Monday, April 6, 2009

"Absence of Desire" or "My Brain is a Bog of Thoughts UnThunk"

Do you know what I miss?
I miss being a river of thought and feeling.
Rather, I have been hedged up my some dam thing that keeps me from rushing on in my loudly musical, dangerously beautiful flow.
Stagnation does not suit me.
I do not desire to be a sitting mass of unexpressed potential that after time becomes a death bog, stinking of despair and regret. I squirm listlessly in the bonds of that dam thing which for months has held my ability to share captive.

And it is not enough.

I have wondered over the past months, wondered what caused me to feel that increasingly heavy apathy. I didn't even realize it was apathy. I didn't know what apathy was. All I knew was that I increasingly felt the painless void of nothing. Sure, there were bursts of feeling, like death lights hanging over the bog giving a false glimmer of hope to onlookers. But I was boggy.

There were those who looked for a scapegoat for my behavior, whether it be here or beyond the veil. I don't know that I know the answer. I can't offer written consolidation for my greatly altered personality over the last few months. I have an event where it seemed to begin, and an event where it seemed to end . . . but they are not connected. Much like my thought.s

There has been no flow. No liquid rushing from point A to point B merely for the joy of feeling the movement.

The largest difference in myself was that I had no desire. The goals I had been working toward slowly meant nothing to me. The hobbies I loved . . . meh. I became little more than a stranger - a detatched onlooker who actually looked past me and not on me.

Gratefuly, the people I loved were so ingrained in my system that not even this downward spin on my cycle could have knocked them completely loose. I still loved them. I still worked at maintaining my relationships with them . . . because although I didn't feel a desire to do those things I knew they would appreciate, I knew that "This too shall pass" and I mustn't cause damage I could not repair.

My housekeeping suffered. I cooked a few good meals, but they were often by accident and I didn't really care. I gave my children over to the care of cartoons and Spanish-speaking explorers with their pet monkeys.

The good news is that I sense my bonds being loosened. They are not gone. I still feel numbingly separated from desire.

And yet: I have written today. I have written today as I have not written in months: yielding almost entirely to the creative flow I feel within.

I cried yesterday as I have not cried in months: under the gentle duress of the Holy Spirit, moved with compassion and understanding.

If I were ill, I am not completely healed. If I were a reservoir of creativity and ability and wonder, I am still hedged in by some dam thing. The worst part is that although I know something is not quite right within me, I don't have enough desire to discover it, let alone destroy it. Even if it meant being "back to my old self." I find it incredibly difficult to care.

So instead of using up my energy on worrying that I don't care enough to worry (try wrapping your brain around THAT conundrum), I will marvel in this little babble that made it's way past the dam somehow, and managed to flow a short distance.


Fedaykin said...

Unless some little dutch boy comes along and stops the trickle, I'd say we are in for a flood very soon. Anything I can do to widen the crack? Here's to imminent rolling waters.

"Dam thing." Tee hee!

Desertbound said...

Seeping, trickling, gushing and roaring are all different kinds of "flow".
Have you read the book "The Little Stream"?
Glad your marvelous little babble made it past the dam, too. I've missed your damm-ed blog posts.

Little T said...

"Give said the little stream...
Give o'give ...Give o'give...
Give said the little stream as it hurried down the hill."

As long as your life is filled with self-less service ...
you will always flow where you need to be. I love listening to your crescendo-ing waves. Little T.