Last night, somewhere around eight, I was lounging across my bed lying on my side with a hand propped under my chin and The Cat is facing me, going in the opposite direction. I’m talking but I’m not talking to her. She is purring in response. We are having a conversation of sorts. But what strikes me, as I talk, is something else…
I need an audience. Miss Chen noticed this. The problem with the need for an audience is how to balance it. I have treated friends like this and it feels wonky, like I am abusing some privilege they are giving me. I realize it but sometimes, usually, when I am in pain, I can’t get a grip and I go on and on. And I know my energy is draining and it’s something I need to channel in another direction.
Last year I discovered prayer but I cannot pray in my head. I talk to God and that feels wonderful and yet… Sometimes it feels like I am in a state of need, like by talking to God I am creating yet another audience as vehicle for me. And I dig that God is always here, but I would rather come to Him in a state of grace. I am working on this in every possible sense.
And I see that my need for audience is part of why I write for the blog. I need to collect my thoughts and feelings and get them not just out on paper but put them in the world. The thing of it is, I am sick of seeking attention, on every level. It feels like the search for validity outside of myself. It feels like the girl I once was, overexposed by virtue of going too hard and needing too much. Prolific is my nature. Passion is my fire. But there’s something else going on.
Attention. It reminds me of Mr. Brown. Of my need for his and how that sent me aground. And while, when I could capture his attention, I know what it gave to me. It gave me an escape from myself because his vision of the world was… Shiva to my Parvati. Sigh. There is no feeling greater than this.
But I wasn’t ready. Could not handle this. Not even close and yet it was exactly as it should have been. Because one of the things I realized in my talk with no one last night was that in my quest for audience and attention, what I have been doing is trying to reach myself. I used to write Mr. Brown these beautiful letters and texts and there were all those phone calls, but that was something else. The letters, the texts, this was me. It was Mr. Brown who gave me the key to my inner world.
And I would read and reread and reread my letters to him. Not his letters to me. They did much less for me than my letters did (though I think in some ways it is because I was not fully ready to listen to him). I realized this last night, after I finished the talk, when I turned on the computer and started rereading my blogs. And I saw it right then and there. I saw myself reflected in the brilliant glow of the screen and the beauty I felt in seeing me, and also, ohh how I got a good laugh at myself. And then there was something else, there was this…
I visit Mr. Johnson and he is surrounded by big white file boxes and they are all like time capsules and sometimes one of them is opening up and out of it comes… Ohmagosh. And it’s not like they’re always open and it’s like all his work. He falls back and yet he is fully present at the same time. Grace. Infinite grace. It is like when I was asking about the Lil Wayne photos, and with him, sometimes it’s like you have to remember to ask for specifics. Because he is not the one who is going to trot out his stuff. A photo here and there, but never a display as so many of us do. And I have no idea. I mean I really don’t. I just get to discover it, like a treasure chest. There are gems and jewels galore and he doesn’t ever talk about it. He’s far too busy living life than to seek attention or audience.
Ahh. My guiding light. And yet there is something else. There is the way in which he is surrounded in his work and the way in which his work is his life and his life is love and any time you are Upstairs at Eric’s you know exactly what I am talking about. You are where you belong. You are at home in the world.
And sometimes, when those boxes open and the jewels come out and I observe him looking at his photographs and one time I said, “You know if I were a photographer I’d look at my work all day.” And as I am writing this essay, this is where it hit me. This is me, reflected back at me. And in the space of something like, ohh let’s say just three little days, my life can change. And in two weeks, well, you get the idea. It has always been like this. The rollercoaster, ya dig. I hope it’s riding flat now but who really knows. It’s gotten so that I cannot keep up with myself. But by virtue of keeping a blog, I no longer have to.
But. Life would be terribly boring if all I did was talk to myself. Undoubtedly, I love to charm and disarm and spook the hell outta me. But that’s not all I am about. In the past few days I have received more response from readers than ever before and to engage in conversation like this is really what I am looking for.
Mutuality. That’s all it ever really is. What can be greater than the space between us. It is Miss Shadows who first showed me this by reaching out through the ether. Cheers, girl! It’s not that I need an audience. It’s that I need a conversation about things that matter deep in my heart. And I have a tendency to put a lot out there, because there is a lot coming in, and this is what I discovered last night while I was talking to no one, not even to myself ::
Words are the most powerful and potent force in my life. And when they exist in my head, silent, spinning, tumbling like a dryer cycle, they are not just exhausting, they are dangerous. Thoughts are the worst thing I can do with my energy. This is where I become Jacob wrestling with the Angel. Because…
I do not need to think. I only need to listen. Whenever I listen, I am told. Messages come to me. Revelations unfold. It is freaky in the best possible way because the messages I receive are always so calm and peaceful, even when they are profoundly powerful. So even though it is as though I can touch the sky without ever leaving the ground and while that makes me dizzy and sometimes disoriented, I realize I would a thousand times rather listen than think.
But what to do with these words? I must get them out of me. And that’s when I realized, that is why this is what I do. When I write, I can see the word. When I speak, I can hear it. When I think, the word is intangible. I need the help of my senses to mediate the word, to harness its power by taking it outside of myself and setting it free.
My third eye just throbbed.
Freakyyy. Now that I am thinking of chakras I can feel them clearly, and though I don’t know anything about them, well, the time has come. I remember last year in conversation with God that I discovered that when I said or heard something of love I could feel my heart open up. I didn’t realize until now that this is just one of seven places within me that are receiving and releasing energy all the time. Not all the chakras are always open and some are more open than others, but once I see it, I see it, and there’s no stopping it. Yesterday, I literally choked on my words while speaking about money.
There are signs, always signs, and the signs are always coming and the thing I dig is that when I start to focus this thang in me, I can access all these other vibrations. When I liberate myself from the addiction to self abuse, all that energy is freed up to be put into self healing and that is an unknown space.
But, having never been a healer (third eye widening) I have no idea how this works. I literally just had to stop and put my hands to my face and press my middle fingers into the corner of my eyes and see those phosphenses glow gold against the black. I see this is what I need to express. That all of this is a physical manifestation of the word. I just have no idea how it works. No one really talks about these things in conversation, ya knoww…