Treating myself thusly

Henry David Thoreau, who left the world we tend to think is the "real world", for a couple of years to live at Walden Pond, kinda figured it out.  He rose even before sunrise, tended his wild gardens, observed his neighbours - the mice and the gannets and the deer and the white cherry and so on and so on - and drew correct conclusions about exactly what was the "real world" after all.

He wrote: "The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruit, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling.  Yet we do not treat ourselves, nor one another, thus tenderly."

True that my homies would say.

Today is about the 20th day or so that I have been clean from crack cocaine.  It feels like my twisted, painful dance with that shit has reached its final turn.

My body feels great.  My lungs clear and full with no cigarette shmegma crawling up my bronchi.  My muscles ache from being used occasionally - the good ache, that is - and my digestive system is responding well to this transition to more vegetables, whole grains and less meat.

Life is good.

I feel this amazing bloom occurring within my frame of reference, from behind my eyes and as the silent witness to my own actions.  I am touched to no end by this flower of truth and beauty that is become a part of my life.

To ensure it does not wither or go to seed is my task now.

Last weekend my wife and I were fighting a bit.  Nothing too serious.  Just echoes of guilt and resentment from my behaviours of so many years and mistrust at my continued efforts.  I left.  Saturday morning, I packed up my fishing rod and knife and leftover pizza, even some leftover bait minnows I had in the freezer, and I left.

I went to the land that has been the source of so much anxiety these last few weeks.  Land that my late mom walked and rediscovered her beauty and spiritual connection to the earth.  Land that my friend and colleague wants to turn into a discovery centre, a cultural centre.  Land with with I have started planting roots and laying hopes upon.

I sat there with the osprey, the red tailed hawk, the chipmunk, the goldeye, the squirrel and the ducks... even with a four foot garter snake who crossed the river to hunt in the fallen tree beside which I sat.

Nearly eight hours I sat there, smudge pot burning strongly, echoes of my mom, who once sat at that same spot, bouncing off the walls of the river valley.

I sat there and reclaimed my centre.

I didn't run and hide, I didn't prescribe instant gratification from a little baggie...  I sat and caught nothing for nearly 8 hours.

This filled me with pride and love and I came home, much to the surprise of my family, and was the better man for my choice.

Today I am going to the mountains, to sit in a circle of progressive thinkers...  and of politicians and of new agey lovers of the world.

I am a little closer to the centre of my being, to my connection to God than I've been for a long time, and I pray today that I conduct myself with respect, love and forgiveness so as to not cloud the possibilities of this gathering with petty jealousies and the like.

There is a man who will be there who has injured and hurt people in my circle.  He has worked very hard to establish a strong following, and a solid perch in this city from where he can build an empire.  He wrote once about a red tailed hawk, how even in the city it still was a red tailed hawk.  It didn't need to be in the bush to retain its hawkness.

I agree.

But I also think, that every once in a while, one has to come down from the glass pyramid to be among the grasses and trees, chase a mouse or two and feel the wind in his wings to remember what it truly means to be a hawk.

Ekosi.
S.

Today: Blast from the Past...

Haven't written in a week.  Trying to find some solace in action, not the words.  No energy right now.  It's coming.  Slowly, coming.

No day counter.  Too much pressure.  There is just today.  Only, always just today.

Today I am writing for a friend.  For me too, but for a friend, who so quietly reached out and asked politely for a glimpse into my soul, into my storm.  Not knowing why but it doesn't matter.  Funny. When our friends need us, sometimes we can just give without asking why, without expecting anything in return.

Sometimes we can't.  Sometimes it's our family, those closest to us, who spurn us, deny us, turn away for this reason or that.  Sometimes it hurts but more often than not it don't even register anymore.  We've been spurned for so long.

"Yeah, yeah," we say to ourselves, "I didn't 'spect you to come anyways.  Just had to ask you know."

More often than not I kid myself that it doesn't hurt.  It hurts like fucking hell.

My friend politely reminded me I've undertaken a yearlong blog expedition and that she wants some of this action.

Hmph.

Well, just to show her what's what, I will cut and paste something from the annals of our conversations and emails that captures some of what I feel, what I think, what I know... right here, right now. (I hope you are not upset that I am sharing this...)

 These unexpected obstacles that slow us down, they cause us to reflect on what's important. These are what help us to see our true selves: Our true natures. It's tough cuz the pot doesn't help us at all.. Only hurts us. It's hard to see it while we're in it, but by helping us "relax", it actually prolongs the agony. Our relaxation is premised on the silky, green dragon smoke's ability to cloak our problems, to mask them in a green-tinged mockery of true love. "YEah mon, it's all good mon... " When really, inside, we're hurting, sad, scared, lonely beyond our comprehension, and just ACHING for real expression, real happiness, just REAL in general. And sometimes, real sucks; real hurts. Real is not exciting, not immediately fulfilling. Most times real is just a pain in the ass. But it is real.

That is what we yearn for. To find our real place in this world. A place where we belong. Where we can feel love. The real secret is that all along, while we may be looking for a geographical location or perfect job or relationship to discover that love, it only exists in one place: in our hearts. We just have to choose to unlock it. To discard that which keeps us mired in guilt, shame, fear, doubt, etc. To make an ACTIVE decision to love and accept love. 

Sweetheart, I hate to be a broken record, but true enlightenment and understanding and all that love is only possible when we are clean and sober. When we have stared the gaunt and sombre eyes of the tiger that is our craving, and taken back the ownership of our soul. 

"No," she said, "I will NOT succumb to you oh mangy and flea bitten tiger, whose eyes shimmer with the glaze of physical pleasure. I will not hide behind the promise you give with your temporary salvation, your short lived pleasure. I will instead surrender to these feelings of fear and doubt, and in that unique position of surrender, I will feel the unexpected strength that flows from the mountain, the snow; the waters and the sky. The strength that comforts me with the recognition that the very same strength courses through my veins and makes up the seat of my soul. I am one with the universe, and the universe is one with me. And it is love, sweet love, that ties me to this plane; that connects me to all and caresses my bare feet as they touch the ground. I choose today to honour my body, mind and soul by staying pure and treating myself with love." 

So fuck you devil weed; fuck you coca plant; fuck you cancer sticks.. fuck you sweet alcoholic vapours! I choose today to celebrate my life with a few chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and some green tea. And maybe a little word of thanks to my ancestors, in whose steps I humbly walk, and to those yet to arrive, whose way I hope is gentle.

I choose today to honour this planet and this life in the best way I know how: by learning to listen to my heart.

And tonight, when I lay my head down in my soft bed, between the sheets and eagerly anticipating my dreams, after I have given thanks for making it through this day and showing myself love, I ask that I have the power, will and wherewithal to do the same tomorrow. And if anyone up there is listening: Thank you."

So, there's my two cents. No "solving"; just the simple explanation of the daily battle that I engage in. These awarenesses are what keep me here. What keep me believing that the best is yet to come. I choose today to walk with the universe, clean, sober and mindful of my spirit; rather than fight against the naturally flowing current of love.

"The finest qualities of our nature, like the bloom on fruits, can be preserved only by the most delicate handling. Yet we do not treat ourselves nor one another thus tenderly." - Henry David Thoreau, from "Walden."

I love you more than you can know.
S.