loiske.

Hide & feel

I’ve internalized the incessant question I’ve been asked over the years : why can’t you just fix whatever is wrong and get back to life? What’s taking you so long?

I’ve tried everything and I’ve flipped the question every which way looking for an answer. Nothing. Only intense shame smiling back at me. I feel so disgusted by me. I feel so destroyed that I don’t know what to do. I compartmentalize time to keep from being buried too soon. One day at a time. The shame is more bearable that way.

No help. No support. No paved paths. I wish I could be invisible but the comfort eating I’ve been hiding in left indelible, undeniable marks on my body and now I can’t even blend in no more.

What’s worse than a tragedy? A plus size tragedy.