Skip to content


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?

5 Comments Post a comment
  1. In an interesting twist on the same theme, I find myself so incredibly tolerant of the ticking of the clock, in that it neither prolongs (or robs me of) life; it simply is the tiny leap from one moment to the next, all while continuing down the path of time.

    I’ve been surprised to find that in the absence of a deep and crushing pain, that space has opened up for me to experience those mundane minutes that are neither too difficult to bear, nor too sweet to savor. I think I was unable to imagine inhabiting this version of myself, and it pleases me to know that I’ve found something I never thought possible. I often catch myself lost in pleasant thoughts; pondering the unanswerable, but in a curious way, rather than a desperate attempt to know. Surviving was worth the struggle. These minutes are a bonus.

    It is always (refreshingly) good to see you out there in the world in which we inhabit. Los Angeles certainly looks good on you. Hearing your voice instills a wide and deep nod of appreciation for all the people who have survived. Sometimes we surprise ourselves. We round a corner, and find ourselves straining forward, always moving towards the unknown.


    December 3, 2015
  2. I could say the same – “These days I tend do just respond to the moment and do what must be done.” Since my mom passed away in late Sept, my life has been upended in so many ways and all unexpected. Uncertainty rules even as I seek to bring some order into the days that remain with my dad. I live in two places now because he is in New Mexico and I am mostly in Missouri but have to go back and forth regularly for the foreseeable future.

    I once spent time living in LA. It was an interesting place. Good to see you writing here.

    December 4, 2015
  3. ahhhhh i don’t quite know where i am anymore . . . and to read your post somehow orients to familiar places on a map, feels like the presence of a traveling companion for a bit of the road . . . may so much bliss finds its home in you that withstanding becomes like a sigh of release :)

    December 4, 2015
  4. Being drawn to the page makes perfect sense to me, though I can’t explain it. You have missed M. I have missed you. Hello friend.

    December 5, 2015
  5. Hello all. I’ve missed you too.

    December 16, 2015

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s