Hope is dope
Hope is dope.
Addictive.
Hope you’re OK.
Hope all is well.
I hope your day goes smoothly.
No I don’t.
I want to KNOW.
I want to KNOW that you’re OK.
I want to KNOW that all is well.
I want to KNOW that your day will go smoothly.
But I can’t say that.
Declaring that would seem arrogant.
Who am I to KNOW?
Does my knowing make you uneasy?
I’m sorry. I just want to be clear.
I KNOW. May you hear me clearly.
this inherence of you
I’m letting go.
Letting go of you.
Letting go of us.
Letting go of this.
I am letting go.
I now know better.
I cannot seize the day.
Dripping through my fingers
formless white of an egg
surrounding radiant orange hope.
Formless
slipping away
containing the code
making This.
Yolk
sunny
shiny
self-assured
is but a fuel tank.
And my soul
clearly savors it.
That sunset orb
staying together
not running
not slipping away
without waiting
like the white.
I focus on it.
And yet it’s the white
the seed of life
the part
that keeps slipping away.
Oozing, escaping
that’s how it is with
the slick goo.
That is you.
Slipping through
resistant fingers.
Goo that won’t be contained.
Goo that gets away.
Now that I know,
why bother resisting
this inherence of you?
mother of my mother
oh the things you’d say!
mother of my mother
in your own, inimitable way
how can I forget?
you’ve passed away and yet
you’ve left so much behind
for all of us to share:
your worldly wisdom
stable family relations
enduring and loving friends
we remember you as you were
and will always be
a mother
a baker
a wife
a business woman
a grandmother
an abundant gardener
a great-grandmother
a trusted friend
a great cook
a very funny lady
oh gentle singer of lullabies
sing to us when we need consoling
as you did and always will
our love for you remains
everlasting
a new day dawning
it’s morning
I sit on the canopy
waiting in the dark
for a new day dawning
below decks
the crew sleeps soundly
too much booze
poisons expel
the smell of
dried red wine on plastic goblets
litter the galley sink
half empty cans of soda
dirty plates, bottle caps
cigarette butts in
cans of liquid ash
and I see none of this now
I am intent to relate to
the moment above the mess
the moment before sunrise
the moment preceding a new day
in this space
I sit
I practice
conscious remembering
floating on an ocean
immaculate and immense
calmly tossing side to side
and gently up and down
invisible currents
inexplicably determining
imaginary things
intentions made
to see that boat again
on which side? port please.
by when? tonight please.
and so it was!
afraid of my abilities
but not too much.
not enough to stop the work I’ve started
not enough to allow the line to go slack
but enough to maintain the tension
just enough
to know beyond believing
to be without desiring
just this –
nothing more
the thought of losing you
I thought I’d die without you
but I didn’t
I didn’t die
but something shifted
a gap appeared
and I waited
wondering what to do
what to do?
the thought of losing you
kept me up last night
thrashing dreams
of all-of-this ending
and yet
nothing ends
brown eyes beaming
Look at me and my toy!
Look at me and my toy!
Maybe it was an invite
Did he want to play tug of war?
Brown eyes beaming
There’s no way he’s letting go
I pulled: he dug in and sunk low
Harnessing his dog powers against me
Growling, intent on keeping his toy
Not willing to give it up
Letting go: he’s back to prancing
Circling, head held high, tail flagging
Look at me and my toy!
Look at me and my toy!
Duke is dead
Duke is dead.
And it all goes
back to you.
I wouldn’t know him
or the men in this room
if it wasn’t for you.
[And yet, you're not here.]
Holding his head
between my hands
speaking softly if at all.
Eyes fixed upon eyes.
“I’m starting the injection” she said
calmly, squeezing the
syringe into his
femoral vein.
He felt no pain.
Eyes fixed upon eyes,
my soul attached to him.
Connected, then wafting away.
Both of us entranced,
unable to blink,
unable to miss the moment.
As a sweet dog’s life
[and you]
ebb away.
running water
Doing dishes this morning,
remembering you.
Missing the sensation of
washing your hands under
running water.
I took my time washing.
I savored every sudsy second,
imagining it for you.
submerging
sponging
rinse
repeat
I have the certain sense,
you’ll be all-right.
When you’re back at the sink
with running water
running water
running water
this riptide of knowing
I now know less than ever.
Going with the flow.
This riptide of knowing,
so deep,
invisible from shore.
Alternating between fighting or
letting it have its way with me.
“Help! – HELP!!”
No one hears me anymore.
I’ve rafted too far out.
Maybe if I shout…
or just let it carry me.
I don’t control the current.
I merely place myself in it.
And I’m not sure where
it will carry me.
Now I’m further than ever
from those firm, familiar sands.
Riding this riptide,
so I can see.
Separation Amnesia
While sitting today I discovered an effect I’ll call “separation amnesia” – a novel concept according to Google, with the possible exception of a movie “My Amnesia Girl”. The idea of forgetting certain positive memories after separation from a loved one is not new. Now that I have pointer for it, I can see it everywhere I look, with every past relationship I’ve had.
Once the love is gone, I have difficulty remembering any of the good times.
Once he’s gone, only pain comes into view. Nothing else. Just pain and sadness. And staggering amounts of justified anger, critique, and resentment. It’s interesting how memory is filtered according to my prevailing mood. If I’m feeling happy and secure, I can easily recall memories of other happy and secure times in my life, going back decades. But when I’m feeling depressed, such happy moments are inaccessible, walled off, not there. I have a feeling that they occurred, and can be reminded of them by reading my journal, or by looking at pictures or other reminders, but natural recollection is impossible when my mood opposes the feeling tone of the memory in question.
Example: Did M and I ever have moments of happiness? Of course we did. Lots of them.
Then why do I assume that since we’re apart, it’s best not to remember them? That I can admit that we had some good times, keeping it general and avoiding the specifics, as a way to move on to the real issue: how he left me, how he wasn’t as committed, how I should have seen it coming, etc. If I was able to recall vivid memories of us together, of me laying on top of him, suckling his nipple while he stroked his hard cock, for example, that would fill me with joy, connection, peace, and lots of other positive emotions. And that would be a good thing!
But he’s not here. We’re not together, and so EVERYTHING MUST GO! It’s a fire sale, we lost our lease, these are the final days.
Or maybe I’m more complicated that an expired lease on a failed business. Maybe I can allow – and be with – the passing of M and I as a couple and still have some good memories flash into view once in awhile. Can I relax my need to compartmentalize my emotions and feel the sensations instead? I’ve been trying hard not to think of him at all and harder still not to feel good about the time we spent together.
To spite the entire adventure.
To pretend it never happened.
To turn off my memories in that once spectacular arena.
Kill the lights and still, I can see the blazing night sky filled with distant stars. So why do I fight it?
Separation Amnesia – a psychological defense characterized by the forgetting of positive, happy memories of a loved one after physical or emotional separation.
What will I do with this newfound term? I’ve already tested the theory. I’ve seen what I’ve been trying so hard to do – forget him and us together – and it hasn’t worked out well. But it has consumed an enormous amount of energy. So from now on, I will look for positive memories of us together and allow myself to experience them again without him. Without feeling like a failure. Without any expectations. Just to access a part of my history that I’ve been trying to wall off, as a form of self-preservation and protection.
I appreciate the protective side of myself. The side that wants to protect me from harm. Now I see that I can open the gates of memory – my memory – and be safe there. There is nothing in the past that can harm me now. I’m with friends. I am in touch with my body, with love, with life. Consciousness breeds consciousness. Awareness breeds awareness. And so it goes. To the memories.
