Saturday, February 20, 2010

Oh, Mighty Charybdis!


And just like that, I was locked out of my house.

There's a certain sort of euphoric lucidity that comes hand in hand with the ripping consciousness of change, while being repeatedly sucker-punched by the benevolent and all-forgiving universe. Life's been "good" to me lately, in the sense that whatever has not killed me thus far has finally made me strong enough to withstand the hideous beauty that's inescapably reflected in the thousand shards of my diamond-cut soul which now litter my inner sanctuary. Honest to god, I had no idea what a total shithole of a person I've become. So now it's my conscience versus the sexist joke, my will alone that shields me from the slings and arrows, my own unjustifiable faith against all evidence. Have I really been so unloving?

These demons I've harbored take bites of me as I set them free. Past skin and nerves, blood cold, I'm down to bone. To bedrock. Meanwhile, I'm showered with blessings, with freedom, with the bitter sarcasm of the universe spoken through what might easily have been kind and loving words from acquaintances and friends. I am not the butt of this joke, I'm just the audience who doesn't get it, the offended listener who laughs anyway. Hear no evil? Speak no evil? Do I really say such things? Could I go back to that faraway land where I don't understand what's being said?

Charybdis. My little brother thus christened the toilet in my new place, which at every mundane flush swirls into such a raging vortex that it threatens the entire house with flooding, until finally after what seems like hours it rushes down the drain, drowning the sound of my futile curses. I'm in it now, surrounded by my own floating shit. I am the sea-monster, cursed, pulling toward certain...wetness?...any who stray too close. Careful, though--there's another on the other side of this passage who's just the same.

Some Buddhists might suggest that what we experience is "merely" a reflection of how one feels about oneself. Rather simplistic. Is oneself me, or you? So how could I possibly feel that way about you? Am I really such an asshole?

Well, anyway. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, all bright blue sky and sunshine. I've got my spare keys back and I'm going for a walk, on my own.


Cosmic Monkey said...

That's not what Buddhists think, that is a Jungian concept. That what you fear or hate or despise is a reflection of the same within you. And Jung goes on to posit that the people that you can't even stand reflect your shadow self that you have to learn to dance with, or you will not be able to live a good aware life. Buddhists don't really care about such concepts as we are merely awareness bouncing around sort of inanely until we die.

fremenine said...

Okay, understood and helpful, although still I wonder if that from which I might recoil--what I hate or despise, as you say--is only within myself in the sense or in the respect that we are all one (one with everything...sauerkraut, chili, mustard, ketchup, white bread, cheese, mixed meats) and not that this so-called shadow self originates in me, myself as an independent entity...? Am I a psycho killer? Qu'est que c'est??? (Foo de) Fa-fa-far better, Run run run run run run run away... :P