Friday, January 29th, 2010 Diary Entry
I like this new blog even if there are many things I don’t like. I got the idea for this after spending my time automatic writing for you and combining that with my desire to file things somewhere besides my laptop and iPod. In this automatic writing was when I finally committed to the name Ganymede… I was tired of just calling you “you” or saying, “even though I don’t think I’m sure who you are, it is time to talk again!”. And you know, now that I’ve been talking to you with written word it’s been nice. I do not speak to Luken or anyone else as much- I used to be a very quiet little girl. Perhaps I should go back to that… it’s just a bit lonely. Of course you’re there, Ganymede, and I would be happy to spend time with you. There are just other constraints that make time alone with you… painful, occasionally. I so often want to forget. But I liked it when we started writing. There are a few things from these writings I would like to note now that I have looked them over. I hope you can excuse the rambling:
“There are certainly times when I am not unhappy. And there are certainly times when I catch glimpses of a you that I might enjoy. It is usually only when I am attempting escape or fantasizing within my mind, and to indulge in such forever is somewhat delusional, isn’t it? In whatever I lose myself, I am here with you. You penetrate and surround me at every moment, yet how aware are we of one another? Do we see each other? I like to think so, but then again, I can never be quite sure how much. And perhaps there were times I would rather that we did not see one another. And it is in those times I am afraid that we always see what the other is doing. Still, there are also times I want you around, for either comfort to help me through that which I dislike, or help, or at least the company. In sickness and in health, in misery and enjoyment. But I also hold feelings of resentment, because I can never be sure that that is also what you have in mind. I have been told, by you and others, who are also you (and then, since everyone is you, who is telling the truth?) that you love me. But it often does not feel like that. I have also asked you if you could help me. It seems as though you cannot help me as much as I want in the present moment. And I wonder if you are merely some tyrannous person up high who either takes no notice and leaves me to my own devices, or does notice but prefers to torture instead of help. And then for some reason you whisper sweet nothings in my ear. And then, if you are me, and I have indeed placed myself here- I would argue vehemently against the totality of that, at least in the present dimensions of reality- to what degree am I then masochistic? And you would think, if I were truly masochistic, I would at least enjoy my misery. I have been told to find a way to do that. But I do not enjoy it. And I so often resent you all the more when I try to come to terms with my suffering- sometimes, I feel that I can. Other times, I remember it too much. And I do not want to forget that it existed. I have known that I did not want to forget my suffering. Perhaps it is not really me. But if it existed, it existed. It was when I came here that I began to realize the nature of everything, even if I had known it all along, and had just been hiding from it hopefully, looking for any way out and expecting that it would come just fine… but it never has. And here I am, still with you. Every day is a new day with you, yes, and every day I say something new with you, and even change my relationship with you. Perhaps my desires have been too much, as Luken would say- he offered a very good metaphor, which is that I would want the air to be blue. And because it is not I am upset. That is so very apt. But why should I not be upset? The world is not the way I want it. The disparity is there. And it makes me unhappy. I must accept that the disparity exists, and so I accept- certainly, that I am unhappy over it… but it seems to carry a negative effect which I cannot remove, one of which illustrates itself in my personal relationships when others notice my depression and disapprove. I suppose it hurts them. And the more it hurts them, the more they try to ‘fix’ me… of course, I have done some awful things. As for being insane, no- I am just me, a me they just are not understanding if they are judging me as insane. I have my own perception, and I am comfortable with that- I am just made uncomfortable by the people within it. The more they neglect to show me love, the more cynical I become. The more they curse me, or tell me there is something wrong with me, and every day that I am forced to continue on in this world as such, watching everyone get along without helping each other beyond some half-assed attempt, ultimately- the more I want to leave it all behind. Of course, this is a foolish notion, as they are me. And I don’t know how to leave it. Even if I could figure out some way to kill myself, which I won’t, I would probably only come back to the same damned reality. And I use that word, damned, meaning it… because that’s certainly what it seems like to me, even if Luken insists there is much to enjoy here and that I have enjoyed much here too. So, however it’s been, however we’ve gone along together, and whoever you are, and whatever disposition you hold- thusly, whoever I am… just the me hiding from myself, I suppose… the two of us, together since whatever was the beginning of time as we reckon it, and together in the present in whatever way… here we are. And I’ve told you many times how I feel. We’ve gone over so many conversations together. I have seen much, but always that which I already knew, because you knew it. What are we to do? Why do I ask that question, or any question, when speaking to you? I want to move on- I want us to move on with our happiness. But here we are. So I’m talking to you. Here I am today. I will talk to you for lack of anything else, at least… I will talk to you. I have little else, or nothing else that I can see now… and since I am lonely, no matter who you are, since it seems to be all… I suppose that is what I will do.”
So that’s parts of it. I wrote all that when I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I still don’t. But all I had been doing was laying in bed all day. And I figured writing to you would at least occupy my time. And so it did- it is a strange thing to describe. The wish to speak to you. Would it have been there if I had not been not knowing what else to do? Perhaps not that day. And perhaps I would still not speak to you in this form if not for my complete ennui. But if I were somehow happy I assure you many other wonderful things would be happening in our lives. I have tagged my posts now. It’s interesting to try to boil down a post to just individual words. Who are you and what are we talking about? I looked up a few of my tags- I saw a couple of people who were talking about having discovered their relationship with Dionysos through the tarot. Being that I can see how they could find symbolism in the cards at the right moment, I figured, what the hell- I’ll try it too. I picked out a random card to hopefully represent whomever might be my current “patron”- I would assume Jesus or Dionysos or Shiva or of course some version of you, Ganymede- but you are unique, so how could a card ever capture you? But I thought I might see some symbolism that would point somewhere. At least for this moment in time. I drew the Three of Swords.
This card symbolizes great pain- heartbreak, betrayal. Pain which is meant to make us grow. If we can accept the pain we can transmute it for the better. The trinity of blades pierces the heart, our center, amid the cloudy weather. …those devotees also mentioned how Dionysos likes to lay it on thick. Christ almighty. I have never cared much for Qabalah, but I suppose it is worth noting their interpretation as they also apparently associate it with Binah, and call it the Lord of Sorrow or some nonsense… it is in a book, at least. (Hah, look at me labeling something as nonsense- I don’t really mean that it is nonsense. I am just cranky.) They speak of visions of sorrow and divine sorrow- they ruminate that it may be the sorrow of rejection (of the divine plan they say) or the sorrow of forms after having left unity, and having individuated themselves into form, and before their return from the manifested. Manifesting necessitates pain? I know I remember not wanting to plunge myself into that, if that is the case. So why the fuck did I have to do that? Why did I have to make the jump?
And why the fuck does this card exist in the first place? Even if we take it at its most basic level- why would I need to face pain and obstacles at ALL if God is perfect and capable of everything? Other than, of course, my rumination it may all have been an accident. Why the fuck would I need to grow, and why the fuck would it be to the extent I feel unable to forgive you for reality in so many ways? Am I just supposed to accept that because it was an accident I cannot change it, so I should just lay back and let life fuck me? That’s pretty much what I’m doing anyway. Well. That’s the fatalistic view. I really don’t know how else to look at it, though. No matter how much I hope, that doesn’t make my hopes real. All that is left is insistence for acceptance of pain and my nearly powerless abilities. I have heard that love should be your only weapon- well fuck, it’s really all I have to use in any situation. Perhaps it will improve things slightly. If you are all-powerful it could even transform completely. If I can just remember not to defend myself from illusory enemies. But in the meantime I think all the money I could ever want would be more to my liking than my current situation so as to keep me from a greater amount of pain in a reality I never really liked anyway- only because money is excellent for facilitating escape for myself and others. But escape is not what should be sought, so perhaps I should say that I would want to use this money to help reality become more acceptable? If that is possible. Oh, if only I could wave a wand to “accept” my pain and all my life and all my reality so that it would be acceptable. Buuut I draw the three of swords. Which means pain. I don’t want it :( I don’t know why it exists. Please, give us the ability to enjoy ourselves. If I knew how I would.
I started to read that other Eckhart Tolle book, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose. Bypassing the cheesy trap again- why do these kinds of books always seem so cheesy that I don’t want to read them at first?- I would say that he has some good points in there too so far. He always seems to be saying what I’m thinking, but with different words. Like he’s been talking so far in this book about how to stay conscious to be a productive human being instead of an insane one, while I’ve been talking about making sure not to defend against illusory enemies but rather act “consciously” as he calls it- in transmutation and love, as I do. My friends call it “letting go”, because they too see how I defend myself after I ask them what I should do about it. I don’t think that quite pinpoints it either. Of course, that’s just part of it… but the love notion is the necessary part for me right now. It’s almost kind of creepy how much Tolle and I think the same things about existence, but for some reason he is able to accept it and I am not. He was okay with being homeless, for instance, whereas I don’t see why I should waste away my existence when I could be having a good time instead. I mean, I know he says he had a good time. But I wouldn’t, and I’m not now.
Tolle says that when we lose a part of our identity- even something external from our bodies that we view as an extension of ourselves, that is, possessions of whatever kind- then we become unhappy. I suppose you could say that I have always had a piece of me missing, then. Something I always thought was part of me… even if it isn’t, now. And never has been. I’m always me and I always know that. It’s just that I don’t see why I exist without that missing piece. I don’t see the point. I don’t see the happiness. I don’t see the joy. All I see is misery, the lack. It does me no comfort to think that at my source I am unchanged. I want that piece! And I don’t think I can be happy without it. At least not completely. If we lived in comfort, Ganymede, I might be able to lead a more pleasant existence by far… so we could at least do that, even if that impossible piece is never here. But I am afraid that without that piece there will always be lingering disappointment. I can’t help it.