What people don’t tell you about dying is that it is like sliding down an asymptote of intolerable and irresistible ecstasy.
What people don’t tell you about meditation is that it is a practice that helps in staying present and aware through otherwise unbearable states of bliss.
My body has hurled itself against death enough times now that I have become a sort of expert of refusal. The first time I came back was because of a sort of nameless fear; the last time was from an equally ineffable love. Since the latter I experience even pain as a darker shade of beauty.
Blogging has historically been a space for me to maintain some sort of grasp on myself through periods of crisis or transition; documenting the journey publicly served in some ways as a means of keeping myself from disappearing; today I feel in little danger of that, and yet still the page called. I am not sure why.
I am not sure why, but these days reasons seem increasingly superfluous. These days I tend do just respond to the moment and do what must be done. Today’s involved an intentional note in this sporadic autobiology.
I should say while I’m here that I miss M ridiculously, although this is less confession than a simple and obvious truth. It too is a beautiful one, or at least this time I’d characterize the feeling of separation as one of acceptance and anticipation rather than the indignant fury I felt in 2012.
I am excited about what’s next. Who knew that the gravest challenge of the future would be the ability to withstand bliss?